Title: The Fires of Hope—speculation fic for season finale

Rating: Teen just to be safe

Category: Angst, Romance (H/M)

Spoilers: Rampant speculation on spoilers for the season 9 season finale.

Summary: JAG stuffers a devastating loss.

Warning: Character Death

I began working on this story when the first spoilers for season 9 (which terned out to be erroneous) came out came out. I wanted to abandon the story but it wouldn't leave me alone. So here it is. If you don't want to read anything angsty or are turned off by character death, DON'T READ THIS STORY!!! As typical, it is Mac POV.

Feedback welcome. Flames in private, please.

I was terribly remiss when I forgot to thank my beta reader Aerogirl in my last story. She is a marvelous beta reader and also very cool all around.

Oh yeah, obviously I don't own these characters.

0903 EDT

JAG Headquarters

Sarah MacKenzie was running late. An unusual condition for her, but given all that had happened in the last few days, her disorganization was understandable. She had finally given Webb the heave ho. Actually, the heave ho had been mutual. Both had realized independently that their relationship was going nowhere, fast. They parted company as friends, but both knew that their relationship as a couple was more a matter of circumstance and shared horror than any deep and abiding love between them. Then two days later, Rear Admiral AJ Chegwidden had announced to his flabbergasted staff that he was taking two weeks leave, after which he would be retiring from the Navy. He had left Mac in charge as acting JAG while he was on vacation, assuring her that a more permanent replacement would be in place soon. To top it all off, Harm had been a bear all week, snapping at people and being generally uncooperative. She figured something was bothering him, but she hadn't had the time, or perhaps the inclination, to ferret it out. And now, she was late for staff call.

As she grabbed the last of her notes and started to leave the office, she was interrupted by Petty Officer Coates's voice over the intercom. "Ma'am, there's a police detective on the phone. He wants to speak with whoever is in charge."

Mac stabbed impatiently at the intercom button. "Can it wait, Petty Officer? I'm late for staff call already."

"It sounds important, Ma'am. He's pretty insistent."

Mac sighed. "OK, Coates, patch him through and get word to Commander Rabb to start without me."

"Yes, Ma'am."

Mac waited for the buzz and snatched up the phone. She tried to keep the impatience out of her voice. "Hello. Lt. Colonel MacKenzie?"

[Colonel? I'm Detective John Gray, DC Metro Police.]

"What can I do for you, Detective?"

[You work with Admiral AJ Chegwidden?]

Uneasiness pricked the back of her mind, replacing her impatience. "Yes, Admiral Chegwidden is my CO. Is there a problem?"

The voice on the line hesitated. [There's no easy way to say this, Colonel. A man collapsed in Rock Creek Park while jogging this morning. We have tentatively identified him as Admiral Chegwidden.]

Mac groped for the Admiral's chair as her strength evaporated. "Where is he? Is he alright?" she asked, though she knew, somehow, the terrible truth.

[I'm sorry, Colonel. The paramedics couldn't revive him…]

The rest of the detective's words were drowned out by the roaring that filled Mac's brain, blocking out all other sensation. She held the phone in a death grip and stared, sightless, at the office door, as if expecting him to walk in any minute and prove this detective at best confused and at worst, a liar, the perpetrator of some sick joke. For a moment she thought she might faint but for the disembodied voice commanding her attention from the receiver. The whole situation was surreal.

[Colonel? Colonel? Are you there?]

"I'm sorry, Sir. W-what do you need from me?"

[Technically we need an official ID and we'll need somebody to make arrangements for the body. Does the admiral have any family in the area?]

His polite kindness unnerved her. Mac squeezed her eyes shut to keep the tears at bay, but her sorrow broke through in her voice. "N-no. The admiral's daughter is in Italy and he has no other family. I'll send somebody to make arrangements." She choked back a sob and cleared her throat. "Where is he?"

In a daze, she wrote down his instructions without really paying attention, her mind running in a thousand different directions. Who would she send? Who did she need to call? How would she tell everybody?

[Colonel?]

"Sorry, Detective. I'm here. I have the directions. I'll send somebody within the next hour."

[Thank you, Colonel, and I'm sorry for your loss.]

"Thank you," she whispered as she gently hung up the phone.

1020 EDT

JAG Headquarters

Steeling herself, Lt. Colonel Sarah MacKenzie, Acting JAG, stepped out of the office and into the bullpen. Petty Officer Coates dutifully followed her. Mac had already made the announcement to the Senior Staff and had sent Bud and Harm to ID the remains and to begin arrangements for interment. She informed Jennifer and Harriet privately, giving them both time to compose themselves before she made the general announcement. She hoped she could get through the next few minutes. She owed AJ Chegwidden at least that much. She nodded to Coates.

"Attention on deck!" Petty Officer Coates announced.

"At ease," Mac ordered as all around her personnel jumped to attention. "Several minutes ago I received a phone call from the DC police. A man collapsed and died of a heart attack this morning while jogging in Rock Creek Park. He has been tentatively identified as Admiral AJ Chegwidden." Stifled gasps, expressions of dismay and even some sobbing and swearing greeted her announcement. She paused to allow the shocked JAG staff to absorb the news before continuing. "I know this is a as great a shock to all of you as it is to me. We will all miss Admiral Chegwidden and are deeply saddened by his passing. However, I want you to remember how he would want to be remembered. How you can best honor his memory. Take a few minutes to compose yourselves and return to your duty stations. We owe Admiral Chegwidden nothing less. That will be all."

She walked slowly back to the office and closed the door behind her, wondering how she would get through the rest of the day.

1525 EDT

The JAG's office

Mac really didn't know how long she had been staring out the window. She had shuffled cases and released a few of the young enlisted who were having a hard time, talked to a couple of reporters and fielded several condolence calls. She was waiting for orders from the SecNav on how exactly to proceed for the next several days. Now that the urgent business was out of the way, she was having trouble burying her grief.

"Are you alright?" Harm asked from across the room.

She continued to stare out the window at the parking lot, marveling that the world continued on as if nothing had happened. There were people, even at JAG Headquarters, who were unaffected by the loss of the JAG. They had no personal stake in his presence in the world, so his loss was barely a ripple in their lives. But hers, Bud's, Jen's…

"No. I don't think I am," she answered tentatively, only because he seemed to be waiting for her to state the obvious. She started when he came up behind her and put his hands gently on her shoulders. Absorbed in her thoughts, she hadn't noticed his movement. She had to get a grip.

"Don't," she commanded softly.

His gentle kneading motions on her neck and shoulders had the unintended effect of increasing the tension twanging through her, using the muscles, nerves and sinew of her body like copper wire. His ministrations were not comforting but annoying. He seemed intent on making her break, allowing her to give in to the despair and grief hiding between all the cells in all the tissues of all the organs in her body, filling her, ever threatening to rise and asphyxiate her from within. To her dismay, her eyes began to fill up again. She couldn't do this, not here, not now.

She shrugged out of his grasp and took a step away. "Don't. Please."

"You're allowed to grieve, too, you know," he whispered, staying behind her.

"I can't, Harm. I have to keep it together for them," she gestured vaguely toward JAG OPS. "Somebody has to keep it together."

He laid a hand softly on her shoulder and stepped up beside her in the window. When he finally spoke, his voice was tinged with quiet wonder. "Look at them. They don't even know that the world has changed. It's like nothing happened."

Hearing her thoughts out loud was all it took. Tears poured unencumbered down her face, and her body shook violently as the sorrow she had held bound for more than half a day was released in a single whoosh, taking her control with it. Her legs trembled and she reached for the window sill for support, afraid that with the tension leaving her body, nothing would hold her vertical. He drew her into his arms and held her against his chest, cradling her, protecting her while she gave in to her weakness. For a few moments, Lt. Colonel Sarah MacKenzie and Commander Harmon Rabb Jr. were simply friends in shared grief.

But as swiftly as the moment had come, it was gone with a knock on the door.

"Colonel? Oh, I'm sorry, Ma'am."

Mac looked up in time to see Petty Officer Coates backing out of the office. "No, it's all right, Jennifer. What do you need?" she asked, extricating herself from the comfort of his arms and pulling herself into a passing imitation of military bearing. Jen looked terrible, but she was keeping it together, doing her job. If Jennifer Coates could do this, so could Sarah MacKenzie.

"The SecNav is on line 3, Ma'am."

"Thank you, Petty Officer. That will be all."

1100 EDT

Three days later

Arlington National Cemetery

Mac closed her eyes and bowed her head against the onslaught of emotions as the guns began their rhythmic salute, but the faces were emblazoned on her mind's eye. Harriet's open sorrow, on public display for everyone to see, yet comforting everyone around her. Coates' pale, haunted visage that made her look even younger than her 24 years. Bud, his eyes dry but red-rimmed, listing slightly to one side, his grief exacting a physical toll. Little AJ's polite confusion. He knew everybody was sad. He wasn't really sure why but he was trying so hard to be a "big boy" that it hurt to watch him. Sturgis…well, was…Sturgis, the old Sturgis, obviously upset but taking it in stride. Yet there was something dark and angry hiding behind his unflappable façade. And Harm, his eyes clear and dry, his back ramrod straight. He was the perfect example of military bearing, every inch an officer and a gentleman. He had made all the arrangements, had gotten everything perfect, down to the last detail. He had even volunteered to break the news to Francesca, who had been overwrought because in her last month of pregnancy, she could not attend the services. Mac's thoughts strayed to the paradox that was Harmon Rabb Jr.; a man at once driven by his emotions yet unable to express that which defined him, stoic yet so obviously heartbroken. Even if she lived to be 1000 years old, she would never understand how he could hold his emotions so tightly to his chest, refusing to let anybody inside, even when he was so obviously hurting. She just didn't get it. Why couldn't he admit to his grief? What was he afraid of?

Her eyes opened as Taps began to drift across the cemetery, a melancholy sound, accompanied by soft sobbing and throat clearing from the group assembled to bid farewell to Rear Admiral AJ Chegwidden. She felt her back stiffen reflexively and her head come up to attention involuntarily, her hand raised in salute to her fallen leader. An unspoken 'oh' formed in her mind as she automatically mimicked Harm's posture and held her own tears at bay. Maybe she was more like Harm than she cared to admit.

Mac stuck around until after the flag had been handed to the Admiral's sister and people had paid their individual respects to the man and had exchanged condolences with each other. Finally only she and Harm remained. He stood, one hand on the casket, looking into the distance, obviously troubled. She walked up to him and spoke softly, trying not to startle him.

"You coming?" she asked quietly, placing a gentle hand on his arm.

He turned toward her and gave her a nod of gratitude. "You go. I'll be along in a while."

"How will you get to the O club? Everybody's already gone."

"I'll get a cab or a bus."

"Harm?" His behavior concerned her. He seemed OK on the surface, but to anybody who knew him well, it was obvious that he was hurting, that something more than AJ Chegwidden's untimely death was eating at him. She really didn't want to leave him alone with his thoughts.

He reached up and covered her hand where it rested on his arm, giving her a tight smile. "Really. I'm alright, Mac. I just need some time alone. I'll be by later."

Her skepticism must have showed on her face, because he chuckled softly. "I promise I'm all right. I'll catch up with you later."

Still not entirely convinced, she protested, "I could wait for you."

"Mac, you need to be there. You're acting JAG. Go. I'm OK. Really."

Finally, realizing she could not convince him to let her stay, she left.

1535 EDT

The Washington Officers Club

Several hours later, Mac had still not caught up with Harm. She caught glimpses of him chatting with people, but by the time she extricated herself, he had always disappeared. She had spent the afternoon sharing stories about AJ, the more embarrassing the better, in finest tradition of a post-funeral send-off. She had fended off several drink offers and several far too personal questions. She had listened to endless speculation about who would be the new JAG. The speculation had ranged from the truly frightening, Allison Krennick, to the bizarre, rapid promotions for her, Sturgis, or Harm, depending on who was doing the speculating. She chuckled to herself as she contemplated the negative G's encountered on an accelerated promotion that would give any of them enough rank to take over as JAG.

Finally, she spotted Harm standing alone on the balcony overlooking the Potomac. She stepped out onto the balcony and stood beside him at the railing.

"Hey. You OK?" she asked quietly.

"Yeah. Just thinking," he answered absently.

"Thought I smelled wood burning," she said lightly, testing the waters, forcing a bantering tone into her voice.

He looked sideways at her and gave her a quick smirk. "Funny," he murmured, in a tone that suggested her comment was anything but.

She deflated, the phony cheerfulness too great a burden to carry once unmasked. "Sorry," she murmured.

"It's alright. I'm just not really in the mood."

"Me neither, I guess."

They stood next to each other at the rail, watching the birds ride the updrafts over the river. Mac's thoughts strayed to their relationship. How ironic. They stood inches apart, almost touching, yet too stubborn or frightened or something to bridge the tiny gap. How had they gotten to this point? And how could they fix it?

Harm interrupted her musings. "How many things do you think he left unsaid, Mac? Undone?" he asked sadly, with an edge of frustration.

"I don't know, Harm, probably a lot. That's human nature."

"But why, Mac? Why do we do it? Act like we have all the time in the world, when we know we don't?" He sounded mildly exasperated.

"I don't know, Harm. It's just the way it is. You of all people should know that we don't always get closure on everything," she countered warily, wondering where the conversation was headed, but knowing deep in her own heart the answer to his question.

"Yeah," he agreed ruefully. After a moment his demeanor changed. His posture became more resolute. "But you know what? It has to end somewhere. I'm going to put a stop to it."

"Really, how you going to do that?" she asked with a lightness that felt and sounded forced.

He turned to her and took her hands in his, his red-rimmed eyes boring into her. She was shocked to see they were filled, not with sorrow, but with fear. He quickly looked down at their clasped hands and gave himself a subtle shake as if steeling himself for a confrontation. Her own heart began to beat frantically as she tried to figure out what had him so frightened. She swallowed and waited for him to begin, trying desperately to keep the walls from closing around her heart, wanting terribly to let him inside.

"You know I care about you, right?"

"Of course," she answered carefully.

"You know you're probably the best friend I've ever had, right?"

"Even after everything this past year?" At his puzzled look, she hesitated for a moment and then answered her own question. "Yeah, I know that," she answered wistfully, squeezing his hands in a gesture of support. Whatever he was trying to say, it was not easy for him. Her stomach tightened with anxiety and she felt her eyes begin to fill with tears. What was he trying to tell her? Was he going to walk away? Had she finally succeeded in pushing him away for good?

"I, I should have said this a long time ago. I just need you to let me finish and then you can say whatever you want to say and do whatever you want to do. I've been afraid of losing you for so long. I've squandered so many chances. If this destroys what's left of our friendship, than so be it, but I can't let it go unsaid any longer."

She held her breath, terrified that for the first time in their tumultuous relationship, Harm was going to take her at her word and leave her life for good. In a desperate attempt to protect herself, she had destroyed their connection. She would be alone again. His next admission floored her.

"I love you, Mac," he blurted out and let go of her hands abruptly, moving to overlook the river.

Stunned, she examined her now empty hands, turning them over as if they held some clue as to what had just happened. "What?" she managed to croak, turning to look at the back of his head.

"I'm in love with you," he whispered, his voice choked with fear. "I've been in love with you for a long time."

Mac didn't know what to say or how to react. Part of her wanted to rejoice in his declaration, to run toward him declaring her love to anyone who would listen. But a bigger part of her vowed to protect her wounded soul, to keep her from falling into yet another trap that would end up with her alone again, nursing another heartache. She didn’t think their friendship could withstand anther misstep. She knew her heart couldn't. She wanted to take his love at face value, but too much had happened, her suspicions ran too deep. Her demons won out and she cringed inwardly as she heard herself question his sincerity.

"You love me?" she asked softly, trying valiantly not to offend him.

"Yes."

"Why now? Does this have something to do with Saturday?" Her voice turned mildly accusatory.

He turned toward her, plainly hurt by her insinuation. "Saturday?"

"Yes," she answered, walking to the railing and looking out over the river, unable to face the hurt in his eyes. "Our deal."

To her surprise, he did not take further offense at her uncertainty. "I assume that is null and void," he answered evenly.

To her even greater surprise, his description of the deal as dead in the water disappointed her. She had thought she was over him, that she had moved on, as he had. But apparently she was wrong about her own feelings. Maybe, just maybe, she was wrong about his, too.

"Why is the deal off?" she asked, almost timidly.

"Neither of us being in a relationship was a prerequisite for the deal, as I recall. I'm stag at the moment, but you're not." His voice remained calm, yet firm. He was apparently not offended by her questions and he was not going to back away from his statement.

She sighed heavily. Should she come clean with him? Her desire for protection, for playing it safe urged her to run from the conversation, put an end to it. They had been to the brink so many times and just as many times ended up hurting each other. But the small part of her that believed there might still be a chance for them wouldn't let her give up.

"No, there isn't anybody in my life."

This time, it was his turn to be surprised. He turned toward her and for an instant she saw hope and excitement flicker across his face. But just as quickly the emotion disappeared, leaving her to wonder if it had just been her imagination.

"There's not?" His voice sounded more animated. Maybe there was still a chance.

"No. We broke up."

"When?" he asked, a bit frantically.

She waved her hand in dismissal. "A while ago. It just wasn’t working out."

"I'm sorry," he said softly.

"You are?"

He chuckled softly. "No not really. Only because he seemed to make you happy."

"He did, for a while."

"But not forever?" he asked quietly, gently touching her shoulder.

"No, not forever," she admitted softly.

They stood against the railing in companionable silence for the first time in months. He reached around her and draped his arm across her shoulders. Involuntarily, she leaned into his embrace. She had missed this, she realized. She had missed this a lot. He said he loved her. That's what she had been waiting for. She had her declaration. What was keeping her from returning the sentiment? He said it wasn't about the deal. Could she believe him? Could she trust somebody with her heart again? Wasn't this man worth the risk? If she didn't risk this, would he forever be her unfinished business? She wanted so badly to give in to her feelings, to place her trust and soul in his hands, to love him unconditionally, but she wasn't sure she knew how.

"Dammit," his soft curse interrupted her jumbled thoughts.

"What is it?"

"I promised Mattie I would be there for dinner tonight. I can't be late. It's our last one…" He trailed off.

"What? What are you talking about?" She drew back to look him in the eye.

"She's going back to Tom tonight after dinner."

"Back to Tom? When did that happen?" she tried to keep the anger out of her voice. Why the hell hadn’t he told her something as important as this?

"We were supposed to go to court a week ago, but we got together and talked. The timing is right, Mattie's finishing the school year and Tom's ready," he explained unconvincingly.

"What does Mattie think?" It was much too early for Mattie to go back to her father. There was no way he was ready. What was Harm thinking?

"To say Mathilda is less than thrilled is a tremendous understatement. But we worked out a deal. If she needs me any time day or night, she can call or come over. Tom knows I am just a phone call away. Mattie needs to repair this relationship, and I need to let her go. I can't keep depending on Coates forever. It's for the best, really."

"Is it?" she asked doubtfully.

"I think it is. The court would have sided with him anyhow, since he has cleaned up his act. This way, I get some control over the situation and Mattie feels like she has an escape hatch. It'll be OK." His voice wavered and for a moment Mac thought he might burst into tears.

"I'm sorry, Harm." Given how upset he was, voicing her reservations seemed cruel, so, for once, she kept her own counsel.

"Thanks, Mac." He turned to walk away and then turned back to her.

"Look, why don't you come over later tonight. We can talk some more or watch a movie. Whatever you want." He spread his arms as if in supplication.

"Are you sure?" Again she hesitated, still uncertain. Could they really move on from here, after everything that had been said and done?

"Yes. I, I guess I don't want to be alone after she leaves. I could really use a friend."

She felt a smile creep across her face. "You've got one. I'll be there."

He smiled a sad smile and leaned down. He gently kissed her lips, only a soft brush of his lips against hers, but filled with the promise of passion to come. She closed her eyes and reveled in the warmth that spread over her, cradling her, reawakening their connection. As he turned to leave, she grabbed his arm impulsively, as if propelled by some unseen force. She couldn't just let him leave. She had to take this risk. Somehow she understood that if she didn't, she might never get another chance. He had overcome his fear. Now it was her turn.

"I love you, too, Harm."

He smiled again, a real smile this time, full of love and trust. He kissed her gently again and straightened. "I have to go. But I'll see you later."

"Bye," she whispered, unable to muster the strength to say anything more. As she watched him leave, the memory of his kiss assailed her again and again and her heart was transformed. Somewhere deep in the ashes of her soul a tiny ember, nurtured and protected for years, buried in the rubble of her past, burst into flame. Rapidly it consumed the debris that clogged her heart, an inferno scouring her soul. Sarah MacKenzie's light burned brightly, not scorched with fear or pain, but incredibly, she burned with a light she had thought lost forever. Her soul, perhaps for the first time in her life, was lit by the fires of hope.