HARM'S APARTMENT
NORTH OF UNION STATION

How'd we get to this point anyway?

The words, spoken what seemed like an entire lifetime ago, echoed in Harm's head.  Things had seemed so much simpler back then.  Even when they fought, which wasn't often, they always had known that sooner or later – usually sooner – everything would be okay and they would get past whatever they were fighting about.

But for the last year and a half, everything had been so different.  They fought more than usual and each fight just seemed to be yet another nail in the coffin that their friendship was fast being buried in.  They couldn't seem to turn to each other, they couldn't seem to be able to rely on each other.  Even during the recent tragedy which had struck their lives, they'd been unable to really reach out, to give each other the comfort they both had so desperately needed.  The most they'd been able to manage had been generic words of comfort and support.

And tonight had come what seemed to be the final nail in the coffin ....

EARLIER THAT EVENING
VIETNAM MEMORIAL
WASHINGTON DC

He stood in the cold and the falling snow, his fingers reverently touching the engraved name.  "History's repeating itself," he whispered, his words lost in the howl of the bitter wind.  "And I have to try and stop it.  I have to find him, the way I tried to find you."

He felt her presence before he saw her, so attuned was he to the essence that was uniquely hers, even after everything that had driven them apart. "What are you doing here?" he asked, a bit more harshly than he had intended.

She noted his tone, but chose to ignore it, realizing the aching hurt that was tearing his soul apart.  "Webb called me," she gently replied.  "He told me what happened.  Harm, I'm so sorry.  What can I do to help?"

"Nothing," he replied, his voice bitter but full of determination as he turned to face her.  Why now, after all this time?  Why did she have to care?  "There's nothing anybody can do – except me."

"What do you mean?" she asked hesitantly, afraid that he would confirm what Webb had told her.  Afraid that he was walking out of her life again.

"I'm resigning my commission," he stated, his voice as level and calm as if he'd just announced what he was having for dinner.

No, her mind screamed.  He couldn't do it.  She had to stop him somehow. "This is no time to make a life changing decision," she said, hoping to change his mind or at least get him to reconsider his decision.  She was hoping against hope that she still held some kind of influence over him.

"I'm going to find my brother," he said firmly, taking her gloved hands in his.  "I have to do this.  I owe it to him."

"Which him?" she asked, tightening her fingers around his.  He was still here talking to her.  Surely that had to be a good sign.  "Sergei or your father?"

"Both," he replied, absently rubbing his thumbs over her knuckles.  "I couldn't save my father, but I have the chance .... " his voice trailed off in the wind as his right thumb brushed an odd bump on her left hand.  It wasn't smooth like her Marine Corps ring should feel, but pointed and sharp. Holding his breath, afraid of what he would see, he started pulling off her glove as he looked into her eyes, praying that she would deny it all.

She realized his intent and tried to pull her hand away, but only succeeding in helping him get the glove off faster.  His eyes fell to her now uncovered hand, where the diamond sparkled brightly on her third finger in the lights of the memorial.

She sucked in a breath at the expression she saw in his eyes as he lifted them to meet her gaze.  Before, they had been full of fire and determination, the kind of steel that would give him the strength to disobey an Admiral's direct order, to find his brother in a war torn land.  Now they were dead, lifeless, as if nothing in the world mattered to him anymore. "Harm, I .... " she began, only to be cut off.

"'This is no time to make a life changing decision'?" he retorted, throwing her words back at her, his voice oh so soft yet oh so bitter.  He dropped her other hand as his cold, numb fingers let go of the glove he had removed, the black leather falling to rest on the snow covered ground.  "Goodbye, Sarah Mackenzie."

As the tall, proud man turned and walked away from her, his shoulders slumping almost imperceptibly, Mac resisted the urge to give into the tears of frustration and desperation which were forming in her brown eyes.  "Harm, please," she called out, but if he heard her, he gave no indication.  His long strides were carrying him out of her life again, leaving Sarah Mackenzie standing alone in the bitterly cold December night.

BACK TO THE PRESENT
MAC'S APARTMENT
GEORGETOWN

Mac couldn't remember how she had managed to pull herself together long enough to pick up her glove from the snow and leave the memorial, nor could she remember the drive back to her apartment.  All she was aware of was the harsh cold that surrounded and enveloped her, numbing her to everything. She felt as if she had truly lost her best friend, this time forever.

"What's the matter, luv?" Mic asked, trying to pull her into his arms as she entered the warm apartment.  Blindly, Mac walked past him and stood in the center of the living room, her arms wrapped around herself as if she was trying to ward off the freezing cold of outside, a cold still very much with her.  "What was that phone call about that had you rushing off on a night like this?"  He walked up behind her and wrapped his arms around her, but she simply stood there stiff and unyielding.

"Nothing," she replied, her voice as dull and lifeless as she felt.  "It doesn't matter anymore.  Nothing matters anymore."

"Nothing?" Mic repeated, astonished.  "We're getting married.  How could that not matter?"

"Mic, please don't," she cried out, her voice shaking slightly as the tears threatened again.  She pulled out of his arms and moved away from him to stand at the window, staring out at the falling snow.  "I can't do this."

"I'm your fiancé," he said gently.  "Let me help you.  We should be able to share things with each other."

"I said no," she exclaimed forceful, Mic taking an involuntary step backward at the sharpness of her tone.  "What part of that don't you understand?"

Mic didn't have a response for that, was almost afraid to respond.  He couldn't remember ever seeing her this despondent, even when she had fled to Australia after the incident with the mishap report.  Hoping to pull her out of the mood she was in, Mic walked over and turned on the stereo, scanning through the stations, settling on one playing Christmas tunes.  This is perfect, he thought, as he started singing along with the song in his slightly off-key bass.

Oh, the weather outside is frightful
But the fire is so delightful
And since we've no place to go
Let it snow, let it snow, let it snow

Oh, it doesn't show ....

The song was cut off mid-phrase as Mac strode over and gave the tuning dial on the stereo a hard spin, pop music filling the room as the dial stopped on another station.  "I said no," she cried out, her body shaking from the cold despite the warmth from the heater and the fireplace.  "Just leave."

"Sarah, please," Mic pleaded, desperate to ease the emotional pain that was obviously tearing her apart.  He didn't know what had caused it, he just wanted to take it away.  "Let me help."

Mac took a deep breath and replied, her voice steely, "If you love me, if you care about me at all, you will leave me alone.  I just need to be alone right now."

Mic wanted to argue, but he didn't want to push her away.  She had requested to be left alone, so he would accommodate her – for now.  Picking up his coat from where it lay across the desk chair, he pulled it on and said softly, "I'm going, but I will be back tomorrow.  I love you and I do want to help.  That's why I'm leaving now."

Mac made no movement, no sound to indicate that she had even heard him. With a heavy sigh, Mic left the apartment, quietly pulling the door closed behind him.  Her behavior had him very worried and he didn't know what to do.  He could not remember ever feeling so helpless.  As he stood walked down the stairs, a plan began formulating in his mind.  He'd almost rather walk over hot coals than what he was about to do, but if he couldn't get through to Sarah, he thought he knew someone who might be able to.

Back in the apartment, Mac hadn't even noticed his departure, wrapped up in the bitter sting of rejection and broken friendships.  Almost from the moment she'd let Mic slip the ring onto her left hand, she'd been agonizing over how to break the news to Harm.  But once she'd received the phone call from Webb informing her of Sergei's disappearance and Harm's intention to resign his commission to go searching for him, she had known that she couldn't tell him now.  He'd never liked Mic and although he'd sworn that he would be happy for her if she was happy, she knew the news of her engagement would hurt him and she couldn't do that to him, not when he was already dealing with a greater pain.

Struggling to hold back tears, she noticed nothing around her – not the crackling of the fire in the fireplace, Jingo's soft snoring as he lay sleeping in front of the couch, the soft hum of the heater.  It was as if nothing existed in her pain-filled world, until a new song began playing on the radio, it's words drifting into her heart with the bitter clarity of truth.

And now, is it too late to say
How you made my life so different in your quiet way?
I can see the joy in simple things
A sunlit sky and all the songs we used to sing

I have walked and I have prayed
I could forgive and we could start again
In the end, you are my one true friend

Mac looked up to the ceiling as the tears finally began to fall, the words of the song echoing in her head.  'I could forgive and we could start again'.  Oh, why can't we do that now, she thought bitterly.  Why can't you be my friend anymore?   Why did we let everything and everyone tear us apart?

For all, all the times you closed your eyes
Allowing me to stumble or to be surprised
By life with all its twists and turns
I made mistakes, you always knew that I would learn

And when I left, it's you who stayed
You always knew that I'd come home again
In the end, you are my one true friend

Though love may break, it never dies
It changes shape through changing eyes
What I denied, I now can see
You always were the light inside of me

I know, I know, I know, I know it was you

I have walked and I have prayed
I could forgive and we could start again
In the end, you are my one true friend

My one true friend
I always, always knew
I always knew that it was you
My one true friend

"Oh, Harm," she cried, sinking to her knees, crying as she hadn't since the night Harm had left JAG as he had returned to flying.  Rocking back and forth, she sobbed out all her frustrations and her pain.  "I want us back. I want us to start again."

Mac couldn't say how long she sat there on the floor of her living room, tears falling freely until she had no more tears left to shed, Jingo rising to sit next to her, leaning his head against her arm.  Once the tears were gone, reason return and Mac began to think – think about how they had gotten to this place and, more importantly, how to return to where they had been.

It was sixty-five minutes before Mac rose from the floor, a peace in her countenance now that she had made a decision.  She knew what she had to do – for herself, for Harm and for Mic.  She owed it to all of them to set things right.  None of them could go on like this, not and have any chance at real happiness.

Taking a deep breath, she sat down at her desk and pulled out a legal pad and pen, her hand moving swiftly across the page as the words poured out. After a few minutes, she sat back and reread what she had written. Satisfied that she had said what was needed, she tore the page off the pad and carefully folded it, stuffing it in a business envelope she pulled out of a drawer.  She paused a moment, then slid her engagement ring off her finger and dropped it into the envelope as well.

As she sealed the envelope, she pondered the best way to deliver it.  She couldn't just walk up and hand it to him.  He might try to talk her out of it and she didn't want to be talked out of this.  It was something she had to do.  She didn't know what would happen when all was said and done or who she would end up with.  All she knew is that Harm had been right when he had thrown her words back at her at the Wall.

This wasn't the right time to make a life changing decision.  When she examined not only the events of tonight, but also the People magazine article, the case with Jimmy and Fanny, the death of baby Sarah plus a multitude of other things that had happened over the last few months, she realized that she was in no condition to make the kind of decision she had just made.  Her life was too unsettled, her feelings too unsure.  She was just sorry that she had come to that realization after the fact.  This was going to hurt Mic, even with her promise that she would carefully consider her decision again after everything was settled and might even affirm her original one.  But for all of their sakes, she couldn't let things continue on the path they were on.

Figuring that she had the whole night to figure out how to deliver the letter, she picked up the phone and dialed a rarely used number, figuring that this definitely qualified as an emergency.  Despite the grumbling on the other end of the line, she got the information she needed.  Her second call went a lot smoother and her plans were firmed up using the information she had gleaned from the first call.

She was about to dial a third number when something stayed her hand.  In her mind, she replayed her earlier phone conversation with Clay and decided against the phone call.  She didn't want to risk anything calling a halt to her plans.  She knew there was a great risk involved professionally, but she had to take it.  Picking up her pen again, she wrote out another letter. She didn't know if it would have any effect, but by the time he received it, he would be unable to stop her.  Finished with the letter, she pulled out another envelope and sealed the letter inside.  She would drop both off tomorrow before she left.

Feeling the best she had all evening, she rose from her desk and headed for the kitchen, Jingo by her side.  Grabbing a biscuit from the tin on the counter, she fed it to him, rubbing his head as she knelt beside him. "You'll be a good boy while I'm gone, won't you?" she asked, massaging his ears.  "Mic, or Bud and Harriet if Mic doesn't want the job, will take good care of you and I'll be back as soon as I can."  Allowing herself a small smile, the first one of the night, she went to her bedroom to pack.

HARM'S APARTMENT
NORTH OF UNION STATION

Harm sat at his table, staring at the open beer in front of him.  He had yet to take a sip, was even uncertain why he had even opened it in the first place.  He needed his head to be clear as he began the search for his brother in Chechnya.

Oh, yeah.  There had been a reason he had opened the beer, a reason wrapped up in a gold band topped by a sparkling diamond.  Of all the things that could have happened, the idea that Sarah Mackenzie could drive him to take a drink was pretty unbelievable.  He'd always been so hesitant about drinking in her presence, often asking if she minded before he partook.  But she wasn't here, having been pushed out of his life after she had kicked a gaping hole in his gut.

He wasn't sure why the sudden appearance of that damned ring on her left hand had surprised him so much.  The fear that she would eventually move it over had always been present.  Maybe, after so much time, he began to worry less and less that the ring would eventually make its way over to the other hand.  After all, if she really loved the man and wanted to marry him, why would the ring have sat on her right hand for ten months?  But on top of everything else tonight, the knowledge that Mac was now officially engaged to Mic was painfully unbearable.

With a sigh of frustration, he stood and swiped up the bottle, carrying it to the kitchen sink where he angrily poured the amber liquid into the sink, watching it flow down the drain, imagining that it was his life swirling away.  Why not?  His brother was missing, possibly even dead at the hands of Chechen rebels.  His career was over.  Even if he hadn't prepared his letter of resignation for Admiral Chegwidden, he would likely have been declared UA and brought up on DDO charges.  Renee was furious with him.  Although she was hardly displeased that he had decided to resign his commission – far from it in fact – her plans for him had been more along the lines of him going into civilian practice, not chasing halfway around the world after his brother.  His mother was disappointed and probably a little mad that he hadn't seen fit to inform her of Sergei's existence before she was called to comment on it for a newspaper story.  And his best friend – former best friend, he bitterly corrected himself – well, he couldn't even bear to think about her.  For some reason he didn't want to think about, that hurt the most of all.

Startled out of his morose reverie by a forceful knock at the door, he dropped the bottle into the sink, barely noticing when the brown glass shattered.  He strode over to the door, determined to swiftly dispatch whoever was unfortunate enough to be standing on the other side.  Yanking open the door without checking the peephole, prepared to ream out the person on the other side, he stopped short when he saw the last person he ever expected to find on his door step.

He wasn't the only one who was surprised.  Mic was stunned at the countenance of the man standing on the other side of the door.  He saw the same haunted look he had seen in Mac's eyes earlier and he had the sinking feeling that the two were connected.  He didn't want that to be true, but he couldn't deny that these two had a bond that he would never truly understand.

"What do you want, Mic?" Harm demanded after a moment when Mic didn't say a word.

Stunned, Mic said the first thing that popped into his head.  "You look like hell, mate," he said.

"Brilliant observation, mate," Harm retorted bitterly.  "Now, if you don't mind, I have a lot to do."  He started to close the door on Mic, but Mic pushed back and stepped into the apartment.

"I need to talk to you," Mic said, closing the door behind him as Harm walked away from him to the bedroom.  Harm hadn't kicked him out, which Mic took as a good sign.  If Harm's and Mac's moods were related, maybe he would be able yet to find out what was going on.  He wandered around the small apartment, noting the smashed bottle in the kitchen sink and the notepad by the phone with Harm's morning flight information.  Aeroflot?  Mic remembered being told that Harm had a brother in the Russian Army and he wondered if something had happened to him.  Perhaps what was going on with Harm and Mac was unrelated after all.  After all, as close as Harm and Mac were, Mac would hardly become despondent over his brother, someone she barely knew. She hadn't even been that despondent - although she had definitely grieved - over the death of her goddaughter a few weeks earlier.

"Nice place you've got here," Mic said conversationally, not sure how to proceed.  He and Harm were hardly known for their friendly talks.

"Something tells me you didn't come all the way over here to comment on my living arrangements," Harm called out from the bedroom where he was going through his closet one last time, making sure there was nothing else he needed to pack for his trip.  Spying something on the top shelf, he pulled down a knit cap.  He'd definitely have need of that where he was going.  He tossed it in the open suitcase on the bed.

Mic took a deep breath, reminding himself that if something had happened to Harm's brother, he was entitled to be in a less than friendly mood. "Something's wrong with Sarah and I'm concerned," he explained.  "I thought you, being her friend and all, might know what was wrong."  He hated to admit it to anyone, least of all to Harm, but he added, "She won't talk to me about it."

"Don't know and don't care," Harm lied, snapping the suitcase shut and carrying it into the other room, dropping it by the door with a loud thud while Mic forced himself not to flinch.  "I've got problems of my own, thank you very much.  Besides, why would she tell me something that she won't tell her own fiancé?"

Mic considered backing off and leaving.  Even if he couldn't stand the man, if something really had happened to the man's brother, he could find it in himself to be considerate of the pain Harm was going through.  But something stopped him from making a move towards the door.  "Going to Russia again, Harm?" he asked, mildly curious in spite of himself.

"Not that I think you care," Harm replied, "but my brother is MIA.  I have to go find him."

"Does Sarah know yet?" Mic asked.  He hated to admit it, but Sarah cared for the bastard for some God unknown reason that he couldn't fathom.  "You know, she'd be concerned.  She spoke highly of your brother when .... "

Harm yanked the door open and gestured to the hallway.  "I think you need to leave now," Harm said, his voice taking on a dangerous edge.

Sighing as he realized that he wasn't going to get what he was looking for here, he nodded and started to leave.  Stopping in the doorway, he turned back and said sincerely, "I hope everything turns out okay with your brother."  When Harm didn't reply, Mic turned and walked towards the stairs as Harm slammed the door shut behind him.

As he brushed the accumulated snow from his car in the alley, Mic thought back over what had and hadn't been said.  He thought it was telling that Harm had insisted on his departure after Mac's name had been mentioned. Although he was sure that most of his surly behavior was related to his brother's disappearance, the feeling returned, stronger than before, that something had happened between Harm and Mac which had added to Harm's bad mood.

He also noted Harm's use of the word 'fiancé' when he had referred to Mac. Could that be what was wrong?  He was tempted to dismiss the idea out of hand, but reconsidered.  True, they had never gotten along, Mic knew that Harm dislike the way he had pursued Mac and Mic had believed in the beginning that the relationship between Harm and Mac went beyond friendship. But since Mic had moved back to Washington, although the men had avoided each other as much as possible, when forced by circumstances to tolerate each other's presence, they had at least managed to be cordial to each other.  But what if Harm had gotten so used to the idea of the ring being on Mac's right hand that when it had been moved over, it had suddenly occurred to him that he really did want Mac but couldn't have her anymore?  Mic had to admit that was how he would feel if the situations were reversed.

With a sigh, he got into his car and turned the key, making sure the heat was going full blast.  He'd go home and call Mac tomorrow.  Maybe by then she would have calmed down enough to let him in and let him help her.

THE NEXT EVENING
DULLES INTERNATIONAL AIRPORT

Harm stared out the window from his first class seat on the Aeroflot flight bound for Moscow.  Despite the cost, he hadn't even flinched when told that the only seats left on the next flight for Russia were in first class. Money didn't matter when it came to finding his brother.

He glanced at his watch, impatient for the flight to take off.  About ten minutes left until the official departure time and he could see through the open curtain behind him that passengers were still making their way to their seats in the business and coach cabins.  With a frustrated sigh, he turned forward and pulled two pictures out of the inner pocket of his leather jacket.

The first, in black and white, was the aged, laminated photo of him and his father taken their last summer together with an F-4 on the deck of the USS Ticonderoga.  The second was more recent, taken of him and Sergei during his last trip to Russia.  He closed his eyes as he remembered the day the photo was taken.  Somehow, after all the excitement was over, Sergei had found a camera and insisted that some pictures be taken so that both he and Harm would have a visual reminder of their new bond, even when they were separated by an ocean.  Harm had taken some pictures of Sergei by himself and Sergei had taken some pictures of him.  Then Sergei had handed the camera to Mac and had insisted on some photos of him and Harm together. Finally, the camera had been passed to Captain Volkonov and Mac had been pulled in for a picture, a copy of which was carefully tucked away in a photo album in Harm's apartment.

Harm shook his head, trying to banish thoughts of Mac from his mind.  It hurt too much and he couldn't afford to cloud his mind.  He needed his mind clear so that he could concentrate on the mission at hand.  He opened his eyes as he returned the pictures to his pocket, turning again to stare out the window, working on a plan to find Sergei and bring him home to the States.

"Izvinite pozhaluista.  Ehto myesto svobodno?" a lyrical female voice asked.

Harm uttered a soft curse, despite the fact that he didn't understand a word of what was just said.  He had hoped that the seat next to him would remain empty, hopes that apparently had just been dashed.  He wasn't really in the mood to make idle conversation over the ten hour flight to Moscow.  Maybe he'd be lucky and his seat companion wouldn't speak a word of English.  That would guarantee a quiet flight left to his own tortured thoughts.

Still facing the window, he began, "I'm sorry, I don't speak .... " trailing off as he was struck with the strongest feeling of déjà vu.  He'd had this exact same conversation before on another flight to Moscow to find a missing loved one.  He whipped his head around to find himself looking into the brown eyes of the woman he now thought of as his former best friend as she slid into the seat next to him.

"Something tells me that you need me again to come up with the dispassionate plan," she commented as she fastened her seat belt.  When he didn't say a word, merely turning his head back to look out the window, she added, "At least you're not arguing with me."

"Maybe because I don't care anymore," he muttered under his breath, so softly that she couldn't hear him even seated next to him, even as a tiny part of his heart which he had hoped he had closed off to her was pleased that she would be coming with him.  After all, they had done so well together during two previous trips to Russia.

Part 2