TITLE: Afterthoughts
AUTHOR: J-Gi-210(J_Gi_210@hotmail.com)(but only email me if you like 
the fic 
and have nice things to say--I'm not good with criticism)
RATING: PG-13 (sorry to disappoint)
SPOILERS: Pretty much the whole series, but especially episodes like 
Boomerang and Boomerang 2.
DISCLAIMER: Unfortunately, I don't own JAG or its characters.  Not that 
I 
would object to owning them or anything, but I probably couldn't afford 
them.  DJE seems like he has really expensive taste.  So D. Bellisario 
and 
his network can have them.  I am content with writing fanfics.
DESCRIPTION: After everything Harm and Mac have survived, Mic Brumby 
remains 
their biggest obstacle.
AN: I know the title of this fanfic has very little, if anything at 
all, to 
do with the actual events of the story.  However, it sounds very 
romantic 
and fanfic-esque.  Very Harm-and-Mac-ish, if you ask me. Make of it 
what you 
will.  Also, dialogue really isn't my strong point, but hey, you can 
use 
your imagination.  You know, just like you do when you watch the show.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *


	She was pacing.  Harm could see her silhouette through the cloudy 
office 
window and the muffled shuffling sounds from behind the closed door 
were a 
dead give away.  Something was up--he knew Mac.  She didn't pace unless 
it 
was something big.  Monday at JAG headquarters and already something 
pace 
worthy had happened.  Harm grimaced to himself--Mac pacing on a Monday 
was 
never a good sign.
	He smiled at his coworkers as he ambled towards Mac's office.  On a 
normal 
Monday morning, he would have stopped to chat-- ask Bud how little A.J. 
was 
doing, talk to Gunny about the woman (or women) he had taken out over 
the 
weekend.  But Mac was pacing, thus declaring the profound  abnormality 
of 
this particular Monday morning.
	He knocked on her door, a gesture reserved for events such as pacing 
and 
PMS.  He had crashed planes and risked his life various other ways a 
billion 
times, but Marines like Mac and PMS (or pacing, as the case was) was a 
deadly combo that even he, the dashingly fearless Navy flyboy, wouldn't 
put 
himself up against.
	"Enter."  Her voice was weaker and less commanding that usual, and 
Harm 
warily did as he was told.  She stopped pacing and looked up at him, 
her 
eyes immediately finding his.  Her eyes, normally bright and sparkling 
(even 
on Mondays), were red and swollen, her pale cheeks streaked with tears.  
Her 
uniform was wrinkled, looking almost as though she'd slept in it.  
Harm's 
heart pounded--he was almost afraid to ask.
	"What's wrong, Mac?" he asked softly, stepping forward and touching 
her 
shoulder.
	"Oh, Harm." Her voice cracked and she bowed her head as more tears 
began to 
fall from her eyes.  He held his arms out to her, the only gesture that 
seemed appropriate, and in an instant Mac was sobbing into his chest, 
her 
hands squeezing his shoulders.
	It's ok," he murmured, rubbing her back.  "What's going on?"
	"It's Mic." Her voice was muffled but he heard her words loud and 
clear.  
Mic Brumby (Bugme to his enemies--well, to Harm, anyway).  Mac's 
ex-fiance 
and quite possibly the most obnoxious "sailor" in the Royal Australian 
Navy. 
  Harm and Mac rarely spoke of Mic, and just the mention of his name 
made 
Harm's blood boil.
	"What about him," asked Harm, his voice a bit sharper than he'd 
intended.
	"He's . . he's--" she stammered.  Pacing and stammering--damn, this 
must be 
something big.  For a second he feared Mic was returning to JAG.  But 
then 
his brilliant lawyer side told him that if Mic was coming Mac probably 
wouldn't be this upset.
	"He's dead."  She said it bluntly, frankly.  She pulled back and 
looked at 
Harm, meeting his eyes.
	"What?" Harm asked in disbelief.  He didn't know what to say.  
"Bug--Brumby's dead?"
	She nodded .  "Car wreck.  His breaks failed, and . . ." her voice 
trailed 
off as the tears started again.  She blinked them back and continued?  
"His 
car--went over a cliff.  Exploded."
	"When?"
	"Friday night, near midnight Australian time."
	"Why are we just now hearing about it?" asked Harm.  Mac had moved 
away and 
resumed her pacing.
	"They couldn't get to the wreckage until late last night.  His body 
hasn't 
been recovered yet, but the car is his."
	"So they aren't certain he's dead?"
	"Probably by now."  Their eyes met and Harm nodded.  He crossed his 
arms as 
silence fell over the room.  It was quiet, except for the sound Mac's 
feet 
made and the muffled noise of Monday morning office bustle from beyond 
her 
door.
	"Why did the RAN give JAG so much information about . . .this?" Harm 
asked. 
  "I have a feeling there's more to it than you being his ex-fiance."
	Mac stopped directly in from of Harm and looked him in the eye.  "They 
suspect murder.  And they want JAG to investigate."
	Harm's eyes narrowed suspiciously.  "Why?"
	She didn't answer; rather, she focused on pacing.  Whatever the 
reason, she 
didn't want to tell him.
	"Why?"  Harm demanded as he reached out and grabbed her shoulders, 
turning 
her to face him.  She avoided his face and stared instead at the pair 
of 
gold wings on his chest.
	"Because," she said softly.  "The chief suspect is a Lt. in the United 
States Navy."
	Harm released her and lifted one hand to his forehead, a gesture of 
disappointment.  It was Monday, for Christ's sakes.  He didn't need 
this.
	A knock sounded at the door.  "Enter!" Mac snapped.  Petty Officer 
Tiner 
opened the door slowly, coming to attention when he saw Harm and Mac.
	"Sir, ma'am," he said.  "The Admiral would like to see you."
	"Thank you, Tiner," said Harm, not taking his eyes or his hands off 
Mac.  
"That'll be all."
	"Aye, sir."
	As Tiner left, Harm looked over at his partner; she looked away.  It 
sometimes amazed Harm that Mac felt the need to hide herself, even from 
him. 
  He led the way to Admiral Chegwidden's office, feeling Mac's eyes 
boring 
into the back of his head.  Harm opened the office door for her, an act 
of 
chivalry Mac generally despised.  Today, she stepped across the 
threshold 
with no snappy remark.
	After the ritual of saluting and the command of "have a seat", 
Chegwidden 
stared at Mac from behind his desk.  "Colonel, I don't believe you 
cried 
this much the night Commander Rabb's plane went down over the 
Atlantic."
	"No, sir," she replied simply.
	The Admiral turned to Harm.  "I'm assuming Mac filled you in on the . 
. . 
situation."
	"Yes, sir," said Harm.
	"Good.  Long story short, you'll both be leaving for Sydney this 
afternoon. 
  Lt. Lawson has been charged with first degree murder and is being 
held at 
Longbay Correctional Facility in Sydney.  He's young, only 21.  Wanted 
to be 
a SEAL, like his dad."
	"His father was a SEAL?"
	Chegwidden nodded.  "Buddy of mine during my first tour.  Good man.  
Exceptional SEAL.  His son was stationed in Australia and apparently 
butted 
heads with Brumby a few times.  Commander, I want you to defend this 
kid."
	Harm nodded.  "Yes sir."
	"Although the prosecutor will be an Australian Naval lawyer, Mac's 
accompanying you to Sydney."  He looked at Mac.  "You know Brumby 
better 
than Harm, and you'll more than likely be instrumental to the 
investigation. 
  Also, make sure Rabb keeps this objective, not personal."
	"Yes sir."  Mac murmured.
	"Admiral, I assure you, this case will be completely objective."
	"See to it, Rabb.  You and Mac leave at 2:17 PM.  Everything's been 
arranged.  Mac, you're dismissed.  Harm, stick around.  There are some 
. . . 
issues I'd like to discuss with you privately."
	"Aye sir."  Mac rose and saluted half-heartedly.  She walked to the 
door, 
her posture slumping and not very Mac like at all.  Harm watched her 
go, 
then turned to the Admiral.
	"What did you want to discuss, sir?"
	"A few warnings, Commander.  Brumby's untimely expiration has really 
affected Mac--God only knows why.  But she's vulnerable.  And I don't 
want 
you taking advantage of that in Sydney.  See to it that you keep your 
hands--and other body parts--to yourself."
	"Of course, sir," Harm said, caught off guard by the Admiral's 
bluntness.  
Of course, this was Admiral Chegwidden.
	"And bear in mind, Commander," the Admiral continued casually, "that 
if you 
do lay a hand on Mac and she kills you, I will defend her in court."
	Harm was silent for a moment before saying "Yes, sir."
	"Dismissed."
	As Harm left the room to prepare for his trip, the Admiral leaned back 
in 
his chair, a thoughtfully smug smile crossing his face.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

	Mac gazed out the window as the plane soared over Sydney, preparing to 
land.  Billions of lights twinkled up at her from the city below; in 
Sydney, 
it was both night time and summer.  Mac wished she were coming here for 
vacation rather than a murder investigation.
	Her eyes stung as tears welled up in them.  Mic Brumby was dead.  He'd 
proposed to her here in Sydney, aboard a ferry, under a bridge.  She 
almost 
smiled at the memory.  Mic had said all the words she'd always wanted 
to 
hear.  At times she still felt foolish for not marrying him, for 
letting 
Harm and his misadventure prevent her from matrimony.  Or save her from 
it . 
. .She didn't love Mic anymore.  There were moments she doubted she 
ever had 
at all.  The last time she'd spoken to him, they'd argued about Harm.  
The 
conversation had ended in Mac screaming at him to leave Harm out of it, 
that 
he wasn't the only reason the wedding had been permanently postponed, 
that 
Mic should just get over his little jealousy issue (she and Harm were, 
after 
all, just friends) and slamming down the phone.  Now, just three days 
later, 
she was about to investigate his death.  Damn that karma boomerang.
	As the plane touched down Mac glanced over at Harm.  He'd changed into 
his 
summer uniform before they left Virginia, and his wings shone against 
the 
impeccable white fabric.  Mac loved his summer uniform and her heart 
pounded 
against her ribs in spite of herself.  He looked lost in thought.  As 
she 
stared at him he snapped out of it and caught her eye, flashing her a 
45 
watt version of his flyboy smile.
	"You sure you're up to this, Mac?" he asked, genuine concern in his 
voice.
	"I'm positive," she replied without hesitation.
	He yawned and within seconds she followed suit.  "We'll start the 
investigation in the morning" Harm said as he fastened his seatbelt.  
"Tonight, I say we sleep."
	She smiled back at him for the first time that day.  "I agree."
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *


	Harm groaned and pulled his pillow over his head when his alarm clock 
went 
off.  0600 already?  Somehow that just didn't seem possible.  Time to 
get up 
and go to work.  He'd been having such a good dream, too.  Something 
involving Mac on a beach, topless, with him massaging sun block onto 
her 
back.  In the background was Mic Brumby being buried in sand by a crowd 
of 
preteen beach goers.  Harm smiled at the memory as he headed for the 
bathroom.  At least the Admiral had been kind enough to put him and Mac 
up 
in a nice hotel (separate rooms, of course--separate floors, even) 
rather 
than making them stay on the Naval base. Probably out of sympathy for 
Mac.  
Harm didn't understnad why she was so upset about Mic.  It wasn't like 
they 
were engaged or something.  He shook the thought from his head as he 
undressed and brushed his teeth.  It really wasn't his business.  He 
let his 
mind wander back to his dream.  It had been unbelievably vivid.  He 
could 
still almost feel her skin beneath his hands . . .
	Harm took longer than usual in the shower, enjoying the warm water and 
the 
recollection of his dream.  When he finished, he wrapped a towel around 
his 
waist and stepped into the hotel room to dress.
	To his absolute surprise, the first thing he saw was Mac, sitting on 
his 
bed, in  uniform, flipping through papers in a manila envelope.
	"I hope you don't mind, but I . . . " her voice trailed off when she 
looked 
up and saw him there, dripping wet and damn near naked--hotel issue 
towels 
weren't all that big.  A blush rose to her pale cheeks and to his 
delight, 
the papers she was holding fluttered to the floor.  Harm smiled at her 
embarrassment.  "I'm sorry."
	"No big deal." Harm felt her eyes following him as he walked over to 
the 
small closet, where he had hung his uniform the night before.  "I'll 
get 
dressed in the bathroom."
	"I'm sorry," she repeated, watching as he grabbed his shaving kit from 
the 
dresser.  "I came down to see if you were ready.  I knocked and there 
was no 
answer, but I had a key . . ."  She smiled sheepishly.
	"Like I said," Harm called to her as he shut the bathroom door behind 
him.  
"No big deal."
	She still hadn't picked up those papers.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

	Mac followed Harm down the narrow, sterile hall at Longbay.  She hated 
brigs, and as they moved she tried to stay as close to harm as 
possible.  
She had barely slept at all the night before.  Nightmares about Mic's 
crash 
had haunted her sleep.  She could see it in her dreams as clearly and 
vividly as tough she'd been in the car next to him--the squeal of tires 
and 
the sound of shattering glass--blood--the look in his eyes as he died . 
. 
.Mac winced at the memory and rubbed her temples gingerly.  Her head 
throbbed terribly, reminding her of hangovers she'd once had . . .but 
at the 
moment, a drink didn't sound like such a bad idea.
	Their RAN escort, Lt. Solomon, led them to as small cell.  A young man 
sat 
on the tiny bed, wearing a wrinkled enlisted uniform.  His head rested 
against the stone wall, a forlorn look on his face, bags beneath his 
eyes.  
In spite of his situation, Mac felt her heart go out to the poor 
sailor.
	"Thank you , Lt."  Harm said to Solomon.  After he had left, Lt. 
Lawson 
turned to face Harm and Mac.
	"Commander Rabb?"  His voice sounded hoarse.
	"That's right," said Harm softly.  "This is my partner, Lt. Colonel 
Sarah 
Mackenzie."
	Lawson acknowledged her with a simple "ma'am".
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
	Harm looked at the young sailor before him.  He didn't look capable of 
murder.  	"So, Lt Lawson," Harm began.  "Why don't you tell us what's 
going 
on?"
	"Sir," the Lt. said.  "I didn't kill Commander Brumby."
	"I believe you," Harm murmured, looking the Lt. in the eye.  "But I'm 
afraid the court won't find that a substantial defense.  I need to hear 
your 
story."
	Lt. Lawson sighed and Harm gathered he'd probably told this tale a 
million 
times.  "I was in my quarters Sunday morning when Lt. Solomon showed up 
at 
my door, saying he Captain wanted to see me immediately.  I had no idea 
what 
was going on, so I went to the Captain's office and he told me that 
Commander Brumby was dead."
	"Had you heard anything about his death prior to the Captain telling 
you 
about it?"
	"No, sir.  I was shocked.  We'd all heard about a crash that 
potentially 
involved a RAN member, but other than that . . . " Lt. Lawson looked 
helplessly at Harm.
	"Go on."
	The Lt. took a deep breath before continuing.  "I said I was sorry and 
the 
next thing I knew I was being handcuffed and the Captain was saying 
something about me murdering Brumby."  He shrugged.  "So.  Here I am."
	"Did the Captain ever tell you why you were suspected of the alleged 
murder?" Harm asked.
	"No sir, he did not. I hoped that maybe you would know."
	"The only evidence I know the Captain has is that another Lt. claims 
he saw 
you at Brumby's car an hour or so before the accident."
	"That's a lie, sir."
	"Where were you at that time?  It would've been about 11 PM."
	"With some friends of mine at Luna Park, sir."
	"Which friends, Lt.?"
	"Civilians, sir," said Lt. Lawson.  "Some guys I met here in Sydney."
	"What time did you get back to the base, Lt.?"
	"I'd say between 12:30 and 1 AM."
	"And you went straight to bed when you got there?"
	"Yes sir.  I was beat."
	Harm nodded and glanced at Mac, wondering what her opinion on all this 
was. 
  She had stayed unusually silent during the interview.  She was 
leaning 
against a wall, her eyes trained on a part of the floor.  Not wanting 
to 
bother her, Harm turned back to Lt. Lawson.
	"One more thing."  He spoke slowly, about to ask the inevitable 
question.  
"Did you and Commander Brumby get along?"
	The Lt. sighed and for a moment the room was completely silent.  
"Commander 
Brumby and I had our differences, and we argued more than once, sir.  
He 
thought I only got into the Navy because of my father, and he said so 
several times.  He didn't like me, sir, and frankly, he wasn't one of 
my 
favorite people either.  But sir, I wasn't the only one.  The 
Commander--well, he wasn't really on good terms with any of the 
American 
Lts.  He seemed to think we were all weaklings who joined the Navy to 
"pick 
up chicks"."
	Harm expected a reaction from Mac, but a silence, once again, settled 
over 
the room.  "Thank you, Lt." Harm said "That'll be all for now."
	"Aye aye, sir."
* * * * * * * * * * * * * *
	"What do you think of that?" Harm asked Mac as the two of them headed 
for 
their Navy issue car.
	"I think he's telling the truth," she answered simply.
	"I agree," said Harm as he started the engine, hoping she would 
elaborate.  
After a moment it became clear that she wasn't planning to .  Harm 
watched 
her out of the corner of his eye.  She sat motionless, staring out the 
window.  The sky was full of ominous looking storm clouds; somehow the 
weather seemed fitting.  He wished she'd say something, anything.  He 
understood her being upset but it was getting a little ridiculous.  She 
did 
have a job to do, regardless of personal feelings.  "Mac, are you OK?"
	"I'm fine," she replied shortly, her voice cold.
	"You sure?  You were awfully quite back there and, well, that's not 
like 
you."
	"I'm not really myself at the moment."
	"You wanna talk about it?"  As he spoke a few raindrops splattered 
against 
the windshield and Mac finally looked over at him.
	"No, Harm, I don't want to talk about it."  Her voice was pure ice, a 
tone 
Harm had only heard her take several times before.  It scared him--he 
didn't 
want to spend his stay in Australia getting the cold shoulder from Mac.
	"OK. Sorry I asked.  Pardon me for caring about a friend."
	She laughed--a frozen, sarcastic little laugh.  "Right.  Since when is 
it 
like you to care about a friend?"
	"All right, Mac," he said sharply, pulling the car off  the road.  A 
crash 
of thunder sounded directly overhead, and within seconds the car was 
being 
pelted with sheets of rain.  "What the hell was that?"
	Her brown eyes, sparkling with tears, met his.  "I'm sorry."
	He stared at her, watching as she swiftly brushed away one tear that 
had 
dared to fall down her cheek.  "I'm just--I don't know . . ."  Her 
voice 
trailed off miserably.  She looked away and a charged silence settled 
over 
the two.
	"It's almost as if--" Harm began.  He paused.  "Never mind."
	"What?" she asked, looking up at him.  "It's almost as if what?"
	Harm sighed.  "If I didn't know you better, Mac, I'd say you're 
feeling 
guilty for Brumby's death."  She didn't move but her eyes reacted 
immediately to his words and he knew he was right.  "Am I right?"
	She nodded as more tears tumbled from her eyes.  This time Harm's hand 
reached up and brushed them away.  His fingers lingered there for a 
moment 
longer than necessary, and to his surprise she reached up and grabbed 
his 
hand.  Her fingers felt warm as they intertwined with his own.
	"Why, Mac?  You had nothing to do with it.  You didn't cut his 
brakes."
	"I know," she said softly through her tears.  "It's just that . . ."
	"What?"
	"I talked to him Thursday night, and we fought."
	Harm nodded.  "What about?"
	"You."
	It took a moment for Harm to register what she'd just said.  "Me?  Why 
me?"
	"He blames you for the things that happened between he and I.  So I 
told 
him to get over his jealousy of you . . . " She paused to breathe and 
Harm 
fought the urge to pull her into his arms and hold her and promise her 
all 
the things Mic had--all the things he should have promised her years 
ago.  
"I told him you and I were just friends, and that was all we ever would 
be.  
I hung up and that was that."
	"Mac . . .it isn't your fault.  The jealousy thing--that's all Mic's 
problem.  And you had nothing to do with the accident.  You couldn't 
have 
done anything about  it. You were halfway around the world when it 
happened."
	She was quiet, her hand still wrapped in his.  "It was dark," she 
said, 
dropping his hand and wiping her tears away.  His skin was cold where 
hers 
had been and he missed the contact.
	"Excuse me?"
	"It was dark.  An hour before Mic's accident it would've been pitch 
black 
outside.  How can our "eyewitness" possibly be sure it was Lt. Lawson 
at 
Mic's car?  It could've been anyone."
	Harm smiled as he started the car again.  "Now you're talkin', 
jarhead."
	She smiled back.  As he pulled onto the road, the words "just friends" 
echoed in his ears.  He wondered if saying them had hurt as much as 
hearing 
them.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
	Mac dug through her briefcase for tissues as Harm drove towards the 
base, 
where they were to interview Captain Banks and Lt. Jackson.  Harm's 
words 
had relaxed her and lifted her spirits enourmously.  Harm really was a 
great 
guy, and he was absolutely right.  She had nothing to do with Mic's 
death.  
She shouldn't keep blaming herself.  After all, she was in a country 
she 
loved with a man she . . . And she had an investigation to complete.  
Admiral Chegwidden would probably assign her co counsel and guilty 
feelings 
weren't going to help in the courtroom.
	As she continued rifling through her normally well organized 
briefcase, 
Harm reached over to the glove compartment, opened it and handed her a 
small 
package of kleenex.  He smiled and his hand brushed lightly over her 
bare 
knee as he moved it back to the steering wheel.  She shivered 
involuntaritly.
	"Thank you," she managed, hre voice scarcely above a whisper.
	"You're welcome," Harm said, an almost smug smile crossing his face.
	Mac leaned back in her seat, dabbing at ther eyes with a tissue.  She 
let 
her mind wander, remembering how Harm's hand had felt on her cheek, how 
his 
fingers had felt tangled in her own.  She wondered what it would be 
like to 
be with Harm--to come home and fall into his arms after work and wake 
up to 
him in the morning, to make love to him and fall asleep wrapped in his 
arms 
after . . .
	"Mac, we're here."  Harm's voice crashed into her daydream and she 
opened 
her eyes to see the Naval base spread before them.  She looked at him 
and 
smiled weakly, silently cursing the blush she felt rising to her face.
	So we are."  My God, the way he smiled at her, it was like he knew 
what 
she'd been thinking.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * *
	"Have a seat," Captain Nicholas Banks said to Harm and Mac after they 
had 
introduced themselves.
	"Thank you, sir," said Harm as he and Mac sank into two extremely soft 
chairs.  "We just need to ask you a few questions."
	The Captain nodded.  "Of course.  I'll be glad to answer any questions 
you 
have."
	"Thank you, sir," Mac spoke up.  Relief washed over Harm.  "First of 
all, 
has Commander Brumby's body been recovered?"
	"Not yet, Colonel.  But as you can imagine, the weather has slowed the 
search.  In fact, the crews have probably called it quits for today."
	"I see," said Mac.  "Commander Brumby's car crashed in a pretty 
isolated 
place.  Any idea why the Commander was driving out there?"
	"Not a clue."
	"Any guesses?"
	The Captain thought for a moment.  "Not really.  He didn't tell anyone 
where he was going or why he was going there.  Except he had said 
something 
about a fight he'd had with a girlfriend of some sort.  Some American 
girl--he was pretty upset about it.  He may have been going somewhere 
to be 
alone."
	A pained look crossed Mac's face and Harm felt tempted to deck the 
Captain.
	"Harm," Mac murmured as she stood up.  "If it's OK with you, I'll go 
interview Lt. Jackson.  You can join me when you're done with the 
Captain."
	"Of course, Mac," Harm replied.  He grabbed her hand as she passed 
him.  
"Are you all right?"
	She nodded and walked quickly to the door.  Harm winced as it slammed 
behind her.
	"Everything OK?" asked Banks, his eyes concerned.
	Harm sighed.  "Not really.  That fight you heard Brumby complaining 
about 
was between him and Colonel Mackenzie.  They used to be engaged."
	"OH, my goodness," said the Captain, his eyes genuinely apologetic.  
"I'm 
so sorry.  I didn't know."
	"It's OK, Captain," Harm said, although he couldn't quite keep the 
chagrin 
out of his voice.  "Just a few more questions and then I'll join the 
Colonel.  Did Brumby get along with the American Lts. stationed here?"
	"Not really.  But they didn't like him much either."
	Harm nodded.  "What about his relationship with Lt. Lawson?  Was it 
unique 
in any way?"
	"About the same as with the others, actually.  Perhaps a bit more 
strained 
because Lawson wasn't afraid to speak his mind."  The Captain chuckled.  
"That Lawson.  He's quite a character."
	"You like him, don't you."
	"I do," said Banks.  "He's a fine sailor, just like his father."
	"Thank you, Captain," Harm said abruptly.  He got to his feet.  
"That'll be 
all for now."
	"There is one thing, Commander, that I think you should know.  There 
was 
one American--Lt. Jackson--that Commander Brumby got along with 
exceptionally well.  They were practically joined at the hip, so to 
speak."
	"Lt. Jackson claims he saw Lt. Lawson tampering with Brumby's car that 
night."
	"I know," said the Captain.  A moment of silence passed between the 
two men
	"Thanks again, Captain," Harm said at last.  He nodded and left, 
closing 
the door softly behind him.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
	"Lt. Jackson, I'm Lt. Colonel Mackenzie with the Navy JAG corps," Mac 
said 
to the man seated before her.  "I'm helping with the investigation of 
Commander Brumby's alleged murder, and I'd like to ask you a few 
questions."
	"Yes, ma'am," the Lt. said.  He looked bored, disinterested, as though 
he 
had something better to do.
	"First of all," Mac began, sitting down across from Lt. Jackson.  "You 
claim you saw Lt. Lawson at Commander Brumby's car about an hour before 
his 
crash.  About what time was it that you saw him there?"
	"Around 11:15 PM, ma'am."
	"And exactly what was Lt. Lawson doing to Commander Brumby's car?"
	"I'm not sure, ma'am.  It was really too dark to tell."
	Mac nodded and leaned back in her chair.  "Lt., if it was too dark for 
you 
to see what he was doing, how can you possibly be sure it was Lt. 
Lawson you 
saw?"
	The room fell silent and before Lt. Jackson could answer Mac's 
question the 
door opened.  Harm walked coolly into the room, removing his hat as he 
did 
so.  "Mac," he said, acknowledging her with a nod.  He turned to 
Jackson.  
"‘Lt., I'm Commander Rabb with JAG.  You've met my partner, I see.  
We're 
heading up the investigation of Commander Brumby's death."
	"Nice to meet you, sir."
	"Commander, before you arrived, the Lt. told me he couldn't tell what 
Lt. 
Lawson was doing to Commander Brumby's car because it was dark," Mac 
said, 
not taking her eyes off Lt. Jackson.  "Lt. Jackson, if it was so dark 
out, 
how did you see that the person at the car was indeed Lt. Lawson?"
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
	Harm crossed his arms and perched on the edge of the table.  "Well?"
	"I just knew it was him, sir," the Lt. answered finally, addressing 
Harm.  
"His posture, the way he stood, the way he moved.  I know it was him."
	"OK," said Harm.  "Now, when you saw him, the hood of Brumby's car was 
up?"
	"Yes sir."
	"And Lt. Lawson was doing something under the hood?"
	"Yes sir."
	"Right," said Harm with a sigh.   "Which would have further impaired 
your 
ability to see him clearly."
	Lt. Jackson didn't say anything, but he looked away, staring at this 
feet.  
For a moment the only sound was rain pounding on the roof and Mac 
rustling 
papers n her briefcase.   Harm broke the silence.
	"Lt. Jackson, how was your relationship with Lt. Lawson?"
	"OK.  I really barely knew him, though.  He hasn't been here very long 
and 
I don't have much free time.  But we never fought or anything."
	"How about your relationship with Commander Brumby?"
	"I had a lot of admiration for Commander Brumby, sir.  A lot of 
respect, 
which is more than I can say for some of the others.  He and I were 
good 
friends, sir."
	"So Brumby didn't get along well with any of the American officers?
	"Not really, sir."
	"Thank you, Lt. Jackson.  That's all for the time being."  Harm rose 
to his 
feet and headed for the door, Mac following closely behind.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * *
	"So what now?" Mac shouted as she and Harm ran through the rain.  He 
didn't 
answer until they were back in the car.
	"We call it a day, head back to the hotel, relax a little, then have 
dinner.   Say 8:00?"
	Mac laughed.  "Sure.  But I was thinking more along the lines of the 
investigation."
	"Oh, that," said Harm with a grin.  "I'm not entirely sure."  He 
pulled out 
of the base lot and headed for their hotel.  "Wait for the body to be 
recovered, for one thing.  Ask to see the crash site when this damn 
weather 
permits it."
	"You think Jackson's lying?"
	Harm nodded.  "After you left, the Captain said that Lt. Jackson was 
the 
only American Brumby got along with.  According to him they were 
practically 
inseparable."
	Mac nodded.  She leaned back in her seat, drowsiness washing over her.  
She 
couldn't wait to get back to the hotel.  A nap, a hot bath, dinner with 
Harm 
. . .She felt herself drifting off, but before she could fall asleep 
the car 
stopped.
	"We're here." Harm touched her gently on the shoulder.  "You ready for 
the 
hundred yard dash?"
	"I don't suppose you're going to carry me so yeah, I'm ready."
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
	"I win!" cried Harm as he reached the hotel entrance a good five feet 
in 
front of Mac.  In one of his less mature moments he'd yelled "race" as 
soon 
as he and Mac got out of the car.
	"Only because of these damned heels," she complained as she reached 
him.
	"Excuses excuses," Harm teased, holding the door opened for her.
	"No comment," she said as she walked through.  As Harm followed her he 
couldn't keep the smile off his face.  This was the Mac he knew.  They 
were 
both soaking wet, and Mac looked cute with her hair plastered to her 
face 
and her uniform plastered to her body.  She looked tired, but Harm was 
glad 
to see her smiling again.  They rode the elevator to the sixth floor in 
silence.
	"So, pick you up at 8?"
	"Yes," she said drowsily.  "8 sounds fine.  I'll be waiting."
	Before Harm could speak again, the elevator doors closed, leaving him 
alone 
in the sixth floor hallway.  He headed to his room.  He was more than 
ready 
for a nap, too.  It was only about 4, plenty of time to sleep, shower, 
and 
otherwise beautify himself for Mac..
	As Harm stripped out of his wet clothes and slipped into a pair of dry 
boxers, he couldn't help but think of how much more pleasant his nap 
would 
be if Mac were here to share it with him.  Grinning, Harm fell into bed 
and 
within moments was fast asleep.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * *
	PING.
	The elevator made a soft mechanical sound as it stopped at the eighth 
floor, where Mac's room was.  The door opened and she smiled at a 
family of 
four as they boarded.  She ambled slowly down the hall towards room 
818.  
Her day had been exhausting, and the thought of her huge bed drove her 
forward until she reached her room.  To her surprise, there was a red 
rose 
lying on the floor just outside the door.  Mac picked it up slowly.  
There 
was a small card tied to the stem that read simply "From a Secret 
Admirer".
	Mac smiled and shook her head.  Harm, she thought to herself.
	She unlocked the door and stepped into the hotel room, dropping the 
rose on 
the dresser.  She kicked off her heels and removed her hat, curled up 
in her 
bed and fell asleep in her soaking wet uniform.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * *
	Harm slipped on his dinner jacket and glanced at his watch.  7:55.  
Perfect.  He smiled at his reflection in the mirror--he wanted to look 
good 
tonight, and if he did say so himself, he had succeeded.
He slid his wallet into his back pocket and walked to the elevator.  He 
had 
woken up refreshed and happy, and enjoyed a long shower.  The only 
thing 
that would have mad it better . . .
	Harm climbed onto the elevator and smiled at his lone fellow 
passenger, a 
tan blonde in a sundress that left little to the imagination.
	"Going up?" she asked flirtaitously.
	"8th floor," Harm replied.
	"What a coincidence," she said with a giggle.  "That's where I'm 
going."
	"Quite a coincidence."
	The elevator stopped before she oucld speak again.  "I'm in room 815.  
Don't hesitate to . . . drop by."  She fluttered her eyelashes and 
strode 
off the elevator, her hips swaying from side to side.  Harm followed 
her, 
trying not to laugh.  He knocked on Mac's door and in seconds, she 
opened 
it.
	"Nice timing, sailor," she remarked, stepping into the hall and 
closing her 
door behind her.  She looked him up and down.  "You look nice."
	"So do you."  Mac wore a short black dress and high heeled strappy 
black 
sandles.  She stood almost as tall as him thanks to the shoes, and Harm 
suddenly wished he'd picked up some flowers or something.
	"Thank you for the rose, Harm," she said in the elevator.
	"What rose?"  Harm asked.
	"The rose you left outside my hotel room.  The one you sgined from a 
secret 
admirer."  Harm looked genuinely confused--he had no idea what Mac was 
talking about.  "I found it when we got back from the base."
	"I didn't send you any roses, Mac."
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
	Mac rolled her eyes.  Harm could be so annoyingly male sometimes.  
"Sure, 
Harm, if you say so."
	Before he could protest the elevator deposited them in the main lobby.  
Harm offered Mac his arm, smiling warmly down at her.  Even in her 
shoes she 
wasn't quite as tall as him.  She saw a few heads turn as he escorted 
her 
through the lobby.  She and Harm looked good together, she knew.
	"It's still raining," Harm observed.  "How about eating in the hotel 
restaurant tonight?"
	"Sure," Mac responded.  "Why not?"
	The hotel restaurant was beautiful, decorated in rich, rustic shades.  
She 
and Harm were seated at a small round table for two.  A candle 
flicekred in 
the center of the table, creating an undeniable sense of intimacy.  Mac 
discovered that when she crossed her legs, one of ther knees touched 
Harms' 
ever so slightly; to her surprise, he didn't pull away.  Mac liked the 
feeling.  He smiled at her as he scanned the drink menu.  He looked 
amazing 
in the candle light, and the way he smiled at her made Mac's heart 
pound.
	"Good evening.  May I get you folks a drink?"  A young Australian guy 
stood 
next to the table, a smile frozen on his face.
	"Scotch on the rocks," Harm said breezily.  He shifted slightly in his 
chair, careful not to break his contact with Mac's leg.
	"I'll have an iced tea, please," Mac ordered.  The waiter nodded and 
disappeared.
	"Why do you think Lt. Jackson's lying, Harm?"
	"I have no idea," said Harm as he perused his menu.  "To avenge Mic's 
death?  To settle a score with Lawson?  Who knows."
	"Hmmmm."  Mac nodded and thought for a moment.  "I'd put money on 
vengeance."
	"But if Jackson is lying, who killed Mic?"
	"Maybe it wasn't murder," Mac suggested softly.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * *
	Harm stared at Mac, wondering what that comment meant.
	"A scotch for the gentleman," announced their waiter as he returned 
with 
the drinks.  "And an iced tea for the lady.  And are we ready to 
order?"
	After the waiter (Paul, according to his nametag) had left, Harm took 
a sip 
of his scotch.  He hadn't had scotch in awhile.
	"Not bad."
	"Sarah Mackenzie?"  Harm looked up to see a tall man standing next to 
their 
table, holding a bouquet of red roses and looking at Mac.  Harm 
recognized 
him as the host of the restaurant.
	"Yes," Mac said in surprise.  She cast a suspicious glance in Harm's 
direction and he shrugged.  "I'm Sarah Mackenzie."
	"These are for you, miss."  He handed her the flowers and left without 
another word.
	"Harm, you shouldn't have," Mac declared as she looked over the roses.
	"I didn't," Harm replied.  Who the hell would send Mac roses in 
Australia?
	"Right," she said, finding the card.  She read it out loud: "‘ Sarah, 
I've 
loved you from afar for what feels like a lifetime, never daring to 
come 
near.  I only wish . . . . ‘ How poetic!  No signature, though."
	"I wonder who they're from," Harm mused, sipping his scotch.
	"Im sure you do, Harm," Mac said sarcastically.  "Look, if you wanna 
sleep 
with me just say so."  She smiled at him flirtatiously.
	"I want to sleep with you," Harm said casually.  "But I didn't send 
you the 
roses."
	Mac's jaw dropped and she stared at him.  Ham was enjoying her 
reaction to 
his comment immensely and he knew she was wondering whether or not he 
had 
been joking.  He gazed into her eyes, which were now serious and 
clouded 
with emotion.  If she only knew.  "Harm," she whispered, her voice 
choked.
	"Mac . . ."  The moment was ended by the arrival of dinner.  Harm 
wished 
the restaurant weren't so well known for their fast service.
	"Enjoy," said Paul, flashing them his fake smile.
	"I don't like him," Harm commented when the waiter was out of earshot.  
"He 
reminds me of . . . " His voice trailed off when he saw Mac's face.  
She had 
gone completely pale and her eyes were wide with fear.  "Are you OK, 
Mac?"
	She looked at him and blinked as if she'd forgotten he was there. "Oh 
my 
God.  Harm, I could've sworn I just saw Mic over there."
	"You're seeing things, Mac," he said softly.
	She nodded and smiled shakily.  "I must be."
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
	"Harm, that was a terrible joke!"  Mac laughed as she and Harm left 
the 
restaurant.  Dinner had been uneventful after her "Mic" sighting.  
She'd 
actually had a great time.  She was so relaxed.  It felt like she and 
Harm 
were here on vacation, just enjoying their time together.  As they 
strolled 
leisurely through the lobby Harm reached down and took her hand in his, 
lacing his fingers with hers, as though he'd done it a million times 
before. 
  She almost jumped in surprise.
	"Do you mind?" he asked seriously, looking down at her.
	"Not at all."  Harm didn't drop her hand when he pressed the button 
for the 
elevator.  While they waited, he slid one arm round her slim waist, 
pulling 
her close to him.
	"Harm," she started.  He pressed one finger against her lips and she 
smiled.
	"Shhhh.  Don't say it."
	She nodded and the elevator doors opened, revealing a completely empty 
elevator.  Mac gulped as Harm led her into the small space.  The moment 
the 
doors slid shut his hands were on her hips, pulling her close.  He 
wrapped 
his arms around her waist, pressing her body into his.  The roses 
dropped to 
the floor as she slid her arms around his neck--she shouldn't be 
enjoying 
this so much.  She rested her head against his chest, inhaling the 
smell of 
his cologne.  So this is what it felt like to be in the arms of Harmon 
Rabb, 
Jr.  She liked it.
	All too soon they came to the sixth floor.  As the doors opened Harm 
reached out and hit the CLOSE DOOR button.
	"Spend the night," he whispered, his mouth close to her ear.  She felt 
a 
thrill run through her body at the sound of his words.  "Spend the 
night 
with me.  You won't regret it."
	"Harm, I . . ."  She didn't know what to say.  For once in her life, 
Sarah 
Mackenzie was speechless.  Leave it to Harm.
	"Please."
	"No, Harm.  Not yet."  She couldn't believe she was saying this.  The 
last 
time they were in Sydney, he'd turned her down.
	"When?"  Harm asked, not releasing her.  He said it gently and Mac 
nearly 
gave in.
	"Soon.  I promise, soon."
	She felt him nod as he finally loosened his grip on her.  She looked 
up 
into his eyes and to her surprise, they were sparkling with what looked 
like 
tears.  He blinked rapidly and they were gone, but Mac had seen them.  
Three 
lousy words and he still couldn't say them.
	"Good night, Harm," she whispered as the doors opened.  "I'll see you 
n the 
morning."
	Harm stepped out of the elevator, took two steps and turned back.  
"For 
what it's worth . . .Sarah," he said softly.  "I was just as jealous as 
Mic."
	She nodded, feeling tears spring to her own eyes.  "I know.  Good 
night, 
Harm."  He was still standing there when the doors closed again.
	Mac shivered in the sudden stillness of the elevator and for a moment 
she 
thought of going back to Harms' room and taking him up on his offer.  
She 
couldn't do that.  Not yet, anyway.
	Her mind crowded with thoughts she probably shouldn't have been 
having, Mac 
made her way to her room .  To her surprise another rose lay by the 
door.  
She glanced to her left and to her right; the hallway was completely 
empty 
and deafeningly silent A chill ran down her back as she picked up the 
rose 
and read the card: ‘. . . that I could hold you as closely as I do in 
my 
dreams."  A smile crossed her face as she wondered how Harm had managed 
this 
one.  It would take her awhile to figure it out, she knew, but she 
would.
	Mac opened the door and walked into her room.  It was pitch black, but 
before she could reach for the light switch, a hand covered her mouth 
from 
behind.  Caught off guard, Mac struggled to scream as an arm encircled 
her 
waist.  A vaguely familiar odor filled her nostrils but before she 
could 
identify it the hand pressed something soft and damp over her face.  A 
new 
smell, vile and sickening, replaced the familiar one.  Immediately Mac 
felt 
her senses dulling and her body weakening.  She whimpered once and 
everything went black.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
	POUND.  POUND.  POUND.
	"Harm, don't leave me," Mac begegd.  Her arm was coverd in blood, and 
more 
trickled from a wound on her head.
	POUND.  POUND.  POUND.
	"Mac, I have to," he told her.  His hands were drenched in her blood.
	"Please . . ."
	POUND.  POUND.  POUND.
	"I have to go."
	"Please, Harm, no.  Stay.  Stay."  She reached one arm up to touch his 
chest but before she could . . . .
	POUND.  POUND.  POUND.
	Harm opened his eyes, slowly returning from his dream.  He blinked a 
few 
times and reached for his watch.  4:30 AM.
	POUND.  POUND.  POUND.  4:30 AM and someone was pounding on his door.  
All 
the better--he headn't been enjoying that dream near as much as last 
night's.  He climbed from the bed, shivering in the early morning chill 
of 
his room.  In nothing but his boxers Harm moved groggily towards the 
door.  
He hadn't known the definition of "morning person" until he'd met Mac.
	"Mac," he yelled as he neared the door.  "If you were planning on 
waking me 
up this early you should have just spent the night."  Smiling he pulled 
open 
the door.  A surprising sight met his eyes--standing in the hallway was 
not 
his sexy Marine but Captain Banks in full uniform.
	"Captain Banks?" he asked.  "Can I help you?"
	"Commmander Rabb, I'm terribly sorry to wake you at this hour but this 
is 
hightly important."  The older man looked more than worried and Harm 
felt a 
knot in his stomach.  "May I come in?"
	"Of course, Captain."  Harm stepped aside and followed the Captain, 
grabbing his robe from the bathroom door.
	Captain Banks lowered himself wearily into a chair; he looked as 
though 
he'd been awake all night.
	"What's going on, Captain?"
	"They can't find Brumby's body.  They've been combing the area of the 
crash 
since last night, and nothing.  Absolutely nothing."
	Harm stared at the Captain, waiting for him to elaborate.  He didn't.
	"Frankly, sir, I don't see why this fact is so highly important."
	The Captain sighe.  "If his death was a murder the murderer could've 
taken 
the body.  It won't make the Navy look very good if we can't recover 
his 
body."
	Harm nodded although he still didn't see what the Captain was getting 
at.  
"I see."
	"I can't stay, Commander," said the Captain, climbing to his feet.  
"I'm 
sorry for waking you, but I thought you should know right away."
	"Quite all right, sir," said Harm.
	After Captain Banks had gone Harm found himself unable to sleep.  So 
Brumby's body hadn't been recoverd.  It just didn't seem relevant to 
Harm, 
at least not yet.  For a moment he condsidered phoning Mac and asking 
her, 
but decided against it.  Let her sleep.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
	Mac's eyes fluttered open slowly, and she found herself in a place she 
didn't recognize.  She ws on her back, staring up at a dirty ceiling; 
she 
felt rope around her wrists nd ankles.  Her head was throbbing so hard 
she 
thought it may explode, and her body felt exhausted.  She was still 
wearing 
the black dress from last night.  She closed her eyes, willing the pain 
to 
go away.
	Gradually the events of last night came back to her: dinner with Harm, 
the 
elevator, someone grabbing her in her hotel room.  Mac struggled to 
recall 
exactly what had happened in her room, but it had happened so fast.  
She 
vaguely recalled smelling something pleasantly familiar--something like 
Mic's cologne.  Mic.  That's what she'd smelled.  Mic's cologne.  She 
opened 
her eyes and struggled to roll onto her side, but at her slight 
movement a 
searing pain tore through her left leg.  Groaning slightly, she lay 
still 
and waited for the pain to subside.
	"Sarah.  You're awake."  The sound of his voice made her cringe, and 
before 
she could say anything he was next to her, smiling down at her.
	"Mic."
**********************
	Harm glanced at his watch for the umpteenth time.  7:22.  He looked 
towards 
the elevator, watching as it opened and released several women, but not 
Mac. 
  It wasn't like her to be late--Harm had expected her to be waiting 
for him 
when he entered the lobby at 6:59.  He'd called her room twice already 
and 
gotten no answer.  He tried her cell, but it, too, rang and rang and 
rang.  
The elevator arrived agian and Harm watched eagerly, but no Mac.
	He was starting to worry and it took all his restraint to stay put 
until 
his watch read 7:30.  A half and hour--Mac was officially half an hour 
late, 
something that generally indicated major trouble.  Harm boarded the 
elevator 
and struggled to stay calm as it stopped at the 2nd, 3d, 5th, and 7th 
floors 
before at last reaching the 8th.
	No one else got off with him, and the hallway was empty.  Harm ran to 
818, 
only to find the door shut and locked.  He pounded on the door and got 
no 
response.  She didn't come to the door or even call out to see who was 
knocking.  He pounded again and waited--still, nothing but silence.
	"Mac, are you in there?" he shouted.  Again, no reply.  "Dammit."
	He reached for his wallet--he had a key to Mac's room.  He was getting 
worried.  After how guilty Mac had felt last night . . .Finally, the 
door 
opened and Harm burst into the room.  The lights were off, he noticed.  
He 
found the bed neatly made, almost as though it hadn't been slept in.
	"Mac!" Harm yelled.  HE checked the bathroom, but to no avail--Mac 
was'nt 
there.  The room was neat as a pin--the only thing Harm found out of 
place 
was a red rose lying in the entry way.  He picked it up and read the 
card:
				"So we meet again, Commander Rabb.  It's been
				awhile, but I knew I could get you back here.  I've
				got Mac, and I'm enjoying her . . . thoroughly.
								Mic Brumby

**********************
	"In the flesh," Mic said with a smile.
	"But--you're dead," Mac mumbled weakly.
	Mic laughed.  "No, Sarah, I'm alive as you are."  He gently traced the 
curve of her cheekbone and she shuddered at his touch.  His eyes 
clouded 
over at her reaction, and he stood up.
	"Could you un-tie me, Mic?" she whispered.  "My wrists hurt." She 
expected 
him to ignore her but, to her surprise, he came to her and un-tied her 
ankles.  He helped her sit and freed her wrists.  He watched her as she 
ran 
one hand through her hair.  She could feel sweat along her forehead.
	Ignoring Mic, she looked down at herself.  Her little black dress 
looked a 
bit torn at the bottom; she was only wearing one shoe.  Mic reached 
over and 
touched her shoulder--she pulled away.  "Mic, where are we?"
	"Our honeymoon cabin."
	Mac looked around.  The cabin was tiny--only one room, the only 
furniture a 
small table and a toilet.  The floor she sat on ws dirt.  "Wouldn't 
have 
been a very nice honeymoon."  Mac smiled wryly over at Mic.  She 
wondered 
what Harm was doing.  He would worry, she knew, when she didn't meet 
him for 
breakfast.  He'd find her missing, but who would suspect this?
**********************
	Ahrm leaned against the wall in Mac's hotel room, his arms crossed, 
surveying the activity going on before him.  Captain Banks and several 
members of the Australian Police were crowded into the hotel room, 
searching 
for something that may give them a clue as to her whereabouts.  The 
rose 
Harm had found was now sealed in a plastic bag, waiting to be tested 
and 
analyzed.  Harm ws still in shock and still shaken by the letter he'd 
read.  
It had been for him.  For him from Mic Brumby.
	"Commander?" Harm looked up to see Captain Banks before him.  "Are you 
OK?"
	"I'm fine, sir," Harm replied softly.
	"Is there anything we can do for you?"
	"Sr, I'd like to question Lt. Jackson agian.  Today, sir, as soon as 
possible."
*************************
	Mac could feel Mic staring at her again.  She glanced in his direction 
and 
he quickly looked away.
	"Dammit, Mic, we're not in grade school," she snapped.  She was 
feeling 
irritable.  Actually, irritable was an understatment.  Mac was pissed.  
She'd been sitting on this hard as hell floor for what felt like hours, 
her 
head was still pounding, and she couldn't feel her left leg.  Her 
wrists and 
ankles were burnt and bruised from the ropes.  She knew that being 
kidnapped 
was normally supposed to generate extreme fear, but Mic Brumby was 
about the 
least intimidating guy on the planet.  Nope, she wasn't scared at 
all--just 
really, really pissed.
	"Sarah," he murmured.  "I'm sorry."  He sat next to her; she tried to 
move 
away from him but her leg wouldn't allow it.  He touched her shoulder 
again 
and ran his hand slowly down her arm.
	"Mic, don't touch me."  She yanked her arm away.
	"But Sarah, I love you."  He looked at her, his eyes pleading.
	Mac laughed.  "Right, Mic.  You love me.  So you fake your own deth 
and 
kidnap me.  Most guys would just send roses."
	"Dammit, Sarah!" he screamed in anger.  Before Mac knew what was 
happening, 
he hit her--a harsh blow to her face.  Mac reeled from the sheer force 
of 
it--Mic had once been a professional boxer.  Seh reached up, her hand 
shaking, and gingerly touched her eye.  She felt blood.
	"Oh my God!"  Mic cried.  "Sarah, I'm so sorry.  I'm so sorry."
	"Shut the hell up, Mic."
*******************
	Harm walked swiftly through the hotel lobby.  He had to talk to Lt. 
Jackson 
right away.  It was almost one o'clock already.
	"So, you're in the Navy?" a teasing female voice asked from behind 
him.  
Harm turned to see the blonde he'd met in the elevator.  She was in 
beach 
"clothes" and if Harm hadn't been so preoccupied . . .
	"Yes, ma'am, I am, but I'm afraid I can't . . . " Something clicked in 
Harm's brain, and he rephrased.  "Ma'am--"
	"It's Mindy," she interrupted, extending one manicured hand.
	"OK.  Mindy," Harm said.  "Could you help me with something?"
	"Anything."
	Ignoring the innuendo in her voice, Harm took out his wallet and found 
a 
picture of Mic and Mac from when they first got engaged.  She'd given 
one to 
him and he still hadn't gotten around to cutting Mic out of it.  
Besides, 
Mac had been so happy.
	He showed the picture to Mindy.  "Have you seen this man on your floor 
any 
time since Monday?"
	She thought for a moment.  "I believe so.  Why, yes I did.  I said 
hello 
but he was very unfriendly."  She nodded, her blue eyes wide.
	"What was he doing when you saw him?"
	"I don't know.  I only saw him once, dropping a flower--a rose, I 
believe--at someone's door.  He must be quite a romantic."
	Harm didn't hear her last few words--he was already out the door and 
halfway to the car.
*********************
	Mic was snoring, and Mac had never heard a more lovely sound in all 
her 
life.  He had fallen asleep a half an hour ago, apologizing profusely 
for 
hitting her.  He was a heavy sleeper, Mac knew.
	She felt sick.  She was cold hungry, probably running a fever.  She 
wasn't 
wearing much, and the rain falling outside made the temperature inside 
unpleasant.  She had to go to the bathroom and thies would probably be 
her 
only chance.  Shivering, she reached down and pulled off the one shoe 
she 
was wearing.  Using the wall and the floor, she struggled to her feet.  
She 
got there but collapsed.
	"Dammit," she mumbled.  She managed to crawl to the toilet, but it was 
slow 
going.   By the time she crawled back to her spot on the floor, she was 
exhausted, and Mic was beginning to stir.  He woke and looked at her.
	"Sarah," he said.  "I love you."
	Mac rolled her eyes.  "Mic, stop saying that."  Had he been this 
annoying 
when they were engaged?
	"It's true."  He took her hand in his and didn't let her pull away.  
"I 
love you.  More than anything.  More than . . . he ever could."
	She stared at him.  "You mean Harm?"  He didn't have to answer.  She 
knew 
he meant Harm--he always meant Harm.  "Look, Mic," she began.  She 
sighed.  
"Never mind."
**********************
	Harm walked quickly toward the room he was to use for the interview he 
was 
about to conduct.  It was storming again and he had wasted a good hour 
just 
getting to the base.  So Mic was alive.  And he had Mac.  The thought 
made 
Harm sick to his stomach.  He was determined to find her.  Fortunately, 
Lt. 
Jackson was waiting for him and this time he looked satisfactorily 
scared.
	"Lt. Jackson, how nice to see you again," Harm said briskly.  "Have a 
seat."
	"Yes sir."
	Harm seated himself across from the young man.  "A few things. First 
of 
all, in the days before his death, did Brumby ever mention a Sarah 
Mackenzie 
to you?"
	"Yes, sir, he did."
	"Really?  Well, Sarah Mackenzie, as I think you know, happens to be my 
partner.  This morning she turned up missing.  Kidnapped in fact."
	"I'm sorry to hear that, sir."  The Lt. didn't quite meet the 
Commander's 
eyes.  	"Lt. Jackson, I have reason to believe that Commander Brumby 
faked 
his own death and is behind the kidnapping.  You wouldn't happen to 
know 
anything about it, now would you, Lt.?"
	For a moment the Lt. ws quiet, still not looking at Harm.
	"No sir," he answered finally.  "I have no idea what you're talking 
about."
	Harm laughed dryly.  "Somehow I knew you'd say that, Lt."
	"It's the truth, sir."
	Harm leaned across the table until he was almost nose to nose with 
Jackson. 
  "Lt. Jackson, my partner's life is on the line nad dammit, if she 
dies 
because you know something and you're not telling me I swear to God 
I'll 
have you court martialled and dishonorably discharged before you can 
say GO 
NAVY!"
	The Lt. sighed as Harm settled back into his seat.  "All right.  I'll 
tell 
you what I know."
**********************
	"You'll never get away with this," said Mac.  She was eating a peanut 
butter sandwich and drinking a bottle of water.  Not much of a dinner 
but 
hey, it was something.  The food was making her feel better.  	"Harm'll 
worry and they'll figure it out."
	"You're probably right."
	Mac almost choked.  She hadn't seen that one coming.  "What?"
	"You're probably right," he repeated.  He began pacing slowly around 
the 
room, rarely taking his eyes off her.
	"You know this will end your Navy career."
	"It was worth it to see you again, Sarah."
	"You sent the roses?"
	"Yes, but that was when I thought they were from Harm."
	This time he didn't react to her harsh words.  "I hope I see Commander 
Rabb 
while he's in town."
	Mac stared at him.  She watched as he moved to the table and picked up 
a 
small pistol.  "I have something planned for him too."
**********************
	Harm tapped his fingernails on the table between him and Lt. Jackson.  
The 
Lt. wanted Captain Banks present for his confession and they were 
waiting.  
Harm was struggling to stay calm but every minute was wasted time.  The 
weather wasn't helping.
	The door opened and Captain Banks walked in, his features twisted into 
a 
look of pure hatred.  "I notified Admiral Chegwidden," he told the 
Commander.  Harm nodded and the Captain looked at Jackson.  "Let's hear 
it, 
Lt."
	The Lt. sighed.  "OK.  Commander Brumby isn't dead.  He faked his 
death to 
get Commander Rabb and Colonel Mackenzie to Australia. " He looked 
warily at 
his audience before continuing.  "HE said if we blamed it on Lt. 
Lawson, JAG 
would send you two to investigate."
	"So you agreed to lie for him?"  Captain Banks demanded.
	"Yes sir.  He was a superior officer."
	"Go on."
	"That's all I know.  Except that his plan is--or was--to kidnap her 
and 
kill you, sir."
	Harm rolled his eyes.  "Go figure.  Any idea where Brumby may have 
taken 
her?"
	"No sir."
	"I have an idea," the Captain spoke up.  "There's an old hunting 
cabin--not 
much more than four boards nailed together--that Brumby's dad owned.  
He 
took me up there once, told me it's where he likes to go to be alone."
	"Could you take me, sir?" asked Harm.
	"Of course."  He glared at the Lt.  "I'll deal with you later, 
Jackson."
**********************
	"You really think you can kill Harm, Mic?" Mac asked incredulously.  
Mic 
looked insane, massaging his pistol like that.
	"Of course, Sarah.  HE'll show up sooner or later to play your night 
in 
shining armor, and when he does . . . " Mic laughed wildly as he fired 
two 
shots into the air.  Plaster rained down on them and Mac coughed.  When 
the 
dust settled he came to her.
	"You don't want me to kill him, Sarah?"
	She shook her head, feeling tears springing to her eyes.  "No."
	"Well," he murmured, setting the gun on the floor.  "You could stop 
me."
	"How?."
	He smiled, but didn't say anything.  Rather, he leaned across her and 
pressed his lips to hers.  She felt one of his hands sliding up her 
thigh.
	"Mic!" she screamed.  "Get off me!"  She shoved him as hard as she 
could in 
her weak state; the moment he was sitting up she slapped him hard 
across the 
cheek.  Mic jumped back, rubbing his bright red face.
	"You bitch," he growled, grabbing the gun and getting to his feet.  "I 
should just kill you."
	"You couldn't," she challenged him, sounding far more sure than she 
felt.  
God only knew what Mic was capable of right now.
	"You're right," he said, lowering the gun.  "But I can kill your 
precious 
flyboy."
********************
	"Are we almost there?"  Ham knew he was getting on the Captain's 
nerves but 
he was past the point of caring.  They'd been driving for a good two 
hours 
at least.
	"Almost, Commander.  Calm down.  I'm sure she's fine."
	Harm nodded, but the knot in his stomach refused to untie.  The 
Captain had 
given up normal conversation an hour and a half ago; the ride had been 
mostly silent.  They were driving through mountains, mountains with 
lots of 
trees.  Given the rain and the dark, it was slow going.
	According to the Captain, the cabin wasn't far from the "crash site".  
Of 
course, they didn't know for sure that Brumby and Mac were there.  Harm 
prayed this wasn't a wild goose chase.  If he didn't find Mac tonight . 
. .
	"Are we almost there?"
*********************
	"I hear something."  Mic hurried to the window, gun in hand.  Mac 
strained 
her ears.  She heard it, too.  Something that sounded like a car.  
Moments 
later a pair of headlights came bouncing through the rain, and Mac felt 
her 
body go weak with relief.  	It didn't last long.
	At the sight of the headlights, Mic hauled Mac to her feet.  She cried 
out 
as pain ripped through her leg, which had stopped being numb hours ago.  
He 
pulled her into  a headlock and the cold metal of the gun barrel 
pressed 
against her neck.

*********************
	"This is the cabin?" Harm whispered as the Captain stopped the car.
	Banks noddded.  "I told you it wasn't much.  But it's so secluded that 
. . 
. "
	Harm nodded.  He could see a light glowing dimly through the window 
and his 
heart pounded.  They had to be here.
	"I'll go in first," Harm whispered, reaching for his gun.  "You 
follow."
	The Captain gave a thumbs up sign as Harm climbed from the car.  He 
moved 
swiftly and silently through the rain.  The door to the cabin was 
closed.  
Taking a deep breath and counting to three, he threw open the door and 
burst 
into the cabin, gun aimed.  There, in the middle of the room, stood 
good ol' 
Bugme, holding a gun to Mac's neck.
	"Brumby."
	"Commander Rabb," said Mic casually.  "Nice to see you again."
	"Let her go, Mic."  Harm glanced quickly at Mac.  Their eyes met; the 
fear 
Harm saw in hers broke his heart.
	Mic laughed.  "Over my dead body."
	"Don't tempt me, Brumby.  Just let her go."
	"So you can break her heart?"
	"Don't make this personal."  Harm took a step forward.
	"Rabb, you come any closer and I'll shoot her, so help me God."  The 
look 
in Mic's eyes was wild and Harm stopped.
	"You couldn't shoot her, Brumby.  No more than I could."
	"Maybe not.  But I could shoot you."
	"Or I could shoot you."
	Silence fell over the room as the two men stared at each other.  "Are 
you 
going to let her go?" Harm demanded.
	"I told you," Mic barked.  "Over my dead body."
	"I have no problem with that."
	The shot rang out, and Harm watched as Brumby's body sagged.  He fell 
to 
the ground at Mac's feet, blood gushing from his head.  Mac didn't move 
for 
a moment--tears rolled down her cheeks.
	"Mac."  Harm dropped his gun and moved towards her.  She looked up at 
him.
	"Oh, Harm," her voice was hoarse and shaky, she was limping, one of 
her 
eyes was bloody and swollen, her dress was torn--but as she staggered 
into 
his arms, Harm knew he had never seen a more beautiful woman.
********************
	Harm had never felt so relaxed in his life.  It was almost midnight, 
and he 
was sprawled in his bed, waiting for Mac to get out of the shower.  
Their 
last night in Australia and they were spending it together.  So much 
had 
happened in two days.  So much . . .
	Mac stepped out of the bathroom.  She looked adorable in a pair of his 
boxers and one of his NAVY t-shirts.
	"You're a traitor to the Corps," he teased.
	"Do you care?" she asked with a smile, sitting down next to him.
	"Not really," he said as she leaned down to kiss him.  "How're you 
feeling?"
	"Better."
	He nodded.  "Good."  Their first night together and they were going to 
spend it sleeping.  There would be plenty of time for . . . other 
things.  
That was what Mac had said.  No need to rush.  And for once Harm 
agreed.
	Mac lay down and rolled onto her side.  "Good night, Harm," she 
murmured 
drowsily.
	"You don't believe in wasting time, do you?" Harm said as he curled up 
against her, pulling the covers over them.
	"I'm a Marine, Harm.  I don't waste time."
	"And sailors do?"
	"Harm, don't even get me started . . ." her voice trailed off and Harm 
grimaced--he knew what she was getting at.
	"I love you, Sarah," he murmured against her neck.
	"I love you, too, Harm."  Her voice was sleepy and in minutes, her 
breathing was deep and regular.  And although Harm couldn't see her 
face, he 
knew, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that she was smiling in her sleep.