Title: Dissonance
Author: Daenar (daenarchurill@hotmail.com)
Rating: PG-13
Spoilers: Everything up to 'Critical Condition'
Disclaimer: JAG is property of Belisarius Productions, CBS and 
Paramount. No 
copyright infringement intended.
Summary: To solve a case, Harm has to rely on his musicality while Mac 
goes 
undercover in a naval college marching band. Sequel to 'Carnival'


Author's note: I'm a musicologist and music-addicted in every respect. 
Ever 
since I'm a JAGnik, I am disappointed to see that Harm's musical skills 
have 
never really been brought into focus by the series. That's what I'm 
trying 
to do now.


Many, many thanks to Kate for beta-reading the whole story!


DISSONANCE



Tue, May 5th
2327 ZULU
JAG Headquarters
Falls Church, VA



"Sir, I'm not sure I can do this." Commander Harmon Rabb, Jr. looked up 
from 
the file Admiral AJ Chegwidden had just handed him. Was that actually 
fear 
in the normally audacious ex-aviator's eyes? AJ wondered. He had 
expected 
Harm to be surprised - to say the least - when he told him of the 
nature of 
this assignment. Reluctance had also been a possibility AJ had 
considered. 
But fear? After all, this was one of the easier tasks, at least as far 
as he 
could tell. A few days' preparation, a few hours of action, not having 
to 
travel... 'Heck, Rabb should be grateful that he gets an easy task!' AJ 
frowned. He would try being nice. If it wouldn't work, he'd order him.

"Harm, Webb tells me he's very aware that four days of preparation is 
extremely last-minute, but the date's set as it is. He says you're the 
only 
one who could possibly take over in such a short time. And although the 
CIA's in charge, it's up to you, Commander, to save the Navy's honor. 
Army, 
Air Force, Marine Corps, the Pentagon and the Foreign Office, Congress, 
Senate, hell, even the FBI's involved! Don't let us down, Harm, even 
Webb 
says that he'll owe you. Consider that one!" AJ had to chuckle despite 
the 
situation.

"Who am I replacing and why, sir?" Harm asked wearily. He could see 
plainly 
that AJ had made up his mind to once again grant Webb his assistance. 
And 
he, like so many other times, was the victim. If only they were able to 
go 
in as a pair - with Mac at his side everything would be easier. But 
this was 
clearly a one-man operation. Damn.

"The person's identity is classified. I don't even know why. I only 
know the 
person in question committed suicide. Motive? Classified." This time 
AJ's 
frown met one of mutual solidarity on Harm's face. Undersecretary of 
State 
Clayton Webb just loved to classify everything.

"And they really couldn't think of anyone else to pull it off, sir?" 
Harm 
asked without much hope.

"No. But, anyway, what's the problem, Harm? You've done things like 
this 
before, haven't you?" AJ tried to sound encouraging while thanking God 
that 
he wasn't in Harm's position right now.

"I have, sir," Harm reluctantly conceded, "But never with so many 
people. 
I've worked with groups of five, maybe ten, but never with as many as 
eighty. I'm not experienced in this kind of thing."

"I can make this an order, Commander."

Harm sighed, exasperated. "I'll do my very best, sir. But I swear, Webb 
will 
owe me big."

"You'll do just fine. I have great confidence in you, Rabb. Take the 
rest of 
the week off to prepare." AJ smiled and rose.

Harm lifted himself from his chair, tugged the file under his arm and 
came 
to attention. "Aye, aye, sir."

"Dismissed."

Harm turned and left his C.O., frowning. He headed straight for his 
office 
to get his things and go home.


As he sat down at his desk to shut down his computer, Harm saw the 
message 
icon blinking. On opening the email, a smile spread over his face.


To: Sarahssailor@freemail.com
From: Sarah Mackenzie (Harmsmarine@freemail.com)
Subject: Feeding a hungry marine
Hey flyboy,
Had to leave early for the dentist (ughh!). You knew that anyway. How 
about 
you prepare some pasta that I'll be able to chew as soon as the drugs 
wear 
off? Your place at 1900? Call me if there's a problem. If I don't hear 
from 
you until 1845 (sharp!!), count on me to show up.
Love you!
Mac


'I can't wait,' Harm thought, grinning, feeling his heartbeat 
accelerate 
slightly. Ever since their return from Venice, they had spent all their 
evenings and most of their nights together. Communication was mostly 
conducted by private email as they still hadn't told anyone that they 
were 
an item. They were sure Chegwidden suspected something - after all, he 
had 
practically ordered them to get involved - but surely no one else did. 
"Not 
even Harriet," Harm chuckled under his breath. He and Mac had been 
discreet 
to an extent that he would never have thought possible, given their 
emotions. But on the other hand keeping it secret and keeping people 
wondering what the colonel and the commander might or might not feel 
for one 
another only added to the suspense.

'Suspense - we sure have plenty of that,' Harm thought. Always 
respecting 
their agreement not to rush into anything, working on overcoming their 
fears 
first and taking time to explore their love was getting to be a torment 
at 
times. Whenever he and Mac were together the tension was sure to rise 
immediately. More than once they had been on the verge of giving in to 
passion and had been saved only by outside influence, like the 
telephone or 
pizza delivery.

But eventually they had figured out a way to stay as close as they 
considered safe, rejoicing in each other's company, in the caresses 
they 
exchanged and, most of all, in their wonderful friendship that, to 
their 
enormous relief, hadn't suffered from their involvement as they had 
feared 
it would. On the contrary, it had deepened. Harm had never been happier 
than 
he had been these last nine weeks, his Sarah's loving presence adding a 
dimension to his life that he hadn't even known existed.

At night, when she was sleeping in his arms, he would catch himself 
looking 
at her, still unable to fully believe that he wasn't dreaming. And Mac 
seemed to flourish in their relationship. Harm hadn't thought it 
possible, 
but she was becoming more beautiful every day. Not only to him. Their 
friends and colleagues, he knew, were wondering about the gradual 
changes 
that were taking place within her. She seemed to light the room when 
she 
entered. And in spite of the as yet unresolved tension between them, he 
was 
enjoying a totally new inward calmness, as if he had found a permanent 
home. 
'I have,' he admitted to himself, smiling, 'With her.'

As much as he longed to take the next step, to let physical union 
follow the 
spiritual unison they already shared, Harm knew he could wait until the 
time 
was right. They both felt it would be more than just their first time 
sleeping together. It was more like their first time ever, never having 
shared this moment with someone they loved as much as they loved each 
other.

Tearing himself from his thoughts, he switched off his computer, took 
the 
files he needed and left the office. 'Do I have everything for that 
pasta 
she wants?' he asked himself while waiting for the elevator. Deciding 
he 
didn't need to do any more shopping, he quickly got to his SUV and 
headed 
home, whistling, thinking of Mac.



2400 ZULU
Harm's apartment
North of Union Station
Washington, D.C.



Pressing an ice bag to her swollen cheek, Lieutenant Colonel Sarah 
Mackenzie, in loose sweats, ascended the stairs to her partner's 
apartment. 
'Just a tiny incision - ha ha,' Mac thought, trying to ignore the pain 
that 
kept increasing as the painkillers were wearing off. She had gotten 
more 
than she had bargained for at the dentist's. Feeling a slight 
sensitivity to 
heat and cold up on the right, she had resolved to have her teeth 
looked 
over. But instead of a hole the dentist had discovered a purulent 
inflammation underneath a lower left molar which hadn't started to hurt 
yet 
but would have in a few days. So she had agreed to have it taken care 
of 
immediately. 'Big mistake,' she scolded herself, knowing at the same 
time 
that the dentist had been right. At least she had Harm to console and 
comfort her.

Upon arriving at his door, she stopped in her tracks and listened. A 
beautiful, sad melody found its way to her ear, slowly telling of 
longing 
and love. Harm was obviously playing his guitar, something he hadn't 
done in 
quite a long time and never for her. Knowing she couldn't eat for a 
while 
anyway, Mac leaned to the door, not daring to make any noise, only 
listening 
to his music.

She could tell it was a rather difficult piece that he was practicing. 
He 
would interrupt himself at four or five crucial points, repeating and 
repeating the difficult passages until he had mastered them. The melody 
had 
a Spanish feel with Flamenco styles that - Mac could tell without 
knowing 
much about music - required skilled handiwork on the chords. She rested 
her 
head against the wall, closed her eyes and let Harm enchant her with 
his 
play.

About fifteen minutes later Harm interrupted his practice and Mac heard 
her 
cell-phone ring.

"Open your door, flyboy," she said instead of a greeting.

"How long have you been there, Mac?" She immediately noticed the 
concern in 
his voice.

"Sixteen minutes and twenty-three seconds," she answered with a smile.

"Oh my God," she only heard him say before the line went dead and the 
apartment door opened to reveal a very embarrassed Harm.

"I'm so sorry, Mac, I must have missed the doorbell," he started to 
excuse 
himself. "I was practicing on my guitar, but that's strange, I should 
have 
heard it. Why didn't you use your key, honey?" Putting one hand on hers 
that 
was holding the ice bag, Harm gently embraced her and pulled her inside 
the 
apartment, closing the door. "Hurt much?"

"Won't kill me," Mac retorted, making a face. "What was that music, 
sailor? 
It's beautiful."

"Joaquín Rodrigo, guitar concerto, second movement, soloist's part, but 
again, Mac, why didn't you come in if you don't feel well?" Harm, with 
a 
concerned frown, gently brushed a strand of hair from her face.

Mac smiled. It felt so good to be cared for. "I didn't want to disturb 
you."

"Mac, you..."

"Let me finish. I was so engrossed by your music that I completely 
forgot 
about my pain or that you would be worried when I didn't show up on 
time.  
Any reason you took out your guitar today, squid?  You play 
wonderfully, you 
know that?"

Harm smiled, embarrassed. "Not as well as I should. But I'm working on 
it. 
When I got home I felt I needed the distraction."

As she saw the deep frown on his face Mac was on high alert. "What's 
up?"

"Webb."

'Not again...' Mac thought, exasperated. "Care to share?"

"Can't, I'm sorry."

"Let me guess: classified," she laughed, a little trace of bitterness 
shining though her laughter.

"Yup. One-man mission in a really big scenario, only four days at home 
to 
prepare myself. I'm filling in for someone. Sunday's the day," he 
explained 
casually.

Mac looked at him with her huge brown eyes. "Whatever it is you're 
doing, 
promise me to be careful, okay? No stunts. I still need you around," 
she 
pleaded. "Are you going away?"

"Thankfully, no," he replied with a smile. Then he looked into her eyes 
and 
said: "I promise you, Mac, there's absolutely nothing to worry about. 
It's 
not a routine mission, but I won't be in danger. Trust me."

"Okay..." Mac didn't really sound convinced but she accepted his 
promise. 
"Just afraid I won't get you back in one piece, flyboy," she said with 
a 
loving smile.

Harm smiled back. "That won't happen." As if to seal the promise, he 
very 
tenderly kissed her on the lips, careful to the sore side of her face. 
"Are 
you hungry? Okay, rhetorical question. Are you very hungry, Marine?"

Mac gave him the sweetest mixture of a smile and a grimace. "Yeah, but 
I 
won't be able to eat for another hour. Why don't you distract me a 
little 
with your music practice while I rest on your couch?"

Harm grinned. "I'm flattered. Of course, if you want me to. Only tell 
me 
when fifty minutes are over so I can get the pasta done as well."

"Count on my internal clock and my growling stomach," she replied, 
laughing. 
"They won't forget your request even if I do."

Harm shook his head, chuckling, and sat down again on his chair, taking 
up 
his guitar and staring at the score that lay open on the floor next to 
him. 
Then he closed his eyes, concentrating, and seemed to memorize what he 
had 
just studied. Upon opening his eyes again he lifted his gaze to fix on 
an 
indefinite object at the far side of the loft and began to play. Mac 
just 
sat and watched in awe. It was as if Harm and his and his guitar melted 
into 
one, his fingers seeming to dance on the finger board or pluck the 
cords 
without effort.

The piece began to inspire her imagination. She saw pictures of a mild 
summer's night with stars and a full moon in some far-off country, 
flanked 
by the waves of the Mediterranean. Mac could almost feel the warm night 
breeze as the flowering scales of the melody surrounded her.  She felt 
the 
longing of a loving heart calling out to its beloved. Like Harm was 
reaching 
out for her. Mac was totally swept away by Harm's interpretation. By 
instinct Harm always guessed the right amount of speed variation, 
applying 
or omitting ornaments, so that the music lost nothing of its emotional 
potential, yet always remaining humble and clear. Mac was so lost in 
listening that she literally jumped when he interrupted himself, 
frowning 
and swearing quietly, to consult the score when he couldn't remember 
how to 
go on.

All too soon she had to remember her promise. "Sorry to interrupt you, 
Maestro, but your fifty minutes are up."

Harm cast her a warm smile and put the guitar down. Stretching for a 
moment, 
he lifted himself to full height and then headed to the kitchen. Mac 
rose 
and took a seat at the counter to watch him working, knowing he 
wouldn't let 
her help.

"That's so incredible. They lost an artist when they let you join the 
navy," 
she observed, smiling.

"Mac, don't!" he shouted, laughing and blushing slightly. "Never give a 
musician too much praise. Or he'll stop practicing."

She joined in his laughter. "But you deserved it." Her expression 
sobered. 
"I only wish that there had been a time and place for music in my 
childhood. 
But then," her smile returned, though somewhat strained, "Who knows if 
I'm 
even musical."

"You are," he stated quietly, looking at her with a sincere expression 
in 
his eyes.

"What makes you say so?" she inquired.

"Well, firstly, remember our round dance in Venice. If there was one 
person 
in the room who placed the steps on the right beat, always anticipating 
any 
'accelerando' or 'ritardando' in the interpretation..."

"Any what?"

"Sorry," he excused himself with an embarrassed smile. "Musicians tend 
to 
talk in code. Like pilots."

"What surprise..." she murmured with a cocked eyebrow.

"Anyway, 'accelerando' means accelerating and 'ritardando' means 
slowing 
down," he explained, unperturbed. "And you just knew what the band 
would do 
and sped up or slowed down your own steps to stay on the beat. That's a 
sure 
sign of musicality, if there's any, Mac. And besides," his grin became 
a 
little nasty, "I hear it when you sing in the shower. Intonation's 
perfect." 
He ducked in time to have a flying grape miss him. It hit the sink.

"Hey!" he protested. "That's praise coming from a gifted musician." 
Another 
grape hit his forehead.

"Tell me, flyboy," Mac considered it wise to change the subject to some 
degree, "Do you normally memorize something before you play?  I don't 
really 
know much about music, but don't you usually play while you read the 
music?"

"Normally you do, yes," he acknowledged, "Orchestra players always do. 
Or 
the members of a big band. Or in classical chamber music. But for 
instance 
many jazz musicians don't 'cause they tend to improvise. And soloists 
in 
instrumental concertos normally don't, either. You know, it's like 
being on 
an opera stage. You tell the piece's story, with the orchestra 
following 
your lead. You wouldn't wanna do that with your nose stuck in the 
score, 
right? You've got more room left in your thoughts to express your 
feelings 
if you don't have to read while playing."

"Right. Sounds convincing. So, now that I've learned something, are you 
gonna feed me, squid?" Mac took plates and cutlery from the cupboards 
and 
went over to the table.

"Okay," Harm said, laughing. He was glad to have Mac at his side right 
now. 
She helped him chase away the uneasy feeling he had in his gut when he 
thought about Clay's secret one-man assignment. Mac's presence was 
comforting, and she was so cute when she ordered him to 'feed' her. He 
just 
loved her when she did it. But then - didn't he always love her?



Wed, May 6th
1617 ZULU
JAG Headquarters
Falls Church, VA



"Attention on deck!" Petty Officer Jason Tiner yelled as he saw AJ 
emerge 
from the elevator. Everyone in the bullpen jumped to their feet and 
came to 
attention. AJ strode in the direction of his office, a young man in a 
foreign navy officer's uniform following in his tracks. In front of his 
door 
AJ turned and addressed his personnel. "At ease. Lt. Sims, get me Col. 
Mackenzie."

"Aye, sir." Lieutenant Harriet Sims-Roberts hurried from her desk to 
the 
only office that had all the blinds closed, Mac obviously being on the 
phone 
with someone. She knocked and waited.

"Come in," came a muffled voice from the inside.

Harriet stuck her head between the door and the doorpost. "Ma'am, the 
admiral requests your presence immediately." She gave Mac a quick wink 
and a 
smile which Mac returned, asking herself if Harriet suspected whom she 
was 
on the phone with.

"I'll be right with you, thank you, Lieutenant." The head of the young 
blonde disappeared and Mac quickly turned her attention back to the 
person 
on the other end of the line. "I gotta go, Harm. Admiral's calling."

He could hear her smile. "Go, Marine. Love you!"

"Love you, too, flyboy." Mac hung up the receiver and stepped into the 
bullpen. Taking a quick look around, she suddenly froze and stared.

Harriet noticed the colonel's amazement at seeing the foreign officer. 
Did 
she know him?

Mac inwardly scolded herself for losing her composure. She shot the 
young 
man a quick smile and expectantly faced the admiral who was fighting 
hard to 
hide his smirk at her reaction. Then he took a close look at Mac's jaw 
that 
on one side was all black and blue, only badly hidden by her make-up.

"What happened to you, Colonel?"

"Dentist, sir," was all she said.

"Want me to sue him?" AJ asked with an upraised eyebrow.

Mac suppressed a giggle. "Not necessary, sir. He got to know my right 
hook."

"Ouch," Chegwidden stated dryly. Then he cleared his throat. "Ladies 
and 
gentlemen, with Lt. Roberts still working hard in rehab and Cmdr. Imes 
currently assigned to the Great Lakes office we are rather short on 
personnel. So I was very pleased to hear that several years after the 
last... inspiring experience with the officers exchange program," he 
cast 
Mac a hint of a look as everybody slightly winced at the allusion to 
Mic 
Brumby, "It's once again our turn to welcome an addition to our team." 
By 
now Chegwidden's smile was genuine again. Mac succeeded in banishing 
any 
thoughts of Mic from her mind.

The admiral continued: "Let me present a promising young lawyer. He has 
been 
assigned to us to get to know our work and help us out a little while 
Roberts and Imes are away."

Mac saw Harriet's face cloud as it always did when her husband's 
dreadful 
injury was mentioned. Well, at least Bud finally seemed to have gotten 
over 
his fatalism about being disabled. Harriet's news that she was 
expecting 
another child had finally broken through the walls he had built around 
himself. Sure, Bud had tried to get back on track as soon as he had 
been 
released from the hospital and had learned to manage his life with only 
one 
leg. But he had grown more cold and distant to everyone each day, 
knowing 
that he would have to deal with his memories if he opened up. He had 
cut 
down rehab exercises to the minimum as if he had wanted to forget the 
physical consequences of the blast.

Seeing Harriet at the verge of losing it all to her despair on the 
revelation that she was pregnant must have made something click in 
Bud's 
head. He had instantly taken leave and gone to a reputed long-term 
rehab 
institution in Massachusetts and was working harder than any of them 
had 
ever thought possible.

Exchanging a quick comforting glance with a grateful Harriet, Mac 
turned her 
attention back to the admiral who went on, "The newest member of our 
team 
just arrived all the way from Italy and has been telling me ever since 
I met 
with him how eager he is to get to know everyone. This is Lieutenant, 
j.g. 
Federico Prumetti, former Venice Port Authority's liaisons officer."

Prumetti bowed slightly in his unique old-fashioned way, smiling and 
silently greeting everyone as he listened to the admiral's 
introductions. 
Chegwidden went on. "Lieutenant, let me introduce you to my staff. You 
already know Col. Mackenzie." Mac exchanged a heartfelt smile with her 
and 
Harm's friend from their last abroad mission while the admiral stepped 
over 
to the two officers standing next to her.

"This is Commander Sturgis Turner and Lieutenant Commander Alan 
Mattoni, 
over here we have Lieutenant Harriet Sims. Lt. Sims's husband, Lt. Bud 
Roberts, is right now recovering from a very serious landmine accident 
he 
suffered a year ago in Afghanistan." A shadow quickly passed over 
Chegwidden's face - Prumetti presumed this would be the largest extent 
that 
the JAG allowed his feelings to be seen.

The admiral went on. "Over there would be the office of Lieutenant 
Commander 
Carolyn Imes who currently helps out at Great Lakes." Passing on to a 
young 
blonde who seemed to be extremely vexed that she was introduced so 
late, the 
admiral said: "This is Lieutenant Lauren Singer." Somehow the Italian 
lieutenant got the impression that the admiral was less than 
enthusiastic 
about her...

"And this is my yeoman, Petty Officer Jason Tiner," the admrial 
concluded as 
he stepped over to Tiner's desk near his door. "Uhm," he added quickly, 
"Just for the record: Cmdr. Rabb's office is over there. Rabb will be 
here 
again next week. Lieutenant, you can take Cmdr. Imes's office while 
you're 
with us. That will be all for now. Welcome to JAG headquarters and I 
hope 
you'll make the most of your stay."

"Thank you very much, sir, I'll do my very best," Prumetti answered. 
Mac 
noted with a smirk that everyone started at the Italian lieutenant's 
superb 
Edinburgh pronunciation.

All said, Chegwidden turned and vanished into his office. As soon as he 
was 
gone Mac would allow her enthusiasm to break through, other people's 
voices 
once again beginning to hum. "Fred, now that's great news!" she 
shouted, 
walking to properly greet her Mediterranean friend with two near 
kisses, one 
on each cheek.

"Colonel, ma'am..." Fred trailed off, embarrassed.

"Oh, I'm sorry, Lieutenant," Mac replied sheepishly. "I was so happy 
hearing 
you'd come to work with us that I even forgot we're on duty. Anyway, 
I'm 
really, really glad to see you and I'm sure Harm will be as well, as 
soon as 
he learns you're here. How long will you be staying?"

"Well, six months for now, ma'am, with an option to make it one year," 
Fred 
replied, relaxing a little at her warm welcome.

"Did you bring Claire?"

"Yes, ma'am, and, by the way, she sends her love. She would have liked 
to 
come this morning but she has to work."

Mac realized that she had never asked her friend what his fiancée did 
to 
earn her life. "Where's she working?"

"Her aunt's got a medical practice in Annapolis."

"She's a doctor?"

"Yes, an obstetrician and a gynecologist. Graduated three months ago in 
London. In fact, when you first knew her in Venice, she was on grad 
vacation, ma'am. She'll be doing her practical year here in D.C."

"Schedules fit perfectly, then," Mac observed, still with an enormous 
smile 
lighting up her face. "Wait till I tell Harm... or you know what? Let's 
call 
him! But first meet your new colleagues and get your stuff into your 
office. 
And remember when you call him: Harm isn't on duty right now..." With a 
wink 
she took one of the cases a clerk had just brought upstairs and 
vanished in 
the direction of Carolyn's deserted office before a dumbfounded Fred 
could 
say another word.

"Don't worry, Lieutenant, she's been a little strange of late, but in a 
way 
that certainly suits her. Lt. Sims," Harriet extended her hand. Fred 
took it 
with a smile.

"Pleased to meet you, ma'am. Definitely," he let his glance wander at 
Mac's 
back, "The colonel's changed since I met her in Venice. Any reason, 
ma'am?"

Harriet gave him a clueless shrug and a genuine smile. "None that we 
succeeded to figure out yet, Lieutenant. So you know the colonel and 
Cmdr. 
Rabb and the admiral from their assignment in Venice?"

Fred nodded. "Yes, ma'am." A suspicion about the nature of Mac's 
changes had 
begun to rise in the back of his mind but he kept it hidden. It wasn't 
up to 
him to speculate on his future superiors' private life - just that it 
was a 
nice thought if they had gotten involved...

Having greeted personally all his future colleagues, at once noting the 
openly displayed superiority in rank Singer had relished in, Fred 
entered 
the office that was to be his for the next months. Mac was occupying 
herself 
with the telephone on the desk.

"I programmed Harm's place on speed dial four and my own on five - just 
in 
case you might like to feel you had friends. By the way, where are you 
staying?"

"Claire's aunt has a two-apartment house in Rosslyn. She stays up and 
Claire 
and I have the rest of the house to ourselves, ma'am."

"Glad to hear that you're well settled. And Rosslyn's a nice 
neighborhood. 
Bud and Harriet used to live there before..." Mac let her voice trail 
off, 
not knowing how much she wanted to tell her friend right now of Bud's 
dreadful fate.

"Lt. Sims's husband stepped on a mine, ma'am?" Fred asked quietly.

"Yeah. Trying to save a kid. Lost one leg and only recently managed to 
get a 
grip and get help, physically and emotionally. But he's doing a great 
job 
with getting well, now that Harriet's pregnant again," Mac told him, 
knowing 
she could rely on Fred's gentlemanlike discretion. "Harriet and Bud are 
real 
friends. Their son AJ is Harm's and my godson. They had a daughter, 
Sarah, 
but..." Fred saw Mac swallow hard. "She died shortly after birth."

"Quite a load to carry," was the only thing he said, his voice 
thoughtful 
and compassionate.

Mac tried to shake off her gloomy mood. "Grab your phone and try out 
your 
speed dial, Fred," she encouraged him. He smiled.

"Aye, ma'am."

He pressed speed dial four and switched on the speaker for Mac to hear. 
On 
the fourth ring the receiver was picked up.

"Rabb," came Harm's voice from the other side of the line.

"Buongiorno, Comandante," Fred said, smirking. "Come va?" [Good 
morning, 
Commander. How are you?]

Silence. Then a tentative "Fred?"

"Yes, sir."

"That's a pleasant surprise, Lieutenant!" Harm's voice fully conveyed 
his 
flyboy-grin. "Why this unexpected pleasure?"

"Work, sir," Fred said, with a smile to Mac who bit her lip, giggling.

They could hear Harm raise his eyebrows. "Your gondola stolen again, 
Lieutenant? Do we need to return to Venice? Not that I'd mind..."

'I bet you wouldn't, sailor,' Mac thought, hiding her grin.

"No, sir, this time it'd suffice to go to your office." Fred was 
beginning 
to enjoy the conversation.

"Ah... right. And where are you calling from?"

"My office, sir. That is, you know it as Cmdr. Imes's." Quickly 
switching 
off the speaker phone, Fred held the receiver off his ear to let out a 
snort. Mac had long lost her composure at imagining her flyboy's 
expression.

"?!!??" Harm's silence spoke volumes.

"Fred's participating in the officers exchange program," Mac said, 
laughing, 
having snatched the receiver from Fred's hand.

"Wow, this is great! Let me talk to him again please, Mac!"

Fred took the receiver, grinning. The commander hadn't changed a bit. 
"Yes, 
sir?"

"I just wanted to say that I'm sorry I won't be able to see you until 
next 
week. I'm sure Mac told you that I've got a special op on my back. But 
go 
out with Mac and me to dinner next Monday, Lieutenant. And bring your 
fiancée if she's in D.C. That's an order!"

"Aye, aye, sir," Fred replied, laughing, before they said goodbye and 
he put 
the receiver down. Just then, Tiner entered the office.

"Lieutenant Prem... Pur..."

"Prumetti," Fred helped an embarrassed Tiner.

"Excuse me, sir, but the admiral wants to see you in the conference 
room. 
And you, too, ma'am," he added, noticing that Mac was present.

"Thank you, P.O. Tiner," Fred answered.

"Tiner will do, sir," the yeoman grinned before exiting the office.

"We'd better go at once," Mac said. "JAG HQ, lesson one: Never keep the 
admiral waiting."

"I see, ma'am." The shared a laugh as they crossed the bullpen.


Upon entering the conference room, they found the rest of the JAG staff 
already assembled. AJ motioned Mac and Fred to sit down and signaled to 
Harriet who rose and held up a letter.

"I don't know if any of you remember what this is but I told you when 
it 
arrived two months ago. And I told you not to make any plans for 
Sunday, May 
10th. Anyway, this is the confirmation that I was just faxed from 
Washington 
Symphony's box office. Sunday morning's the big governmental charity 
matinee, broadcast live by ZBS, by the way. I don't know anything 
specific 
about the program, just that it's all classical, dress whites required, 
and 
that the Secnav has all but made it an order for the Navy's flag 
officers 
and senior staff to attend."

"And I am making it an order for all of you to go," Chegwidden cut in. 
"We've a reputation to maintain that the JAG Corps always turns up one 
big 
family."

Everybody was snickering or at least grinning at his remark. Harriet 
continued: "So I got tickets for all of us for Sunday 1100 at the 
Kennedy 
Center. I suggest we meet at the main entrance at 1030. Is there 
anybody who 
can't come except Cmdr. Rabb?"

"Sir, I'm leaving for Pensacola tomorrow," Singer addressed AJ, unsure 
if to 
be glad to show her enthusiasm for a case or angry to miss a major 
social 
event and many possibilities for networking. "The Portman case, sir. 
It'll 
take me at least one week."

"Too bad, Lieutenant." AJ's voice was perfectly neutral. Except to 
those who 
knew the friend beneath the SEAL. "Lt. Prumetti," he then turned to 
Fred. 
"Would you and your fiancée care to join us for the concert as we have 
two 
tickets left?"

"We'd be glad to, sir."

"Then that's settled. That is all." AJ rose and everyone jumped to 
their 
feet and came to attention. "See you all on Sunday at 1030 in front of 
the 
Kennedy Center. Dismissed."

On hearing their "Aye, aye, sir!" AJ left the conference room and 
headed for 
his office.



Sun, May 10th
1137 ZULU
Harm's apartment
North of Union Station
Washington, D.C.



"How can I even think about going out in public with a face like this?" 
Mac 
shouted in frustration, angrily thrusting her powder-puff at her 
reflection 
in the bathroom mirror. The colors on her jaw were oscillating between 
a 
deep purple red and a light greenish yellow, passing every color 
imaginable 
in between from her chin to her ear. She had decided to get up early to 
somehow find a way to hide the remnants of her jaw surgery, but she was 
slowly running out of ideas how to do it. At least the swelling had 
passed 
and she could open her mouth normally again. But those damn colors 
would 
always shine through her make-up.

Harm, yawning and stretching, entered the bathroom and, with a smile, 
encircled her in his arms, looking into the mirror with his chin on her 
shoulder. "Did you have 'colorful' dreams, jarhead?" he asked, 
chuckling.

"Good morning to you, too, Commander," she snapped, unable to keep her 
mouth 
from twitching despite the situation.

Harm turned her around in his arms and scrutinized the effusion of 
blood the 
treatment had caused. Compassion shone in his eyes as he gently traced 
the 
stained skin with his fingertips.
"My poor favorite Marine," he whispered gently and then said 
matter-of-factly: "I've got an hour until I have to go and meet with 
Webb at 
the... at our rendezvous point. Want me to try and take care of it? You 
know, I'm very good at fixing scratches in 'Sarah's' yellow varnish."

Mac gently slapped him on his bare chest, not oblivious to how good the 
muscles felt under her fingers. "Right. And that makes you an expert in 
fixing your other Sarah's varnish as well?"

He grinned. "Maybe..."

She couldn't resist to returning his smile. Sighing, she handed him her 
make-up case. "I'm out of ideas anyway. See what you can do, mechanic."

Chuckling, he searched through the bag's contents, then found her 
liquid 
make up jar. Working carefully, he applied it to her cheek, then softly 
blew 
on it until it had dried. Mac closed her eyes and enjoyed his tender 
touch 
as he covered the spot with compact powder and then repeated the whole 
procedure twice. Finally he moved away and surveyed his artwork. "Take 
a 
look, Colonel," he said.

Mac turned to the mirror. "Wow. Great job, I have to admit, flyboy," 
she 
said lovingly, glancing up at him in the mirror. Then she turned and 
put her 
arms around his neck. Harm pulled her tight to his body, the fine linen 
material of her white nightgown the only physical barrier between them. 
He 
was able to feel every curve of her beautifully shaped body through it. 
'Don't get carried away, Hammer,' he kept telling himself as he felt 
his 
stomach tighten.

"What would I do without you?" Mac whispered with a huge smile in her 
beautiful eyes.

"You don't have to do without me. You won't get rid of me, Marine," he 
whispered back, letting a slow, tender kiss follow his words, a kiss 
that 
threatened to make her knees give out. She ordered herself to come to 
her 
senses and drew back slightly, concern showing on her now sober face.

"I know you can't tell me, but, Harm, please, whatever it is you're up 
to 
today, take care of yourself, will you? I won't have a quiet moment 
anyway, 
but your word of honor that you'll consider the safest option 
available, 
will make me feel a little more comfortable until you're back."

Harm earnestly looked into her eyes as he put his right hand on his 
heart. 
"Sarah, I give you my word of honor as an officer and my promise as the 
man 
who loves you more than anything else in this world that you won't have 
the 
slightest reason to be worried for my safety today. Okay?"

"Okay," she said, sniffling. Then she let out a slight chuckle. "Let's 
lighten the mood before you'll have to do my make-up all over again if 
I 
can't hold back those tears."

Laughing softly, he gave her a peck on the tip of her nose and vanished 
into 
the shower.


An hour later she was still in her bathrobe, having finished her hair 
and 
make-up that gave him a glimpse of how beautiful she would look at the 
charity concert.

"I'd rather come with you, Mac," Harm said ruefully as she accompanied 
him 
to the door.

"I know, but it can't be helped, can it? Wait, are you going just like 
that?" She looked him over in his simple civvies: jeans, t-shirt, 
sweater, 
Nikes and base-cap. No sidearm, no file, nothing.

"Yeah. Webb has everything I need. I brought my things over yesterday 
to our 
rendezvous point. Now get dressed and enjoy yourself, Marine."

"I would if you were with me. But things being as they are, I'll 
plaster on 
a fake smile and get things over with," she replied, making a mock 
face.

"See you in a few hours then. Wish me luck, Mac," Harm whispered, his 
face 
sober and uneasiness in his eyes.

Mac felt her worries growing but resolved not to make him feel even 
worse 
for her sake.  "Good luck, my sailor," she whispered back, kissing him 
tenderly, and with a smile closed the door at his back. Only then she 
let 
out a sob that had been lingering in her throat.



Sun, May 10th
1530 ZULU
Kennedy Center
Washington, D.C.



Mac had never thought her make-up would survive this trip. She had been 
sweating like hell on the road, stuck in traffic and her air 
conditioning 
was broken once again. But whatever charm Harm had applied with his 
treatment held. Holding her small dark blue silk jacket, that hung 
loose 
above her shoulders, and slightly lifting up the long skirt of the 
matching 
off-the-shoulder dress, she ran to join her friends as gracefully as 
her 
high heels would permit.

Harriet was giving out the tickets. Mac noted with silent joy that her 
belly 
was barely beginning to show under her pink dress.

"Good morning, Colonel," the admiral greeted her, echoed by the others. 
Then 
Mac turned and saw a slender young woman stepping up to her, beaming 
radiantly.

"Mac, it's so good to see you!"

"Claire!" Mac hugged her younger friend. "Talking to you on the phone's 
been 
great, but seeing you in person is just... terrific!"

"Well, I hope we'll get more of that now that Fred and I are so close 
by."

"Count on it! My God, Lieutenant!" Mac exclaimed as Fred stepped up to 
greet 
her. She had never seen him in his dress whites before. Those Italians 
sure 
had style, she thought. Fred's white jacket had the front buttons 
hidden, 
emphasizing even more a bright royal blue sash that went from his right 
shoulder to his left hip where a shining saber was attached to his 
side. 
'Too bad that I see no gold wings, then he'd be perfect.' She smiled at 
the 
thought. "Fred, you look like prince charming."

"Thank you, ma'am." The young lieutenant couldn't help blushing.

"Ready to go in, everyone?" Harriet asked. "Bud's sending his love to 
all of 
you but he wants to finish his rehab. So he'll be watching the concert 
on TV 
during physical therapy."

"Tell him we miss him, Harriet," Mac said.

"Let's go in then," Chegwidden said and they set off for their seats.


"Did you hear anything about the program yet, Lt. Sims?" Tiner asked as 
they 
found their seats. They had gotten very good tickets in the tenth row, 
near 
enough to the stage to see details but far away enough not to have to 
look 
up. The whole concert hall was sold out, the audience obviously being 
very 
exclusive and ready to open their bursting purses for whatever charity 
was 
asked of them.

"No, Tiner. I tried to do some research but I'm as clueless as any of 
you." 
Harriet smiled apologetically.

"Not entirely clueless, though," cut in Sturgis.

"What do you know that we don't, Cmdr. Turner?" Jackie Mattoni leaned 
forward, eager to learn some details.

Sturgis smiled. "Not much, actually. Bobbi's been appointed host for 
the 
event and she let slip that we'll get a program put together of very 
different pieces of music. But the interesting thing's not so much 
what, but 
who will perform. It seems that one musician has been chosen from every 
governmental institution or military branch participating. She won't 
give me 
any further hints, telling me that even she gets her information on 
stage, 
opening envelopes, you know, like that Oscar stuff. But obviously 
whoever 
organized this mega event, thought it would add to the fun having the 
surprise moments secured. It definitely will for the TV public."

'This is going to be fun,' Mac thought. But before she could ask 
Sturgis for 
any further information, the orchestra appeared on stage and tuned 
their 
instruments. Somewhere a cell-phone started to beep. Angry 
"ssshhh"-noises 
caused a bustle in the audience as everyone double-checked their own 
electronic devices. Then the lights above the audience dimmed and a 
single 
spotlight appeared on stage, following the woman walking to center 
stage, 
obviously enjoying her warm welcome applause.

"Good morning, ladies and gentlemen," Congresswoman Bobbi Latham gently 
greeted the public. "Let me welcome you to today's government charity 
concert. Thank you for joining us.  There are so many of you today, I 
only 
hope it will show in the bank account we opened for today's 
fundraising." At 
Bobbi's smile low chuckles were heard in the public. Mac watched 
Sturgis 
silently admire the beautiful congresswoman in her smashing red dress. 
Bobbi 
continued. "A very warm welcome, too, to the many, many people who are 
with 
us today in front of their TVs via ZBS live broadcast from Washington 
D.C. 
During the intermission we'll provide you with a phone number where you 
can 
make your donations. As for the recipients of today's fundraising, I 
now ask 
for someone to come onstage who'll explain the details to us. 
Representing 
the organizing institution of today's concert, the Central Intelligence 
Agency," (astonished murmurs were heard in the audience), "Please 
welcome 
Undersecretary of State, Mr. Clayton Webb."

Mac sat bolt upright. A suspicion began to rise in her mind - but no, 
it 
couldn't be true. Maybe this was part of their cover. But still... She 
cast 
a quick look at the admiral who remained seated as quietly as he had 
been 
before. Maybe she was just imagining things.

Led by applause, Webb stepped onto the stage and greeted Bobbi 
charmingly 
with a peck on each cheek. 'I guess this really is the Oscar night, 
like 
Sturgis said earlier,' Mac thought, frowning.

"Ladies and gentlemen," Clay began as the crowd had digested their 
astonishment, "I am very much aware that normally the CIA would be one 
of 
the last institutions in this country to ever organize a major public 
event 
like this. We 'spies'," he let the word sink in with a sly look around 
and 
at once had all the sympathies on his side as soft laughter was heard 
from 
the public, "We spies tend to cover our tracks wherever we go and if we 
ever 
come to media attention, it's a bit of misdirection the media got a 
hold of. 
Anyway, we felt it was time to let people know that we actually do more 
good 
than they seem to believe. That is why we organized this event and we 
were 
surprised at the degree of cooperation we encountered with all 
government 
authorities. You know, normally things don't always go too smoothly..." 
Webb 
artfully let his voice trail off with a half-smile. 'He is good at it!' 
Mac 
conceded with a grin as the audience was laughing more openly, 
obviously 
liking the charming 'spy'.

"The recipients of your donations live in a country that right now 
holds 
many dreadful memories and fears for Americans. They may seem to stand 
on 
the other side but they are still way too innocent to raise anything 
else 
than our compassion for their situation. Let us give a financial hand 
today 
to UNICEF's projects in Afghanistan. Thank you." Roaring applause 
filled the 
auditorium as Clayton Webb was led off the stage by Bobbi.

Mac turned to see a pained expression quickly cross Harriet's face. She 
took 
her hand and squeezed it, earning a reassuring squeeze in return, 
telling 
her that her friend was all right.

"Today's musicians volunteered to stand up on stage. Every 
participating 
institution is sending a very gifted musician for you to enjoy today," 
Bobbi 
explained, a white envelope in her hand. "So let's just start by 
thanking 
the Washington Symphony Orchestra to have volunteered as well to 
accompany 
them." Bobbi opened the envelope and quickly scanned the words on the 
card 
inside. "The conductor of our concert is a young special agent, 
normally 
specialized in profiling. He'll open the program with the "Overture 
1812" by 
Tchaikovsky. Let us all welcome, representing the Federal Bureau of 
Investigation, Special Agent Raymond Burns." Bobbi made a wide gesture 
with 
her free hand and left the stage. A young, tall man walked up to the 
conductor's podium, solemnly bowed and took up his baton. The concert 
began.

Soon everybody in the audience was silently wondering how governmental 
or 
military personnel could possibly find the time to practice enough to 
attain 
the music standards they were displaying onstage. Burns had an 
excellent 
feel for the orchestra's needs. He would stay unobtrusive, let the 
professional musicians use their experience, but be present and a firm 
leader every time a passage needed it. And standards were kept high by 
every 
soloist that followed after the orchestral opening. An Air Force 
Captain 
provided a stunning interpretation of the first movement of 
Mendelssohn's 
violin concerto in e minor. Then a state senator of Rhode Island showed 
her 
talent in the great aria of Pamina, taken from Mozart's 'Magic Flute'. 
Then 
a high diplomatic officer from the State Department played a sweet 
little 
harpsichord concerto by Vivaldi.

As his applause faded away, Bobbi again stepped on stage with yet 
another 
white envelope in her hand. "Before we grant you your well-deserved 
intermission," she began, interrupted by laughter from the audience who 
was 
greatly enjoying the event, "We have one last piece in store for you. 
I've 
been briefed that the musician who will now come to perform, has done a 
huge 
favor to all of us by stepping in for a colleague with only four days 
preparation. We all owe him for that sacrifice."

Mac felt her mouth go dry. This couldn't be possible. Holding her 
breath, 
she saw Bobbi open the envelope and barely contain her surprise. The 
congresswoman swallowed, re-plastered her now somewhat strained smile 
to her 
face and announced: "We'll now hear the second movement of Joaquín 
Rodrigo's 
guitar concerto. And here is for you, representing the United States 
Navy, 
former naval aviator and now lawyer with the Judge Advocate General 
Corps, 
Commander Harmon Rabb, Jr."

A loud 'thump' indicated that Harriet had dropped her purse in pure 
astonishment. For the JAG family the scene played in slow-motion: 
Jackie 
turned to Alan Mattoni who turned to Claire who turned to Fred who 
turned to 
Harriet who turned to Tiner who turned to Sturgis who turned to Mac 
who, 
feeling all their inquisitive gazes lingering on her, only lifted her 
hands 
in an I-was-as-clueless-as-you movement and turned to AJ who met all 
their 
glances with a huge smirk on his face.

Just then applause set in as a tall figure in immaculate dress whites 
slowly 
crossed the stage to the soloist's chair near the conductor's podium. 
Carrying his guitar in his left hand, Harm shook hands with the 
concertmaster in the first violins' front row and then slowly bowed to 
the 
public, his gaze wandering.

Harm was desperately searching the audience for any sign of Mac. He 
felt 
dreadful and knew that his only source of strength to help him through 
this 
would be a reassuring look from her. Finally he saw her and his friends 
sitting in the tenth row, staring up at him open-mouthed. 'At least 
they 
didn't know beforehand,' he told himself, looking at Mac. His Marine 
finally 
seemed to realize that she had no reason to fear for his physical 
well-being, and this realization, paired with the expression of rising 
pride 
of her best friend, painted her features with one of the most beautiful 
smiles Harm had ever seen. 'I'll play for you, Mac, only for you,' he 
thought, answering her with a barely noticeable smile of his own, 
suddenly 
feeling much more at ease than he had all day.

He carefully re-tuned his instrument, took a firm seat and nodded to 
Burns 
to begin. It was the first time that Mac heard the piece with its 
orchestral 
accompaniment. And the incredible amount of longing the piece held was 
underlined in every single note. Soon even the toughest coughers in the 
audience were silenced, holding their breath and listening to the tall 
navy 
officer who in an instant had succeeded in capturing their attention 
with 
the extent of emotion that his interpretation conveyed.

Instead of looking into the abyss or closing his eyes in concentration, 
Harm 
locked his gaze with Mac's, his eyes never leaving hers, telling her 
that 
all that was inside the music was inside his heart as well, waiting for 
her 
to see. She seemed to read his music, and through it, his mind.  Her 
gaze 
confirmed his hopes that her mind was a mirror to his own.

"This is incredible," Mac heard Harriet whisper in awe. Had she been 
able to 
take her eyes away from Harm's, she would have seen Alan and Fred 
taking the 
hands of their wife and fiancée, respectively, Harriet wiping away a 
tear 
from her cheek, Tiner sitting open-mouthed, staring, and AJ and Sturgis 
exchanging a look, having traced the line connecting Mac and Harm's 
eyes.


When the piece came to an end, there was nothing but deep silence. Harm 
held 
his hands on the chords for a few moments while Burns never let his 
baton 
sink. Only after what seemed several minutes, but was in fact about ten 
seconds, Harm dropped his right hand and cast a smile up to the young 
conductor who returned it and let his hands drop.

Then the hurricane broke loose. Tiner was the first to jump to his feet 
and 
with all the force his voice was able to bring up he yelled: 
"Braaavooo!!!" 
At once the whole auditorium joined in, cheering, whistling, clapping 
their 
hands wildly at this musical hallmark moment.

Harm rose and bowed, a smashing flyboy-grin spreading on his face, 
clearly 
showing his relief. His eyes never left Mac who was on her feet, 
applauding 
wildly with the whole JAG staff. 'I love you!' she mouthed, and he gave 
her 
a quick wink to show her he had understood.
He then left the stage, Burns following him, both reappearing after a 
few 
moments. Burns had the orchestra rise and Harm again shook hands with 
the 
concertmaster. Bobbi came to join him, bringing with her the other 
soloists 
of the first half of the concert. All received flowers and 
congratulated 
each other. Then all musicians left the stage and the public streamed 
out of 
the concert hall, immediately crowding the bistro areas outside.

Mac turned to Chegwiden who was walking behind her. "Excuse me, sir, 
but I'd 
like to go backstage for a moment."

AJ smiled, his eyes full of pride for his officer who had saved the 
honor of 
the navy. "Then off you go, Colonel. We'll see the commander after the 
concert. Give him our compliments, will you?"

"Of course, sir. Thank you, sir." And Mac was already on her way.


As she reached the soloists' dressing-rooms behind the stage she 
stopped 
short in her tracks, seeing an enormous line of people wanting 
autographs in 
front of Harm's door. Not wanting to cause any uproar, she quietly got 
in 
line. 'They all have to be back in when the concert continues,' she 
thought, 
smiling to herself. 'I don't."

She enjoyed herself watching the people and listening to their 
conversation. 
Two teenage girls in very grown-up dresses were giggling and dancing on 
their feet in front of Mac.

"Oh my God," she heard one of them say, "Isn't he hot?! When I saw him 
walking on stage... wow!"

"And his grin is soooo cute!" the other cut in excitedly.

"And this uniform. I bet he's a real hero."

"He's a pilot. I'm sure he's gotta be so tough up in the air. And then 
he's 
got a heart for music, that's sooo cool!"

Mac could hardly bite back her laughter. They were talking about Harm, 
not 
about Robbie Williams!

"He was concentrating so hard when he played. And he was staring in the 
same 
direction all the time. I just hope it wasn't his wife sitting there!" 
one 
of them took up the topic that both of them were most interested in.

"His girlfriend would be bad enough," the other girl complained.

"What do you think is his age?"

"Dunno. Something between 35 and 40?"

"Nah... he's younger than that. Too cool to be so old."

Mac couldn't hold back a snort. Quickly turning, she managed to hide 
her 
amusement from them.

"But I sooo wanna know who he was staring at!" the first one said 
fiercely.

"Yeah. Me, too." They were about to be called in next. "I just wish 
they had 
printed pictures of the musicians in the program," the second girl 
sighed, 
preparing her pen and paper. "Oh, I'd so hate to learn he's got a 
girlfriend! Just who was it he was looking at? And then giving that 
smile 
that made my knees turn to jell-o?" The other girl nodded eagerly at 
this 
comment.

Mac felt she couldn't resist any more. "Me," she stated 
matter-of-factly as 
the girls were about to go in. They turned and stared at her as they 
would 
at an alien. To prove that she wasn't kidding, Mac added with a sly 
smile: 
"And by the way, he's 40 and already taken."

The girls snapped their mouths shut, gulped visibly at the sight of the 
tall, gorgeous brunette that was addressing them and hurried to get 
inside 
the dressing-room as Harm, with a smile that seemed just a little 
exasperated, led out the elderly lady who had been waiting for an 
autograph 
in front of them. Seeing Mac standing next in line, Harm's eyes lit up 
for a 
fraction of a second before being all politeness again for the 
trembling 
girls.

When they came out, the intermission nearing its end, all other 
admirers who 
had been in line behind Mac had left. Harm graced the girls with his 
patented grin and then let his smile grow to a real heartfelt one as 
Mac 
stepped to greet him. She gave him a 'Let's-give-them-a-good-show' grin 
and 
he instantly understood.

"Hey, my darling," he cooed, an irresistible smile sparkling in his 
eyes. He 
pulled her into a tight hug, kissing her passionately for the stunned 
girls 
to see. So the lady had been right in telling them that he was taken! 
As the 
bell announced the beginning of the second half, they turned and 
reluctantly 
strolled back into the hall.

"Are they gone?" Harm whispered against Mac's mouth.

"Yeah," she replied, never breaking the kiss.

Harm moved backward, dragging her into the dressing-room and closing 
the 
door behind them. The kiss stretched until they ran out of air.

"You're wearing me out, Marine," Harm grinned, leaning his forehead 
against 
hers, gasping.

"I'd say our acting was... breathtaking," Mac commented dryly, gasping 
herself.

He drew back and smiled at her, one eyebrow up high. "So your kiss was 
just 
part of our little show?"

"'Course," she replied carelessly. "Don't overestimate the effect you 
have 
on me, squid."

Their eyes held for a few moments. Then Mac's mouth twitched, causing 
Harm 
to snort and together they broke out laughing, hugging tightly, feeling 
the 
tension finally slip away.

"You had me worried all day," Mac admitted softly when their laughter 
had 
quieted down.

Harm gave her a loving grin and, cupping her face, caressed her cheek 
with 
his thumb. "I promised I wouldn't be in any physical danger, right?"

Mac returned his smile. "Yup. And as always I should have known that I 
could 
rely on your word. Harm, you played wonderfully. You swept me away."

Harm felt himself blush. "It was okay, I guess, given the fact that I 
had 
four days..."

"Stop denying your success! You know you were great!" Mac slapped him 
on the 
chest, smirking.

"Okay, okay," he held up his hands in defense. "I admit it went very 
well, 
but that's because I had you to inspire me, my favorite Marine."

"You're so sweet." She quickly kissed him on the lips, smiling broadly 
to 
hide her emotion. "But tell me one thing: Why didn't you tell anyone 
what 
you were about to do?"

Harm smiled a little sheepishly. "I didn't want anyone to come here 
with 
great expectations. And I would have had to explain why I had to fill 
in and 
that would have caused new questions and speculations about why I 
wouldn't 
have been able to answer them."

Mac's face sobered. "What's this all about?"

"I don't know." Harm sat down on the chair in front of the 
dressing-table, 
pulling her to his lap. "The admiral told me the information was 
classified. 
Maybe Webb wanted this to be treated with discretion because they 
suspect 
something behind the suicide of the person who was supposed to perform 
for 
the navy."

"Webb..." Mac sighed, exasperated. "Suicide, right? And who was 
supposed to 
stand up for the navy?"

"Classified."

"Oh man."

They sat in silence for several minutes, enjoying their closeness.

"Did I tell you how beautiful you look, Sarah?" He looked up to her 
with a 
half-smile.

Mac blushed slightly. "Not yet. But I was hoping you would because I 
had an 
artist helping me with my make-up this morning. See it?"

He faked a thoughtfully scrutinizing look. "Yeah, right. Good work." 
Then he 
cast her a king size flyboy-grin.

Mac took her purse and pulled out her wallet, opening it to reveal a 
black-and-white portrait photo of him that had been taken two years 
back. 
"Maestro, would you mind writing me an autograph?"



Wed, May 13th
0012 ZULU
Harm's apartment
North of Union Station
Washington, D.C.



"Phew!" Harm shut the door behind Mac's back, strode over to the 
kitchen 
counter, put down the heavy grocery bags he had been carrying and then 
took 
off his cover, threw it on a nearby barstool and wiped away the sweat 
from 
his forehead. Mac followed close by, relieving herself with a loud 
'thud' of 
the weight of a case of mineral-water bottles that she had been 
carrying. 
Then she, too, took off her cover and uniform jacket, went to hang them 
up 
near the door and bent down to where Harm's unopened mail was still 
lying on 
the floor (he had slept at her apartment the previous night) while he 
was 
busying himself putting away the groceries.

"Two bills and a letter," she told him, walking over to him and sitting 
down 
on a stool, thankfully accepting the glass of water he handed her with 
a 
smile. "Thanks."

"Drop the bills, who's the letter from?"

Mac turned it over several times in her hands, frowning. "It's got no 
sender's address on it. Only yours written in type letters. Stamp says 
New 
York." She examined it more closely searching for any hint of dangerous 
material. Eventually she decided it was safe to open it. "Want me to 
look 
inside?"

"Yeah, please, my hands are sticky with tomato juice. The pack must 
have 
leaked all the time." He made a face and began to clean up the traces 
it had 
left.

"Okay, here we go.... Harm, look, this is so strange!"

He turned, frowning, to find her looking at - a sheet of music. "Just 
this?"

"Yes. No words. Just music."

"Let me see." He wiped his hands and took the sheet from her hand, 
examining 
it closely. Then, without saying anything, he went to the bedroom and 
returned with his guitar. "Hold the sheet up... yeah, like that, 
thanks, 
Mac."

He studied the pentagrams. "It's a melody, like in a song without 
words, and 
something that seems to be a guitar accompaniment, actually." Taking 
another 
close look at the lines Harm began to play, yet leaving out the melody.

The song rang a bell somewhere back in Mac's mind. She frowned and 
tried to 
concentrate on where she had heard it but couldn't place it. Having 
finished, Harm looked up to find her thoughtful. "You know the piece, 
don't 
you?"

"Yeah, I guess, but right now I can't remember what it was. Do you know 
it?"

"No. But I'll play it again and try to hum the melody. Maybe that'll 
help 
you."

Mac closed her eyes and tried hard to figure out the song's title. It 
was a 
country song, though rather modern, and it had a somewhat urgent and 
quietly 
menacing sound. She knew it, she was sure of it, but what the hell... 
"Garth 
Brooks!" she suddenly blurted out as she finally recognized it. Harm 
stopped 
playing somewhere in the middle of the piece and only raised his 
eyebrows, a 
huge question mark on his features.

"The song's called 'The night will only know'. It's got rather 
disturbing 
lyrics. If I only had my CD here with me. Then we might find a hint on 
what 
this is all about." Mac began to pace up and down agitatedly in front 
of the 
kitchen counter.

Harm was just as curious as she was. "Tell you something: it's way too 
hot 
for the clothes you have stored at my place, anyway. Why don't you go 
home 
and bring over some summer clothes? There's still some room for your 
stuff 
in my cupboard and you could get the CD as well. In the meantime I'll 
cook 
dinner."

Mac was already on her way. "Back in a minute!" she yelled before 
closing 
the door.


An incredibly short time later Mac let herself back in with her key, 
wearing 
a light summer dress and carrying her uniform and some light garments 
in a 
laundry basket. On top lay the CD.

"Hey, a fairy just came to visit," Harm said with a smile when her 
dress 
caught his eyes.

"Just felt like celebrating the first real hot day of the season," she 
replied, putting the CD into the stereo. Harm immediately recognized 
the 
song as the piece from his letter and, beginning from the second 
stanza, the 
lyrics slowly made the hair on the back of his neck stand up ever more.


That night will live forever
Their first time to lie together
They were finally where desire dared them to go
Both belonging to another
But longing to be lovers
Promising each other that the night will only know


Parked on some old back-street
They laid down in the back seat
And fell into the fire down below
But they would pay for their deceiving
For a deadly web was weaving
Why they picked that spot that evening
Lord, the night will only know


Well within the innuendos
Just outside the steamy windows
The night was shattered by a woman's scream
Motionless and frightened
The grip of fate had tightened
And with trembling hands they wiped away the steam


They saw a woman pleading
Stumbling, begging and retreating
'Til she became the victim of her foe
And they watched her fall in silence
To save their own alliance
But the reason for the violence
Just the night will only know


And every paper ran the story
She was stripped of all her glory
And they told exactly how the woman died
Abandoned and forsaken
Too many pills were taken
And they ruled the woman's death a suicide


Bound by their behavior
They could have been her savior
Now guilt becomes the endless debt they owe
But another crime was committed
And it's never been admitted
Have the guilty been acquitted
Lord, the night will only know


"Suicide," Mac whispered, letting the booklet that she had been 
following 
the lyrics in slowly sink to her lap.

Harm had visibly paled as the song had revealed its dreadful story. He, 
too, 
had quickly understood the connection it held with the charity concert. 
"Someone seems to think it wasn't," he replied slowly.

"Or someone knows," Mac added, "And feels this is the only way to speak 
for 
whatever reason."

Harm took the letter and examined it yet another time. Nothing, no 
words, no 
hints, no signs except the music. "There's got to be some indication to 
I 
don't know what on this thing," he sighed, running his hand through his 
hair. He scrutinized every note... and suddenly had a suspicion.

"Mac, I didn't finish playing it when you had found out what it was. I 
think 
I just noted something interesting in the melody line near the end. You 
familiar with the morse code?"

Mac looked up from the booklet in surprise. "I'm a Marine, Harm. Why?"

Harm intensely studied the paper. "Write down the rhythm I'll knock on 
the 
counter and tell me if it makes any sense. It's in the last few bars 
and 
musically it just doesn't make any sense. Far too many little notes."

Mac took a pen and a piece of paper and noted what Harm was reading in 
the 
rhythm, being able to make out the end of each letter by a pause 
written in 
the melody.

".-- / . / -.. / .---- / ...-- / ----- / ..... / ----- / ----- / .-. / 
.--- 
/ .- / --. / .... / --.-"

"Harm," she gasped when she understood the meaning of the encoded 
message, 
"Someone wants to meet you."

"What?" he asked, incredulous, as he put down his guitar and bent over 
her 
shoulder to read for himself. "WED130500RJAGHQ," he murmured slowly, 
feeling 
his stomach tighten. "You're right, Mac. Whoever wrote this wants to 
meet me 
tomorrow morning at 0500 ROMEO at JAG Headquarters. He or she must have 
been 
sure I could figure this out."

"They probably saw you play on TV and understood you could read music," 
she 
guessed, "Well, we'd better go and find out who it is and what he or 
she 
wants."

"Wait a minute, Mac," Harm ventured, frowning, inwardly preparing 
himself 
for the discussion that he was sure would follow. "I'm going, not you. 
This 
letter was directed to me. I'm sure the sender wants to meet me alone."

Mac stubbornly crossed her arms in front of her chest. "No way. 
Someone's 
got to be there to watch your six, flyboy. I'm coming. Period."

"Mac..."

"Don't 'Mac' me, Harm. My mind is made up."

"That's what I'm afraid of." He sighed, knowing she wouldn't give in 
and 
secretly loving her for this trait of her character. "Okay, you win. 
But 
stay hidden in the car and come out only if necessary. Okay?"

She smiled, enjoying her victory. "Okay. Now let's eat that risotto you 
made 
and get some sleep. We gotta get up early, you know, squid?"

"Aye, ma'am," he chuckled, going to get the steaming bowl.



Wed, May 13th
0959 ZULU
JAG Headquarters
Falls Church, VA



Harm slowly pulled into the parking lot, glancing around for any hints 
of 
someone who might be waiting for him. He was in dark sweats, his 
sidearm 
ready to be pulled out from the waistband at his back. Mac, dressed in 
black, was laying low in the back of the car, her weapon in her hands. 
Harm 
shut down the motor and exited the car. Crouched low on the back seat, 
Mac 
watched him walk up slowly in the direction of the entrance. But just 
before 
he came into sight for the guards she saw him stop and turn his head as 
if 
he were listening. She felt a shiver creep over her back. 'Please, God, 
don't let anything happen to him,' she silently prayed, clutching her 
gun 
more firmly.

Harm wasn't sure if he had been wrong but as he stood perfectly still 
and 
listened, he heard it again. Someone was very softly whistling 'The 
night 
will only know'. He turned in the direction that the sound came from 
and 
made sure he was always walking within Mac's line of sight. Then he saw 
a 
small figure emerge from the shadows of a tree. He stopped and waited. 
The 
other figure very slowly approached him, hands held up as if to say 
'Don't 
shoot, I just want to talk.' When the person was only a few feet away 
Harm, 
to his astonishment, noted that it was a young woman, maybe even a girl 
still, petite and fragile-looking. Harm could tell that she was 
frightened 
to death.

"Commander Harmon Rabb, Jr.?" she asked in a whisper, her voice 
shaking.

"Yes," he said very low. Did she fear that they were watched by 
someone?

"Oh my God, I'm so glad to see you, sir," she whispered. He could tell 
she 
was at the verge of crying with relief.

"Who are you?"

"Cadet Jeannine Stiller, sir, from Dwayne Myers Naval College, New 
York."

"Wait a minute," he whispered incredulously, "You came all the way from 
New 
York to see me in the middle of the night?"

"Yes, sir. Thank you so much for coming. There's no one with you, 
right?"

Harm began to feel pity for the young girl. "No, I'm alone."

"Let's walk around a little while we talk, please, sir. I'm not sure if 
I've 
been followed."

"All right," Harm said, signaling to Mac behind his back that he 
thought the 
situation was safe. "Tell me, Cadet Stiller, what's this all about?"

"Sir, I saw you on TV, the concert, you know. I'm sure you know whom 
you've 
been filling in for, right?"

Harm was getting curious. "Actually I don't. All I know is that whoever 
it 
was committed suicide." He saw the girl wince at the last word.

"No, sir, she didn't." Her voice was barely audible.

Stopping short in his tracks, Harm asked: "She, Cadet?"

Forcing him to go on by never slowing down her pace, Stiller answered: 
"Yes, 
sir. Cadet Meryl Waters, second year, my roommate. She was supposed to 
play 
the second movement of Mozart's clarinet concerto at the charity 
event." She 
couldn't hold back her tears anymore. Without thinking Harm embraced 
the 
trembling girl and let her cry for a few moments until she quieted. 
Then 
Stiller stepped back, sniffing embarrassedly. "I'm sorry, sir, I 
sincerely 
apologize for my behavior."

"Apology accepted, Cadet. What makes you think Cadet Waters didn't 
commit 
suicide?" he ventured carefully.

"I saw it, sir."

"Saw what?"

"How he... the man... he made her swallow something. She didn't want 
to. She 
struggled, sir, she cried. She begged but he succeeded. She almost 
instantly 
fell to the ground in convulsions and then she stopped moving..." 
Stiller 
tried to suppress a sob but it came out nevertheless. Harm put a 
reassuring 
hand on the poor girl's shoulder. She gave a start but then slowly 
relaxed.

"Could you see him, Cadet?"

"No, it was dark, sir. They were on the parking lot at the back of the 
college, sir. And we... I... well, I was in a car with..."

"Your boyfriend?" Harm was careful to keep his voice as neutral as 
possible.

"Yeah," she admitted, leaving out the rest. "My... boyfriend had to go 
away 
and I got out of the car. He drove away and I walked back to the 
campus's 
back door. The parking lot has two parts, you know, at right angles to 
one 
another. When I walked around the corner I saw them. The only thing I 
could 
make out was that she seemed to know him. When Meryl was... dead he 
would 
look up and see me standing there. Sir, I was like... frozen. He had 
his 
face covered. And he..." she gulped visibly and went on barely 
whispering, 
"He started to come in my direction. Sir, I only ran until I reached my 
dorm. I bolted my door and cried all night."

"Why didn't you call the police or tell anyone?"

"I don't know, sir," she girl sobbed, "At first I was too scared to 
move and 
the next day the letters started."

"What letters?"

"Anonymous letters, sir. They were threatening me, saying they could 
get to 
me wherever I went. And the letters held detailed schedules of what I 
was 
supposed to be doing during the day and where and what I'd done in 
between 
the day before. Sir, I don't know how they get the information but they 
seem 
to follow my every move. I brought you one letter, sir." She handed him 
an 
envelope.

"So why did you come here, Cadet? And how do you know they won't get to 
you 
on your way back?"

"I read an article about you on ZBS.com, sir, after the concert. And I 
knew 
if there was one person who could possibly help me it would be you, 
sir. I 
had figured that with them knowing my every move I wouldn't be able to 
leave 
the college during the day or to make phone calls. Thinking of what I'd 
seen, the Garth Brooks song came to my mind and I knew you'd figure it 
out. 
But if the letter would get into the wrong hands maybe they wouldn't 
know 
what it was supposed to mean. I wasn't sure of that but I felt it was 
my 
only option. My boyfriend is a computer crack, sir. He once showed me 
how to 
leave traces on the Internet for someone else to find. I'm sure whoever 
writes to me knows how it works but they surely don't suspect me to 
know as 
well. So I managed to get a message to my boyfriend who sent you the 
music, 
sir. And he arranged for me to be smuggled outside the college by a 
friend 
of his who does grocery deliveries. We drove all night and he dropped 
me off 
here. He'll come and get me in," she glanced at her watch, "Six minutes 
exactly. I've got lessons only at 1400 today, so I locked my door and 
hopefully they think I'm there, sleeping. People leave me pretty much 
alone 
since Meryl's death so I hope they won't notice I'm missing. Please, 
sir," 
she urgently begged him, "Help me and find out who did this to her and 
why."

Harm had listened in unbelieving silence. This girl was obviously going 
through hell. "Do you have any idea why someone would want to kill 
Cadet 
Waters?"

"Not really, sir. She just told me that she had found out something and 
it 
seemed to trouble her very much. She wanted to tell me when I got back, 
the 
evening she was murdered. She was a rather thorough person. I'm sure 
there's 
somewhere she has written down or recorded what she found but I didn't 
find 
it yet. After the police ruled Meryl's death a case of suicide, knowing 
she 
had emotional problems - she's... was a talented artist but her family 
didn't want her to become a musician, you know - they left her things 
packed 
in cases until her family who lives in Oregon would come to get them at 
the 
end of the term. Sir, will you please, please help me?" she repeated, 
at the 
verge of crying again.

"I'll have to tell your story to some people," he began and at her 
shocked 
expression quickly reassured her, "But it will only be my closest 
co-workers 
and my C.O. After all, he must consent to my investigating. Don't 
worry, 
Cadet, I have an excellent working relationship with the admiral. If I 
tell 
him I'm sure he'll understand the situation. And my co-workers I would 
trust 
with my life. They'll be sure to keep your secret. Anyway, we'll have 
help 
for you on the way ASAP. I promise, Cadet Stiller. Just you promise me 
to 
stick with your friends and never pull a stunt like this again until 
you 
notice you're being helped, okay? That's an order."

"Aye, sir," the girl sobbed with relief. Just then a van slowly pulled 
up to 
the entrance to the parking lot, the driver seeming to study a map, 
casually 
pulling to a halt on the sidewalk.

"Thank you so much, sir," Stiller whispered and carefully walked over 
to the 
waiting van that drove on instantly as soon as she had climbed up in 
the 
back.

Harm stood in the parking lot, staring after the fading rear lights. He 
needed a couple of minutes to fully digest the situation that he had 
just 
been dumped in. Then he slowly walked over to his SUV where Mac was 
anxiously waiting for him to return, having watched his exchange with 
the 
stranger.

"My God, sailor," she said, concern showing on her face, as he climbed 
on 
board. "You look terrible."

"I feel terrible, Mac," was the little reassuring answer she got.

"What's up? Tell me," she urged him.

He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. "You got your cell-phone, 
Mac?"

"Sure. Why?"

"I'll tell you everything on the way back. But now, please, get me Webb 
on 
the phone, will you?"

"'Course." Mac speed-dialed Webb's secret number, inwardly determining 
not 
to wonder about anything that might come up now.



END OF PART ONE



'Dissonance' - Part Two
Author: Daenar
Disclaimer: See Chapter One



Wed, May 13th
1627 ZULU
JAG Headquarters
Falls Church, VA



Clayton Webb was angrily pacing back and forth, waiting for the 
elevator 
that would take him up to where he was about to meet his doom once 
again. 
How on earth did Rabb do this? Try as he might to hide something from 
him, 
Clay could be sure that the smart ex-aviator would find out anyway. And 
if, 
for once, Harm didn't feel the need to investigate, he would certainly 
stumble over something that would make him curious enough to go 
looking. 
That guy had a goddamn subscription to investigators' luck!

In fact, when he'd had to let slip to AJ that Harm would have to fill 
in for 
someone who had committed suicide, he had been waiting for any 
subsequent 
calls from the commander ever since. After the concert had been over 
for two 
days and he still hadn't heard anything from JAG, Webb had dared to 
hope 
that playing in public might have worn Harm out enough that he wouldn't 
be 
interested in the facts behind the scene. But what had been bound to 
happen? 
If the mountain wouldn't come to Mohammed, Mohammed would go to the 
mountain. And it was Rabb again, of all people, who had tasted blood 
now and 
wanted to clear the matter. It just wasn't fair. The elevator finally 
arrived and Clayton Webb went up to face his destiny.


Upon entering the admiral's office, Webb saw that Harm and Mac were 
already 
present and all three officers turned to him with rather hostile 
glares. And 
much to his further dismay and surprise Webb noted that a fourth 
armchair 
was occupied: he felt himself scrutinized by the Secnav in person. What 
did 
he have to come for? He had already robbed him of precious time on the 
phone 
in the morning. Suppressing a groan, Webb greeted the assembly.

"Sit down, please, Mr. Webb," AJ said, dangerously calm and 
emphatically 
polite.

Webb did as he was told, remembering how a broken nose felt.

"Secretary Nelson tells me that you already had your suspicions about 
Cadet 
Waters's death?" AJ ventured without introduction, his eyes never 
leaving 
Clay's.

Webb cleared his throat. "Yes, we had. We were trying to establish a 
long-term operation inside and around the college when the death 
occurred."

"Would you care to enlighten us what this operation would have been 
about?" 
AJ was getting close to losing his temper at the prospect of yet 
another 
conversation with Webb in the course of which he would have to dig for 
any 
crumb of information.

"I'm sorry, Admiral, I can't. Classified."

"Damn it, Webb!" AJ shouted, jumping to his feet and leaning over his 
desk, 
"I have my top team stuck in the affair up to their necks. I want to 
know 
what they have to deal with!"

Webb, too, rose from his chair, glaring back at the admiral. Well, for 
once 
he would have a reason to defend himself. "You're completely 
misunderstanding the situation..."

A disdainful snort from Mac's direction interrupted him. He frowned.

"...misunderstanding the situation," he took up his speech. "By asking 
Harm 
to fill in for Cadet Waters I had no intention whatsoever to lure him 
into a 
case." Seeing everyone's mistrust, he sighed, exasperated. "Harm," he 
turned 
to his might-be friend, "I already told you on the phone that I wanted 
to 
keep you out of this, not get you into it." Harm only glared at him and 
said 
nothing. Webb turned back to face AJ. "The Agency has no interest 
whatsoever 
in having JAG lawyers involved in the case."

AJ lost it. "Now it is you who are totally misunderstanding the case," 
he 
thundered, his eyes sending daggers at Webb. "That is exactly what's 
wrong 
about this thing, Webb! The fact that you didn't inform any of us, let 
alone 
the Secnav, that we have a reason to assume that a member of the navy, 
though not yet a real one, is right now in imminent danger to be 
murdered 
just like her colleague! Just because your Agency didn't want us 
involved 
and leave the place JAG-free for their investigation! Tell me, what 
issues 
are more important than two lives? And spare me your 'classified'-crap. 
You 
owe me and Cmdr. Rabb!"

Webb knew that resistance would be futile. Sighing deeply, he 
explained: 
"We've been watching things at Dwayne Myers for about seven months now. 
We 
have reason to believe that an organization of drug dealers may have 
found a 
way to use the college as a safe entry for their merchandise onto the 
U.S. 
market. Before you ask for details: No, we don't know any particulars 
yet. 
Yes, we suspect we can label them Columbian but we don't know for sure. 
Yes, 
it's been damn difficult to get any information whatsoever from inside 
the 
college, and yes, we thought, not giving away our knowledge might be 
more 
important than a possible danger for the people around. Look, if the 
drugs 
reach the consumers there will be many more people in danger of dying, 
right?" Webb glanced around, once again meeting nothing but hostile 
stares.

Mac rose from her chair, her face ashen and her hands clenched to 
fists. 
Subconsciously Webb scanned the room for cover. "We're talking about 
innocent young girls here, Webb." He felt ripped up by her glare and 
her 
voice let show that she barely managed to contain her fury.

"We were taking care of the situation, Colonel," he tried to assure 
her. "We 
were just about to..."

"The hell you were!" she shouted, stepping up to him until they were 
nose to 
nose. AJ just leaned back in his chair and, like Harm and Nelson, 
enjoyed 
the scene. "Obviously your agents aren't fit for their job or they 
would 
have known Cadet Stiller came here! But you didn't. We had a nice 
surprise 
for you today, didn't we, Webb?" Mac was bending forward, causing Webb 
to 
bow backwards, lose his balance and topple on the floor.

By now AJ thought it wise to intervene. "Damn right you did, Colonel," 
he 
smiled devilishly. Mac seemed to awake from her trance. She gave her 
C.O. a 
confused glance, then realized that the situation was about to blow, 
straightened herself and, with one last killing stare at Webb, went 
back to 
her armchair. "Thank you, sir. Our pleasure."

Sensing the imminent danger was over for the moment, Webb slowly rose 
from 
the floor and got back to his seat. Chegwidden cleared his throat. "Now 
that 
we exchanged our little pleasantries, let's get to business. Secretary, 
would you please brief us, sir?"

The Secnav nodded and opened a thin file, obviously assembled in haste 
since 
the 'situation' had occurred. "Mr. Webb was kind enough to call me 
after 
having heard from you, Commander. It seems that in a crisis even the 
Agency 
remembers something like good manners," he stated with an unusual 
amount of 
dry humor. Mac gave Harm a quick eyebrows-up. Nelson went on. "Mr. Webb 
and 
I agreed that we have several things to be taken care of immediately. 
First, 
there's Cadet Stiller's personal safety. Second, there's the 
investigation 
of Cadet Waters's murder. And third in row stands the ongoing 
investigation 
of the drug syndicate. Mr. Webb offered me a way to proceed that, well, 
at 
first struck me as rather... unusual."

'Nice little euphemism here,' Harm thought as he, Mac and AJ 
simultaneously 
groaned, mentally asking themselves just when Webb had ever been usual 
in 
his proceedings. The Secnav looked up, disoriented by the groan in 
stereo, 
while Webb was intensely studying his fingernails.

Nelson decided to pass over the strange reaction to his words and went 
on: 
"Uhm... right. Rather unusual. But considering the options and the 
CIA's 
urging to keep things quiet, I have to admit it's the safest option to 
take 
up his plan. I've assured Mr. Webb of our unrestricted assistance." 
Another 
stereo-groan, though half-hidden. Nelson, frowning, looked at Clay. 
"Mr. 
Webb, please explain the operation."

"Well," Webb began, handing out copies of Nelson's file to everyone 
present, 
"As Secretary Nelson already pointed out, the most important thing to 
consider would be the cadet's safety."

"Hear that one, Mac?" Harm murmured to his partner, casting her a 
mockingly 
astonished glance. AJ knew he would have had to reprimand the commander 
for 
his lack of manners but somehow he just didn't feel inclined to. The 
Secnav 
fortunately didn't seem to have heard. Webb frowned, bit back a comment 
and 
went on. "So we decided we needed someone in the college to protect her 
24/7. Unnoticed."

AJ raised his eyebrows. "I'd like to know what twenty-year old boy or 
girl 
might be qualified for that job? A teacher wouldn't work, because you'd 
hardly get the girl to stick to one without her knowing that she had to 
for 
her safety."

"I considered this problem, Admiral," Webb retorted, "And I think I 
came up 
with a suitable solution. We need someone who could be made to look 
young 
enough, still providing fully trained skills as a protector as well as 
an 
investigator, for surely the traces of the murder now lead to Cadet 
Stiller. 
As a matter of fact, I was thinking about the one person who would be 
perfect for the job: Col. Mackenzie."

"No way!" AJ, Mac and Harm shouted in unison, all three of them jumping 
to 
their feet. Webb's reflexes clicked in and made him raise his arms over 
his 
head in protection.

Nelson just stared at the officers' reaction and then stood up, too. 
"Ladies 
and gentlemen," he cut in firmly, "Let's hear the plan first. Besides, 
I 
have already decided that this is how we will proceed."

"Without even asking me, sir!" AJ shouted, ready to defend his lawyers 
against one of Webb's odysseys at any costs and mad to no limits that 
in the 
end he would have to submit to the Secnav's orders nevertheless.

"Yes, Admiral, without asking you. That's my prerogative," Nelson went 
on, 
unperturbed. "Believe me, it's for the best. Now let Mr. Webb finish 
his 
explanation."

Clenching their teeth, the three lawyers sat down again, Harm feeling 
the 
strong urge to take Mac's hand but refraining from the gesture knowing 
she'd 
understand. Webb came out of his defensive position and 
matter-of-factly 
began to point out the details. "Mac, as I said, you will go undercover 
as a 
second-year student, becoming Cadet Stiller's new roommate. As she 
didn't 
see you when she came here there won't be any problems."

"Only that I might look slightly older than twenty, even with my 
anti-aging 
cosmetics," she couldn't hold herself back from cutting in.

"Colonel..." AJ gently tried to smooth the waters.

"I'm sorry, sir."

"I'm sure you'll work out a way to surprise us all, Colonel," Webb said 
smugly, causing Harm to feel a slight fit of nausea. "Anyway," Webb 
went on, 
"Cadet Stiller doesn't seem to have many close friends besides Cadet 
Waters, 
so Mac would just, well, fit in as new-found soul-mate, right? They'd 
attend 
classes together, spend their spare time, do sports, whatever."

"What if she doesn't like me, Clay?" Mac asked dryly, pouting, her arms 
crossed in front of her chest.

Webb smiled sweetly. "I'm sure she will, Mac. There's another problem, 
though, that we have to solve before you can go, that means in the next 
two 
days."

"What problem, Webb?" Harm asked slowly, on his guard.

"Well, Cadet Stiller spends much of her time practicing on her flute, 
being 
a member of the marching band. As was Cadet Waters. It's probable 
Waters's 
murderer has connections to those circles. You'll have to join the 
band, 
Colonel."

"How? Clapping my hands or singing laalaa?" Mac couldn't believe it. 
"Clay, 
this is crazy! I can't even read music! What am I supposed to do in a 
marching band?"

"As I said, you have two days to let Harm teach you the theory. And I 
picked 
the perfect instrument for you. You're tall and strong and we saw you 
dance, 
so we know you have a feeling for rhythm. You'll play the bass drum."

Images instantly formed in Harm's mind. Images of Mac, in a 
naval-college 
cadet's uniform, carrying a huge drum in front of her, barely able to 
look 
over it, with cottoned drumsticks in both her hands, swinging her arms 
to 
hit the instrument's sides that had diameters of at least three feet. 
The 
thought was so odd that Harm wasn't able to retain a loud snort, 
followed by 
barely suppressed chuckling. Obviously AJ's musings had gone in a 
similar 
direction as his mouth was twitching violently. Only Mac was nothing 
but 
cold fury, increased, in fact, by her colleagues' amusement.

"Forget it, Clay!!!"

"There's no choice, Mac."

"Try and make me!!!"

"You will go, Colonel, that's a direct order!" Nelson shouted, making 
them 
all jump for they'd hardly ever heard him raise his voice before.

"Aye, sir." Mac was defeated. At least Harm and AJ had by now regained 
control over their features.

"Where does that leave me, Clay?" Harm asked, knowing he'd never let 
Mac 
walk into the lion's den by herself. To his surprise Webb seemed to 
have 
thought that far.

"Patience, Harm. We'll get to your part soon. We need you for the 
outside 
investigation, to find out about the connections the syndicate has in 
society, in the city and beyond. Mac will cover the inside part. Let me 
finish explaining Mac's cover. As she may at times seem a little older 
than 
twenty, we worked out a story for her. Her name will be Patricia 
O'Hara."

Harm and Mac exchanged a quick glance. 'Harm's mom and my uncle, I can 
live 
with that,' Mac thought. Webb continued. "Patricia's grandfather was a 
navy 
captain and a world-war hero and she always wanted to be like him."

'Why navy? I'd rather it were the marine corps. I can't live with that 
too 
well, but I will have to.' She frowned, seeing Harm smirk at the 
thought of 
Mac 'wanting' to join the navy.

"She wanted to attend a naval college after high school but a serious 
long-term illness prevented her from it."

"What illness, Clay?" Mac asked cautiously, hoping he wouldn't become 
too 
realistic and refer to her alcoholism.

"Leukemia," Webb stated evenly, causing Mac's color to slightly drain 
from 
her face.

"Why?" she choked out.

"It's easy," Webb went on matter-of-factly, as if he'd just said 
'measles' 
or 'hay-fever'. "It's severe enough to take you out for four years, as 
in 
your case, and the chemotherapy is hard on the body, making people look 
slightly older at times. So you're twenty-four plus the illness bonus. 
And 
who survives comes out iron-willed. See? Perfect cover."

Mac was feeling sick but she willed herself to gulp it down. "How do I 
get 
admitted to college being ill and old?" she only asked.

Webb remained as self-confident as ever. "Dwayne Myers is a rather 
exclusive 
place. Your grandfather still has many friends in the military and your 
family, Californians, by the way, are up high in IT business. So 
money's no 
problem. As to your strange choice of instrument - your mother always 
wanted 
you to play but you never would, preferring sports. So when they let 
you 
follow your dreams and go to a naval college instead of studying 
e-commerce 
to join their firm, you at least had to do your mother a favor and join 
the 
marching band."

"I see," Mac said, still frowning. "And why do I go to Dwayne Myers 
mid-term 
second year?"

"You started at..." Webb glanced at the file, "San Diego but your 
mother 
felt society would be better at Long Island. So as soon as the Myers 
had a 
free place in second year... you were top of the waiting list."

"That's disgusting!" Mac blurted out. "I'll have to be glad that the 
girl 
was murdered because that was why they took me?"

"Kind of. Yeah." Webb looked at her with a bit of a bad conscience. 
"Look, 
Mac, that's the way things are. We had to come up with something. I'm 
sorry 
it's got to be some weird story like this but it adds up and, remember, 
it's 
for the best. I really want you around that girl because I'm sure she 
couldn't have a better protector. Physically and emotionally," he added 
quietly.

Something in his voice made Harm and Mac remember Webb was a caring 
person 
after all, even if he did everything in his power to be disagreeable. 
Still 
not able to smile, Mac's anger vanished, though. "I understand," she 
said 
simply, Harm nodding his agreement, waiting for his own share.

"As for you, Harm," Webb began to point out, "You'll go as yourself. 
Plain 
and simple. As a person. But not as Harmon Rabb, the investigator. I 
contacted Captain George Wells, the headmaster of Dwayne Myers and he 
offered a perfect solution. He ordered Lt. Cmdr. Peter Laird, the music 
teacher and leader of the marching band, by the way, to get ill for a 
couple 
of weeks. Laird seems to be a decent person, Wells certainly is and he 
trusts Laird to full extent. Thanks to the concert you're known as a 
gifted 
musician, Harm. That will provide you with two advantages: people will 
be 
extremely pleased to hear the navy was able to immediately find a more 
than 
adequate replacement for the well-liked teacher, and - and that's even 
more 
important for the investigation - your fame and rank and normal 
position as 
a JAG lawyer will grant you immediate access to all circles of society. 
And, 
as we all know," Webb said, smirking, "You're good with children, 
aren't 
you?"

"Yeah. Great. Only that they are not children, Clay. They're young 
adults. 
And I was never good at teaching. But I assume it's the only way you'll 
let 
me get near Mac, so I accept. Just one question," Harm's glare was just 
as 
hostile as Mac's had been. "How on earth do I learn to be a conductor 
in two 
days?"

Now it was Mac's turn to chuckle, seeing Harm standing in front of a 
big 
band, desperately trying to make the young people follow his baton. She 
was 
sure he would look like carrier personnel, trying to get a tomcat to 
maneuver safely on deck. Harm cast her a frown, knowing, though, he had 
to 
be careful, considering his reaction to her fate.

Webb, as always, had a solution to that one as well. He handed Harm a 
calling card that read 'Special Agent Raymond Burns, Federal Bureau of 
Investigation'. "I'm sure after your great success on stage together 
he'll 
be ready to teach you and Mac to be unobtrusive in your roles."

AJ had sat behind his desk, quietly observing and taking in the scheme. 
Hell, this sure was yet another of Webb's crazy missions but he 
understood 
that, given the situation as it was, it might actually be the only one 
to 
work out. He hated sending his 'kids' to investigate this case, but on 
the 
other hand he knew, as did Webb and Nelson, that they were the only 
ones fit 
for the task.

"You're on immediate leave, Colonel, Commander," he said as everyone 
was 
rising, Harm and Mac coming to attention in front of him. "Meet me at 
my 
place on Friday for dinner, you, too, Webb, so you can provide them 
with all 
they need. Especially the colonel. I'll invite over Lieutenants Sims 
and 
Prumetti, including his fiancée as well as your brother, Commander, so 
we 
can take a look at your cover and get you ready to fit in properly. 
Commander Turner will be on personal leave so he won't be able to join 
us. 
1900 sharp. Dismissed."

"Aye, aye, sir!" Harm and Mac shouted a little louder than necessary, 
eager 
to get away.

Outside the office Mac grabbed Harm's hand and dragged him straight 
into her 
office with a fierce look on her face. 'Uh oh, poor Cmdr. Rabb,' Tiner 
just 
thought as they whooshed past his desk.


Mac slammed the door shut and closed the blinds. Harm, completely at a 
loss 
about what he'd done this time, prepared for the impact of her fury. 
Instead 
he was completely caught off-guard as, all of a sudden, he found 
himself 
wrapped up in her arms.

"Help me, Harm," Mac pleaded against his chest, her tension slowly 
lessening 
as he put his arms around her in return and held her tight. "You know, 
I'm a 
Marine and I feel I can handle hostage situations as well as combat 
missions 
or intelligence ops, but I sure as hell don't know how to be a young 
girl 
with a happy childhood, may she have been seriously ill or not! And I'm 
scared of the music part. I'm sure this time I'll blow my cover and get 
you 
in danger and the girl as well!"

"No, you won't, ninja-girl," he said softly, stroking the back of her 
head. 
"And I'll tell you why. You're headstrong and smart, you'll learn the 
music 
part in no time. The illness won't be a problem, either, because what 
you've 
been through with your alcoholism has made you come to know how bad 
things 
can get physically. And how much strength you need to recover and how 
long 
that can take. And you can always say that you'd rather not talk about 
it."

"But the family thing, Harm..." she softly sobbed, her voice muffled by 
his 
uniform shirt.

"Mac, look at me. Sarah..." he gently tilted her chin upwards to make 
their 
eyes meet, his once again conveying all he still found so hard to put 
into 
words. "Just imagine all that may one day be ours to have. Imagine how 
it 
will be, you and me and our children, a big, friendly house with a dog 
like 
Jingo, us two on the front-porch swing, reminiscing the old days, with 
our 
kids listening to our wild stories and not believing one word of what 
we're 
telling them, you and me at our eldest son's graduation day, even me 
dancing 
with my daughter on her wedding-day when she'll remind me exactly of 
what 
you looked like when we got married... want me to go on?"

A watery but incredibly beautiful smile had spread over her face while 
she 
had been listening to him. "Is this how you want us to be or were you 
just 
trying to make me get the idea?" she asked in a whisper, holding her 
breath.

His voice was very low and warm when he replied, nothing but absolute 
honesty shining in every word. "This is what I want more than anything 
in 
the world, Sarah. And if you'll give me a little more time I'll be 
ready to 
ask you properly. Do you think you can do that?"

"As long as it takes, Harm. I'll wait," she whispered, overwhelmed by 
what 
he had been implying. They held on to each other for some long minutes, 
never wanting the moment to end.



Sat, May 16th
0224 ZULU
Admiral Chegwidden's residence
McLean, VA



"Everybody ready?" Mac shouted from behind the living-room door. As she 
heard seven voices shout "Yes!" in unison, she said with doubt in her 
voice: 
"Well, then meet Cadet Patricia O'Hara, known by her friends as Pat." 
With 
that she entered the room, meeting stunned silence.

She was wearing a cadet's neat uniform, blue skirt, blue jacket with 
huge 
gold buttons closed up to her throat, blue beret, black college 
slippers 
with flat heels. Her hair, being slightly longer than it had been by 
the 
time of their Venice assignment, was strictly combed back from her 
face, 
held in place by a single unobtrusive gold pin could only be seen when 
she 
took off her beret. She had put on only as much make-up as was needed 
to 
cover her still greenish-yellow jaw. Apart from that she was nature's 
child 
herself. "So, what do you say?" Mac asked, smiling embarrassedly.

Sergei was the first to speak. "Brother, I think I just found myself a 
girlfriend. Age fits perfectly," he grinned.

"Ma'am... uhm... Mac, you're perfect!" Harriet was enthusiastic. "You 
don't 
need any more help from any of us. You'll fit in without the slightest 
problem."

Harm rose and pompously paced up in front of her. "Cadet Patricia 
O'Hara, 
did you give me yesterday's assignment regarding Bach's thorough-bass 
techniques? I didn't find it on my desk yet. If I won't still by 1400, 
I'll 
sign you an F. Do I make myself clear?"

"Yes, sir!" Mac shouted, having come to attention as soon as she had 
understood what he had been up to. Both, to their own utmost 
astonishment, 
managed to remain completely earnest.

"Whoa, that's quite a show you two put on there!" AJ shouted, laughing. 
"If 
you keep that up, they might actually believe you and let you live. 
Mac, 
you're the sweetest cadet I ever laid eyes on!"

Mac blushed. "Thank you. I do hope it works for the other teachers as 
well. 
I've been out of school for quite a bit and I just hope, with all my 
thorough general knowledge of the world, there won't be too many gaps 
in my 
education to make it obvious that I've been out of it for so many 
years."

"You can always excuse that with your long stay at the hospital," Fred 
suggested, Claire nodding her consent.

"Well, let's just hope they buy it. But wait..." she vanished out of 
the 
room again and they heard her saying: "I didn't show you the best part, 
yet. 
Everybody listen to what I learned during the last forty-eight hours!"

After a moment, they heard a muffled 'thump - thump - thump, thump, 
thump - 
thump - thump - thump, thump, thump...' that grew louder and louder 
until 
Mac came into sight again. That is, the first thing the whole party 
could 
see of her was an enormous bass drum that she wore like she would a 
backpack 
in front. A moment later Mac emerged from behind the doorpost, quite 
easily 
marching and drumming her rhythm. In front of the living-room table she 
came 
to a halt, drumming on and letting her friends hear the variety of 
different 
basic rhythms that she had practiced with Agent Burns after Harm had 
explained to her how to read a music score. That had been an awful lot 
to 
take in at once, but she had been as headstrong as Harm had been 
patient, 
and on Friday morning around 0600 local she had finally been able to 
pass 
any test he'd set up for her - after a marathon of twenty hours filled 
with 
nothing more than studying. Friday morning Burns had come to Harm's 
place 
and had taught them both whatever they were able to swallow in the few 
time 
they had at hand.

Harm again rose from his chair, took his conductor's baton that he had 
been 
showing to his friends and stepped in front of her. He took the lead of 
her 
rhythm and she let him lead her. When he slowed down so did she, when 
he 
changed from her four-four time to a quicker three-four time she 
complied 
like they had practiced all day with Burns. Everyone could see that the 
Agent had done a good job instructing them. When Harm led their 
improvised 
one-man piece to a conclusion everyone clapped their hands.

"Good work, Colonel, Commander," AJ said with a huge grin. "I see, as 
always, you did a thorough research on your case."

"You could put it that way, sir," Harm chuckled.



Sun, May 17th
2109 ZULU
Times Square
New York City, N.Y.



"I wish we could just stroll on like that, holding hands, glancing up 
at the 
remnants of sky between the skyscrapers..." Mac said longingly, 
squeezing 
Harm's hand.

"Yeah..." Harm, with a smile, watched his beautiful Marine take in the 
surroundings, for once a tourist and not on a mission. "But we will 
have to 
put it off until the investigation is over," he reminded her softly, 
his 
voice conveying as much regret as she had expressed before.

"Uh hmmm," she agreed reluctantly. "My clock tells me it's time for 
goodbyes 
now."

"Time to say goodbye," Harm sang sappily, grinning.

"Don't turn Bocelli on me," she threatened with a chuckle. Then her 
face 
sobered. "This could turn out quite a long investigation, you know. We 
have 
no clue what to look for and where and how simple it will be to blend 
in. 
And I dread the thought of seeing you every day, even talking to you, 
but 
not being allowed to show you how much you mean to me and how happy I 
am 
with you!"

Harm pulled her into a tight hug, a sad smile on his face. "I can only 
tell 
you that however distant I'll have to be around you, you can always be 
sure 
of my love, Sarah. You've made me come home to myself, get to know what 
it 
is I want for my life. And Hell would freeze over before I'll ever let 
go of 
this treasure again. But that reminds me..." He lunged into his pocket 
and 
pulled out a small booklet, covered in fine leather. "Take this, Mac, 
and 
whenever you feel like talking to me and can't get near the Internet, 
write 
everything down and it'll be as if I were listening, okay?"

Mac swallowed. "Thanks, Harm," she whispered. "This means a lot to me. 
But 
before you go..." She opened her purse and pulled out a small case, 
handing 
it to him with a mischievous, though teary grin.

Harm opened it and cast a questioning look at her when he saw what it 
contained: reading glasses, just like the ones AJ wore, the ones you 
could 
look over the top.

"Mac, I'm a pilot. I couldn't be if I needed glasses. What are these 
for?" 
he asked, at a loss.

She smiled openly. "I know. But I always find that with AJ they 
underline 
authority. He seems more respectable and intellectual when he puts them 
on. 
You're a professor of a well-renowned college now, sailor. I don't know 
how 
on earth you plan to do it but you have to seem a respectable person. 
So I 
thought these might help. They're plain glass lenses really. But 
they'll do 
you credit. And you can always imagine seeing the world through my 
eyes."

Harm's smile was radiating from inside his heart. "There's nothing I'd 
rather do. Thanks, Marine. Take care of yourself, okay?"

"You, too. Give me a little time, ten minutes or so, then you can set 
off 
for Long Island as well. The way we arrive, they won't suspect we flew 
in 
together." Mac took her bag, glad her luggage had been sent directly to 
the 
college.

"Aye, ma'am. I love you, Sarah." Harm kissed her tenderly and then 
shooed 
her off.

"I love you back." She set off to catch a cab, without turning back to 
wave.




Sun, May 17th
2232 ZULU
Dwayne Myers Naval College
Long Island, N.Y.



Mac had changed into her uniform at a small restaurant near the 
college. 
From there she had walked right up to the front gate. After the guards 
had 
taken her to the headmaster - Captain Wells who had welcomed her 
without 
giving the slightest hint about the fact that he knew who she was - Mac 
had 
signed in, collected her luggage in the entrance hall and was now 
walking 
towards what would be her home for she didn't know how long.

The campus was shaded by huge oak trees whose age seemed to be more 
conveniently counted in centuries than in decades. The dorms were built 
in 
solid brick-stone as was the main school building. Everything was kept 
in 
the neatest order, planned to be impressive from the start. There were 
few 
places where Mac had seen so much beautifully carved and polished 
mahogany 
wood, so many shining brass ornaments and marble floors as people could 
find 
in the main complex. Everything looked extremely expensive. More than 
once 
Mac had caught herself thinking: 'What am I doing here? I don't belong 
in 
these circles of society.' And it had taken her all her USMC pride to 
tell 
herself: 'Sure you do, and more than everyone else around. 'Cause you 
earned 
it yourself, without a penny from your father.'

Having turned around a corner, she finally stood in front of the right 
building. 'House Mistral' could be read above the entrance. 'Sure fits 
those 
sailors,' Mac thought grinning, remembering she had already passed 
other 
'windy' houses like 'Cephir', 'Trade Wind' or 'Bora'. She opened the 
heavy 
oak door, pushed her luggage inside and then herself and headed upwards 
to 
find apartment No. 1023. Upon arriving in front of the door, Mac drew 
one 
last deep breath and let go of Lieutenant Colonel Sarah Mackenzie, 
becoming 
Cadet Second Year Patricia O'Hara.

Upon her knocking a petite blonde opened the door, smiling curiously. 
"Can I 
help you?"

"Er... hi. You must be Jeannine. I'm Pat. I think I'm your new 
roommate." 
Mac thought straightforwardness might be appropriate.

A shadow clouded Cadet Stiller's face for a second or two, Mac noted. 
Then 
the girl shook herself from her musing and offered Mac a genuine smile. 
"Hi, 
glad to meet you. Come in and make yourself at home."

Ice broken. Mac suppressed a sigh of relief and returned the smile. 
"Thanks," she said and stepped into the room.

The little apartment had more space than one would think from outside. 
It 
consisted of two small single bedrooms with doors to supply a minimum 
amount 
of privacy. The two rooms shared a small entrance hall, a living room, 
a 
kitchen and a bathroom. Each bedroom contained a rather large and long 
bed, 
a big cupboard, a desk with drawers, a dressing table and a washing 
basin. 
In the living room stood a small dining table with four chairs, two 
armchairs with a matching couch and coffee table, a TV set and stereo 
and 
bookshelves. Huge windows let in the evening sun and offered a 
beautiful 
view of the shore.

"Wow," was Mac's immediate comment.

"We're among the lucky ones with west windows," Jeannine said with a 
wink.

"Definitely lucky," Mac agreed. When Jeannine offered to help her with 
getting her things into place she readily agreed.

"So, where did the girl go whose place I'm taking?" she asked lightly, 
seemingly unaware of the tragedy.

Jeannine swallowed. "She... committed suicide. Personal problems," was 
all 
she said.

Mac feigned shock. " Oh my God... I'm so sorry. You... uhm... were good 
friends, I suppose?" she asked quietly.

"Yeah. The best. But, please, Pat, I'd rather not go into that right 
now, 
okay?"

"Sure. I'm sorry. Uhm, listen, Jeannine, I know you don't know me yet, 
but I 
wanted you to know that if you should ever feel you needed someone to 
listen... you can always come to me, okay? No matter what time." Mac 
tried a 
reassuring smile.

Jeannine seemed to relax. Maybe she had been lucky with her new 
roommate. 
"Thank you, Pat," she said simply and then added: "My friends call me 
Janni." She held out her hand. Mac took it and squeezed it, feeling she 
might be able to be friends with this girl.

They were silently putting Mac's clothes into her cupboard when 
Jeannine 
spoke up, just a hint of curiosity showing in her voice. Mac bit back a 
smile. "You're older than twenty, aren't you, Pat?"

"Yeah. I'm twenty-four," she stated simply.

"How's that - if you don't mind my asking."

Mac knew that now the serious acting was about to begin. She took a 
deep 
breath. "I was sick."

"I'm sorry, if you don't want to talk about it..." Jeannine seemed 
embarrassed.

"No, it's okay," Mac said quietly, inwardly abhorring the thought of 
having 
to tell a lie that at the same time was deadly true for so many other 
people. But it couldn't be helped. "I was diagnosed with leukemia when 
I was 
nineteen. That's kept me out for quite a bit but a year ago I was 
finally 
strong enough to follow my dreams of joining the navy." 'Did I really 
say 
that?' she wondered.

"Oh my God. You've been through a lot then, I imagine," Jeannine said 
compassionately.

"Yes, I have," Mac confirmed, telling the truth this time. "Where are 
you 
from?" she changed the subject after a little silent interval.

"Freeport, Maine. And you?"

"Santa Monica, California. Do you have a big family back home?"

"My dad died when I was thirteen. I've been living with my mom and my 
older 
Brother Jake ever since. He's in the navy, too, flying helicopters. My 
mom's 
a teacher." Jeannine smiled a sad smile. "I could never have come here 
if it 
wasn't for my scholarship. Music, you know, I'm the solo flute in the 
college marching band. What about you?"

'Don't panic, Marine. Think of Harm and of how you want your family to 
be.' 
"I have two older sisters, Karen and Frances. They are working with my 
parents. My family's in IT business. I'm some sort of black sheep of 
the 
family, wanting to follow my grandpa's career at any cost." Mac gave 
her a 
mockingly frowning smile. Jeannine chuckled.

"What are the others like?" Mac wanted to know. "Honestly."

Jeannine sighed. "Well, most of them are nice, I suppose. But I'm not 
as 
lucky as you, Pat. They're gonna love you 'cause you're one of them. 
I'm no 
sparkling addition to society."

'If you knew just how much I understand how you feel, Cadet,' Mac 
thought. 
Then she rolled her eyes. "Oh God, I hate those snobs. That's why I 
didn't 
want to come here in the first place. I started college in San Diego 
and the 
atmosphere's very easy down there. I was afraid that I might find just 
what 
you described up here. But they're not all like that, are they?"

"No. Most of them, but some are really nice. My close friend Dorothy 
and her 
roommate, for example. They live next door to us. She and Cassandra 
sure are 
rich but they don't let it show. And we're all in the band. That's some 
kind 
of connection. They, me and Meryl, er, the girl who used to live here, 
we 
were quite a lucky clover leaf. Do you play?"

Mac pointed her index to a big case on the floor. "Yep."

Jeannine studied the form of the case, seemingly unsure what to make of 
it. 
"Ah... percussion?"

"Yeah. Bass drum." Seeing Jeannine's dumbfounded expression she allowed 
herself a hearty laugh that had haunted her long before. "I'm not 
really 
into music, just doing my mom a favor. But if people are nice it's fun 
for 
me, too."

Jeannine slightly slapped her on the shoulder. "Anyway, I'm glad you'll 
join 
us, Pat. You'll see just how much fun it'll be." They had finished 
unpacking. Mac felt herself taken by the arm by Jeannine.

"Come on, Pat, I'll introduce you to Dorrie and Cass."

Together they went to the adjoining apartment and Jeannine introduced 
Mac to 
a very tall redhead, Dorothy, who was a little stout and played the 
trombone, and to a handsome brunette about her own size, Cassandra, 
whose 
instrument was the French horn. They gave Mac a hearty welcome and 
immediately introduced the girls to the newest gossip.

"Did you hear Laird is sick?" Dorothy asked excitedly.

"No. Any reason to be happy, Dorrie? I thought we agreed to like him." 
Jeannine was confused. "And what about our concert?"

"Of course I'd rather he were here," Dorothy admitted, "But without 
Meryl's 
clarinet I doubt we'll have our Benny-Goodman soirée at all. But," her 
excited smile returned, "You'll never guess who's been sent to replace 
Cmdr. 
Laird while he's ill. I heard it from Brandon," turning to Mac, "My 
older 
brother, you know, he's in school admin. They couldn't come up with a 
real 
music teacher this quickly so they requested..." she let her glance 
slowly 
wander from one curious face to the next one, "Commander Harmon Rabb, 
Jr.! 
And he agreed to help out!"

"Oh my God!!!" Cassandra cried. "My hero ever since we saw that 
concert!"

"What concert?" Mac asked innocently, inwardly jumping up and down at 
the 
mentioning of Harm's name.

Three very astonished faces turned to her. "What, you didn't see that?" 
Jeannine asked, aghast.

"No, what?" Mac replied with a laugh.

"Dear Patricia, you missed the event of the year, speaking in navy 
terms, 
that is," Dorothy said. "There was a huge charity concert and each 
governmental or military institution was to send one of their personnel 
to 
play on stage. Our friend Meryl was supposed to play for the navy but 
she... 
well, she..."

"Committed suicide," Mac cut in quietly.

"Yeah... Anyway, Rabb replaced her with four days' knowledge and he 
played 
an awesome guitar concerto. He deeply impressed all of us. And he's 
awesome 
himself," Dorothy added. "Tough guy, aviator, you know, but now he's a 
lawyer with the JAG and he's sooo good-looking! And he's a great 
musician, 
very sensitive. A perfect man, if there's such a thing."

'Tell me about it,' Mac thought happily. 'And there's so much you don't 
know 
about his qualities.' "Well, I'm getting curious to see that wonder 
guy," 
she stated dryly.

"Don't get your nose up too high, Cadet," Cassandra warned her, 
laughing. 
"I'd bet a hundred dollars that you'll find him just as smashing as we 
all 
do."

"We'll see," Mac retorted with a well-guarded smile. From the corner of 
her 
eye she had been observing Jeannine. Cadet Stiller had jumped at Harm's 
name 
but seemed to have realized by now that he must have kept his promise 
and 
come to help her. Mac sensed that the girl was slowly relaxing, even 
without 
knowing that direct protection had just moved into her apartment. 
Jeannine's 
eyes began to slightly shine with a barely noticeable trace of relief 
and 
gratefulness that could only be detected by someone who knew of her 
secret 
conversation with Harm.

Just then a loud, old-fashioned bell was heard throughout the building.

"Dinner!" Dorothy exclaimed happily. "I'm starving!"

"When aren't you?" Cassandra snickered.

"Shut up and come on, Cadet," Dorothy shouted. "I'm sure they'll 
introduce 
Rabb to the school now."

"Oh my, I'm not going to miss that one!" Cassandra grabbed her key and 
closed the door behind the foursome. Then they hurried in the direction 
of 
the main building.



Wed, May 20th
2214 ZULU
Nick's World Wide Wafers
Long Island, N.Y.



Taking her latte macchiato and access-code card from the counter, Mac 
had 
butterflies creating uproar in her stomach. Accompanying Jeannine to 
her 
music teacher, she finally had the opportunity to go to the nearby 
Internet 
café to check her private email. She and Harm had agreed that it would 
be 
too dangerous to contact him from an on-campus terminal where there 
could 
always be someone peeping over her shoulder. She had seen Harm several 
times 
in the last few days, briefly. At the presentation, in the cafeteria, 
at the 
gym. But her class had not yet had music lessons and the band's 
rehearsals 
were on Thursdays.

Mac knew well how Harm felt for her, she believed every word he said 
about 
it. But she still needed to hear it, needed audible or visible proof 
that he 
was still with her, though ignoring her completely. She reached her 
computer, put the glass down and logged on. Her heart did little jumps 
of 
joy when she found four messages from her sailor. Fortunately he had 
his 
private Internet access in his room.


To: Harmsmarine@freemail.com
From: Harmon Rabb (Sarahssailor@freemail.com)
Subject: 05-17

Hey, my beautiful one!

It's 2341 and I guess you'll be a good girl and be asleep by now. Well 
done. 
Remember, tomorrow you gotta go to school. Don't stay up reading too 
long at 
night, okay?

All right, that's it. I'll quit teasing 'cause somehow it doesn't help 
anyway. I think this is the first night I'm gonna spend by myself ever 
since 
our return from Venice. You have no idea how much I'm missing you right 
now, 
Sarah. I miss your goodnight kiss. I miss the way you drive me crazy, 
always 
getting up again when I just switched off the lights because you need 
some 
more water. I miss your warmth. I miss the wonderful certainty to wake 
up 
and see you first thing in the morning. And most of all I miss the way 
you 
comfort me when I'm scared of something. I tell you, I'm scared to no 
end.

When I arrived I went to Captain Wells straight away and was very 
relieved 
when he told me that you'd already arrived. He assured me of his total 
assistance and cooperation and of Laird's secrecy, too. Then, to my 
utmost 
relief, he handed me a large pile of files Laird (God bless him!!!) had 
prepared for me: plans of studies for every class, what to expect of 
them, 
who's who, who could cause problems, who could be of support, how to 
handle 
the band's rehearsals, their projects etc. I owe that man, Mac. We'll 
have 
to think of something to reward him when this is over.

Then, at dinner, all I wanted to do was vanish from the earth. 
Everybody 
openly or not so openly stared at me, teachers, girls, boys, personnel. 
Webb's gonna pay for that concert!!! I didn't know so many people 
watched 
those kinds of things. And the only direction I could have looked into 
without feeling uneasy was out of the question. I knew I had to avoid 
your 
eyes, my favorite Marine. As much as I longed to see them. Two or three 
times I allowed myself a quick glance, though, but you were always 
chatting 
with your neighbors. I began to doubt if you missed me at all - you 
seemed 
such a merry party. I see you already befriended Cadet Stiller. I was 
sure 
she'd like you. How could she not?

I'll go to bed now, hoping sleep will make my Marine-less hours pass 
more 
quickly. Do you miss me, Sarah? Not that I wish you a heartache, but 
I'd 
like to think you wanted me around.

I love you.

Harm



To: Harmsmarine@freemail.com
From: Harmon Rabb (Sarahssailor@freemail.com)
Subject: 05-18

My dear Sarah,

well, first day's over and things could have gone worse. Right now I'm 
a 
little blue because there's no reply from you, but I know you've got 
little 
opportunity to go off-campus. So, when you read this, don't neglect 
your 
bodyguard duties just to get to write more often. I know you write 
whenever 
you get round to it.

Thank you so much for the reading glasses, Mac! They're terrific! Today 
was 
my first music lesson, first year. When I walked in, the cadets would 
whisper but they almost instantly came to attention in front of me, and 
I 
made them sit down and pulled out your glasses as I opened the class 
book to 
read the names. I felt much more respectable, you were right about 
that. And 
what's more, they create some kind of a shelter I can hide behind. 
What'd I 
do without you, my Marine?

Anyway, the lesson went remarkably well. They're doing Richard Wagner 
at the 
moment, the 'Flying Dutchman', actually. Laird seems to have prepared 
his 
lessons several weeks in advance and he's written them out properly. So 
all 
I had to do was follow his guidance and see how it went. I guess I'm 
actually learning quite a bit myself about how to instruct people. 
Could 
come in handy one day, don't you think? By the time his plans end we'll 
either have this case wrapped up (and I can take you home with me) or 
at 
least I'll know how to teach. Laird is an angel!

Last night was torture but somehow I survived it. I heard humans tend 
to 
adapt. Well, I hope I'll adapt to not having you with me, 'cause, one, 
I 
need sleep, and, two, it'll be all the more wonderful to get you back 
again!

Love, miss and want you,

Harm



To: Harmsmarine@freemail.com
From: Harmon Rabb (Sarahssailor@freemail.com)
Subject: 05-19

Hi there!

Do you still exist? I'm sorry, I know you're maybe just as anxious as I 
am 
to get in touch, and more still because you can't. But still... seeing 
you 
walk by or being formally greeted by you when we meet hurts badly. I 
want 
your smile back! I don't know if I should look forward to or dread 
Thursday. 
I'll be seeing you twice, in class and at the rehearsal. It'll be 
dreadful 
to see you and yet not see you for three hours altogether.

Today I did a little research. There's a nice guy here who works in 
administration, Lt. Brandon Anderson. I think his sister Dorothy's in 
your 
class. He gave me some background information on the people around when 
I 
told him I'd like to know whom I was working with. I checked the 
persons for 
their nationalities and I actually found out that there's a Columbian 
working as a civil private secretary to Wells. Her name is Maribel 
Gonzalez 
and guess what? Her younger brother's in your class, too. Look out for 
Pablo 
Gonzalez. He's the one. From what I hear, the Gonzalezes are a 
well-renowned 
family on the Island, very well connected with society. And two of 
Pablo and 
Maribel's cousins are attending the college, too. Ramon García is a 
first 
year, and Pedro Godoy's in fourth year. Of course they are American 
citizens 
but it seems that their grandparents are still in Columbia. I instantly 
paged Fred 'home' at JAG to gather some info on their background. 
Whatever. 
I know it may be unfair to suspect them just because of their 
nationality, 
but right now that's the only clue we've got. You try to get near 
Pablo, if 
possible, okay?

By the way, Wells let me have the coroner's report. Did you ever wonder 
why 
a girl who committed suicide would be found in the middle of a parking 
lot? 
Well, I did. But the police explain it with a huge amount of alcohol 
they 
found in Cadet Waters's blood. So when they found with her the bill of 
the 
drugstore she - or whoever killed her - bought the responsible 
soporific at, 
they determined that the girl didn't care where she was, due to the 
alcohol, 
and took the pills as soon as she got off her car. An open bottle of 
mineral 
water was found next to her, too. So they thought it was an easy affair 
to 
settle: Cadet Waters committed suicide. Far too easy, but who likes to 
work 
overtime, huh?

Take care, my favorite Marine, and feel hugged and kissed by

Harm



To: Harmsmarine@freemail.com
From: Harmon Rabb (Sarahssailor@freemail.com)
Subject: 05-20

My dear Mac,

I do hope you're okay! I mean, I know you are because I see you around 
but 
I'd like you to confirm it to me all the same to set me at ease. I'm 
doing 
okay, although I might need a little more sleep - maybe I'm the 
exception to 
the rule because I don't seem to adapt to Sarah-less sleep. But don't 
worry, 
you know it's hard to get rid of Harmon Rabb, Jr. I'll find a way to 
sleep. 
Do you know how to influence dreams, maybe?

Lessons are going smoothly. People actually seem to like me, apart from 
that 
ridiculous fame Webb so kindly bestowed upon me... Yesterday it was the 
third year. History of jazz music. Nice topic, actually. Offers many 
possibilities to get into practice. Today I taught the fourth years. 
Decent 
guys, all of them. In third year, there are a few individuals who like 
to 
try things that could blow your lessons, but I'll handle them. (See me 
roll 
up my sleeves, Marine!) The seniors seem to have lost their wickedness. 
Talking to them about counterpoint theory wasn't as hard as I thought 
it 
would be. Tomorrow it's up to you to show me how much I can teach you 
about 
cadences and harmonies.

I got to know Maribel Gonzalez. Maybe you've seen her. She's the tall, 
rather good-looking woman with the tight bun of black hair. I had to go 
get 
some papers from Wells's office and she explained to me where to sign 
and so 
on. I invited her to the cafeteria afterwards and she told me quite a 
bit 
about society. She seems very keen on getting to know me 'cause she 
already 
invited me to at least four or five events. No, there's no need to be 
jealous! (Just in case...) I'll just play along a bit so I get access 
to the 
truly interesting people...

I miss you so much, Sarah. Yours always,

Harm



Mac had indeed felt a slight sting of jealousy when Harm had told her 
about 
Maribel's interest in him. But she was afraid he'd feel just the same 
when 
he read her reply. Taking a soothing sip from her latte, Mac opened a 
'compose'-box and began to write.



Wed, May 20th
2338 ZULU
Harm's apartment
Dwayne Myers Naval College
Long Island, N.Y.



Harm opened his door, let his briefcase drop on the coffee table with a 
'thud' and quickly strode over to his desk to switch on his computer. 
He had 
caught sight of Mac and Jeannine earlier when he'd finished writing to 
her 
and had been leaving his apartment for a teachers' meeting. Mac was 
going 
off-campus with Cadet Stiller - that could only mean she'd found an 
excuse 
to accompany Jeannine to her music teacher and wait for her at the 
Internet 
café, finally being able to write. His concentration during the meeting 
had 
merely been one of 'Stop fussing around, stay calm, Hammer!' Now he 
couldn't 
wait for his login procedure to conclude. His heart beating wildly, he 
saw 
the line he'd so much hoped for and quickly opened the message.



To: Sarahssailor@freemail.com
From: Sarah Mackenzie (Harmsmarine@freemail.com)
Subject: Miss you?? Hell, yes!!!

My dear flyboy,

of course I miss you! What'd you think? I'm lying awake at night, 
shivering 
because I don't have your arms to wrap around and warm me! I miss 
waking up 
in your embrace and I miss your goodnight kisses, too! So much. I'm 
totally 
clueless about how I could ever do without you.

I'm dreading tomorrow, too. I'm dreading to see you and not being able 
to 
talk to you. Properly, I mean. But - don't laugh - I'm dreading the 
rehearsal even more. You know, until now, lessons have gone rather 
smoothly 
for me, too. I've got a lot to do, yes, but I'm not so much out of 
learning 
as I feared I would be, and in most classes I'm actually a little ahead 
of 
the others. I never knew how much I must have learned in college! But 
the 
rehearsal will blow my cover. I see it coming. It'll never work!

In private life, my cover works rather well, I daresay. Jeannine, Cadet 
Stiller, trusts me. Yesterday she told me her version of Meryl's death. 
All 
came out rather surprisingly. I had heard about Pablo's nationality 
from 
Dorothy. She seems to be just as talkative as her brother from what you 
tell 
me. My alarm went off instantly and I decided to get to know Pablo a 
little 
better. So after my Spanish lesson (first Spanish lesson in my life - 
luckily the class isn't very good at languages so it won't take me too 
long 
to catch up with them) I went to him and asked him if he could help me 
with 
my Spanish 'cause I didn't learn it in San Diego. He seemed a little 
surprised that a Californian wouldn't know any Spanish at all but he 
agreed. 
He seemed flattered, actually. He's a little older than the rest, too, 
you 
know, having started primary school at the age of eight because of the 
language. And he seems to be every girl's dream guy - besides you, that 
is, 
but somehow they seem to know you're out of the question. Anyway, we'll 
do a 
little learning every day after lunch. And he, too, has already invited 
me 
to some sort of a party. Maybe I'll meet you there with Maribel? Would 
be 
fun, don't you think?

What was I talking about? Oh, yes, Meryl. When I told Jeannine about my 
'good fortune' she became all quiet. I asked her what was up and she 
told me 
she didn't trust Pablo. You know what? He'd been going out with Meryl 
for 
several months! But right now he doesn't really seem to have a broken 
heart.

Harm, I'm almost sure it's just a coincidence. Jeannine isn't, though. 
She 
gave me no hints to underline her suspicion, but upon urging her to 
spill 
her concerns she told me the whole story like she did to you back at 
JAG. 
When I asked her if she had any ideas about what might have bothered 
Cadet 
Stiller or at least where someone might find a hint at what it was, 
Jeannine 
said no. But she supplied one new piece to the puzzle. She said: "Meryl 
had 
been uneasy ever since she returned from the training cruise." "What 
training cruise?" I asked, and she explained to me that, during the 
whole 
year, groups of ten cadets are sent on cruises for practical training. 
They 
board an old frigate at Norfolk, go down to Kingston, Jamaica, and 
return to 
Norfolk, breaking the journey once in Miami.

Jeannine is sure that whatever happened, happened in the course of the 
trip. 
Of course I asked her if she'd been to the police or to Wells or 
someone 
else. She showed me the letters her blackmailer keeps sending. I'd be 
scared 
to death, too, Harm, if I were the target! And then Jeannine would look 
at 
me with large frightened eyes and say that what she had just told me 
she'd 
told only her boyfriend and a trustworthy friend of his, with the help 
of 
whom she'd sneaked away to see you. I feigned astonishment when she 
revealed 
that she was sure you'd come to the college because of the case. I'm 
really 
surprised that Jeannine already trusts me so much. She didn't tell 
Dorothy 
or Cassandra, for instance, but then, they do love gossip and can't 
keep 
secrets.

I don't think Pablo had anything to do with Meryl's death but he might 
be a 
link to someone responsible. Well, I'm gonna find out, and, yes, I'll 
be 
careful. You know I can take care of myself. I'm a Marine, flyboy! 
Gotta 
leave you for now, homework's calling... Don't you dare give us any 
assignments tomorrow!

I love you. I love you. I love you. I love you. I love you.

Sarah



Smiling, Harm clicked on the 'save' button and shut down the program. 
So she 
did miss him. Doubting that would have been ridiculous, he was aware of 
that. But hearing it from Mac felt so good. Shaking his head at his 
irrational emotions, Harm took a legal pad and wrote down what hints 
she had 
supplied him with. He already hated Pablo Gonzalez, that he was sure 
of. 
Gonzalez got to see Mac in private every day, and obviously she'd at 
least 
have to fake some sort of interest in him. As he'd have to for Maribel. 
With 
a deep sigh Harm busied himself with preparing lessons for the 
following 
day.



Thur, May 21st
1900 ZULU
Dwayne Myers Naval College
Long Island, N.Y.



"Oh my God, I'm so nervous!" Cassandra said under her breath. Mac just 
smiled at her, a little exasperated. She'd heard nothing but comments 
similar to this one from almost every girl in her class since the 
morning, 
and lunch break hadn't eased the tension. Inwardly, Mac was sure that 
her 
own nervousness by far exceeded that of any other girl in her vicinity 
but 
she couldn't let it show. Seemingly disinterested, she was sitting at 
her 
desk in the last row of the classroom, right next to a slightly pale 
Jeannine, while one row in front of them Dorothy and Cassandra were 
literally dancing with excitement.

Suddenly, Mac felt her heart skip a beat when Danny, the boy seated 
next to 
the door, shouted: "Attention on deck!"

All sprung to their feet and came to attention, trying not to focus on 
the 
door as a tall, dark-haired figure appeared in the classroom.

"Good afternoon, Cadets," Harm said good-naturedly.

"Good afternoon, sir!" twenty voices shouted back.

"At ease. Sit down," Harm replied with a hint of his flyboy-smile. "By 
now 
I'm sure gossip's been all around the school about who I am and why I'm 
here, but just to keep up the tradition of civil behavior, I'll 
introduce 
myself. I'm Commander Harmon Rabb, Jr., former naval aviator and now a 
lawyer with the Judge Advocate General Corps. One of my friends - at 
least I 
used to call him that until three weeks ago - talked me into replacing 
Cadet 
Meryl Waters in the governmental charity concert after her tragic 
death.

So maybe it was just a matter of time, when your music teacher, Cmdr. 
Laird, 
became ill, that the navy asked me again to step in, as they knew I had 
some 
rudimentary knowledge about music and they couldn't come up with a 
fully 
qualified replacement quickly enough. So, first of all, I ask you for 
your 
full cooperation. I know people like to play tricks on inexperienced 
teachers - well, I did - but let me tell you one thing: We can start on 
friendly terms and have fun or you can meet my... uhm, let's say, 
combat 
experience on dealing with you. As far as I'm concerned I'd vote the 
first 
option, simply because I love music and I'd like you to come to love it 
as 
well."

'Good job, flyboy,' Mac thought proudly as Harm had ended and let his 
friendly but firm gaze wander from face to face. When he met her eyes 
he was 
careful to stare right through her, giving Mac a moment's sting of 
disappointment, but she understood.

Harm now pulled his - her - reading glasses from his pocket and put 
them on. 
'Not bad,' Mac judged contently. Then Harm took the class book from his 
desk 
and opened it at the class list. Reading one name at a time, he made 
the 
bearer of the name stand up to try and memorize the names, at the same 
time 
asking if the person in question played an instrument and if he or she 
was a 
member of the marching band.

After 'Odenberg, Cassandra', it was Mac's turn.

"O'Hara, Patricia," Harm read.

Mac jumped to her feet. "Sir!"

"I hear you're a newcomer, Cadet O'Hara."

"Yes, sir."

"Well, I hope you'll get accustomed to your new surroundings without 
any 
major problems."

"Thank you, sir, I hope so, sir."

"Any instruments, Cadet?"

"Yes, sir. Bass drum. I'll be a member of the marching band, sir."

Harm slightly lifted his eyebrows. "Bass drum, Cadet O'Hara? Rare 
choice for 
a young lady, isn't it?"

'Ha ha, flyboy. Wait till I get back to you for that one.' "I guess so, 
sir." Mac wondered what else she was supposed to say about it.

"Okay, stupid question on my part. Continue, Cadet." Harm's smile had 
widened a little.

"Aye, sir," Mac said, sitting down and enjoying the stifled laughter 
that 
could be heard at Harm's admittance.

"Peddersen, Gary..."


The lesson went quite well. Harm introduced several easy cadences to 
write 
down, and he played them to the students on the little keyboard that 
Laird 
used for music theory. Letting them hear the cadences in several 
rhythms, he 
asked the students if they could imagine what song he had in mind that 
was 
accompanied using the given cadence in the rhythm he proposed. The 
members 
of the marching band were to write down the answers, being 
'professionals' 
and familiar with harmonic theory, the others could try guessing with 
Harm's 
help. Mac was glad that she would be asked to write and give her sheet 
to 
Harm directly, so no one would notice if she failed. But after the 
second 
example she got the idea and when Harm came to her to collect her 
answers, 
he cast a quick glance on what she'd written and gave her a barely 
noticeable 'Well-done-Marine!' flyboy-grin. Then the bell rang, 
announcing 
the end of the lesson.

"I'll see some of you in twenty minutes at the gym for rehearsal. All 
others 
have a nice day." Harm collected his things, made the class stand at 
attention again, saluted and exited the room. The door had barely 
closed 
when the gossip began.

"Now, that was nice!" Dorothy stated.

"I love his voice," Cassandra sighed longingly.

Danny snorted. "Girls, get down to earth again. He's no demigod, you 
know."

Cassandra just glared back at him, Mac had difficulties to stifle her 
laughter. But inwardly she was relieved this first encounter was over 
and 
her flyboy had done really well.

"Hola, Patricia!" Pablo walked over to Mac and Jeannine and casually 
put his 
arm around Mac's waist, making her jump. He raised an eyebrow in mock 
astonishment. "Mi estudiante tiene miedo?" he asked. [My student is 
afraid?]

Mac forced herself to smile, leaned into his arm and played the 
flattered 
girl, frantically collecting the few bits of Spanish she'd learnt 
during the 
last two days. "Uhm... no. Yo no... uhm... tengo miedo. Me... uhm... 
alegro 
de... uhm... encontrarte." [No. I'm not afraid, I'm glad to see you.] 
'Phooo...' she thought. 'That was close. Try to think he's Harm, 
Marine. You 
gotta seem attracted to him!'

"You don't seem too impressed by Mr. Wonder-Prof., Pat," Pablo stated, 
smiling self-consciously. "Rabb's charms didn't work on you?"

'You have no idea!' Inwardly sighing, Mac smiled innocently. "I have a 
slightly different taste when it comes to men."

Pablo drew her just a little closer. "And what might that be, Cadet 
O'Hara?"

Mac gave him a sly wink, slowly wriggled out of his semi-embrace and 
turned 
to leave the room. "Try and find out, Cadet Gonzalez," she said upon 
exiting 
the room.


Fifteen minutes later, a very nervous and pale Mac was standing in the 
middle of a row of three at the end of a formation of ten rows 
altogether. 
She carried her drum in front of her, being the only female cadet in 
the 
percussion group. In the front row she could make out Jeannine with her 
piccolo flute, Pablo was walking two rows behind with his clarinet, 
next to 
him one person was missing, probably Meryl. In the sixth and seventh 
row Mac 
saw Cassandra's dark plait and Dorothy's red curls. 'I can't see where 
I'm 
walking,' she thought, frowning, still searching the best position for 
her 
head to see the little clip that her score was attached to on top of 
her 
drum, as well as her feet. 'This thing's too big!'

When Harm came to take his position in front of the band, all she could 
make 
out of him was an occasional flick of his baton that went high enough 
to be 
seen from the back. 'This is going to be the end of it,' Mac thought, 
preparing to meet her destiny.

"I never conducted a marching band before," she heard Harm say. "So 
give me 
a little support, will you? Try to focus on Cadet Stiller as well as 
me. 
Cmdr. Laird told me she knew how to keep you in line. I suggest for 
today we 
just get to know each other by playing something you know well. I was 
thinking about 'The Stars and Stripes'. We'll do it once standing here 
and 
then we'll play it again marching around the gym, to give me the 
possibility 
to get used to conducting while walking. Any objections?"

"No, sir!" The band seemed eager to please him.

Feeling a strong instinct to run away and hide, Harm raised his baton 
and 
tried to recollect everything Burns had taught him. But then, 
surprisingly, 
after the first bars the music's own dynamics took over and the band 
played 
swiftly, making Harm notice at once that he had gifted students to work 
with, students who wouldn't let him down.

Mac had faked her first two or three strikes, afraid to hit her drum in 
an 
interval. But slowly she grew more confident of herself and soon her 
'thump-thump-thump' mingled into the general sound. And to her 
amazement Mac 
noticed that she was beginning to have fun! Being inside the music, 
being a 
part of where it generated, was totally different from listening from 
the 
outside. A smile began to spread over her face. Harm watched her from 
the 
corner of his eye and started to relax when he saw the color slowly 
return 
to her face and the usual sparkle brighten her eyes.

When the piece was over Harm gave the musicians a few appreciating 
words and 
then turned around to walk in front of them. He felt strange, lifting 
his 
arms up high and directing no one he could see. But when he started, he 
heard the introduction playing behind him. They were marching on the 
spot 
for eight bars and then started to walk forward. Harm felt a little 
ridiculous but it seemed to work, so he just went on, hoping no one 
that 
really mattered would see him.

After two rounds on the gym, Mac started to get accustomed to drumming 
on 
pace. The only thing she didn't like was that she still didn't see 
where she 
was walking. But assuming that twenty-seven cadets had just trodden the 
same 
path as she was about to, she might as well do it as not.

The unthinkable happened in lap three. Gary, playing the chimes in the 
eighth row and being allergic to the grass that was growing all over 
the 
place, tried to suppress a powerful sneeze but failed miserably. The 
quick, 
forceful movement that his body made while sneezing knocked his music 
clip 
off his chimes, causing the boy with the snare drum, who walked behind 
him, 
to stumble and fall. Mac noted the sudden movement, but it was already 
too 
late. She stepped onto the boy's leg, lost her balance and tumbled 
right 
over him, hitting her head hard on the edge of her drum. "OUW!!" she 
yelled 
before everything around her slipped into darkness.


"Cadet O'Hara!" she heard a well-known voice break through the clouds 
that 
were hanging around her consciousness. Her eyes tried to focus on the 
speaker. She became aware of Harm kneeling at her side and holding her 
head, 
concern written across his face in bold letters.

"Ha... Commander Rabb, sir," she murmured groggily, hoping she'd been 
quick 
enough to correct her near mistake.

Harm's face softened in relief. "Are you okay, Cadet? Does it hurt 
somewhere?"

"Head," she mumbled, trying to stay awake and trying as well to ignore 
the 
constant throbbing she felt behind her forehead.

"Stay with her and make sure she doesn't move, I'm going to get someone 
from 
the infirmary," she heard him say. Then she felt her head taken by 
someone 
else.

"Hey, Pat, don't pull stunts like that!" she heard Pablo say smugly. 
"You'll 
spoil the show!"

"You alright, Pat?" That was Jeannine.

Mac tried a smile. "Yeah, I guess. I'll just get myself checked over 
and 
join you before the day is over."

By now Harm was already back with two nurses who carried her to the 
infirmary. Pablo walked beside her, holding her hand, causing Harm 
heavy 
fits of jealousy that he had to work hard not to show. When they 
arrived 
Harm told Pablo to go and tell the rest of the band that the rehearsal 
was 
over for today. He would be allowed to see Cadet O'Hara right before 
dinner 
for a few minutes. And Pablo should tell Cadet Stiller to come over 
with 
some of Cadet O'Hara's things, just in case she'd have to stay the 
night. 
Harm knew Mac wouldn't need to stay but he didn't want to leave 
Jeannine 
without protection, so she'd better come to sit with them.

Pablo slightly patted Mac's cheek as he would his dog and as he brushed 
a 
kiss to Mac's forehead Harm fought hard not to jump at him and shout 
"Mine!"


When the doctor had checked Mac and confirmed that she had a slight 
concussion, Harm sent Jeannine to get some tea from the hospital 
kitchen and 
enjoyed having Mac to himself for a few minutes, even though it was 
under 
bad circumstances.

Gently, he traced the outlines of her face with his fingertips. She 
opened 
her eyes.

"Hey, flyboy."

"Hey, Marine. You had me scared out there."

"Won't kill me." She made a face, her eyes smiling, though.

Harm smiled. "No. But that's what you said when you returned from the 
dentist. And the traces rested for two weeks. That's exactly what's 
going to 
happen now."

Mac frowned. "Don't tell me I'm blue all over."

He sighed. "Not yet, but the swelling on your forehead tells me you'll 
be in 
a few hours."

"Damn. I was so glad the yellow on my jaw had finally faded away." Mac 
was 
frustrated. She hated thick layers of make-up.

"Hey, don't fret, my beautiful one," Harm softly replied. "I love every 
color you're inclined to show me."

"Ha ha..." she made, grinning. "But one thing's great about this 
incident. I 
finally get to talk to you, sailor. I've been missing you so much."

"And I you," he admitted, lowering his head to make their lips meet in 
a 
soft kiss. "This will keep me alive until you knock your head against 
something hard again, Marine."

She playfully slapped him on the arm. "Hey, you could at least feel 
sorry 
for me, squid!"

"I do," he grinned, sobering quickly when he saw her pale and 
frantically 
grab for the recipient at the side of her bed. Supporting her back, he 
helped her sit and steadied her while she was being sick - side effect 
of 
her concussion. When she had finally regained her even breathing, he 
eased 
her back onto her pillow and then carried the recipient over to the 
sink, 
returning with a wet washcloth and a glass of water.

"Thanks, Harm," she said gratefully. "Feels good to be taken care of by 
you."

"That's the purpose of the whole exercise," he retorted with a smile, 
gently 
wiping her cheeks and forehead.

Just then Jeannine returned with a cup of tea and Harm reluctantly let 
go of 
Mac's hand and again became her professor.



Sat, May 30th
2341 ZULU
The Gonzalezes' residence
Long Island, N.Y.



Harm had been dreading the evening. Ever since he had noticed that 
Pablo and 
Mac seemed to become a couple he couldn't bear seeing them together. 
And 
here he was, actually dating Pablo's sister, going to a party at her 
parents' where he would most probably run into no one else than his 
Mac, who 
was able to join them because Jeannine was off to watch some Broadway 
show 
with Dorothy, Cassandra and Brandon.

Twice a week, Mac made it off the campus, always accompanying Jeannine 
to 
her music teacher. They had made it a habit going together, the girl 
obviously unaware that she was being protected. So twice a week, Harm 
would 
get mail from his jarhead, long, beautiful, heart-warming letters he 
looked 
forward to, relished and re-read countless times. But that just wasn't 
enough. He'd have to come up with something quickly or he'd explode 
from the 
pressure his suppressed emotions were creating inside his soul.

"Hey, you with me, Harmon?" he heard Maribel say while walking up the 
steps 
to the front porch and stopping in front of the door. "You seem far 
away. 
Tonight you're supposed to enjoy yourself."

"I'm sorry. I just thought about the test I've got to prepare for the 
third 
years on Monday." He gave her his patented grin and witnessed its 
effect as 
she leaned in and gave him a peck on the cheek.

"Forget school, professor. You'll meet a lot of interesting people, 
have 
nice food and dance with me. Doesn't that sound a nice alternative?"

"Yep." He grinned, put his hand on the small of her back and led her 
inside, 
tensing at once as the first thing that greeted him from the other side 
of 
the door was Mac's laughter.

Maribel presented him first to her parents and then to everyone else, 
wearying him quite a bit for there were at least fifty people present. 
The 
huge garden was lit by hundreds of little colored lights, and next to 
the 
illuminated swimming pool the churrasco grill was emanating the aroma 
of 
fresh well-spiced steaks. Harm only hoped there were some corn cobs he 
could 
stick to. Well, at least Mac was supplied with dead cow, he stated to 
himself with a slight grin.

Mac. Where was she? Harm turned around and then saw her, leaning into 
Pablo's arm and chatting with his cousins. She took his breath away. To 
look 
younger, she had dressed in a very short skirt and a fitting top that 
let 
show her belly-button. She wore sandals with not too high heels and 
looked a 
natural beauty, not as stylish as Maribel but a million times more 
beautiful 
to him.

During dinner he had no opportunity to get near to her. She was seated 
at 
the opposite end of the table. So Harm had no choice but to converse 
with an 
overly excited Maribel and some deadly boring members of high society. 
He 
decided to at least make good use of the time by memorizing every name 
and 
face connected to the Gonzalez family. Maybe he'd need this knowledge 
when 
it came to solving their case. After dinner, a Cuban band began to play 
and 
Maribel dragged Harm onto the wooden dance-floor, encircling him in her 
arms 
and forcing him to play along.

Mac had been trying all evening not to look over to where Harm and his 
new 
'girlfriend' were sitting. Maribel surely was a stunning woman, she 
grudgingly admitted to herself. In her simple yellow dress that was cut 
dangerously low to her bust and with her long black hair falling down 
on her 
shoulders and back, she was the kind of woman who could make a guy fall 
for 
her whether he wanted to or not. In her heart Mac knew that she could 
be 
sure of Harm's feelings for her, but seeing him with this woman still 
bothered her. When Pablo took her hand and led her to the dance floor 
she 
had a difficult time refraining from following Harm and Maribel with 
her 
eyes. And when, for a few seconds, Harm and Mac's eyes would meet, they 
instantly knew this evening was torture to both of them. But at least 
Mac 
had all the time and leisure to get to know Pablo's cousins and the 
rest of 
the family, and she was sure Harm was doing just the same thing.


When Harm finally got home at about 0200, he found his answering 
machine 
blinking wildly. He pushed the button.

"Hi Harm, this is Fred. It's now Saturday evening, 2100 hours, and I 
just 
got interesting information on the things you asked me about. Do feel 
free 
to call me back whenever you return, buddy."

Harm grinned. It must have cost Fred quite a bit of courage to talk 
this 
freely to his superior even though they were friends. But they had 
agreed 
not to let show who he was if he were to leave a message. 'Do feel free 
- I 
guess that means it's urgent,' Harm thought. Hesitating only a moment, 
he 
dialed Fred's private cell-phone.



Sun, May 31st
2045 ZULU
Nick's World Wide Wafers
Long Island, N.Y.



Wednesdays and Sundays were the lucky days. The lucky days Mac could 
get in 
touch with Harm while waiting for Jeannine to return from her music 
lesson 
next door. Sipping her latte macchiato, Mac impatiently logged on and 
found 
what she was looking for.



To: Harmsmarine@freemail.com
From: Harmon Rabb (Sarahssailor@freemail.com)
Subject: Torment

My favorite Marine,

it's 0320 and I'm unable to sleep once again. This party nearly killed 
me. 
You were stunning, Sarah. I could hardly take my eyes off you and still 
had 
to play along with Maribel's boring ways. I had to dance with her cheek 
to 
cheek and had to witness how you were doing the same with her brother. 
Mac, 
I can't stand this situation any longer. I'd go insane. So please, 
please, 
tell me you have no plans for next weekend. Brandon told me yesterday 
that 
he and Dorothy are going to take Jeannine home with them on Friday 
evening, 
and they'll not get back before Sunday at dinnertime.

So you're off duty, jarhead, as am I, and I'm all but dying to see you. 
Tell 
your 'boyfriend' whatever you like, that you're flying to California to 
see 
your parents, whatever, and then meet me on Friday at 1800 hours at 
Times 
Square. I've been told that the cadets are allowed out at 1600, first 
Friday 
of the month. So, please, Mac, come and wear something fancy, really 
fancy, 
okay? And bring something comfortable for the night and the next day. 
That's 
all I'm gonna say now. One hint: I'm your professor. I gotta do 
something 
for your education. (See me grin...)

Okay, back to business. I had astonishing news from Fred yesterday 
night. He 
checked the Gonzalezes' backgrounds and found they're a very extended 
family, owners of various firms. But that's what we already guessed, 
didn't 
we? What we didn't think about was where the firms were located. Well, 
here's the list our brave Italian friend came up with: First, there is 
the 
brother of Juan Gonzalez, Jesús Gonzalez. So he's Pablo and Maribel's 
uncle. 
Jesús Gonzalez owns the family hazienda back in Columbia, coffee 
plantation, 
at least officially, no one can possibly know for sure, up in the 
mountain 
rainforest, right? Just thinking.

Then there's another uncle, Gabriel García, their mother's brother. He 
owns 
a textile mill in Cartagena, Columbia, which is at the Caribbean coast. 
Nice 
place to ship anything to and from. Just thinking, right?

Follow me north, Mac, and we come to... Kingston, Jamaica. Maribel and 
Pablo's cousin Graciela Godoy owns a firm there, imports and exports of 
agricultural goods. In Kingston, now isn't this a coincidence, Mac? 
Destination of the college's cruises... just thinking.

From there Fred traced their little chain of business up to... can you 
guess? Right, Miami. A second cousin, Fernando García, has another 
import/export firm right there. Odd, isn't it?

And the final destination of our journey is... right again, Mac. 
Norfolk. 
Juan Gonzalez himself runs his business down there - a shipping 
company. 
Tsk, tsk, tsk, quite a lot of coincidences... sorry, just thinking.

Mac, I think we've got something reeeaaally big here. I'm going to 
contact 
Clay about what we found out. You just stick to Jeannine and, as much 
as I 
hate to say it, to Pablo. Try to sneak a bit whenever you can, okay? If 
Pablo wants you to himself without Jeannine around, just send her over 
to me 
on the pretext that I'd like her to instruct me a bit about running a 
marching band. According to Laird she seems to be some sort of a 
concertmaster to the band.

Sarah, I can't tell you how much I'm longing for Friday to arrive. I 
think I 
might very well develop an internal clock just like yours until then 
for I'm 
counting every single second.

I miss you so much, my beautiful Marine. Love,

Harm



END OF PART TWO



'Dissonance' - Part Three
Author: Daenar
Disclaimer: See Chapter One



Tue, June 2nd
2231 ZULU
Harm's apartment
Dwayne Myers Naval College
Long Island, N.Y.



Harm jumped when the telephone started ringing. Today his third year 
students had managed to completely tire him out. They had been a little 
troublesome from the start and with today's weather's inclination to 
heavy 
thunderstorms, things had gone wild. They had been talking about 
Dixieland 
Jazz and a cadet had brought his banjo. Everyone had paid attention as 
Harm 
had explained how the student's instrument worked and where to find the 
differences between a banjo and other instruments of the same family, 
like a 
guitar, for instance. Of course, Harm had brought his guitar along to 
let 
them see and hear what he meant.

But after the practical part of the lesson, Harm had gone back to the 
peculiarities of Dixie instrumentation and it was then the chaos had 
started 
to erupt. The banjo boy had started making funny noises with the chords 
of 
his instrument, and once laughter had spread in the general class mood, 
all 
had quickly followed the path down to ridicule and had started to laugh 
at 
practically everything, unable to fight the urge to snort without 
reason.

At first Harm had played along a little, thinking once the joke was 
made the 
students would calm down again. At least this concept had already 
worked 
once in Mac's class when a laughing epidemic had threatened to spread. 
But 
this time it didn't work. Before long Harm had found himself shouting 
like a 
drill sergeant, distributing reprimands and extra assignments until he 
had 
frightened the class back to discipline.

Upon arriving home, Harm had only flopped into the nearest armchair and 
had 
dozed off almost immediately. Now the phone brutally woke him from his 
soothing dreams of a certain Marine colonel. On the fourth ring Harm 
had 
come to his senses and grabbed the receiver.

"Rabb," he said, still a little disoriented.

"Commander Rabb," he heard a calm, friendly voice greet him form the 
other 
end of the line, "This is Lieutenant Commander Peter Laird. Am I 
disturbing 
you, sir?"

Harm pulled himself up into a comfortable sitting position and stifled 
a 
yawn. "No, absolutely not, Commander." He tried hard to sound awake. "I 
was 
just relaxing a bit after an especially tiring lesson."

"Let me guess, third year students, sir?" Harm detected sympathy and 
slight 
amusement in the teacher's voice.

"Yep." Chuckling slightly, Harm asked: "So they're like that all the 
time?"

"Almost," Laird confirmed, obviously still smiling. "But once you tell 
them 
unmistakably where their place is they'll pull themselves together, 
sir."

"Well, then from now on things should go smoothly," Harm stated, hoping 
Laird was right.

He heard the lieutenant commander chuckle. "I see. Sir, actually I 
wanted to 
talk to you about something."

"I'll be at your service, Commander. But first I wanted to thank you," 
Harm 
said sincerely. "Without your thorough preparation I don't know if I'd 
have 
managed to make things go as easily as they have gone so far. I owe you 
for 
that."

Laird sounded embarrassed. "No big deal, sir. I like being prepared and 
I 
imagine what it must be like being thrown into a totally unknown 
situation. 
I just thought I could help."

"You sure did, Commander. As I said, I owe you. Thanks again. But now 
tell 
me: What can I do for you?"

"Nothing, sir, actually," Laird answered. "I just wanted to ask you if 
you 
decided yet what you'd do about the Benny-Goodman project."

Harm had been expecting the question sooner or later. "Honestly, 
Commander, 
I don't know," he answered, sighing. "When Cadet Odenberg told me about 
it, 
I was hoping we could... well, make you come back again soon." Harm was 
careful not to mention the investigation on the telephone. He had no 
idea if 
the line was secure. Laird instantly got the concept.

"Me, too, sir. But it seems my recovery will take longer than I 
thought. So 
I wanted to assure you of my full assistance and cooperation for the 
concert 
as far as I can offer it being ill. Sir..." Laird hesitated, seemingly 
unsure how to approach what he wanted to say. "Permission to speak 
freely?"

"Go ahead, Commander," Harm encouraged him.

"Sir, ever since I came up with the idea of this soirée, the band has 
been 
excited about it. Of course, when Cadet Waters suddenly died, the 
rehearsals 
were forgotten, the tragedy overshadowing all that was going on. But 
now I 
start getting emails from the band members asking me what would become 
of 
our plans. Captain Wells has good connections to someone in the 
administration of Carnegie Hall, you know. We were actually planning to 
do 
it there. It would be a dream for the band to be on that stage."

Harm had slightly paled upon guessing where Laird was headed. "I 
imagine, 
Commander," he choked out, trying not to let his fear show.

"Sir, for the sake of the students who have worked so hard for entire 
months, I beg you not to cancel the concert. If I may I'd like to add 
that 
ever since your arrival I keep getting emails from many of my students, 
especially from those who are part of the marching band, who tell me 
that 
you're doing a great job. They love you and your unorthodox ways of 
rehearsing. Cadet Stiller tells me you rely on her experience and she 
thinks 
the band draws advantage from a little change of style from time to 
time. 
She's as sure as I am that you can pull this off, sir."

Harm swallowed hard. Carnegie Hall. There were so many places all over 
the 
States one could have really nice concerts in. But it had to be 
Carnegie 
Hall of all of them. The hall of fame. Now wasn't he lucky once again? 
He 
frowned, thinking of how disappointed the cadets would be if he said 
no.

"What about the first clarinet?" he asked instead of replying directly 
to 
Laird's plea. "Without Cadet Waters I don't see how we can play Goodman 
at 
all."

Laird sighed heavily. "That's indeed a problem, sir. Gonzalez plays 
decently 
but he's not up to being a soloist. There's Cadet Hannah Brown in first 
year 
who right now figures as our substitute. Technically, she'd be able to 
do it 
but she's way too shy to do a proper soloist's interpretation. Apart 
from 
her, there's no one right now. But I promise you, Commander, that I'll 
come 
up with someone skilled if you agree to have the concert."

At a loss about what he could do to prevent it, Harm gave in. "All 
right, 
Cmdr. Laird. I'll do it. When's the concert supposed to be?"

"Three weeks from now, sir, on Sunday 21st of June. First weekend is 
out of 
the question with everyone going home, but after that you'll be able to 
dispose of the musicians' time to full extent. They're used to it and 
actually enjoy the excitement of constant rehearsal. But don't worry, 
you 
can leave a lot of that to Cadet Stiller. She's good at rehearsing and, 
strange as it seems, people tend to listen to what she says." He fell 
silent 
for a moment, but Harm didn't say anything, sensing Laird was not done 
yet.

"Thank you, Cmdr. Rabb," Laird finally said with a heartfelt sigh. "You 
don't know how much this means to me and to the band. I'll owe you 
now."

"Let's just say we're equal, Commander," Harm replied, smiling to 
himself, 
wondering silently how much weirder things would still get in the 
course of 
this assignment. With a deep sigh he rose and got himself a bottle of 
water 
from the fridge. Sitting down again and running his hand through his 
hair, 
he forlornly stared at the telephone, longing to call Mac.

'Now it gets tricky, Hammer,' he silently said to himself. 'You didn't 
ever 
imagine being on stage in a Carnegie-Hall concert, did you?'

Just then, God had mercy with his faithful servant and made the 
telephone 
ring. It wasn't Mac but a solution to one of his problems, instead.

"Rabb."

"Good evening, Commander. This is Lt. Prumetti."

"Fred, now that's a welcome voice," Harm greeted his young friend, "And 
I'm 
off duty, so call me Harm. What brings this about?"

"Just wanted to know if everything was all right, you know, apart from 
the 
job." Fred seemed a little unsure about how to address Rabb the friend, 
not 
Rabb the commander.

Harm grinned, pleased to see people back in D.C. were caring about 
their 
well-being. "Tell the admiral we're holding up, Fred. Mac's gradually 
transforming into a decent musician, actually. I can see she enjoys 
being a 
part of the group. Who'd have guessed?" He chuckled softly and heard 
soft 
chuckling from the other end of the line, too.

[A.N.: It isn't as improbable as it may seem that Mac actually develops 
her 
musicality this quickly. I can tell from my own orchestral experience, 
but 
actually I was thinking of a scene of "Mr. Holland's opus" where 
Holland 
succeeds to teach a boy to play the bass drum in no time, and the boy 
isn't 
musical at all. It's just hard work. We know Mac to be hardworking and 
rhythmical as well, so...]

"I'm glad to hear it," Fred stated. "For me it always used to feel like 
being 'high', being part of an orchestra. I remember the first time 
we'd try 
the second movement of the fourth symphony of Brahms - afterwards I'd 
walk 
home like someone not from this world. It was like the music had swept 
me 
away!" Harm could hear Fred was getting more enthusiastic all the time. 
Curiosity made him cut in, though.

"Wait a minute, you play?"

"Yes. Back in Venice, I studied music with the Conservatorio Benedetto 
Marcello. You know, people normally don't take private music lessons in 
Italy. Either they start conservatory as children, study their ten 
years 
parallel to school, pass the exams and get a music degree or they don't 
play 
at all. There's no such thing as a private music culture in Italy. But, 
as I 
said, I got to study music and for three years was first clarinet in 
the 
conservatory orchestra, at times even helping out at La Fenice when the 
opera-house musicians were on strike once again..."

Harm inhaled sharply, causing Fred to interrupt himself, confused. "Did 
you 
just say 'clarinet', Lieutenant?" he asked.

Fred instantly snapped back to military mode. "Yes, sir."

Harm had jumped to his feet in sudden excitement. This wasn't a 
coincidence 
- this was providence! "Why did you never tell us?"

"You never asked, sir." Now that was a typical Fred-ish statement. 
'Always 
the modest gentleman, this guy,' Harm thought with a huge grin. 
"Lieutenant, 
tell the admiral I request your immediate assistance at Dwayne Myers 
from 
Monday, June 8th until Sunday, June 21st. And bring your instrument. 
That's 
an order."

"A... aye, sir." Fred sounded totally taken aback. "May I ask why, 
sir?"

Harm's grin could be heard over the line right back in Fred and 
Claire's 
living-room in Rosslyn, and Claire watched in silent amusement as her 
fiancé's face suddenly turned white. He had to sit down in a nearby 
armchair, hearing the commander say: "You'll save me and the marching 
band 
from canceling a Carnegie-Hall concert, Lt. Prumetti. You'll take the 
soloist's part in our grand Benny-Goodman soirée!"



Thur, June 4th
1957 ZULU
Dwayne Myers Naval College
Long Island, N.Y.



"F...fforget it!!!" Mac saved herself from shouting something not too 
nice, 
once again quickly trying to brush off the stain that showed clearly on 
her 
skirt. She knew why she hated white. She knew why she just loved her 
marine 
uniforms. She knew why she would have to quit drinking coffee for the 
next 
weeks and also quit sitting down on the grass. And she just hated it. 
Rubbing hard with a soapy edge of her towel, she managed to make the 
fresh 
stain bleach remarkably - but on a close look it could still be seen 
and 
right now she didn't have the time to change her uniform.

It was the fourth day now that cadets were to wear their ordinary 
summer 
whites and at the end of each day Mac had carried yet another skirt or 
blouse to be cleaned. This had to stop now, for she had only one set 
left.

"Pat, you coming?" Jeannine asked worriedly, standing in the open 
apartment 
door, her flute case in her hand.

"Yeah," Mac answered, straightening her shirt and applying a little 
compact 
powder to her forehead where the last remainders of her collision with 
her 
drum were finally fading away. Then she joined Jeannine, grabbed her 
instrument and they headed over to the gym where the rest of the band 
was 
already assembled, including Harm who - surprisingly enough - somehow 
managed to be punctual to his lessons.

"Nice of you to join us, Cadets," came his half-grinning remark, 
accompanied 
by a glance on his watch. Mac and Jeannine snapped to attention.

"I'm sorry, sir, if we kept you waiting," Mac shouted, inwardly fuming 
at 
Harm's attitude and herself giving him the reason. "But, with all due 
respect, sir, I believe we still have 23 seconds."

Harm had to fight hard to refrain from laughing. 'My Marine...' he 
thought, 
inwardly chuckling. "Right. Now get in line."

"Aye, sir!"

"At ease, everyone," Harm began, clearing his throat. "I received a 
call 
from Lt. Cmdr. Laird two days ago. First of all he tells me to say 
hello to 
you all and tell you he keeps getting better. But with mononucleosis 
you 
have to be patient. Anyway, we talked about the Benny-Goodman project 
and..." seeing his students hold their breath, he took a little 
dramatic 
break, "We decided there will be a concert in Carnegie Hall on Sunday, 
June 
21st", he finished with a content grin.

"Yes!" Danny shouted, making a fist, then quickly sobering and adding. 
"Excuse me, sir."

"You're welcome, Cadet." Harm tried not to let his grin get too wide.

"Excuse me, sir," Jeannine ventured carefully, a frown showing on her 
face.

"Yes, Cadet Stiller?"

"Sir, what about the soloist? Without Meryl, er..., Cadet Waters?" 
Everyone's eyes turned on Harm.

"Taken care of, Cadet," Harm replied with the hint of a smile. "A 
friend of 
mine, an Italian navy lawyer, who's right now participating in the 
officers' 
exchange program and working with us at JAG back in Falls Church, 
studied 
music in Venice and has volunteered to play the solo clarinet." 'Well, 
sort 
of,' he silently added to himself. "Lt. Prumetti will be joining us 
next 
week for rehearsals that will be held every day at 1600 for the next 
two 
weeks, starting on Monday, not excluding the weekends."

At this, more stifled cheers could be heard. Harm was relieved that the 
reaction was positive. He had feared the band wouldn't want a 'grown 
up' in 
their lines. But then, Fred was just a few years older than the rest of 
them. They'd have fun.

"Sir?" Cassandra shyly stepped out of line, her cheeks slightly flushed 
and 
her voice a little hoarse.

Harm smiled. "Yes, Cadet Odenberg?"

"Uhm..., sir, I think I can speak for all of us if I say how much this 
means 
to us. Thank you so much, sir, for going along with this plan. I mean, 
you 
didn't have to and... well... maybe you don't feel you really want to 
do all 
the extra work and don't feel too well about this but we'll never 
forget 
that you're actually doing this for us." She looked down on her feet 
with a 
shy smile. The entire band was nodding.

Harm was touched. 'Heck, Hammer, you can pull this off, you have to. 
Look at 
those guys! You can't let them down!' Feeling a little embarrassed 
himself 
he again cleared his throat and with his hand rubbed his neck. "Uhm... 
you're welcome, Cadet. Just promise me, all of you, you'll help me 
through 
this, right? 'Cause..." He grinned and put his finger to his lips like 
a 
conspirator. "...and this is off-record, understood?" They nodded 
eagerly. 
"'Cause I'm pretty scared to walk up on that stage. I need your full 
support 
or we all can forget this thing. Did I make myself clear?"

"Yes, sir!" they shouted, all smiling broadly, proud that Harm had 
considered them trustworthy enough to speak freely.

Casually looking into several faces, Harm for some seconds caught Mac's 
gaze 
and felt his heart swell at what he saw: in her eyes were shining pride 
for 
her brave man, joy for being a part of the group, anticipation and 
excitement regarding the upcoming events and, most of all, pure and 
unconditional love for him, brought to the surface for the briefest 
moment 
by the efforts he was making to save his students' dream, even if for 
him it 
meant doing something he dreaded.

He was shaken from his daydreams by Jeannine's voice. "Sir, do you have 
a 
copy of the score to send to your friend?"

"Actually, no, Cadet. Thank you for reminding me. Do you know where I 
could 
find one?"

"I don't know for sure, sir, but I think Meryl's copy is in the attic 
together with her things. I... I could get it for you after the 
rehearsal if 
you like." Harm could tell Jeannine was uneasy at the thought of 
searching 
between her dead friend's personal belongings.

"Thank you, Cadet Stiller. I'd very much appreciate that. Let Cadet 
O'Hara 
help you, so it won't take too long." 'And you'll have someone to cling 
to 
if it gets too hard', he silently added. Maybe Mac would even be able 
to dig 
up something useful for their investigation.

"Yes, sir." Jeannine sounded relieved.

"Now," Harm turned to address the whole group again, "Go get your 
music-stands. No marching today. I'd like to hear how much is still 
left to 
do before going on stage. So I'll know what we've got when Lt. Prumetti 
shows up next week."

"Aye, sir!" all shouted eagerly, putting their instruments down and 
hurrying 
to get ready to show the commander just what they were able to do when 
properly motivated to give their best.



Fri, June 5th
2251 ZULU
Ladies' restrooms
Marriott Marquis Hotel
Times Square
New York City, N.Y.



Mac critically surveyed herself in the mirror. Yes, that would do, she 
decided, satisfied with her looks. After receiving Harm's invitation 
she had 
at once mailed to Harriet to send her one of her evening dresses, one 
she 
hadn't worn in quite a long time. She thought maybe Harm hadn't even 
seen it 
on her. It was a very romantic, feminine dress, not quite the style she 
usually wore. But being a happy college girl had made her feel like 
putting 
it on.

Perhaps it was the color that had kept her from wearing it all these 
years. 
Dalton had talked her into buying it and the clear pearl-white silk 
with the 
thinnest layer of chiffon falling loosely over it somehow always 
reminded 
her of a wedding dress. With all her shattered dreams of marriage she 
had 
never felt she could put it on after Dalton's death, not even when she 
had 
been engaged to Brumby. It just didn't feel right. But today it did, 
she 
noted with a slightly accelerating heart rate.

The dress clung to her upper body right down to her waist, failing to 
be 
off-the-shoulder by a few inches as some hint of a short sleeve clung 
to the 
curve of her shoulder, thus creating a perfect oval that went right 
around 
her bust. From her hips the long, wide skirt fell right to the floor, 
swinging with every step she made while the light chiffon of the 
topmost 
layer was allowed to flutter just a little more than the silk that was 
underneath, sustained by a not too puffy petticoat. No additional 
decorations were found on the whole dress, no lace, no frills, no 
embroidery, nothing. Simple, just as Mac liked it. Around her neck she 
wore 
a simple tight pearl-white satin ribbon, with a tiny, round pearl 
brooch 
attached right in front. Besides that Mac didn't wear any jewelry and 
her 
hair was simply tucked behind her ears. A small pearl-white purse, 
fitting 
shoes (comfortable ones!) and a pearl-white silk shawl in case the 
temperature dropped a little completed the outfit.

Mac closed her eyes and tried to steady her breathing. She'd never been 
this 
nervous going out with Harm. Not even after they had returned from 
Venice, 
when he'd properly asked her out on a date for the first time. But she 
somehow had the feeling this weekend would be special. He had sounded 
as if 
he wanted it to be.

It hadn't been easy to get away. First, she'd had to get Pablo to stop 
trying to persuade her to go on a weekend trip to Martha's Vineyard 
with 
her. Telling him that she had to see her sick grandmother in Santa 
Monica 
had finally made him back away. But she could tell he wasn't amused at 
all. 
Not that she really cared, though. Then she'd had to try on the dress 
without being noticed by Jeannine, which was quite difficult as they 
had 
come so close that they always left their room doors open inside the 
apartment. Finally, she'd had to leave the campus with a traveling bag, 
dissuade Pablo from driving her to JFK and take a cab instead. The 
driver 
had taken her to Times Square where she'd had to find a quiet place to 
change. She decided on the Marriott's restrooms, that choice leaving 
her the 
task, though, to go in in jeans and sweatshirt and leave again in full 
evening attire. Well, she'd survive the stares. And once outside, she'd 
see 
Harm.

Taking her traveling bag she left the restrooms, crossed the lobby 
high-headed, ignoring other people's glances, and stepped onto the 
walkway 
outside, only to see a tall familiar figure standing about a hundred 
yards 
away, obviously looking for someone.


Continually shifting his weight from one foot to the other, Harm 
scanned the 
area for any signs of his favorite marine. He was beginning to sweat in 
his 
black tuxedo. But that was his own fault, because for once in his life 
Harmon Rabb had been early. Now he stood waiting for Mac, his eyes 
wandering 
until they suddenly locked on an unearthly apparition in white that had 
just 
emerged from the Marriott Hotel and was walking in Harm's direction. 
'Fancy 
dress' he had written. 'Fairy' was what he got. Unable to move Harm 
just 
stared as Mac approached him, with every fiber of her body 
impersonating the 
meaning of her name: princess.

It wasn't until she had reached him that he woke from his daydream, 
letting 
out the breath he didn't know he'd been holding. "Hey," was all he 
could 
choke out.

She smiled in return, her cheeks slightly flushed. "Hey..."

Taking her bag for her, he leaned in and brushed a shy kiss to her 
cheek. 
"You're so beautiful, Marine," he said softly.

Her flush deepened. "Thanks." Then, relieved to find a topic that would 
ease 
the tension, she looked at him with a cocked eyebrow. "No uniform, 
Commander?"

He flashed her a quick flyboy-grin. "Nope. This is just you and me 
tonight, 
all private. Harmon and Sarah. And my parents later on."

"Your parents?" she asked with a slight feeling of shock. Mac had never 
yet 
met Trish and Frank Burnett and she was anxious to make a good first 
impression.

Harm was chuckling slightly at her startled expression. "Hey, this 
isn't a 
tribunal or examination or anything. Mom just keeps trying to talk me 
into 
bringing you over since I let slip that we might have gotten involved. 
And 
today turned out to be a lucky occasion as they're in New York."

Mac still felt a little uneasy and, to tell the truth, was just a 
little 
angry that he hadn't told her beforehand. Thankfully, she was nicely 
dressed 
and didn't have to worry about her appearance. 'Okay, I'll let it slip 
this 
time, squid,' she thought, determined to let nothing spoil her weekend 
with 
her beloved sailor. So with an astonished smile she only asked: "Then 
why 
did you tell me to dress up so much?"

His grin showed that he was enjoying himself. "Because Mom and Frank 
invited 
us to something very special. Come on, jarhead, let's get your stuff to 
the 
hotel and I'll tell you on the way, okay?"

It was impossible to resist his good humor. Mac's half-smile grew into 
a 
radiant grin. "Agreed." Rising on her toes, she kissed him tenderly. 
They 
shared a warm glance and Mac let Harm take her arm to lead her to a 
cab.

The driver put Mac's bag in the trunk and opened the back doors for her 
and 
Harm to get in. Then he sat behind the wheel and turned, smiling at the 
young couple. "Where to, ma'am, sir?"

"Uhm... Waldorf Astoria, please," Harm said, feeling a little uneasy.

Mac's head snapped in his direction, her eyes staring at him. "Harm, 
are you 
crazy?" she hissed when she had recovered from her initial shock.

Harm shook his head in silent amusement. "Calm down, Mac," he replied 
in a 
soothingly low voice. "Frank's some sort of a special guest there by 
now. He 
gets special conditions. For his stepson, too." He felt Mac relax as he 
caressed her cheek with the back of his hand.

"Okay," she smiled, obviously a little embarrassed. "But I guess you're 
still paying a lot for the name, aren't you?" she asked, tilting her 
head 
inquisitively to one side.

"You're not supposed to know that," he retorted, grinning, in an 
'end-of-conversation' tone.

A smile on her lips, Mac suppressed an exasperated sigh. Sometimes this 
sailor beside her could be insufferable. But something deep inside her 
just 
loved to be courted that way, she had to admit to herself.

For a while they sat in silence, both inwardly laughing about the 
chaste 
distance they were keeping between them, while they looked out of the 
windows into different directions. Harm holding Mac's hand in his lap 
was 
the only sign telling they belonged together.

'This is ridiculous!' Mac thought. 'Why am I suddenly so shy?' She felt 
like 
a young girl going out on her first date. Allowing herself a look at 
her 
partner, she felt that, unlike her first impression, his tuxedo had a 
similar effect on her as had his dress whites or mess dress. 'I should 
get 
used to the concept that it's the man inside who's affecting me,' she 
acknowledged with a smile.

Looking up to his face, Mac found Harm was watching her with amusement. 
"What?"

Before answering he gave her a critical survey from head to toe. "Just 
doing 
the same you did, jarhead," he said, referring to her non-too-subtle 
scrutiny.

"Jerk!" she hissed, laughing, leaning to his shoulder and letting him 
slide 
his arm behind her back. "So, tell me, Professor, how did you plan to 
broaden my educational horizons?"

Harm smiled widely. "Have you ever been to the Met?"

"Oh my God..." Mac's voice trailed off. Of course she hadn't. An 
evening at 
the Metropolitan Opera had been something of a dream in her youth. And 
when 
she'd finally had the means to make it come true she'd never had the 
time or 
the right company.

"There's more," Harm enthusiastically continued. "It's not 'just' an 
evening 
at the Met but it's a premiere. Frank was invited and he asked me if 
you and 
I wanted to join him and Mom."

Mac needed some moments to digest the news. Even though she had been a 
highly respectable woman for quite a few years now and, as a 
high-ranking 
officer, had been to many high society events, this was another 
dimension. 
It was a fairy tale. Sarah Mackenzie was going to stay at the Waldorf 
Astoria with her very own Prince Charming and was invited to a 
Metropolitan 
Opera premiere by his well-connected parents. She swallowed hard and 
Harm 
could see just a hint of fear shining in her eyes as she looked up to 
him.

"What is it, Mac?" he asked gently, cupping her face with one hand.

"I..." she swallowed again and then laughed, a little embarrassed about 
her 
behavior. Sobering she then said: "I... please, don't laugh, Harm, but 
I 
feel I don't belong there, you know, easy life of the rich and all that 
stuff. I'm a runaway teenager, ex-alcoholic, I have no connections 
whatsoever..."

"Stop it, Mac," he ordered her softly, cutting her off before she could 
slip 
even deeper into her complexes. Putting his free hand to the other side 
of 
her face, he made her look straight into his eyes: "It's who you are 
now 
that defines where you belong, Mac. You are the bravest woman I've ever 
met. 
You went through hell of your own free will, achieving what so many 
others 
don't: you fought a victory over your addiction. You made the decision 
to 
set your life straight and joined the Corps. You followed that path 
with 
every ounce of strength you could possibly muster. You beat them all in 
law 
school. You built yourself a great career. It's you who are second in 
rank 
after the admiral, not me. It's you who are chief of staff at JAG. You 
make 
men turn their heads because you're a stunning woman as well. And deep 
down 
you have an affectionate heart that enables you to be the truest of 
friends 
and the one woman I'll ever truly love in my life. Now, tell me, who 
deserves to be graced by society's attention?"

When she remained silent and shifted her head to look down, he turned 
her 
face up again with a gentle effort, locking his gaze with hers once 
again. 
"Tell me, Mac, who does?"

She swallowed, willing her tears down. "I do," she said in a low voice.

Harm smiled. "Exactly. And it's up to me to thank the Lord on my knees 
that 
I have your attention."

She returned a teary smile. "You have far more than my attention, 
sailor, 
and you know it. Thanks, Harm," she added very low, "Thanks for showing 
me 
who I am. With all those rich guys around at the college I tend to 
forget 
it."

"I love you," he simply replied and closed the distance between them, 
underlining his words with a passionate kiss.


When they arrived at the hotel Mac gathered her courage, straightened 
to 
full height and entered the lobby. She still felt out of place but 
Harm's 
words had given her the strength she needed to will the feeling away. 
She 
was Lt. Col. Sarah Mackenzie, Chief of Staff to the Judge Advocate 
General, 
and people would show her the respect she deserved.

They received their keys, secrecy still banishing them to separate 
rooms, 
but Frank had obviously seen to it that Harm and Mac's rooms had a 
connecting door.

They had barely enough time to put away Mac's bag before they had to 
leave 
again to go to the opera house. It seemed Frank had spared no expense 
as a 
limousine drove up to the entrance when Harm asked for their ride. 
Opening 
the limo's door for Mac, Harm helped her get in and then joined her 
inside 
the spacious vehicle.

"Aren't we going to wait for your parents?" Mac asked.

"Frank had a business meeting earlier and Mom went with the ladies 
group to 
an exhibition. We're to meet them there."

"Uhm... Harm?"

"Yes?"

"What if anyone sees us? That could blow my cover."

Harm frowned. "Yeah. I thought about that, too. But tell me, what are 
the 
odds? Who knows you? The students, right? They won't go to a Met 
premiere 
without their families. How many of them live in the area? Maybe six or 
seven families. I'd say it's highly improbable one of them shows up. 
So, who 
else knows you? Only the Gonzalezes. I've heard, they're not really 
opera 
lovers. Maribel told me that much. If they go they do it for society. 
And I 
happen to know Juan and his wife are going to a Rotary dinner tonight. 
So 
what are the chances Maribel or Pablo or one of their cousins show up 
alone? 
I think we're quite safe. And besides, I'm in civvies and thus less 
obtrusive."

Mac nodded consent. It was a little risky but not too much. She'd be 
careful.

"So, now listen, my student," Harm said with a sly smile as he pulled 
out a 
program. "Being invited by someone who's in the city's administration 
does 
have advantages. You get these for free even before you arrive at the 
opera 
house. Well..." he opened the program. "My mom tells me today's artists 
are 
some of the finest to be had. I've already seen two of them on stage, 
actually. By the way, we'll be seeing the premiere of 'Tosca' by 
Giacomo 
Puccini. Conductor: James Levine, main characters: Tosca, the opera 
singer: 
Angela Gheorghiu; Cavaradossi, the artist: Roberto Alagna; Scarpia, 
police 
chief of Rome: Samuel Ramey. Do you know the story?"

"No such thing as music in my youth, Harm," she reminded him gently.

"Okay, listen, I'll try to explain. Cavaradossi and Tosca are engaged. 
The 
story is set in Rome in the early nineteenth century. Royal troops have 
just 
destroyed the Republic of Rome that had been installed under the 
influence 
of Napoleon. Because of this, republicans must hide to escape capital 
punishment. Cavaradossi is painting a picture in a church when a 
republican 
friend asks him for help. The artist hides him in the church. Tosca 
comes to 
see her fiancé and he's very secretive. She's very jealous and thinks 
he's 
hiding another woman from her. Scarpia shows up. He's cruelly 
persecuting 
the republicans. Scarpia wants Tosca for himself so he manages to 
kindle her 
jealousy until she subconsciously lets something slip about the 
hideout. 
Cavaradossi is arrested for helping a criminal. That's the first act. 
Follow 
me, Marine?"

"Yep. Go on."

Harm silently wondered why he didn't get any sharp replies. 'Maybe 
she's 
enjoying herself so much she'll allow herself to let go of her Marine 
mode,' 
he thought, hoping he was right. It would do her good.

"Okay," he went on, "Second act. Scarpia invites Tosca over to dinner 
to 
'negotiate' Cavaradossi's release. But all he wants is her. Cavaradossi 
won't tell anything in questioning. Scarpia has him brought up near to 
where 
he and Tosca eat so she can hear his screams while he's tortured."

"That son of a bitch!" Mac blurted out, surprising Harm quite a bit.

"Hey, don't take it too hard, it's only a play."

"But I was thinking about how that poor woman must feel! My God, if I 
imagine hearing you scream in agony while I'm sitting in the adjoining 
room, 
having dinner with your enemy..."

Harm could tell Mac was agitated. Somehow he felt flattered by her 
emotional 
display. "I guess one would have to be sorry for my enemy after you 
dealt 
with him," he retorted dryly. Mac cast him a quick satisfied smile and 
nodded consent.

"Anyway," Harm continued, "Cavaradossi tells Tosca to be strong and not 
care 
about his physical pain. But being a loving woman she can't and finally 
consents to give herself to Scarpia in return for her fiancé's life." 
He 
grinned. "Now, those were women! Nowadays you wouldn't find any woman 
willing to do such a thing without negotiating alternatives."

"I would," Mac said quietly. Harm's brows went up in astonishment. "For 
you, 
I would", Mac repeated.

Harm was touched. "I wouldn't let you," he gently replied.

"Try and stop me," Mac retorted, smiling. Instead of answering, Harm 
kissed 
her.

"Thanks, my ninja-girl."

"You're welcome."

"Where were we? Ah, yes. Tosca consents, they take away Cavaradossi and 
Scarpia signs a secret paper that tells the executioners to fake the 
shooting in order to save his reputation. Tosca is to tell Cavaradossi 
how 
to act and then leave the city together with him unnoticed. She takes 
the 
valuable document and when Scarpia tries to embrace and kiss her, 
claiming 
his prize, sort of, she stabs and kills him. He's yelling for help, 
dying, 
and she's horrified at realizing what she's done."

"I wouldn't be," Mac declared, "He deserved it."

"But you're a soldier, Marine. We're supposed to kill our enemies. 
She's an 
opera singer. Imagine what this must have cost her."

"I see your point, counselor. Go on."

"Third act: Cavaradossi's last night. Instead of requesting his last 
meal he 
begs for a pen and paper as his last grace and writes a letter to his 
beloved. Big aria. This scene always gives me the creeps, Mac," he 
admitted. 
"I know how he must feel. It's like going on a mission, not knowing if 
you'll survive. Well, he's still worse off, knowing he won't. But still 
it's 
very similar, I think. You gotta put all your feelings, all that's been 
left 
unsaid, into one single letter in case you don't make it back. I can't 
count 
how many times I told you how I felt in my letters when we were flying 
off 
the Patrick Henry during the Kosovo crisis."

Mac paled slightly as she imagined Harm writing to her in the knowledge 
he 
might never see her again. Instinctively she put her arms around him, 
holding him tightly for some moments until he relaxed as the dreadful 
memories faded.

"Go on," she encouraged him, wanting to change the mood.

Harm sat up again and straightened his dinner jacket. "Okay. Time's up 
and 
Tosca comes to see him, explaining their plan. He's overwhelmed by the 
prospect of salvation and reunion with his fiancée. So when the 
execution is 
about to begin he and her play a tearful goodbye and lightheartedly 
await 
the proceedings. Problem is, Scarpia had never given the order not to 
shoot 
him. So when Cavaradossi falls, hit by the bullets, Tosca signals him 
to 
stay down and not move until all soldiers are away. Then she rushes to 
his 
side - and finds him dead. And just then, when she's in the middle of 
her 
despair, soldiers come up to arrest her for the murder of Scarpia. Oh, 
I 
forgot to tell you this scene is set on top of the Castel Sant'Angelo, 
the 
prison of Rome which is situated on a very steep hill. So, Tosca does 
the 
only thing she can. She climbs onto one of the walls and jumps. End of 
opera."

"Whoa," Mac made, impressed. "That's quite a plot. Promising huge 
amounts of 
emotion I'd say."

"You got it," he confirmed, grinning. Just as he put the program in his 
inside pocket, the limo slowed down and stopped right in front of the 
well-known façade of the Met.



Sat, June 6th
0043 ZULU
Metropolitan Opera
Lincoln Center
New York City, N.Y.



Trish Burnett stood at the first-floor railing, eagerly skimming the 
area 
for her son and his partner. After all that Harm had told her about 
Mac, 
saying Trish was curious to get to know her was brutal understatement. 
Trish 
was all but dying to see the woman she was sure would one day be her 
daughter-in-law if she ever were to get one. Catching sight of a black 
and a 
white figure starting to ascend the stairs, she excitedly grabbed her 
husband's arm.

"Frank, that's them! Look!"

Frank lovingly put an arm around his wife's shoulders and looked into 
the 
direction she had indicated. "Yeah, definitely. Quite a sight, aren't 
they?"

Trish was bubbling with excited joy at what she saw. "Frank, look, of 
course 
you can immediately see the uncanny resemblance to Diane, but Mac's 
just so 
much more beautiful from inside. Look how she beams at him, as if she 
were 
emanating some kind of an aura! She's a gorgeous girl, Frank. And look 
at 
how he smiles back at her! He loves her. I've never seen my son like 
this 
before, and, believe me, I've seen him in a lot of moods."

"Hey, honey, calm down. You don't want to scare Mac by being so giddy, 
do 
you?" Frank said gently.

Trish laughed, blushing slightly. "Yes, you're right. I'll behave. It's 
just... Frank, for so many years I've been hoping Harm would finally 
find 
someone who'd really make him happy. And somehow I knew it could have 
been 
no one else than Mac. When I heard him say they might have gotten 
closer..."

Frank grinned. "I know. I was there. Your scream nearly made me drop my 
wine 
glass."

"I'm sorry."

"Forgiven. And now just be yourself, okay?"

"Thanks, Frank." Trish turned and opened her arms to her son who 
stepped 
close to her and embraced her warmly.

"Hi Mom!"

"Harm! It's so good to see you! It's been too long, you know..."

"I know, Mom. I'm sorry but I've been very busy of late."

Trish bit back a laugh. "Oh, really?"

"Mom!" he said, laughing, letting go of her. She watched him as he 
cordially 
shook Frank's hand and then gently took the hand of the slender young 
woman 
next to him. He pulled her a little closer, pride and love shining in 
his 
eyes. Trish hoped her tears wouldn't rise too easily but seeing Harm 
like 
this was just too much for a mother.

"Mom, Frank, this is Mac," he said simply. "Mac, these are my parents."

To her astonishment Trish felt that the young woman's hand was slightly 
shaking as she took it. Mac was a little pale as well and her eyes 
seemed 
those of a frightened deer although she was smiling. 'My God, the poor 
girl 
seems afraid of making a bad impression,' Trish thought, compassion 
instantly filling her affectionate heart. 'I'm only glad Harm told me a 
bit 
about her history. Otherwise I would be at a loss about why she's 
reacting 
this way.'

"Good evening, Mrs. Burnett," Mac said shyly, "I'm pleased to meet 
you."

"Hello Mac," Trish said warmly, taking Mac's hand into both of her own 
and 
giving her a heartfelt smile. "I'm so happy we finally get to know you. 
Harm's been talking about you constantly these past seven years and I 
think 
it's a scandal we've never met before! And that's Trish to you, not 
Mrs. 
Burnett. You don't mind that, do you?"

"No, ma'am... uh... Trish", Mac stammered, blushing, angry with herself 
for 
being this clumsy but relieved at Trish's easy manner.

'It's very hard to believe this shy little girl could be the 
no-nonsense 
Marine Harm has told us about,' Trish thought in amusement. 'But look 
at him 
- he's an aviator hero, but fails to tell a woman who loves him that he 
loves her back. With these attitudes I don't wonder anymore why it took 
them 
so long to figure it out.' She put her hand on Mac's shoulder. 
"Sarah... you 
don't mind my calling you Sarah, do you? I love that name."

Mac was surprised but on second thought she liked the idea of letting 
Harm's 
mother be one of the select few that called her by her given name. Not 
even 
Harm did, regularly. "No, I'd like that, Trish," she smiled. Harm was 
smiling broadly, seeing his mother obviously liked his Marine.

"Sarah," Trish repeated, making a gesture to her husband, "This is my 
husband Frank."

"Nice to meet you," Mac greeted, shaking hands with him, already 
feeling far 
less uneasy than she had before.

"Same goes here," Frank replied with a smile and then turned to his 
stepson, 
grinning. "You definitely perfected your taste with women, son. 
Congratulations."

Seeing Mac blush and fidget uncomfortably at the straightforward 
praise, 
Harm put a soothing arm around her shoulders and grinned back at Frank. 
"I 
think I had an excellent taste with women from the start. I just didn't 
really know it."

That made all of them laugh, any remainders of previous tension fading 
away.

'They like me,' Mac thought, relieved, 'They really like me. Thank you, 
God!'

Just then the bell announced the beginning of the performance.


Harm loved watching just how much Mac enjoyed the evening. The 
performance 
was smashing in every respect, the orchestra was gorgeous and the three 
main 
characters not only sang divinely but their acting was fit for the 
Academy 
Awards. Frank had gotten top-class seats in the third row, and during 
the 
interval they just remained seated, having so much to talk about.

While Mac was animatedly conversing with Frank, Trish leaned over to 
her son 
who was watching his partner with a smile. "Happy?" she asked in a low 
voice, winking at him knowingly.

"You have no idea," Harm answered softly.

"I'll ask again: she's quite the girl, isn't she?"

Harm chuckled, remembering his reaction back then. Today he didn't mind 
that 
Trish brought up the subject. "She is," he admitted. "And I'm 
determined to 
stick to her."

"Harm, I'm so glad. I'd already given up hope you'd say that about a 
woman 
one day," Trish said, her voice not entirely even. "Take good care of 
her, 
my dear. She's special."

"I know," Harm replied with a smile.


Mac was overwhelmed. The music left her breathless and the story and 
its 
interpretation were so loaded with emotion that she couldn't take her 
eyes 
off the stage. She squeezed Harm's hand, glad he was so close by. When 
Alagna was singing Cavaradossi's last aria, writing his farewells to 
his 
fiancée, Mac felt tears trickle down her cheeks. She let them flow, she 
didn't care.

Remembering their conversation back in the limousine, she imagined Harm 
sitting there, writing to her as he had told her he'd done so many 
times. 
Maybe he had even written a letter on the evening of her wedding 
rehearsal 
dinner. True, those had been training flights, but knowing that bad 
weather 
had been coming in...

Mac had always tried to avoid thinking of that fateful night. But right 
now 
she couldn't fight the memories: how she had been paralyzed at hearing 
the 
dreadful news that Harm was lost at sea. Gnawing fear had grown inside 
her 
with every minute, as they couldn't locate him. She remembered vividly 
the 
flush of hope that ran through her soul when they found Skates - only 
to 
turn into painful disappointment when Harm wasn't found anywhere near 
his 
RIO. She also remembered the wave of despair that had washed over her 
when 
the rescue teams had been ordered back on board the carrier. The 
feeling of 
being utterly helpless, knowing the man she loved was at the very 
moment 
dying out at sea, had nearly driven her out of her senses.

Then a faint ray of hope had broken through the darkness when Chloe had 
suggested Mac should try to locate him with her thoughts just like she 
had 
done when Chloe had been lost in the woods. Mac would never forget how 
her 
heart had skipped several beats at the sudden revelation where he was 
floating. And then, finally, overwhelming relief had nearly made her 
faint, 
at the news that he'd been found alive thanks to the coordinates she'd 
supplied - how she'd done it she still couldn't explain. What if it had 
gone 
wrong? What if she hadn't been able to locate him? What if, a few days 
later, someone had handed her an envelope with his handwriting that 
held a 
letter in which Harm told her he loved her and she found out too late?

Such thoughts were still haunting Mac, even after such a long time. She 
felt 
more tears well up inside her and decided to concentrate on the music 
again. 
Tosca and Cavaradossi were now singing their farewells, convinced 
they'd be 
united in an hour's time, not knowing the dreadful fate that awaited 
them.

Then, after a breathtaking finale, the curtain fell and a hurricane of 
applause broke loose. Harm took his handkerchief out of his pocket, put 
his 
left index finger under Mac's chin and gently dried her tears, smiling. 
She 
was beautiful even when she'd been crying.

The applause lasted a full twenty minutes. When they could finally let 
rest 
their red, sore hands, Mac, Harm and his parents left the auditorium 
and 
went to await their limousine outside the building.

"Thank you, all of you, for a wonderful evening," Mac said with a huge 
sigh. 
"This really was a hallmark event in my life."

Trish beamed at her. "I'm glad you enjoyed it, Sarah."

Encircling her in his arms, Harm brushed a gentle kiss to Mac's lips. 
"Thank 
you for accompanying us," he smiled. Reveling in the feeling of being a 
happy family, none of the four was aware of a pair of large dark eyes 
staring at them from a short distance.

Maribel Gonzalez had been less than thrilled at the prospect of having 
to 
accompany her aunt to just another boring night at the Met. But little 
had 
she known the evening would turn out to be so humiliating. She had seen 
them 
only on exiting the building and she had stopped short in her tracks as 
she'd recognized the tall dark-haired man in the tuxedo. And she'd felt 
her 
knees fail her when the gorgeous woman he held in his arms had for a 
second 
turned in her direction, long enough to be recognized as no other than 
Cadet 
Patricia O'Hara, the girl she had thought to be her brother's new 
girlfriend.

Suddenly Maribel was convinced there was no Cadet O'Hara at all. 
Whoever 
Harm's girlfriend was - she was a grown-up woman, and Maribel had to 
recognize that she'd never even have the hint of a chance with Harm as 
long 
as the other woman was near. It was clear that Harm worshipped her. If 
Maribel guessed correctly her competitor even knew his parents quite 
well. 
Maribel was fuming. No, she wasn't heartbroken, but she was deadly mad 
at 
the man who'd fooled her.

Maribel knew Harm was a JAG lawyer. She hadn't thought he could be on 
an 
investigation, but obviously he was trying to spy on her family's 
business, 
and the woman probably was his partner, planted inside the college to 
collect further evidence. 'Okay, Harmon Rabb, Jr.,' she thought grimly. 
'If 
you can fool us, we can do the same with you. In no time we'll have the 
true 
identity of your pretty little girlfriend, and I swear to you, when we 
do 
hell will break loose!'



Sat, June 6th
0417 ZULU
Waldorf Astoria Hotel
New York City, N.Y.



Having bid goodnight to Harm's parents, Harm and Mac exited the 
elevator and 
silently, hand in hand, walked to Harm's door and entered his room. 
When he 
had closed the door behind them and switched on only a small 
side-light, the 
tension between them became palpable. They stood face to face, watching 
each 
other earnestly, lost in thoughts and lost in each other's eyes, 
neither of 
them speaking a word. Harm's heart was beating wildly when he finally 
closed 
the distance and with trembling fingertips traced the outlines of Mac's 
face. He knew exactly what he wanted to do but didn't dare to start.

Mac's gaze was intense, but not really focused on him. Her eyes seemed 
to 
trespass the border of his face and look right into his mind. What she 
saw 
thrilled and scared her at the same time. With an equally trembling 
hand she 
reached for his and made it rest on her cheek.

Harm swallowed and closed his eyes for a moment, unable to endure the 
eye 
contact. But then he forced himself to again look at her and, as if in 
slow 
motion, leaned in and let his lips brush hers. Mac's response was 
immediate. 
After a moment of timid tasting their kiss grew in passion and Harm put 
one 
arm around her waist and buried his free hand in her hair. Mac let 
herself 
be drawn close and wrapped her arms around his neck.

She didn't argue when his hand found the zipper of her dress and slowly 
lowered it. Instead she brushed his dinner jacket off his shoulders, 
then 
removed his bow-tie and waistcoat and began to unbutton his shirt, thus 
revealing his well-shaped body she'd been dreaming of constantly since 
Venice and occasionally before.

Seeing her dress drop to the floor, Harm couldn't believe this was 
really 
happening. Breaking the kiss he pulled Mac close and let her bury her 
face 
on his bare chest. He took long and deep breaths, taking in the scent 
of her 
shampoo and perfume, closing his eyes and imagining what he might see 
upon 
opening them again. He felt himself tremble with an anticipation he 
tried 
not to let show too openly. After endless moments he felt her stir in 
his 
arms.

"Harm," she whispered, "I don't know if..." Her voice was strained.

A wave of disappointment washed over him. "It's all right," he said 
soothingly as he stroked the back of her head and then let go of her. 
She 
stepped out of her dress and shoes and picked them up, heading for the 
connecting door between their rooms. He followed her, opening the door 
for 
her with a smile that was just a little sad. But he wanted her to know 
he 
wasn't upset.

She turned in the doorway, her white satin underwear clearly visible on 
her 
olive-tanned skin against the dark background of her room. "I'm sorry," 
she 
whispered again, "I really don't know why..."

He gently cut her off. "There's nothing to apologize for, Sarah. I told 
you 
we'd do this when time was right. For both of us."

"Thank you, Harm. I love you."

"I love you, too, Sarah. Sleep tight."

"You, too, sailor."

With that she closed the door, leaning against it and fighting her 
tears. 
This was what she'd wanted for so long. Why'd she have to be such a 
coward?



Sat, June 6th
0521 ZULU
Waldorf Astoria Hotel
New York City, N.Y.



Harm, in his boxers, was lying on his back on top of his king size 
double 
bed, unable to sleep. The growing intimacy between him and Mac was 
playing 
and re-playing in his mind. The image had chased away every last 
remainder 
of inward calmness he might have had earlier. God, he wanted her! 
Badly. But 
at the same time he'd never be able to do anything that she didn't 
fully 
consent to. How could he possibly? He worshipped her, so she had to be 
the 
one who set the level of intimacy.

He froze when he suddenly heard the connecting door open. Cautiously he 
sat 
up and saw a figure approaching in the darkness. Getting up, he met her 
halfway in the middle of his room.

"Mac, what's up?" he said worriedly as he let his hands rest on her 
upper 
arms, noticing she was in her terry-cloth robe, trembling slightly.

"Nothing really..." she replied in a very low voice.

"Can't sleep, my favorite Marine?" he asked softly, trying to read her 
expression in the darkness.

"Yeah..." she whispered, swallowing. "Harm," she started, closing the 
distance and letting herself be embraced by her rather surprised 
partner, 
"I... I want to feel you close to me." Her voice was barely audible. 
Harm 
felt her shake, at the same time noticing how his heart rate doubled in 
the 
fraction of a second.

"You sure?" he whispered. "You don't have to do this, Mac, if you don't 
want 
to."

Even in the darkness he could feel her firm glance. "I want this, Harm. 
If 
you do."

"I do." He inhaled sharply as she stepped back a little, opened the 
belt of 
her robe and let it slide to the floor. Harm had always tried to 
imagine 
what she might look like, but his imagination hadn't come close to what 
he 
saw. Her round but slender form, her silky skin that in the moonlight 
shimmered just a little bit, the perfect proportion of her limbs...

When she saw him this paralyzed, she again closed the distance, nearly 
driving him crazy in their closeness. Slowly Harm seemed to wake from 
his 
state. He gently lifted her to his arms and carried her over to the bed 
where he lowered her on her back. Then he lay down next to her, on his 
back 
as well, shyly taking her hand.

To his astonishment he heard Mac chuckle. "I thought I was the one 
who's 
scared."

She felt rather than heard him laugh. "I feel like a school boy who 
doesn't 
know what to do, Mac." Somehow his confession eased the tension.

"What? The great Harmon Rabb is at a loss with a woman? Impossible," 
she 
stated in an amused half-whisper. "Come on, flyboy, start by kissing 
me."

"Aye, ma'am," he murmured just before their lips joined in a warm, 
passionate kiss. Both were aware that the situation was quickly getting 
out 
of hand. With a huge effort, Harm eventually managed to draw back and 
very 
earnestly, tenderly looked into her eyes once more. "Are you really 
sure 
about this, Sarah?" His voice was very warm and velvety, making Mac 
feel 
secure and confident.

"Yes, I am," came her soft but firm reply that carried audible traces 
of her 
smile. "You?"

"I've never been so sure about anything in my life before," he said, 
swallowing heavily at the prospect of what would follow.

"I love you, Harmon Rabb, Jr.," he heard her whisper before she kissed 
him 
again. This was the final signal Harm needed to let go of his lifeline.

"I love you, too, Sarah Mackenzie." With his right index finger he 
gently 
traced her smile. "Mac..."

"Yeah...?"

"I'm not imagining things, right? This is really happening, isn't it?" 
She 
could tell he was only half-joking.

He could hear her smile when her reply came in a barely audible 
whisper. 
"We're both in the middle of a dream, but this surely isn't our 
imagination." With this said, they joined in a lovemaking so deeply 
sensitive and emotional neither of them had ever experienced in their 
lives.



Same time
Unknown location



The computer screen flickered in the dark, lighting the deserted office 
in a 
pale blue. The figure in front of it didn't move, seeming to stare 
blankly 
through the words and pictures on the monitor. Only fingers were moving 
quickly on the keyboard, the clicking being the only sound in the room, 
accompanied by the low hum of the computer's ventilation.

With an expert's knowledge, the hacker maneuvered his way through the 
jungle 
of government organization structures, being stopped a couple of times 
by 
rather pitiful jokes authorities called security precautions. Building 
one 
virtual bridge after another, the man slowly approached his target, 
still 
not giving any outward sign of even noticing, let alone feeling 
satisfaction, as he pushed the 'enter' key one last time.

The screen turned all black to reveal a tiny hourglass. Moments later a 
picture slowly started to appear before the person's eyes, accompanied 
by 
some data related to it. It was a passport photo of a woman. 
Chin-length 
dark hair, big brown eyes. She was wearing a Marine lieutenant 
colonel's 
uniform.

The shadow in front of the computer moved, extended one arm and picked 
up 
the receiver of a telephone, dialing a number.

"Jefe, soy Bernardo." [Boss it's me, Bernardo.] The voice was hoarse. 
He 
paused, listening.
"Sí, tengo los datos que usted me preguntó. Sí, la identidad de ella." 
[Yes, 
I have the data you asked me for. Yes, her identity.]

Another brief interval while the computer's ventilation hummed on.

"Es como supusimos: Es su partner...sí, avogada. Teniente Coronello 
Sarah 
Mackenzie, sí, del JAG." [It's as we thought: She's his partner...yes, 
a 
lawyer. Lt. Col. Sarah Mackenzie, yes, from the JAG.]

Another interval in which he listened intently to the person on the 
other 
end of the line.

"Sí, supongo que está protegiendo a la hija, pero seguramente ella y el 
comandante están recogiendo informacíones sobre la organisación...sí, 
entiendo. Nos vemos mañana. Muy bien, jefe. Adiós." [Yes, I suppose 
she's 
protecting the girl, but surely she and the commander are collecting 
information on the organization...yes, I understand. See you tomorrow. 
Very 
well, boss. Goodbye.]

The hacker inserted a floppy disc, copied the file, switched off the 
computer and quietly disappeared into the darkness.



Sat, June 6th
1312 ZULU
Waldorf Astoria Hotel
New York City, N.Y.



A brilliant ray of the morning sun passed in between two slats of the 
blinds 
outside the window. Mac woke from the warmth she felt on her nose, 
blinking 
and closing her eyes rapidly at the light that shone in her direction. 
Her 
sense of orientation didn't fully work yet, and for the briefest moment 
set 
her wondering what she was doing in another bed than her own, naked. 
But 
just then a slight rustling of sheets to her right reminded her where 
she 
was and, more important, with whom.

Mac drew a deep, content breath, smiling and snuggling back into her 
pillow. 
Turning her head a little she watched her partner, friend and lover 
sleeping 
peacefully, the hint of a smile gracing his handsome face. She longed 
to 
touch him, caress him, kiss him, but she refrained from all such 
notions, 
wanting him to get as much rest as he could. She'd watch over him.

Letting her thoughts wander, she wasn't surprised they immediately took 
her 
back to what had happened some hours ago. 'Now I know what taking one's 
breath away means,' she thought, smiling, again feeling shivers on her 
spine 
as she had at his touch. 'How does he do that?' she wondered, thinking 
of 
her previous relationships. The comparison to Chris forbid itself. She 
had 
been drunk most of the time. Farrow? The guilt and the fear of being 
charged 
with fraternization had prevented her from really letting go. Dalton. 
Well, 
they'd had their moments but the memory felt shallow. And Mic... Maybe 
with 
him she'd come closest to love until now. He was a good man and he had 
adored her. But in all those years since she'd first known a certain 
aviator 
it had been Harm, and only Harm, who'd been able to make adrenaline 
flow in 
her veins without even touching her, to make her feel at home in the 
few 
moments they'd come close and to prevent her heart from ever truly 
opening 
itself to any other man, despite the fact that until Venice she'd 
always 
felt they couldn't have a future together.

A future together. Wow. Butterflies were starting to flutter in her 
stomach 
as she recalled the conversation they'd had in her office after Webb 
had 
told them of their assignment. 'As long as it takes, Harm,' she 
repeated in 
her mind, 'I'll always be there for you.'

The sunray had wandered on and was causing Harm to subconsciously 
wrinkle 
his nose. He had such a funny expression on his face that Mac couldn't 
help 
but giggle. He stirred, turned his head in her direction sleepily and 
blinked. For a second she noticed pure astonishment in his eyes upon 
seeing 
her, but then his memory clicked in and the warmest of all smiles 
spread 
over his features.

"Hey, my favorite Marine," he said very softly, "How's the situation?"

"Pretty agreeable, Commander," she replied with a smile.

"Definitely," he grinned, lifting the blanket a little to invite her to 
join 
him. Mac turned to lie on her other side and spooned up against his 
warm 
body. He encircled her in his arms and kissed her on the back of her 
neck, 
causing her to feel new shivers.

"That was quite a night, wasn't it?" She could hear him smile against 
her 
back.

Blushing slightly she replied: "Tell me about it, flyboy. Excuse me if 
I'm 
being naive, but where on earth did you learn that? Don't tell the 
Marine 
Corps, but you had me eating from your hands, squid."

She felt his laughter against her back. "Wow. Now that's a flattering 
confession, Colonel. I'll write it down and make you sign it, so I can 
hold 
it up whenever you get your little green Marine nose up too high."

Shifting in his arms so that she faced him, she playfully slapped him, 
laughing.

"Ouch," he made, not very convincingly. His grin was contradicting his 
statement.

"And how would you 'make' me sign the confession, counselor?" she asked 
mischievously.

Mirroring her mischief, he pulled her close and started trailing little 
kisses from her cheek along her jaw down to her neck. "With this...and 
this...and this..." he murmured between the kisses, making her giggle.

"Okay, I see your point."

"Do you?" he grinned, pinning her underneath himself and kissing her 
tenderly. Then his face suddenly sobered, making Mac look at him 
worriedly.

"What's up, sailor?"

His eyes conveyed a bad conscience when he locked his glance with hers. 
"We 
didn't use any protection, Sarah."

She gave a sigh of relief. "Oh, that's what's bothering you? You had me 
worried for a minute. Harm, that's absolutely no problem. Okay, 
normally it 
sure would have been, but I know I can trust you 'cause when we donated 
blood some months ago we were all tested for infections. And you 
haven't 
been with another woman since then, have you?" Her glance was sincere.

"No, I haven't. But what about..."

"I'm on the pill, Harm," she gently cut him off. At his astonished 
glance 
she smiled. "No, I haven't been with anyone but the hormonal regulation 
makes me feel better. That's why I never quit taking it after..." she 
let 
her voice trail off, not wanting to mention Mic when she was sharing 
Harm's 
bed.

Harm's expression relaxed. "You know, normally I'm not this 
thoughtless, but 
with you I lost control."

She took up his previous remark. "Now that's a flattering confession 
coming 
from a pilot. Would you please write it down and sign it for me, 
Commander?"

His face showed something between a frown and a smile. "Hit and 
wounded, 
Colonel.
Truce?"

"Truce." She kissed him long and passionately.

When they parted for air, Harm looked at her in amusement. "Why, Mac, I 
could get used to that. What was that for?"

"Just a starter," she whispered seductively. "Tell me, we're not 
supposed to 
meet your parents today, are we?"

"No," he answered, a grin slowly spreading over his face, understanding 
where she was headed. "You sure you're not hungry yet, Marine?" he 
teased.

"Oh, I'm definitely hungry," she purred, snuggling even closer to him.

"Well, then I guess it's my task to feed you," he murmured before 
kissing 
her afresh.



Sat, June 6th
2108 ZULU
Unknown Location



Three men were sitting around the small table in the farthest-off 
corner of 
the dirty little bar. One was smoking a thick cigar, wearing a far-away 
look, seeming to meditate on his thoughts. The second was chain smoking 
cigarettes and nervously shifting on his chair. The third sat by calmly 
and 
watched. Finally the man with the cigar looked up to the others' faces.

"Algunas proposiciones para arreglar esta situación?" [Any propositions 
to 
handle this situation?]

The cigarette-man took a deep breath. "Tenemos que suprimir a ella. Es 
demasiado peligrosa para nosotros, estando en el colegio." [We've got 
to do 
away with her. She's too dangerous for us, staying at the college.]

The cigar-smoker nodded, looking at the third man. "Gomez?"

The quiet man didn't shift upon answering. Seeming like frozen, he 
said: "No 
creo que sea una buena idea, jefe. Segundo las informaciones que recibí 
los 
dos son amigos muy vecinos. Corre la voz que Rabb quiere a ella. Si 
suprimos 
a Mackenzie el comandante nunca nos deja en paz. Será mejor escamotear 
a él. 
Y si no nos da ninguna ocasión podemos siempre hacerle entender que el 
coronello va a sufrir muchísimo si no acaba de investigar. Y quando le 
tenemos así dependiente de nosotros, encontraremos una posibilidad para 
terminar a todos los dos."

[I don't think that's a good idea, boss. According to the information I 
got, 
the two of them are very close friends. There are rumors that Rabb 
loves 
her. If we do away with Mackenzie the commander will never leave us in 
peace. It'll be better to make 'him' disappear. And if he doesn't give 
us an 
opportunity we can always make him understand that the colonel will 
suffer 
very much if he won't drop the investigation. And once we've got him 
depending on us, we'll find a way to finish them both.]

Thin, evil smiles slowly appeared on the faces of the other two men. 
The one 
with the cigar raised his glass of wine. "Comandante Rabb, Coronello 
Mackenzie, que sus vidas sean benditas y felizes." [Cmdr. Rabb, Col. 
Mackenzie, may your lives be blessed and happy.]



END OF PART THREE