DULLES INTERNATIONAL AIRPORT
15 DECEMBER 2000

Renee looked at her watch again, mentally cursing herself for being so anxious as she tapped the crystal face with a well-manicured fingernail.  She couldn’t say for sure why she was so apprehensive.  She knew what she was going to hear as soon as the plane landed and he disembarked, had known ever since Harm had taken off for Chechnya with barely a word to her, ever since she had found out that Mac had followed him.  How the hell was she supposed to compete against that, against a woman who’d drop everything, even her fiancée, and disobey orders to follow a *friend* halfway around the world?  But knowing what she was going to hear, steeling herself to hear it, and actually hearing the words spoken that would be the final nail in the coffin of her and Harm’s relationship were very different things and it was the final that she had yet to reconcile herself to.

She watched through the large window as the 747 – she knew it was Mic’s plane because of the Virgin Atlantic logo painted on the side of the plane - slowly pulled up to the terminal and an announcement came over the public address system, “Virgin Atlantic Flight 21 from London Heathrow is now arriving at gate B7.  Passengers arriving on this flight may be met outside of customs on the lower level of concourse B.”   Renee was already standing outside of customs, watching the airplanes come and go.  Knowing that Mic was traveling first class, she estimated twenty minutes tops for him to deplane, grab his luggage and make his way through customs.  Maybe less.  It depended on the ratio of US to non-US citizens on his flight.  Fewer non-US citizens meant a shorter line through passport control since Mic was traveling on his Australian passport.

Tired of watching the planes and knowing that Mic was on his way, Renee found a bench and sat down, carefully laying her purse in her lap.  She stared at the black leather bag for a several minutes before opening the purse and withdrawing her wallet.  Renee didn’t consider herself a sentimental person – sentiment and a buck would get you a cup of coffee and not much else in Hollywood.  You couldn't be sentimental and survive in Hollywood.  You had to be tough as nails.  But over the last year, she’d let herself believe that there just might be a place for sentiment in her life.  That there just might be a place for love. 

That’s what you get, she argued with herself, for letting yourself see Harmon Rabb as more than a nice decoration on your arm at parties or as more than a warm body in bed at night, for letting yourself believe in the fairy tale.  Now, all you have left is memories, a few photographs that show a deceptively happy couple, and a heart that you’ll never let the outside world see is breaking.

She opened the wallet and stared at the picture that confronted her, tracing the figures with her fingertip.  It was of the two of them, taken the night of the Surface Warfare Ball.  That had been the night that she’d really started to believe, even more so than after he’d sought her out to apologize for his cross-examination during the Granada court-martial.  She’d been out in public with him and all his friends, her arm linked with his, a subtle message to all the other women present ‘He’s mine’.  But had he really been, even back then?  As she studied the picture, it seemed so obvious.  The familiar grin on his face didn’t quite reach his eyes.  What was that old saying, that ‘the eyes are the windows to the soul’?  Through the harsh clarity of hindsight, Renee could read so much in his eyes, could see a man who was not truly happy with his life’s circumstance.

But why?  That was before Russia, before he’d found out about the brother he’d never known that he had.  And there had been no hint that there was another woman in his life, someone whom he’d wanted but couldn’t have.

Renee had been shocked when Mic had first told her about Mac following Harm to Russia.  She’d been every more stunned when he’d told her some of the things that Harm and Mac had been through together.  Until that moment, she’d never seen anything that had given her any clue that Harm and Mac were more than professional partners and friends, although not the kind of friends where one of them leaves her fiancée only two days after becoming engaged to follow the other halfway around the world to a war-torn country in search of a man she’d only met once.

It was after she’d heard all this that she’d really studied the picture in her wallet for the first time and had seen the shadows hanging over Harm.  The night the picture had been taken had been that night when Mic Brumby had returned from Australia to claim ‘the woman he loved’.  Had that been the reason for the look in Harm’s eyes?  Probably.  But why hadn’t he said anything?  She’d always thought him to be a man of action – his sudden trip to Chechnya in search of his brother proved that.  If he really did have feelings for Mac, why hadn’t he stepped in back then, when he might have stopped Mac from actually accepting Mic’s proposal?  Why had he let her go on believing for so long?

“Or maybe I’m just trying to convince myself that Mic’s wrong about them,” she whispered, a single tear falling onto the plastic sleeve encasing the photo.  Even though she knew deep down what she was going to hear once Mic walked through the doors leading from customs, knew that it would signal the end to all the hopes and dreams that she’d had, she still wasn’t sure if she was ready for it to be over.

“Renee,” a voice said from above her.  Renee took a deep breath to steady herself before looking up into eyes that reflected the sadness that she felt down to her soul.

“Mic,” she said quietly, willing her voice not to betray the turmoil in her soul.

Without a word, Mic set his bags down and sat down next to her, fishing a handkerchief out of his pocket and handing it to her.  He politely looked away as she wiped her eyes and silently took the handkerchief when she held it out to him.  For a few moments, they looked everywhere but at each other, neither of them ready to say the words.  Finally, Mic broke the silence.

“Thank you for picking me up,” he said, looking down uncomfortably at the luggage at his feet.  How had he managed to get stuck in the unenviable position of telling Renee all that had transpired in Russia?  Not only did Rabb get his girl, but he got to clean up Rabb’s mess with Renee as well.  Bloody swell.

Renee shrugged, although Mic couldn’t see the gesture.  “It’s wasn’t a problem,” she answered dully.  “It’s not like I had anywhere else to be.”  She paused for a moment, studying her black suede pumps, then asked, “Is it over?”

Mic hesitated.  There was so much behind that question, so many different situations to which that query could be applied.  But did the answer really change with any of them?  Slowly, he nodded, again a wasted gesture, “Yeah, it’s over.”

Renee continued to stare at her shoes, willing the tears not to start falling again.  She’d known this was coming, but that didn’t make the cold, hard reality of it hurt any less.  Mic cupped her chin and lifted her head, forcing her eyes to meet his.  “I’m sorry, Renee,” he said.  “I’m sorry that you – that we both – got hurt like this .... ” His voice trailed off.  He wasn’t quite sure what else to say, how to make this better for her, for either of them. 

“Tell me something, Mic,” she said, brushing tears from her cheeks, as a flash of anger showing through in her tone.  “Did it ever occur to you to stay and fight for what you wanted?  Was it really so easy to just walk away from the one you love?”

Mic took her hand, gently squeezing her fingers as he struggled to find the right words.  “No, it wasn’t easy,” he finally replied, a hint of torment evident in his voice.  “It was one of the hardest things that I’ve ever done.  There were so many times that I tried to tell myself to fight for what I thought was mine – when I was telling Sarah that I wasn’t going to ask her to put the ring back on, when I was telling Rabb that I was walking away.  But I couldn’t make myself do it, no matter how much I wanted to, because nothing would have changed.  Sarah never really was mine, even when she finally said that she would marry me.  If she had been, we wouldn’t be sitting here having this discussion because she never would have followed him to Chechnya in the first place.”

“I wish I could be that noble,” Renee said firmly as Mic tightened his fingers around hers.  “I don’t know if I can just walk away.”

“I won’t lie to you and say it will be easy,” Mic told her, “but I think you can.  You’re a proud woman, too proud to hand onto something that just isn’t there.”

“I think you have more faith in me than I have in myself,” Renee said bitterly.  Pulling her hand free of his, she picked up her still-open wallet and tilted it so he could see the picture.  “Tell me something, Mic.  What do you see here?”

Mic pretended to study the picture while he desperately tried to formulate a reply.  What did she want him to say?  What was the point of this little display?  “Well,” he began clumsily, “I see a man and a woman .... ”

“You know what I see?” she said angrily, cutting him off.  “Or rather, what I used to see?  I used to see a man and woman in love.  I used to see that the fairy tale ending wasn’t just something invented in the movies.  I used to think that we could have the happily ever after.  Me and Harm.  Can you believe that?  The 'Video Princess' and the upstanding Naval officer.  But now, when I look closer, I see a man who wasn’t happy with me, with us.  Why couldn’t I see that before?”

“Because you are in love,” Mic suggested simply.

“The way you are in love with Mac?” she demanded, yanking the picture out of the plastic sleeve and surprising Mic by ripping it in two.  Different people deal with things in different ways, he thought.  Although the thought had crossed his mind more than once, he couldn’t imagine himself actually destroying every reminder of what he and Mac had shared, or what he’d thought they’d shared.  Did that make him unwilling to let go?  Perhaps.  But surely there had to be some meaning in what had happened to all of them.  The last two years of his life spent pursuing, then losing, Sarah Mackenzie couldn't have been a complete waste of time.  There had to be some meaning in the heartache.  “And what did that get either of us?  The people we love are now with each other and we’re supposed to just pick up the pieces and move on, as if Harmon Rabb and Sarah Mackenzie never existed for us?  How?"

Her tirade ended on a ragged whisper as Mic put his arm around her shoulder and tried to pull her against him.  But she shook him off, shaking her head angrily.  "No," she insisted.  "I don't want to be comforted.  I want to be angry.  I want to shout to the world 'Why me?'.  I want .... "

"Renee," Mic said, putting his arm around her and managing this time to hold her, her head resting on his shoulder, her long blond hair falling over her face.  "It's okay to hurt.  It's okay to cry."

"I don't want to," she whispered, her words muffled against his shirt.  She lifted her head up and Mic was surprised that her eyes actually were dry.  "I can't.  Maybe someday.  But not yet."

"From someone who's in the same boat as you," Mic said, pushing her hair away from her face, "I want you to know that when you are ready, I'm here with a shoulder."

Renee looked away for a moment, struggling to control herself.  He was being so sweet and for one dark moment, she wondered how Mac could have been stupid enough to throw such a wonderful man away, especially for the self-centered Harmon Rabb.  Eventually, she look back at him, her expression devoid of emotion.  "Are you ready to get out of here?" she asked.  "In three days, you've been to Moscow and back.  You're probably tired, maybe even hungry.  I can't imagine the kind of food you found in Russia, but I'm sure it's not what you're used to."

Mic nodded, accepting her insistence on tabling the topic for now.  In the middle of a busy airport wasn't really the place for this discussion.  Then again, was there really a good place or a good time?  "Sounds good," he said as they stood.  "Will you have dinner with me?  We don't have to talk.  To be honest, I could use the friendly company."

"I accept," Renee replied brightly, almost too brightly.  "I could use some friendly company myself.  How do you feel about eating in?  We could get some take-out.  I know a good Thai place that's on the way back to Washington."

"Sounds like a plan," Mic replied, taking her into his arms and giving her a brief, chaste kiss.  They quickly pulled apart and smiled at each other as Renee put her wallet back in her purse and Mic picked his bags up.  If either of them thought there might have been something more to the brief lip to lip contact than a comforting gesture between friends who had been through a lot, they each told themselves that they couldn't be sure what they were feeling right now.

Part 2