A/N: Work has been wonderfully busy and my sister is getting married. Other than that, I can't offer excuses. I only manage to write when the muse wacks me over the head and I have a couple of minutes to spare.

I've reread this story, feeling the rythm of it and the purpose, which was very Mac centric from the beginning and I feel that rehashing it all is pointless (Harm, the spy, Mattie, etc). So expect a couple of leaps in time as we follow Mac on her road to recovery.

CHAPTER 13

You feel better than you have felt in months and the coarse material of your well-pressed uniform feels familiar and sort of wonderful against your skin. All service ribbons and badges are carefully placed and straightened out and you once more check to make sure they are all in place. This is second nature to you, after so many years of service. And yet, you feel the need to check them again and again, sure that the more than two months you have gone out of uniform affected your memory somehow.

You focus on your breathing and gaze upon your own eyes, silently demanding their composure. Your panic attacks still come and you are saddled with desk duty for the foreseeable future, but freaking out at JAG would set you back. Just getting back on track has taken so much work and so much effort. You don't want to be stepping back when you have barely stepped forward.

And Harm won't be there.

Just thinking about it makes your heart beat a little bit faster and your breathing come a little bit harder. You tell yourself to calm down, taking deep breaths and reassuring yourself that Harm may not be at the office, but he will be there every night, waiting for you.

A sigh escapes your lips.

He hadn't taken the job with the Company and you might have refrained from begging him not to, but the desire was there all the same. Just the thought of him up and disappearing for months at a time, like Clay, made the panic attacks that much harder to beat. His words of confession still linger in the air.

Harm had decided to stay because of you. Because of your new relationship. His anger and resentment at the Admiral was too raw to face him once more and you could well understand. You don't know how you'll deal with a CO that was going to let you die in the Paraguayan jungle. You have chosen not to dwell on it too much.

Insanity lies in what ifs.

Another deep breath, another sighed exhale and you catch sight of Harm standing at the corner of the mirror, gently smiling at you. There is no resentment there for you and that makes calming down that much easier. You smile back.

"Ready?" He asks and you nod, turning to face him head on.

"Sure. I guess", you grin and he knows what you mean.

"You know, me being out of uniform means I don't have to worry about kissing you in public." He stepped forward, a hunter focused on his prey, and your grin grows.

"Really?" Your head tilts to the side. "And where would this kiss take place?"

"The bullpen?"

Your grin grows into full on laughter as you picture it. The faces of shock are something you can almost see. The gasps of surprise are almost within hearing. Wouldn't that be something? You know he is joking, of course, and yet the image in your mind's eye is so amusing, as it is comforting. He will be there with you, even far away.

He is always there.

"And you? Have you decided what you are going to do now?"

His discharge would take some months yet, leave and bureaucracy and whatnot delaying the process even more than usual. But after that, you wonder… You have such a hard time seeing him as anything other than a military man. You are sure that he has a hard time picturing it as well.

Harm sighs and your hand comes up to cup his close-shaved cheek. "Not yet."

"Thank you for staying." He kisses the palm of your hand and grins widely at you. There have been any lies from your lips over the years, but none as obvious as the lie you told him about his smile. You smile back.

"Always." He whispers and you shiver, pulling his hand away as you lean forward to peck his lips. "Shall we?"

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The bullpen is busy, the officers and enlisted personnel going about their business as usual. You come in quietly, surreptitiously, wishing for the ability to be invisible and knowing you are failing terribly at it. The noises dim, the rush slows down. They are not staring per say, and yet you feel every single eye on you. Shame and embarrassment crowd in within you and heat rushes up to your face. You keep your eyes focused on the Admiral's door and ignores all else, a firm grip on your head. You will not shrink or look down and admit defeat. Yes,they have seen you panic. Yes, they have seen you faint. None of it matters now. None of it takes the stripes away from you.

You are a Marine.

You are a Marine.

You are a Marine.

You are a Marine.

You are a Marine.

You are a coward disguised as a Marine, or at least that is how you feel, and yet, there is strength in the words and in the mantra occupying your mind. It sounds like Harm and in your mind's eye, he is smirking and that just makes you more determined to keep strong.

You are a Marine.

And Marines stay strong. Or at least get back up when they fall down. No lying down curled into a ball, no giving up the fight.

You are a Marine.

You are a Marine.

The door is before you and you force yourself to look at Coates, if only briefly. She offers a nod, all squared jaw and determination and you offer a small smile in return. You can do this. You are a Marine. A strong knock to the door and the Admiral's voice coming loud and clear from the other side. And a small touch of panic threatens to crumple your entire façade. You breathe in once, exhale and with clenched jaw, you walk in.

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