Disclaimer: I don't own JAG or any of the characters, really, I don't.

A/N: set after Hail and Farewell part 2. I never did get why Harm didn't push Mac to deal with the meaning of her endometriosis, especially since it had such an affect on him as well. After all, he was the one who eventually made her the doctor's appointment for her back pains. So, here's my alternate universe take on things.

As usual, my thanks to Colie for her comments and corrections – no idea what I'd do without you!

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The internet was a dangerous place, Harm decided. There was just too much information out there. Sure, it came in handy at times – you could find all you wanted to know about any topic, especially if you had money to spend on it, but at times the infinite data source was just too vast.

He'd been scouring the net for the past couple of weeks during his free time, with one main search word: Endometriosis. He was nothing if not thorough; sifting through countless web pages with gruesome pictures and medical jargon. Finally, he settled on a few sites with most of the relevant information and delved into the details.

Every once in a while a recurring thought drifted through his mind. 'Thank god I'm not a woman...". In his quest he found out about quite a few conditions that threatened a woman's fertility as well as her life which were often times asymptomatic. Endometriosis was such a condition. He sighed when it dawned on him that Mac was actually lucky that she had experienced back pain, so much so that he had to butt in and make her an appointment. She could've had the disease without knowing about it, while it progressed further. At this point at least there was still a chance.

After getting the basics, he went ahead and made a call to Teresa Coulter, asking as a favor for some advanced info, translated to plain English. Coulter was only too happy to comply, even though he wouldn't tell her who it was for.

So now he had all the information neatly organized; the dark side there, but overwhelmed by options and hope. But all that lay dejectedly in his desk drawer. Mac wouldn't hear about it. Don't call us; we'll call you.

He did understand, much more than she thought. He knew just how hard the past year had been for her, ending with Webb's supposed death and finally this health related blow.

He did his best not to show it, but he felt her devastation deep in his heart. A heavy weight had settled in the pit of his stomach when Mac told him about her prognosis, and it just wouldn't go away.

The sight of Mac's tear filled eyes and broken demeanor was more than enough to make the sky cloud over. Combine that with the fact that her decreasing chances of bearing a child was to him akin to scraping a needle across the surface of the one hopeful bubble that had persisted inside him for the longest time, and there wasn't much to smile about.

If it wasn't for Mattie, he'd sink into a fully fledged depression.

Despite all that, the bubble wouldn't quite burst; he still had hope. In all the knowledge he'd accumulated there wasn't one sighting of the word 'never'. Nothing was impossible – there was still a chance, even if it was slim.

So now he was stuck between a rock and a hard place, with two equally daunting choices:

Force Mac to face facts, confront her with the reality, OR let her deal with things and give her time, as she'd asked, to come to him.

The first choice held the very real probable consequence of dealing with a hurt and angry Marine that could then cut him off from her life completely.

The second choice frightened him ever more. Given Mac's attitude lately there was a real chance she would never come to him.

So far, despite the dread eating at him, he stuck with the second choice; opting to keep Mac in his life in some form, rather than having her slam all doors in his face...

Every time he sat down at his desk he now performed his newly acquired ritual. He opened the drawer, fingered the file and glanced at the first page, bearing the heading "Endometriosis: The Guide". With the drawer still open, he would throw a glance in the direction of Mac's office, give a heartfelt yet small sigh, gently close the drawer and get back to work.

He really hoped that his prediction was wrong and Mac would eventually come to him, for with every day that passed he was getting closer to losing the battle he was waging with himself. One of these days he wouldn't be able to hold up the patient front and he could only pray it wouldn't just burst out of him and destroy something that had been 8 years in the making.

-----

Mac visibly flinched when she realized her hand had drifted down to rest on her lower stomach again.

Lately, she found herself doing that quite a lot. She'd be sitting, completely immersed in one thing or another, and suddenly become aware of warmth on her belly.

At first it was only at night – lying in bed, she would allow the tears to break from the seemingly permanent sheen that covered her eyes these days, and flow down her cheeks. Her hands would cover the area of her body that was the focus of her thoughts and feelings. She would lie like that, for an hour at the very least, every night, release all the tears that had accumulated throughout the day, and pray.

The last time she had prayed with such consistency and so profoundly was when she was a little girl, trying so hard to believe that everything would one day be wonderful. When that day failed to come, and finally when her mother left, she had stopped praying altogether.

Then, on the night of Webb's resurrection and their subsequent break up, she lay in bed and wished for a miracle once again.

"Oh god... please... I know I'm not perfect. Not even close. But please, please don't let me lose the chance to be a mother. Let me be able to carry my child... please, god."

She focused all her energy on her hands, as if willing them to heal the organs underneath them by touch and warmth alone. She imagined a white glow emanating from them and setting things right.

She started each new day a bit more drained, the watery shield of her eyes gaining liquid with each passing hour, as it waited for release in the darkness of her bedroom.

The thing that annoyed her most is that more and more, she found her right hand on her stomach at different times of the day, even at work. Not acceptable.

Work was off limits; at work she needed to concentrate only on her job – bury herself in it till she couldn't physically do it anymore and so went home to sleep. It was her only means of escape, she couldn't lose that too!

She had too much excess energy and nothing to do with it except attack her paperwork, which was rather defenseless. With a muted annoyed grunt, she gave up on reading the file in front of her and stormed out of her office in search of something to do.

She managed to throw a glance to her right before stepping out, but her left was neglected, a fact she soon regretted.

"Oof! Whoa, take it easy, Marine." Harm held the flustered Mac by the shoulders, steadying her after their run-in.

"Sorry, Harm, didn't watch where I was going.." Mac was almost overwhelmed by how much she wanted to put her hands on his to keep them there, while at the same time she had an unbearable urge to shrug out of his touch.

She felt a tear at the corner of her eye, trying to break free from the rest. She had to get away... but Harm was talking to her.

"I was just on my way to see you, actually. You free for dinner tonight? I-"

"Sure, I'll see you then." Mac cut him short and answered in the only way that would end the conversation in the fastest way. She didn't even wait to hear the sentence that started with a stammered "Okay", and beat a retreat to the ladies' room.

Harm stood in place for a long second, unable to keep the confusion from showing on his face. Determination chased the puzzlement away as he turned back to his office. She had agreed to dinner and he wouldn't let her back out.

Tonight he was changing his choice, and ditching the safe route. This was too important to just let it lie. Just as he had to intervene with taking care of her back pains, he couldn't wait until she dug herself out this time. She would never ask for this kind of help, so he would just have to do what he thought was best.

As they said: "If you want something done right, do it yourself."

-----

A few hours later, just as he'd suspected, Mac knocked lightly on the frame of his door. He leaned back and smiled brightly, hoping for some sort of reflection reflex.

"Hey, Marine. Come to make demands for dinner? Don't worry, I'm planning dessert as well." He threw a wink for the overkill affect.

Mac shifted uneasily, took a few steps into his office, but didn't sit down. "Actually... Harm, I remembered – "

"Oh no, you don't." Harm wasn't about to give her the chance to even finish the sentence. "You agreed and you're not taking it back now." He shook his head no when she tried to speak again. "You can only argue about the time, but you are having dinner with me."

Mac's features were the picture definition for the word 'indignant' for a brief moment before she visibly deflated, and sank down into one of his guest chairs. She didn't have it in her to argue about this.

"So when am I coming over for dinner?" She finally asked.

"You're not," he smiled triumphantly, and quickly went on, "I'm bringing dinner to you."

He wanted her comfortable and in her own court, besides he was preparing for conflict – she wouldn't be able to run from her own place and she wouldn't physically throw him out. He had every intention of staying rooted in place even if she screamed in his face.

Mac looked surprised, but apparently decided not to argue and simply nodded her agreement.

"Around seven?"

"Sure." She shrugged.

"Great! I'll come say goodbye before I head out." And with that he turned back to his computer screen, ending the conversation.

Mac sat a few seconds longer, then silently got up and left. Harm followed her covertly with his gaze, a small smile playing on his lips.

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TBC