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



Wed, June 10th
2253 ZULU
Nick's World Wide Wafers
Long Island, N.Y.



Mac was smiling to herself, shaking her head. She was definitely losing 
her 
wits if by now even opening an email could cause sudden heat to flow 
through 
her body. But since the incredible weekend every allusion, word or 
image 
whatsoever that could possibly remind her of Harm in some way, produced 
a 
similar effect. 'God, don't let me run on constant high adrenaline for 
the 
rest of my life,' she pleaded, chuckling to herself. 'I'd be a terrible 
mother, no such thing as patience.' She moved her mouse to the 'open' 
button 
and resolutely clicked.


To: Harmsmarine@freemail.com
From: Harmon Rabb (Sarahssailor@freemail.com)
Subject: What have you done to me?????

My dearest Marine,

How could you be so cruel and leave me alone in my current state of 
mind? 
I've hardly been able to get anything done in the last few days. My 
sense 
happily left me. Guess it didn't like being squashed between the 
myriads of 
thoughts that are spinning in my brain, every single one of them about 
you.

This is so mean of you, jarhead, to deprive me of what makes me fit for 
my 
job. I'm stuttering in the easiest of situations, just because there 
might 
be something I accidentally see or hear that reminds me of you. I catch 
myself daydreaming all the time, or worse - I'm caught daydreaming by 
someone else. And at night... Mac, it's worse than ever. Before last 
Friday 
I had finally gotten accustomed to get a little sleep without you by my 
side. But now it's hopeless.

But I'll stop complaining because when I'm lying awake you're with me, 
Sarah. The memories are so vivid I can actually feel you in my arms. 
That 
helps a great deal.

Last weekend was incredibly beautiful, Mac. Thank you for being with 
me. I 
don't think there's any man in the world feeling what I do right now. 
Okay, 
I'm sure there are many who'd claim the same thing for themselves, but 
I'm 
convinced I'm still better off. Just the idea of being loved by you the 
way 
you showed me makes my world spin. Once again: what did I do to deserve 
you? 
It's beyond my capacity of understanding. I love you so much I don't 
know 
how I can make you see the full extent of my feelings. But I swear I'm 
gonna 
show you once we get out of here!

Maribel's been a little distant these last days. I think she's mad at 
me for 
not having spent the weekend with her. Well, as much as I'll hate it, 
I'm 
going to make it up a little to her. But don't be alarmed - nothing 
serious 
is going to happen. The very thought makes me want to throw up. Anyway, 
Maribel's got no reason to be angry. She told me she went up to the 
Adirondacks, hiking, with a friend. I guess she had her share of fun 
while 
we did... See? That's what I mean. One sentence, one association, and 
I'm 
carried away with my imagination.

Have a little pity with a poor, mentally disturbed sailor who in his 
current 
state wouldn't dare to fly any planes (Imagine me saying that, Mac!), 
but 
who on the other hand does a great job expressing his feelings (Don't 
I? 
Please, tell me I've at least improved on that ground, otherwise I 
might 
think I lost it completely!),

I love you,

Harm


With a huge grin on her face, Mac clicked on the 'reply' button. 'I'm 
just 
glad to hear I'm not the only one,' she thought, relieved. Just as she 
wanted to start writing, she felt a hand on her shoulder and gave a 
start. 
She quickly moved another Internet window on top of her mail program 
and 
turned around to find Jeannine smiling at her.

"God, Janni, you scared me to death," Mac tried her escape, "Lesson 
finished?"

Jeannine grinned. "Closed your dirty page, did you?"

Mac felt herself blush. "Er... no. Okay, I'll tell you, but keep it a 
secret. It's a rather silly game page I got addicted to. It's German, 
www.moorhuhn.de, but you don't need the language to play. You just 
shoot 
these silly-looking grouses. I'll show you, if you like."

"I'd like to," Jeannine answered, "But let's do it another time, okay? 
We 
don't have much time left until we have to get back, and, uhm..." She 
looked 
at Mac rather embarrassedly. "Pat, do you have a tampon you could give 
me?"

Mac smiled, her previous tension lessening as Jeannine seemed to buy 
her 
story. "Sure. Take my purse, it's in the little compartment with the 
zipper. 
Meanwhile I'm gonna finish an email I was writing."

"Already on my way back," Jeannine said, taking off for the restrooms. 
Mac 
instantly went back to writing.


To: Sarahssailor@freemail.com
From: Sarah Mackenzie (Harmsmarine@freemail.com)
Subject: Contagious!!

Hi, my flyboy lover!

I don't have much time, 'cause the café's cramped and I had to wait to 
get 
to a terminal. Jeannine's lesson is already over. I just wanted to tell 
you 
two things: first, Pablo's not as unforgiving as I thought. Mad as he 
was at 
me when I told him I had to go home for the weekend, he's now as nice 
as 
ever. We're making rapid progress, I fear, not only with my Spanish. 
I'll 
have to think of something to keep him at a little distance without 
causing 
suspicions. He's taking the concept of a 'latin lover' very seriously. 
But 
don't be afraid: you said, thinking of Maribel made you want to vomit? 
Well, 
I almost knocked out Pablo instead.

Pablo yesterday came to wake me up in the morning, sneaking into my 
room, 
can you guess??? He admitted he stole my spare key from me during 
Monday's 
Spanish lesson. Good job, thinking he got to do with a U.S. Marine. 
Don't 
let the Corps hear that, okay? Anyway, when he was creeping to my 
bedside I 
woke in shock, jumped to my feet and introduced him to my right hook. 
After 
that I guess I made it quite clear to him that I wasn't too amused 
about his 
stunt. I just had to hold myself back from bringing out the colonel 
while 
yelling.

I could tell he was impressed, only stammering he'd thought it might be 
a 
welcome surprise waking up next to the man of my dreams... He's got a 
big 
black eye now that he's trying to cover with some make-up I gave him. 
But he 
hasn't got an aviator who knows how to paint things! (Snicker...)

Second thing: yes, it would damn right be a welcome surprise waking up 
next 
to the man of my dreams. Harm, I miss you so much it hurts. I'm out of 
my 
senses at least as much as you are, I can tell you that for sure.

Last weekend was... I can't tell just what it was. The only thing I 
know is 
that I'll remember every single second of it as long as I live.

Gotta go, love you!

Mac



Same time
Ladies' restrooms
Nick's World Wide Wafers
Long Island, N.Y.



Jeannine opened Mac's purse, glad her friend was able to supply her 
with 
what she needed. Being in summer whites made you repent even more if 
you 
forgot to count the hours during your 'female' days. Searching for the 
little zipper bag, Jeannine twisted and turned her friend's purse, 
frowning. 
Then she'd finally located it. The zipper didn't move.

'What the...' Jeannine's thoughts didn't get any further than that. 
While 
making an effort to open the little bag, Jeannine's fingers slipped off 
the 
zipper. The sudden movement gave the purse a rather strong momentum and 
sent 
it flying against the wall and falling down with a 'thud'.

"Sh...ame!" Jeannine exclaimed, quickly kneeling down to gather all of 
her 
friend's belongings that lay spread on the floor. Seeing her friend's 
wallet 
had opened, Jeannine picked it up to close it again to make sure 
nothing 
could fall out.

Just then, something sailed to the floor. Jeannine grabbed it... and 
stared. 
It was a black-and-white portrait photo of none other than Commander 
Harmon 
Rabb, Jr., and on the back was written something. Normally Jeannine 
respected the privacy of others but this particular case was just too 
much 
for her curiosity. She turned the picture around and read:

'To my Sarah, my favorite Marine, my life, my love. Always, Harm.'

Jeannine stared at the words, her hands beginning to tremble. Something 
wasn't right. Something about Pat, the girl she'd come to trust 
completely 
in her desperate situation, wasn't right. Who was Sarah? Fear of being 
misled and left alone gnawing at her nerves, Jeannine took up the 
wallet 
again and watched it more closely. The picture had obviously fallen out 
of a 
hidden side-compartment that was normally closed by a button. Upon 
impact, 
the button had opened.

With trembling fingers Jeannine reached inside and pulled out a small 
ID 
that proved her fears to be true: Cadet Patricia O'Hara, the friend of 
her 
utmost trust, didn't even exist. She was holding in her hands the 
personal 
belongings of one Sarah Catherine Mackenzie, born back in 1967, JAG 
lawyer 
and Lieutenant Colonel in the United States Marine Corps. And not only 
her 
friend, someone else had deceived her, too, by planting a spy right in 
her 
apartment: Commander Harmon Rabb, Jr., the one person she'd risked her 
life 
to meet. Hot tears stinging in her eyes, Jeannine leaned back against 
the 
bathroom wall, slowly sliding down into a crouched sitting position, 
desperately searching to control her feelings.


Mac was beginning to wonder what was taking Jeannine so long. Finally, 
she 
got up and went over to the ladies' restrooms to look for her friend. 
She 
found the girl sitting on the floor, firmly clutching the purse, traces 
of 
tears glistening on her cheeks. Worried, Mac started to kneel down when 
she 
saw the look in Jeannine's eyes: hostile, cold, hurt. Luckily, no one 
else 
seemed to be in the room.

"Janni, what..."

"That's Cadet Stiller to you, ma'am!" Jeannine spat.

Mac felt hot fury well up inside herself. "Did you snoop through my 
wallet, 
Cadet?" she said icily, her hands clenched to fists, trying to stay 
calm.

"It happened to fall out, ma'am." Jeannine stressed the 'ma'am' in 
bitter 
mockery.

"You had no right to invade my privacy!" Mac raised her voice, 
stressing 
every syllable. Her stare would even have intimidated Lt. Singer, but 
Jeannine was too furious to notice it.

"You damn sure invaded mine!!" she yelled, starting to sob. Seeing 
Jeannine 
cry somehow brought Mac to her senses. She knelt down and put a hand on 
the 
girl's shoulder.

"I'm here to protect you, not to use you as a cover for my 
investigation."

Jeannine violently shook Mac's hand off and glared at her, tears still 
flowing. "That's not the point, ma'am! You sneaked into my life! You 
lured 
me into trusting you and betrayed my trust by pretending to be someone 
who 
doesn't even exist! Does the word friendship mean anything to you? Did 
you 
ever hear it's got something to do with mutual trust and bonding? Did 
you 
know being let down by someone you trust can hurt big time? You offered 
to 
sustain me in this hell I'm going through and I accepted because I just 
lost 
the closest friend I ever had! And now I find all was just set up to 
get you 
inside the college for an investigation that could advance your career. 
Where does that leave me? Well, I guess that doesn't matter, ma'am, 
because 
you're quite above caring for some insignificant girl like me!"

Gritting her teeth, Mac drew herself up to full height. Her face was 
white 
with rage and her hands were trembling. "Get to your feet, Cadet," she 
hissed, deadly serious, her glare sending daggers at the raging girl 
who 
slowly got up and reluctantly came to attention.

"Right now I'm feeling very much inclined to tell Captain Wells to 
expel you 
for insubordination and disrespecting an officer." Mac's voice was 
trembling 
with the fury she tried to hold in check. "But I won't because it 
wouldn't 
be helpful with the case. Actually, we'll have to play being friends a 
little longer, Cadet Stiller, if you like it or not. And this is the 
only 
reason why I'm going to tell you something I'd never tell anyone who 
insulted and hurt me the way you just did."

Mac paused a moment, trying to calm down. Jeannine watched her in 
silence, 
noticing the emotional struggle the other was fighting. Mac's voice was 
low 
and strained when she finally spoke. "I know damn well what it means to 
be 
let down, Cadet! I've been through that situation more often than you'd 
like 
to know. I know how the feeling of being hurt and betrayed can eat you 
up 
from inside. And it eventually led me to the point where I thought 
friends 
didn't even exist."

Another flash of fury lit up Mac's eyes. "And don't you dare tell me I 
didn't know the concept of real friendship, Cadet. Some years back I 
got to 
know someone who trusted me without even knowing who I was, although at 
one 
point I even pointed a gun at him and lied to him. He saved my life 
more 
than once, putting his own on the line. He showed me what real loyalty 
and 
friendship are like and I've been trying to be just the same anchor and 
source of strength for him as he is for me. We went through bitter 
times but 
our friendship survived. Because we knew what it means to us. I'm sure 
you 
never even came near yet to experiencing what friendship can be, Cadet. 
But 
I have. So, once again: don't you dare accusing me of not honoring the 
concept!"

Mac's voice had risen to full volume on the last sentence, causing 
Jeannine 
to wince. The girl looked at the tall woman's face that showed anger, 
hurt, 
defense, passion and... love? Jeannine's fury slowly began to fade away 
as 
she understood that Lieutenant Colonel Sarah Mackenzie had an 
affectionate 
heart, very much like Pat O'Hara, the girl she'd come to like so much 
during 
the last few weeks.

Closing her eyes for a brief moment, Mac took several deep breaths to 
calm 
down. When she opened her eyes again, she found Jeannine looking at 
her, her 
gaze not friendly but not cold either.

"You were talking about Commander Rabb, ma'am, weren't you?" Jeannine 
asked 
quietly.

"I..."

Just then, a woman entered the restrooms. Mac and Jeannine busied 
themselves 
washing their hands.

"Let's continue this someplace else, Cadet," Mac muttered under her 
breath.

"Aye, ma'am."

They exited the café and set off in the direction of the beach, not 
caring 
that they would be late for dinner. After a rather long period of 
silence, 
Mac spoke up.

"You were right, Cadet. I was talking about Commander Rabb."

"I... I saw the photo, ma'am," Jeannine admitted uneasily.

"I guessed as much," came Mac's guarded reply.

"How long have you known him, ma'am?"

"Seven years."

"Are you married? Excuse me if I'm impertinent, ma'am, but I think I 
have a 
right to know whom I told so many details about my own life."

Mac couldn't help smiling a little at Jeannine's last remark. It held a 
striking logic. They were supposed to be friends. So why not tell her? 
"If 
we were married we couldn't work together, Cadet."

"But isn't it just the same working with your husband or with your 
boyfriend?"

"Technically, yes. At least for the military."

"So how come you..."

"Nobody knows," Mac cut in quietly.

At the admission, Jeannine lost her guard and openly stared at the 
officer. 
"You've been going against regs for years and succeeded to let it go 
unnoticed?"

Mac's smile was just a little sad. 'I wish we had,' she silently said 
to 
herself. 'We've lost so much time.' "Three months, Cadet," was all she 
replied aloud. The answer made Jeannine's eyes get even rounder.

"I'm sorry I'm dwelling on the subject, ma'am, but you mean you've been 
together for so long and never got involved until recently? That's an 
incredible achievement."

Mac's chuckle carried a trace of bitterness. "It'd be more appropriate 
to 
call it cowardice, beating around the bush, misunderstanding, backing 
away, 
whatever you like. On both sides," she added.

"Oh..."

They walked on in silence, both contemplating the situation. They knew 
they 
had to get to at least some kind of a working relationship. Again it 
was Mac 
who made the first move. Like when she'd first presented herself to her 
new 
roommate, she thought straightforwardness might work best. She stopped 
her 
pace, causing Jeannine to stop as well and look at her expectantly.

"Let me make a proposition. It's up to you to accept, I'll be okay with 
any 
decision you make, although I hope you'll consent. It's true that I was 
sent 
to Dwayne Myers in order to be your undercover bodyguard and to 
investigate 
a case the CIA's involved in. Actually it's the matter Meryl might have 
stumbled over. But I have to admit that, apart from the investigation, 
I 
really enjoy college life."

Mac let her gaze wander to the open sea, shading her eyes with her 
hand. 
"You know, before joining the Marine Corps my life's been one big mess. 
I 
was an alcoholic at sixteen and my abusive father succeeded to turn my 
home 
to hell. Being a member of a rich family and going to college without 
really 
worrying about anything has been a singular experience for me. My new 
life's 
easy-going and full of incredible events. But most of all, apart from 
having 
to keep up my cover, that is, I could just be myself. Especially with 
the 
marching band. I love being together with all of you. I rarely had so 
much 
fun. And though you may find it hard to believe: you got to know the 
real 
Sarah Mackenzie, not some made-up person. People may call me Patricia 
O'Hara, but the person they are friends with is none other than Sarah 
Mackenzie, living a part of her youth she never came to know."

Turning her head to face a very thoughtful Jeannine, Mac continued: "So 
the 
person you trusted and called your friend will always be the same, the 
name 
doesn't really matter. I'm sorry I couldn't tell you the truth but I 
wasn't 
allowed to. That's what I hate about undercover ops. You even have to 
lie to 
the people who mean something to you. But now that you found out anyway 
I 
can only tell you that I never betrayed your trust, neither did Harm. 
We're 
both your friends, and if you decide to see me as exactly the same 
person 
you considered your friend, we can continue our friendship as before."

Jeannine smiled an unsure smile, obviously glad to have her friend back 
but 
not knowing how to react. "I... I'd be glad to, ma'am."

Smiling, Mac held out her hand and presented herself in her unique 
minimalist manner: "Mac."

Jeannine's smile widened as she took the offered hand and squeezed it. 
"Janni."


"We must come up with something why we couldn't be on time for dinner," 
Mac 
said after a little while, thoughtfully chewing her lower lip.

"Maybe Cmdr. Rabb could help?" Jeannine suggested with just the hint of 
a 
smile on her lips.

Mac raised an eyebrow. "You think I should call him?"

"Yep," Jeannine grinned.

Chuckling, Mac pulled out her cell-phone, happy about the unexpected 
opportunity to talk to her sailor.

On the third ring he picked up. "Rabb."

"Hey, flyboy. It's me."

"Mac!" His voice conveyed real surprise and joy. But concern 
immediately 
took over. "You're not supposed to call me. Something wrong? You okay?"

Mac smiled at his rushed questions. "No, everything's fine. Could you 
just 
meet me at the Internet café as soon as possible, please? Something's 
come 
up."

"I'll be right there. By the way: I love you, jarhead."

"I love you, too, squid." With a smile Mac ended the connection and 
found 
Jeannine still grinning at her.

"What?"

"That was cute, ma'am... uhm, Mac," Jeannine corrected herself at 
seeing 
Mac's raised eyebrows.

"Thanks. Harm will meet us at Nick's in five."

Chatting, they set off to return to the café.


Harm hurriedly entered the café and to his astonishment found Mac 
sitting in 
a hidden corner, together with Cadet Stiller. Disappointed that they 
wouldn't be able to talk freely, Harm snapped to professor's mode and 
casually strode over to his students.

"Good evening, Cadet Stiller, Cadet O'Hara," he said, casting Mac a 
questioning glance.

She just chuckled. "Save that for your lessons, flyboy. Janni found 
out."

"I see..." He was unsure how to react to her comment. Mac signaled him 
to 
sit down and quickly gave him a peck on the cheek, causing him to blush 
and 
Jeannine to chuckle at the sight of the embarrassed commander.

"Okay," he said, nervously clearing his throat, trying half a 
flyboy-grin. 
"What can I do for you, ladies?"

"Sir," Jeannine spoke up with a smile, "We need you to come up with an 
excuse for us. We'll be late for dinner, and that means trouble as in 
t-r-o-u-b-l-e."

"Uh huh...," he drawled, grinning. "Any propositions, Cadet, Colonel?"

"Actually, yes," Mac said, causing Jeannine to look at her in surprise. 
"I 
just had an idea. I saw it once in the movie 'Curly Sue'."

"Mac," Harm replied, dreading what was coming. "You were damn lucky you 
saved my life in Afghanistan with something you saw in a movie. You 
can't be 
sure luck will always be on your side."

"No, but this time no one's life is at stake, sailor. You just have to 
knock 
me down with something heavy and take me to the college's medical 
department 
afterwards, claiming Jeannine called you 'cause I fell and hit my head 
hard." Mac smiled nonchalantly at his shocked expression.

"No way, Mac. I won't hurt you." Harm's glance was icy. Jeannine 
watched the 
exchange with amusement. 'One mule just met another,' she thought.

"Oh yes, you will," Mac shot back, still smiling. "It's the best we can 
come 
up with right now. And they'd believe everything you tell them."

"Mac, I could never..."

"Do I have to make this an order, Commander?" Mac asked pointedly.

Jeannine stared. "You can order him?"

Mac's grin was nasty. "Yep. I'm three months his senior in rank."

Harm stared at his partner. "You wouldn't..."

"Yes, I would. In fact, as you seem to be reluctant: Commander, I order 
you 
to knock me down and take me to the college's hospital. Now." Mac 
openly 
grinned at her wincing partner.

Harm started to object but understood that opposition would be 
pointless if 
her mind was made up. And she was right: if, for being late, she and 
Jeannine would be confined to college grounds, the Carnegie Hall 
concert and 
even the investigation might be in danger. Sighing heavily, he asked: 
"Okay, 
where do we go?"

"There's a quiet back street around the corner."

They set off and arrived in a deserted little lane full of garbage. Mac 
took 
a look around and then grabbed a metal pipe. "Okay, this will do," she 
stated, handing it to Harm. "Now hit me on the head. Hard."

Harm's stomach was origami-folding itself inside his belly. "Mac," he 
almost 
whined, "Don't do this to me, please. I could never forgive myself."

Mac put her hands to her hips indignantly. "Don't be a coward. Consider 
this 
a matter of national security if it makes you feel better. Do you know 
what 
James Belushi tells his film-daughter when she's got to hit him? He 
says: 
'Hit me as hard as you love me.' And she does. So: do you love me?"

"Of course I do, but..."

"Then hit me. Now!" Mac was getting exasperated.

Closing his eyes, Harm took a deep breath. "I'm gonna regret this," he 
muttered. Then he raised the metal pipe and with a heartfelt "Forgive 
me, 
Sarah!" let it come down on her head. Mac immediately went down on the 
concrete. Harm dropped the pipe and knelt down at her side. "Mac, do 
you 
hear me? Mac!"

Jeannine just stared at the scene. 'I think I understand what Mac meant 
when 
she said I'd not yet known what real friendship can mean.'

Mac slowly opened her eyes. "Thorough work, Commander," she said with a 
strained smile, blood trickling down her cheek from a gash on her 
forehead.

"I'm so sorry, Sarah," Harm whispered, gently stroking her face.

"Don't be," she replied, "I ordered you."

"But I am," he stated with a sigh.

"Then you can work off your guilt by applying your make-up arts to my 
face, 
flyboy. Now take me to the college. Jeannine called you, remember? And, 
let's say I hit my forehead on the curb."

Harm easily lifted her into his arms and set off for his car, signaling 
Jeannine to follow him.



Thu, June 11th
0323 ZULU
Medical facility
Dwayne Myers Naval College
Long Island, N.Y.



Jeannine was sitting at Mac's bedside, watching over her sleeping 
friend. 
She was impressed by what the colonel had gone through just to save 
them 
from being confined to college grounds and to save the concert. And 
somehow 
she felt proud, too, to be a person the colonel liked to be friends 
with. 'I 
wouldn't mind being like her one day,' she thought.

The door was cautiously opened and Harm tiptoed into the room. "How is 
she, 
Cadet?" he asked in a soft whisper.

"Much better, sir," Jeannine replied just as softly. "She's incredibly 
brave, sir," she added, admiration shining in her voice.

Harm smiled warmly as he looked at the sleeping woman. "She's 
incredible in 
every respect," he said.

Jeannine was touched by the amount of feeling the commander's voice 
conveyed. "This investigation must be hard for you two, sir," she 
stated 
quietly. "I'll leave you alone. Don't worry, I'll stick to my room. 
I'll be 
safe. Give her my love when she wakes, sir."

"Thank you, Cadet Stiller," Harm replied warmly, "I will."



Same time
Clayton Webb's office
CIA Headquarters
Langley, VA



Just another long night at the office. Webb finished his twelfth cup of 
coffee and ran a hand through his hair. The Dwayne Myers investigation 
was 
proceeding far too slowly for his liking but it couldn't be helped. He 
trusted his JAG friends to work steadily and thoroughly. Harm had 
supplied 
him with a lot of useful details. The facts strongly pointed to the 
Gonzalez 
family. But they were still lacking one decisive hint that would 
justify an 
operation. Webb knew all he could do was wait for his friends to supply 
it 
but he hated having to be patient. Just as he had decided to go get his 
thirteenth cup of coffee, the telephone started to ring. Frowning, Webb 
lunged for the receiver. Who'd call him at this late hour?

"Webb."

"Mr. Webb? Nelson here."

The Secnav. What could he possibly want from him? "Good evening, 
Secretary. 
What can I do for you?"

"Actually, I'm calling to ask if you decided yet about the kind of 
operation 
you'll set up once Rabb comes up with the missing link."

"We've not decided anything yet. Personally, my preference lies with a 
quick 
in-and-out op."

"That wouldn't be a quiet one, would it?" Nelson carefully asked.

Webb suppressed a grin. "Not really."

"Is there... do you see any possibility you can keep this quiet, Mr. 
Webb?"

"It'd be a little complicated but I guess we might be able to. Why, if 
I may 
ask?"

"Well, Dwayne Myers suffered some critique recently, saying it was a 
high 
society place that didn't really succeed to form students to become 
promising officer's candidates. You know, Dwayne Myers students tend to 
have 
excellent connections in society. So the percentage of them who get 
good 
jobs in the military is higher than with any other naval college 
throughout 
the U.S. The navy invested a lot of effort to convince the public that 
concepts like valor, loyalty and unselfishness were just as strictly 
held up 
at Dwayne Myers as at any other naval college and that Dwayne Myers 
students 
are just as hard-working. A drug syndicate connected to the college 
might be 
the total ruin of its reputation and to the reputation of its students 
and 
their important families as well. And the navy would surely face 
enormous 
difficulties with fund-raising and with people suing the college."

"I see," Webb consented. "So you're asking me to make it go unnoticed."

"Yes, I am," Nelson stated.

Webb's thoughts were flowing rapidly. The Secnav would owe him. And he, 
Clay, owed Harm and Mac for sending them to investigate. Why, this was 
the 
opportunity to get his debts off his back!

"I think we can do that," Webb said and then casually went on: "But, as 
I 
happen to talk to you, would I ask too much if I bade you to do me a 
little 
favor concerning Cmdr. Rabb and Col. Mackenzie...?"



Thu, June 11th
1235 ZULU
Harm's apartment
Dwayne Myers Naval College
Long Island, N.Y.



Harm woke as his fax started to beep. Silently swearing, he got up to 
retrieve the message. He had only gotten one or two faxes since he was 
at 
the college. Why did they always have to arrive when he could sleep in 
a 
little longer or when he went to bed early? Surely this would be just 
another ad telling him how to reduce his debts or what to do to prevent 
his 
skin from aging. He grabbed the two sheets and was just about to throw 
them 
in the nearby dustbin as he noticed the Secnav's letterhead on one of 
them. 
Curious, Harm sat down on the sofa and studied the papers. His 
astonishment 
grew when he found the first to be in Clay's handwriting.


Harm,

I feel I need to motivate you and Mac to get me the missing information 
ASAP. That's why I took the liberty of trading a favor the Secnav owed 
me. I 
intend to pay back my own debts to you two by doing so. You'll receive 
the 
original document the next time we meet. I just wanted to tell you that 
the 
Secnav wants the whole affair to be kept quiet. And I suggest you 
better do 
it. There's too much at stake with what he offers in return. Make the 
most 
of it.

Clay.


Totally at a loss about Clay's cryptic message, Harm took a look at the 
second page and his heart skipped a beat at what he saw.


Subject: Regarding Commander Harmon Rabb, Jr. and Lieutenant Colonel 
Sarah 
Mackenzie, both assigned to the Judge Advocate General Corps

Answering to a special request ventured by Undersecretary of State 
Clayton 
Webb, referring to a wish expressed by the USN Judge Advocate General, 
Rear 
Admiral AJ Chegwidden, I declare that the senior lawyer team assigned 
to JAG 
Headquarters, Commander Harmon Rabb, Jr., USN, and Lieutenant Colonel 
Sarah 
Mackenzie, USMC, receive the guarantee not to be obliged to change 
designator, regardless of whatever facts might suggest the necessity.

Any event or situation whatsoever that is connected to Cmdr. Rabb and 
Lt. 
Col. Mackenzie and might cause conflict with chain-of-command 
regulations is 
to be considered of minor importance. In the interest of achieving 
continuity, regarding thoroughly conducted investigations and carefully 
researched and successfully argued court-martials, JAG Headquarters 
must not 
be deprived of its most efficient and successful personnel who set an 
example of excellent work to the entire JAG staff.

Signed,
Secretary of the Navy Nelson,
Department of Defense


With trembling hands, Harm put down the letter. "Thanks, Clay," he 
whispered 
to the silent room. 'Now we owe you,' he thought, fighting his 
commotion, 
'But how on earth could we possibly ever repay this?' He longed to call 
Mac, 
to tell her at once what Clay had done for them. But he knew it was too 
risky, and then, even though she had been released from the hospital 
and had 
returned to her own room for the night, she had still been allowed to 
miss 
classes to recover from her injury. Harm would never wake her up now. 
But he 
had to talk to someone or he felt he'd burst.

And all of a sudden, an idea sprang to his mind. 'Well, she'll probably 
shoot me for calling in the middle of the night, but when I tell her 
this...' He grabbed the phone and dialed the familiar number. He had to 
wait 
an endless minute until she picked up.

"Burnett?"

"Mom, this is Harm."

"Harmon! Is something wrong?"

"No, Mom, I'm fine. Sorry for waking you but I had to talk to someone."

"Anything wrong with Mac?" 'Please, don't let it be, Lord,' Trish 
silently 
prayed. To her astonishment she heard her son chuckle softly.

"No, Mom, on the contrary. The most extraordinary thing just happened 
and I 
need you to do me a big favor..."



Thu, June 11th
2007 ZULU
Music auditorium
Dwayne Myers Naval College
Long Island, N.Y.



The band was assembled and anxiously awaiting their newest addition. 
Harm 
had moved the rehearsals to the music auditorium where the cadets were 
sitting in orchestral formation as they would on stage.

"The Italian seems to be a good friend of Cmdr. Rabb," Dorothy giggled, 
"Already late for his first rehearsal."

"If he's half as cute as Rabb I won't mind," Cassandra retorted.

Mac suppressed a fit of laughter.

"Here they come!" Gary shouted. Everyone tried to get a glimpse of the 
Italian lieutenant.

"My God, he could be Rabb's little brother!" Dorothy exclaimed, trying 
to 
keep her voice low.

At her comment, Mac instantly thought of Sergei and compared him to 
Prumetti. 'Nah,' she thought, grinning.

An "Attention on deck!" from Danny made them all snap to attention.

Smiling, Harm and Fred approached the group. "At ease," Harm said with 
a 
smile. "Good afternoon, Cadets. As you see, our ticket to Carnegie Hall 
has 
arrived this morning from D.C."

He ventured a rather nervous Fred to step forward, noticing the 
lieutenant 
was holding on to his clarinet as if it would keep him from falling. 
"Cadets, I present to you my friend and - as long as the Italian navy 
can 
spare him - fellow JAG lawyer Lieutenant, j.g. Federico Prumetti."

Fred cleared his throat. "Good afternoon, Cadets. I'm pleased to meet 
you 
and I hope I'll be able to help you out with your concert." Once again 
he 
earned astonished glances at his Scottish accent.

"Good afternoon, sir!" the cadets replied. Fred involuntarily jumped. 
'I'm 
not used to being that much of a senior officer,' he thought, fighting 
an 
embarrassed grin.

Harm kept his smile in check as he rushed to help his friend. "Cadets, 
we 
don't have much time and one hell of a schedule to follow to make it to 
Carnegie Hall. Let's go to work. Lt. Prumetti," he indicated a free 
chair 
and music stand between Jeannine and Pablo, "That would be your place 
when 
we play in orchestral formation. For your solo pieces I'll take your 
place 
and you'll stand right here, leading the band."

As he saw Fred pale, he added: "According to Cmdr. Laird, it's the best 
guarantee the accompaniment does what you want them to do. And as to my 
part, I slightly changed Cmdr. Laird's arrangements, with his 
knowledge, of 
course, and inserted a guitar part into the pieces with the solo 
clarinet. 
The sound comes closer to the original. In order to get to know each 
other, 
I think we should actually start with a solo piece. Lieutenant?" Harm 
cast 
Fred an encouraging smile as he himself sat down next to Jeannine who 
handed 
him his guitar.

The musicians tuned their instruments and then expectantly looked at 
Fred 
who desperately tried to dry his sweating hands on his uniform 
trousers. 
'Damn,' he thought, 'I played at the La Fenice opera house. Why am I so 
nervous?'

'Because you never thought you'd be a soloist on the stage of Carnegie 
Hall 
with only ten days to practice,' his subconscious answered, 'And you 
don't 
want to look bad in front of Harm.'

'Well, I already did once,' he reminded his inner voice, 'In Venice, 
when I 
didn't tell him I was a lawyer because I was intimidated by his fame. 
Like I 
am now, although I know that this time I'm the professional.'

'Then why not show him this time what you're capable of?' his 
subconscious 
suggested, 'Harm had four days to prepare for the charity concert, you 
have 
ten to prepare for Carnegie Hall. Come on, Tenente, you can do that!'

'Yes, I can.' Fred lifted his chin, put on a charming smile and faced 
the 
waiting group. "I'd like to start with 'Stardust', Commander, Cadets, 
if you 
don't mind."

"You got it, Lieutenant," Harm answered, unaware of the inward struggle 
his 
junior officer had just fought. "Take the lead. We'll follow."

After a general rustle of music sheets, Fred put his instrument to his 
lips 
and, with a nod, cued in the band.

Soft blues rhythms and serenade tunes instantly filled the auditorium. 
Mac, 
like half of the band, had no part in the solo pieces as sections of 
the 
band played in reduced numbers so they wouldn't cover Fred's melody. 
Closing 
her eyes, Mac leant back on her chair, her hand idly resting on the 
drum 
next to her to prevent the membrane from vibrating along with the bass 
notes. She felt hugged and caressed by the gorgeous harmonies and then 
suddenly electrified as, for the first time, she heard the solo 
clarinet. 
The sound seemed to swell from nowhere, coming forth on the right beat 
but 
not giving away when it had originated.

Fred played as if he were singing, his tone velvety just like Nat King 
Cole's voice in the remade 'Stardust' version they had used for the 
'Sleepless in Seattle' soundtrack. Jeannine, with an incredibly tender 
expression, played the counterpoint that would have belonged to a 
violin. 
From the rest of the band no single part was distinguishable, as all 
musicians were carried away by the melody and unselfishly inserted 
themselves into the general accompaniment.

When the piece was over, Mac saw Cassandra quickly wipe away a tear 
from her 
cheek.

Silence.

"Wow." That was Dorothy, who succeeded in easing the tension with her 
remark. Cheers went up for the young lieutenant who had just proven 
himself 
fit to save the concert.

Fred, feeling extremely relieved, sought Harm's eye and earned himself 
a 
radiant grin, together with an acknowledging nod. He knew he had 
finally 
overcome his shyness regarding the commander. 'Well, now I'm really 
looking 
forward to working with you, sir,' he quietly stated to himself, 
grinning 
back.



Thur, June 18th
1432 ZULU
Harm's apartment
Dwayne Myers Naval College
Long Island, N.Y.



Harm's first notion at hearing his alarm clock was to knock it off the 
nightstand to silence it for good. But even slightly turning his head 
made 
him immediately regret the movement. God, he hadn't had a hangover for 
ages. 
'I'm no longer used to it. Mac's influence,' he thought with a frown 
that at 
once made his head throb even harder. But he had to stop the noise 
somehow. 
Carefully, gritting his teeth, he reached over and switched off the 
dream-shattering device. And such a nice dream it had been, about a 
certain 
Marine without her uniform. Without any clothes in fact.

'Mac!' The thought of her immediately made him get up and groggily walk 
over 
to his computer, switching it on. He'd gone out with Maribel and her 
cousins 
right after the rehearsal. Fred had stayed back, saying he wanted to 
practice. Poor guy. According to Chegwidden he'd practiced for four 
days 
before even coming up to New York. But hadn't Harm requested his 
assistance, 
starting right on Monday 8th? Well, counting the days Fred had taken 
for 
exercising, he'd in fact been helping him since Monday, even though he 
had 
arrived only yesterday. As a new wave of nausea threatened to overwhelm 
him, 
Harm became aware that yesterday night he would have needed Fred badly 
for 
maintaining a little control. 'Whoa,' he thought, settling at his desk 
in 
slow motion. 'Did I ever tell anyone I liked Tequila? That's a damn 
lie!'

Maribel still seemed distant and a little hostile, but she was 
obviously 
trying not to let it show. Her cousins had lured him into drinking more 
than 
he'd wanted to. There had been no way of escape. Harm only hoped that 
he 
hadn't spilled any secrets. He wouldn't, couldn't swear to it, though. 
When 
they had finally taken him home, he'd just collapsed on the bed. Half 
an 
hour later he had at least managed to pull himself up to undress and 
wash 
before settling down again. But he hadn't been able to read Mac's 
Wednesday 
mail yet. Harm shook his head at himself in disgust. He had been too 
drunk 
to open his mailbox.

Shading his eyes against the all-too-clear screen, he found her mail 
and 
printed it for hangover-friendly reading. Making himself a cup of 
strong 
coffee on the return to the bedroom, he settled down on his bed and 
read, 
feeling better with every line.


To: Sarahssailor@freemail.com
From: Sarah Mackenzie (Harmsmarine@freemail.com)
Subject: Good luck - you're gonna need it... (Just kidding!)

My dearest Maestro,

I just wanted to tell you I'm crossing all fingers available in my 
reach 
(mine and other people's... I can always order them!) for you for the 
concert. T minus four days and counting... How are you feeling?

Well, I'm feeling rather sh...shameful. I know I'm only part of the 
band, 
seated in the last row but one and playing an instrument of minor 
importance. But: Sarah Mackenzie in concert at Carnegie Hall - this is 
all 
so weird. Jeannine does all she can to cheer me up. That girl's a 
miracle. 
She seems totally immune to stage fright although she's got major 
responsibility for the concert's success. But she actually seems to 
revel 
the adrenaline. I don't get it. But I'm a Marine, I'll handle it.

I think rehearsals have gone extremely well so far. Even I can tell 
that by 
now and Janni confirms it. You're doing great, squid, and Fred's just 
marvelous. I get shivers down my spine when I hear him play. If we get 
all 
the pieces through without major problems, we should be able to present 
a 
good show on Sunday. I can't wait to see you in your dress whites!

Rehearsing every day keeps wearing me out more than I'd thought 
possible. I 
can hardly get up in the morning, my limbs feel heavy and every now and 
then 
I even get a little dizzy. Don't worry, sailor, I'm okay. I think it's 
the 
aftermath of your blow on my head... oops, wrong choice of words. Don't 
feel 
guilty, Commander, that's an order. It's the aftermath of my plan, I 
wanted 
to say. The gash has healed off completely, and the blue on my forehead 
has 
turned to greenish yellow by now. I'll try your make-up techniques for 
the 
concert night.

The Pablo problem still exists although he seems to notice that I've 
become 
a little distant of late. I think he suspects it's because of the stunt 
he 
pulled off sneaking into my room. But he tries to make up for it. So I 
have 
to imagine that all the flowers are coming from you or I might find 
myself 
throwing them out of the window.

Seeing you with Maribel still hurts. I can see you're not as easy with 
each 
other as you used to be before... well, before the most beautiful 
experience 
in my entire life, let's put it that way, but I guess I'm rather 
jealous all 
the same. Don't tell the Corps.

By the way, Jeannine keeps getting those sick letters. I still don't 
have 
the slightest clue about whom they could come from. Luckily she seems 
to get 
used to receiving them. And I think after the first shock of finding 
out who 
I am, she's glad she's got a Marine to watch her six. We're getting 
still 
closer. I really like her. I hope we can stay in touch when this is 
over.

I'm very excited about the general rehearsal tomorrow afternoon. Trying 
out 
the Carnegie Hall stage. Wow. I hope I won't leave anything essential 
at 
home... Did I say 'home'? My God, what's become of me! This isn't home. 
Home 
is where you are, Harm. Wherever that is.
I'm hugging you tightly and telling you not to worry about the concert. 
Can 
you feel my arms and hear my words? Anyway, I've got enormous faith in 
your 
abilities. You'll do just fine. And if you need an anchor on stage just 
look 
into my eyes. I'll be there for you. Always.

I miss you so much. Hope it won't be long anymore.

Sarah


'God knows I miss you, too, my Sarah,' Harm thought, slowly relaxing at 
her 
warm words in combination with the effect the coffee had on his body. 
Sighing, he put the letter in a hidden drawer at the back of his 
nightstand 
and got up to take a shower.



Thu, June 18th
2308 ZULU
Carnegie Hall
New York City, N.Y.



Even the chatting was quieter than it normally used to be. Every single 
member of the Dwayne Myers marching band was in awe at the realization 
that 
they were in fact seated on the stage of one of the world's most famous 
concert halls. They were still occupied with shifting and re-shifting 
the 
position of their music stands and chairs in order to get the most 
efficient 
and esthetically best formation. When they finally all agreed that 
they'd 
found it, they tuned their instruments and waited for Harm to start the 
rehearsal.

Harm was as nervous as if this were the actual concert. Very slowly he 
crossed the stage to get to his conductor's stand, taking in the vast, 
dark 
auditorium that seemed a cathedral while it was void of the public. 
'You 
don't belong here. Run!' something deep inside him started to scream. 
Remembering Mac's email, he sought out her glance and found her giving 
him a 
barely noticeable smile of encouragement. 'I love you!' he thought as 
he 
felt himself relax.

Fred was as pale as Harm, Mac noticed. He was desperately searching his 
bag 
for something and only upon hearing Harm clear his throat in his 
direction, 
he'd look up.

"Any problems, Lieutenant?"

"Actually, yes, sir," Fred stated in a slightly strained voice. "I 
can't 
find my 'Stardust' copy."

'Don't do this to me, Prumetti,' Harm silently threatened his friend. 
"Did 
anyone take the lieutenant's score by accident?" he asked the band. A 
rustle 
of bags being searched was the answer, followed by everyone shaking 
their 
heads 'no'.

'Damn.' "We'll leave it out for the moment, then," Harm decided, taking 
up 
his baton for the program's first song.

They rehearsed the rest of the show without further damage to anyone's 
nerves, actually rejoicing in the enormous sound they created in the 
huge 
hall. Harm was beginning to relax. 'Laird told me something has to go 
wrong 
at the general rehearsal or the concert won't work,' he remembered. 
'Maybe 
that's it.'

"Sir," Jeannine suddenly spoke up as they had finished the last piece 
but 
'Stardust'. "I just found a handwritten copy of Meryl's soloist part 
from 
'Stardust' in my music bag. I'm totally at a loss about how it got 
there, 
but it's written well and maybe Lt. Prumetti could take it until he 
finds 
the original. I even think Meryl copied it herself." She held out 
several 
sheets of paper to the lieutenant who, with a grateful smile, took them 
and 
placed them on his stand.

"Ready, sir."

"Thank you, Cadet Stiller," Harm said, then turning to Fred. "Lead the 
way, 
Lieutenant."

Fred confidently put the clarinet to his lips and they began to play. 
Mac, 
as always with this favorite song of hers, leant back to listen. She 
jumped 
when she suddenly heard several notes that seemed completely out of 
tune. 
Fred was frowning while he played on, intently studying his copy. Just 
as 
everything seemed to have come back to normal Fred again inserted a 
couple 
of terribly out-of-tune notes. Harm turned at him.

"What's the matter, Lieutenant?" he hissed.

Fred played on with an excusing and embarrassed expression, seeming at 
a 
loss. When the phenomenon occurred for the third time, Harm interrupted 
the 
music.

"Heck, Lieutenant, what's the problem? Can't read your copy?"

Fred's voice sounded miserable. "I can read it clearly, sir, and I 
swear I 
play whatever's written on the pentagrams. Cadet Waters must have erred 
tremendously in copying the score."

"I doubt that, sir, if you'll excuse me," Jeannine cut in, worriedly. 
"Meryl 
may have had some discipline problems, but if she had one decisive 
trait in 
her character, it was her accuracy. She'd never copy mistakes or make 
them 
herself while copying."

"Very well, Cadet," Harm replied, just a little annoyed, "But how do 
you 
explain this if it wasn't her?"

"I don't know, sir. Maybe for a moment she thought she was writing 
something 
different..." Jeannine let her voice trail off, suddenly paling 
visibly.

Mac noticed the change, worried. And she started to worry even more as 
she 
became aware of Harm's reaction. He succeeded to mask his expression in 
front of everyone. But not in front of her anymore. Mac could see Harm 
was 
puzzled to no end. Obviously his thoughts were heading in a similar 
direction as were Jeannine's.

"Uhm, Lieutenant, may I see the score, please?" he said casually, his 
voice 
just a little hoarse.

"Sure, sir." Fred handed it to him.

Harm compared the pentagrams to the ones in his general partition and 
found 
his suspicion confirmed. 'Why, Stiller and Waters were good friends. 
They 
may have talked about the concept of hiding a message in a piece of 
music. 
If I'm right they both did just that, independently from one another. 
They 
just used different codes. Maybe if I can figure this out I can supply 
Webb 
with the missing link..."

Getting all excited but trying not to let it show, Harm called off the 
rehearsal, saying they'd done enough for now and that they could do 
'Stardust' when he'd corrected the score or when Fred had found the 
original.

They headed home in the college bus, Harm nervously keeping the copy in 
his 
hands. This could turn out to be key evidence. Better not lose it.

Upon arrival Harm immediately withdrew to his apartment and settled 
down to 
decode the message - if there turned out to be any, that was.



Fri, June 19th
0617 ZULU
Harm's apartment
Dwayne Myers Naval College
Long Island, N.Y.



Sighing in frustration, Harm ran a hand through his hair and closed his 
eyes. He had been studying the copy for the umpteenth time, trying 
rhythm, 
number and position of wrong notes, distance of wrong notes from one 
another, intervals between the notes and the following ones, between 
the 
wrong notes and the right ones in the original score, regrouping the 
wrong 
notes... nothing. The copy just seemed transcribed wrong and nothing 
else. 
But Harm couldn't fight the feeling that he'd stumbled over something 
that 
was right under his nose and that he just didn't see it for some 
reason.

Getting up to pour himself a glass of water, he tried a different 
approach. 
Why would Waters leave a message in a copy of her own instrument's 
part? 
Probably to remember something important. But she had obviously been 
too 
afraid to write it down properly for whatever reason. If she had wanted 
to 
communicate something to somebody she'd have left a trace for that 
someone 
to find her message. If it had indeed been intended for somebody else, 
that 
someone had to be musical...

'Hammer, you have been sleeping,' he scolded himself. 'Of course Waters 
intended the message for someone else. Stiller found the copy in her 
bag! 
Waters must have written it to her...' "My God!" Harm choked on his 
water, 
set the glass down with a 'clank' on the kitchen counter and rushed 
back to 
his desk.

'Written to! Hammer, you mega-idiot! She has w-r-i-t-t-e-n to her! You 
thought of everything but the first thing that would have come to 
anyone 
else's mind! Try the wrong  notes' names!' Eagerly Harm bent over the 
copy 
and wrote down the names of the notes that differed from the original 
score.

"b-flat, e, a, c, b, c, a, f, e, b-flat, a, c, g-double-sharp, b-flat, 
c-double-sharp, e-flat, b, e, e-flat, c, a, e-flat, e," he read, 
frustration 
again getting the better of him. Nothing! But then something near the 
beginning of the line sprang to his eyes: letters six to ten spelled 
'cafe'. 
It could be a coincidence, but he decided to clutch at the straws and 
try to 
figure out the rest.

'Why all those flats and double-sharps,' he thought with a frown. He 
was 
sure it wouldn't make sense just omitting them and using the letters 
they 
were connected to. Waters must have put them in for some reason. Then 
the 
last four letters caught his attention and an idea began to form in his 
mind.

"C-a-something-e," he read aloud, thinking hard. And suddenly he knew 
what 
to look for. When he had been fourteen years old, his mother and Frank 
had 
taken him to Los Angeles one evening for a guest performance of the 
Berlin 
Philharmonic Orchestra. Harm remembered that, seeing the program 
booklet, 
he'd found it odd that Mozart's symphony number 38 in e-flat major had 
been 
written in German as 'Symphonie Nr. 38 in Es-Dur'. 'E-flat' according 
to the 
German system was called 'Es', pronounced like 'S'. Here was an 
additional 
letter for him to use, and it made the last word spell 'case'!

Thinking of the other letters he might find, Harm grabbed his 
flashlight, 
the copy, the score and his legal pad and pen and headed for the 
college 
library. 'If you have a question about music, go to the library and ask 
your 
friend New Grove,' his guitar teacher had always told him. Harm had 
never 
yet found himself in a situation to follow his advice, but now it might 
provide the clue he was searching.

Thankful that he didn't have to pick the lock, but could use the 
general key 
he had been given, Harm stepped into the dark, quiet room. Shaking his 
head 
at the absurdity of the situation -  having to go to the library at 
0130 in 
the morning without getting caught - Harm switched on his flashlight 
and 
started looking for the world's amplest music dictionary. He just hoped 
they 
even had it...

He soon found that one of the advantages of the fact that Dwayne Myers 
was a 
wealthy institute was that they had a large number of volumes in their 
library that the college didn't really need but considered 'hip' to 
own. 
Among them figured the twenty-plus volumes of the New Grove Dictionary 
of 
Music.

Holding the flashlight between his teeth and the papers he'd brought 
between 
his knees, Harm tried several entries until he found a list of note 
names 
according to the German system. He laid the book on the floor and knelt 
down, quickly copying the necessary information. 'B' was 'h' and 
'b-flat' 
was just 'b', he found. The double-sharps being called 'gis' and 'cis' 
still 
didn't help him for his purpose, but as the message contained only two 
of 
them, he might figure out the sense without knowing what they meant. 
Harm 
got up, put the volume back on the shelf, quietly left the library and 
returned to his apartment.

With trembling fingers he rewrote the message: 
'beachcafebacxbxshescase'. 
Staring at the line, he contemplated about it only one or two minutes. 
Then, 
deciding to take the double-sharps as wild cards, he understood that he 
had 
to go and look for a case somewhere near the bushes at the back of one 
of 
the cafés on the beach. Swallowing heavily, Harm put on his shoes and a 
dark 
sweater.


Harm had seen Mac at her window once. Now, slowly circling around House 
Mistral, he tried to remember which one it had been. It wasn't that he 
really needed her to recover the object, but it would definitely be 
easier 
with two, one holding the light and watching out and the other digging 
or 
whatever was necessary. And figuring out something with the capacity of 
two 
brains instead of one could also mean it would be done quicker. And, he 
silently admitted to himself, he desperately needed to see her alone.

Having completed three circles around the house, Harm was now sure 
enough 
about which one was Mac's window to try and contact her. Cell-phone was 
out 
of the question and her front door would mean Jeannine would wake as 
well. 
So he had to apply stone-age methods. He picked up a small pebble, 
aimed 
carefully and gently threw it against her windowpane. He jumped at the 
'clink' that seemed very loud to him, but obviously no one but him had 
noticed it. Not even Mac, it seemed, as she didn't show up or give any 
sign 
of activity.

Harm was about to give it another try when he suddenly detected a 
movement 
inside her dark room. He couldn't suppress a grin when he saw the top 
of her 
head become visible just barely above the windowsill, next to her 
something 
that could be the butt of a gun. 'My Marine, always in combat mode,' he 
thought lovingly. Stepping out of the shadows, he signaled her to come 
down 
and indicated his dark clothing, making her eyes grow wide. After a 
moment 
of astonishment she nodded and vanished from the window. Three minutes 
later 
he saw her coming around the corner of the house.

He waved to her to join him in the shadows and silently encircled her 
in his 
arms. She let him hold her and buried her face on his chest, holding on 
to 
him. Only after some minutes she drew back slightly and looked at him 
with a 
questioning smile.

"What's this about, Sherlock?" she asked in a low voice.

"Is this the proper way to welcome your lover?" he replied with a 
raised 
eyebrow, grinning.

"I'll welcome you properly when you tell me what this is about," she 
stated 
stubbornly.

"Kiss me first, Watson," he suggested smugly.

"Okay," she complied with a smile and a sigh, stepping close again and 
bringing her lips to his in a passionate kiss that lasted another 
thirty 
seconds. When they finally parted, panting, she again looked up at him, 
tilting her head to one side.

"This is about the 'Stardust' copy, right?" she guessed.

Harm gave her an appreciating grin. "Good thinking, Cadet O'Hara." Then 
he 
sobered and told her what he'd just found out.

"I'm impressed, Commander," she said, her voice devoid of any teasing. 
"There could indeed be something to it. Let's go find out. And spend 
some 
time together on a moonlit beach," she added with a contagious grin.

"Good thinking again, Cadet," he remarked and, taking her hand and 
carefully 
sticking to the shadows, guided her to a gate in the campus wall 
opposite 
the main entrance that only the professors had a key to. He quickly let 
the 
two of them out and locked the gate behind them. They still kept to the 
shadows of trees and houses until they had put a comfortable distance 
between themselves and the college.

Feeling secure, they slowed down their pace and walked down to the 
beach, 
strolling along the shore hand in hand.

"Now, Mac, do you know how many cafés there are on the beach?" he asked 
her.

"Too many," she replied, frowning, "But I suggest we start with the 
'Driftwood'. It's about half a mile from here and I happen to know it 
was 
some kind of a hangout for Jeannine, Meryl, Dorothy and Cassandra. 
Janni 
took me there once. If I were Meryl I'd choose that place to leave 
something 
for Jeannine."

"I see your point," Harm agreed. "This direction?"

"Yup." They silently wandered on, Mac leaning to Harm's shoulder, both 
enjoying the warmth and closeness of the other.

"Awfully romantic, isn't it?" Harm chuckled after a while as the moon 
came 
out behind a cloud.

"I'm beginning to rather like this investigation," Mac retorted with a 
grin. 
"Pity we can't stay here all night. I can think about a lot of nice 
things 
to do on a moonlit beach in a warm summer night. But I don't want to 
leave 
Jeannine alone too long."

"Yeah..." he murmured consent, his stomach tightening as he imagined 
what 
he'd like to do to her on a moonlit beach.

"Here we are," she woke him from his reverie, indicating a small house 
on 
the beach. On the waterside it had a huge wooden porch stretching out 
across 
the sand. The back of the café was surrounded by small trees and 
bushes. 
Making sure no one was in sight, they walked over to the house.

"Could you hold that, please?" Harm handed Mac his flashlight and knelt 
down 
to study the terrain. For about ten minutes he scrutinized every inch 
of his 
surroundings, swearing low when he didn't find any indication that 
might 
point to some hidden object. Mac was about to suggest they try out 
another 
café when he suddenly locked his gaze on a small piece of ground 
between two 
bushes where significantly less herbs were growing. He pulled up his 
sleeves 
and carefully began to dig. Mac watched in silence.

"Bingo," he finally stated in a low voice, pulling a small object out 
of the 
hole he'd dug. Mac switched off the light and, in silent agreement that 
Mac 
had to get back to Jeannine, they headed back to the college.

Once again inside the campus walls, Harm drew Mac into the shadows of 
the 
library and once more tightly embraced her, claiming her lips with his. 
Mac 
responded ardently. They hadn't been able to exchange even a handshake 
for 
two weeks now after their hallmark weekend. Longing and passion soon 
threatened to overwhelm them. Reluctantly breaking the kiss after a few 
endless moments, Harm rested his forehead against Mac's.

"God knows, I'd like to take you up to my apartment, Sarah, and make 
love to 
you all night long. But given the situation..."

"Yeah," she whispered. "I miss you so much, Harm."

"You know what," he suggested, "When this is over we'll take a couple 
of 
days off and go someplace nice. Just you and me. We'll take 'Sarah' and 
fly 
up in the mountains, for example. We could go and see my Grandma Sarah. 
What 
d'ya say?"

"I'd love to," she sighed, "Can't wait."

Harm smiled and softly kissed her one more time. "I'll examine this... 
thing 
and let you know what's inside via email. Off you go now, Cadet. It's 
past 
your bedtime, you know."

"Aye, sir," Mac whispered, kissing him back. "Sweet dreams, flyboy."

"To you, too." He watched her carefully and quickly run over to House 
Mistral and then returned to his own apartment.

Upstairs, Harm once again sat down at his desk and examined the object 
they 
had retrieved from its secret hiding place. It was a rusty metal case 
secured with what seemed meters of cord to keep it shut. It took him a 
full 
fifteen minutes to get rid of the cord but finally he had completed the 
task. Subconsciously holding his breath, Harm opened the case and 
inside 
found a notebook. Opening it on page one, he read: 'Cruise diary, 04-20 
- 
04-30, Meryl Christine Waters, Cadet Second Year, Dwayne Myers Naval 
College'.

"This is getting more interesting all the time," he muttered to himself 
as 
he stretched out on the couch and began to read.



END OF PART FOUR



'Dissonance' - Part Five (Conclusion)
Author: Daenar
Disclaimer: See Chapter One



Sun, June 21st
1545 ZULU
Dwayne Myers Naval College
Long Island, N.Y.



Frowning, Harm put on his cover as he stepped out onto the sunlit 
campus. If 
the temperature continued to rise as it did, his dress whites would be 
soaked by the time he had to go on stage tonight. Normally, he'd have 
changed into them only after a nice cold shower around 1700, but 
something 
had come up that forced him to wear them all day. Yesterday morning the 
news 
had spread across the campus that Senator Hillary Clinton had decided 
to 
visit the college this morning and attend the concert in the evening. 
So for 
her reception, all had been ordered to wear dress uniforms. 'The only 
good 
thing about all this is that I actually get to see Mac wear dress 
whites,' 
he thought with a smile.

Cadets, professors, personnel and guests were gathering on the central 
plaza 
where the members of the band were already setting up music stands and 
chairs. As Harm was slowly walking over to his musicians, he heard a 
familiar voice call out to him.

"Commander Rabb! Sir!"

He turned around and a radiant smile lit up his face. "Bud! My God, 
Lieutenant, it's so good to see you! And you, Harriet," he greeted the 
young 
blonde who, after so many months, for the first time seemed as happy 
and 
good-natured as they'd always known her before Bud's injury.

Bud approached to greet his friend, walking with the aid of crutches. 
Harm 
raised his eyebrows. "This looks good, Bud. Last time I saw you, you 
were 
still in a wheelchair."

"Yeah, but a couple of months ago they gave me this," he knocked one 
crutch 
against the leg he had originally lost, letting hear a muffled 'clank' 
through the uniform trousers. "Do you remember the movie 'Forrest 
Gump', 
sir? Well, this one is a model they developed on the basis of the 
prostheses 
they gave Lieutenant Dan, you know, those high-tech things. Only that 
he had 
two of them." Bud's smile still had a sad edge but Harm could tell he 
was 
fighting hard to carry on, and he was enormously relieved to find Bud 
so 
much changed for the better, compared to when he'd last met him.

"Well, I'd say you're doing great, Bud."

To his astonishment, Harm saw the lieutenant smile a little 
embarrassedly. 
"Not really, sir. You know, I'm supposed to walk without crutches by 
now."

"And he's really good at it," Harriet eagerly cut in.

"But on special occasions like today I'm always afraid I might lose my 
footing and fall," Bud admitted, "So I take the crutches. I feel more 
secure."

"I don't think having that bit of security on a special occasion will 
prolong your rehab very much, " Harm said with a reassuring smile, 
gently 
patting his friend on the back.

Just then Harm caught a glimpse of Mac carrying her drum over to the 
band. 
She looked over, saw her friends and felt she couldn't resist the urge 
to 
come over and greet them personally. So when she'd joined the band, she 
turned to Dorothy.

"Dorrie, I'll just leave my drum with you for a second, okay? I see 
Cmdr. 
Rabb standing over there and I need to ask him something about the 
repetition of the second half of 'Madhouse'. You know he's gonna be all 
giddy when he finally joins us."

"Sure, go ahead."

Taking her 'Madhouse' score, Mac gladly walked over to the little group 
of 
officers that fortunately stood a little away from other people, at 
least 
far enough not to be overheard.

Harriet tugged at Harm's sleeve and made him turn in Mac's direction, 
just 
as she came to attention in front of her friends. Suppressing a grin, 
Harm 
saluted back.

"At ease, Cadet O'Hara," he said with a wink and earned a slight smile 
from 
Mac in return. "What can I do for you?"

"Sir, I wanted to ask you what you decided concerning my part in the 
repetition of the second half of 'Madhouse'." With a wink she opened 
the 
score and started to point out something to him. He played along, 
bending 
slightly over the sheets. Harriet and Bud came a little closer, as if 
they 
were interested in the advice Harm gave one of his students.

"Bud, it's so good to see you!" Mac said in a low voice, never taking 
her 
eyes off the pentagram Harm was pointing out to her.

"Same here, ma'am," Bud said, intently looking at Harriet, "Did you 
know 
dress whites become you, ma'am?"

Harriet had to fight hard to keep her straight face as she seemingly 
addressed Harm. "Ma'am, how are things going? The commander torturing 
you 
with homework?"

Harm nodded, seeming to consider the options for Cadet O'Hara's 
involvement 
in the 'Madhouse' arrangement.

Mac, too, looked up at Harm questioningly, as she replied: "I'm 
standing my 
ground, Harriet. Lately we seem to have made progress with the 
investigation, so, with a bit of luck, we might be out of here soon."

Harm cleared his throat and after a whispered "There's something to 
dress 
whites, I admit, Marine," said: "That's how we do it, Cadet. Now, 
please go 
and join the others. I'll be right with you."

"Aye, sir," said Mac, snapping to attention with the hint of a 
threatening 
smile in his direction for his last remark.

"Dismissed." Again, Harm greeted her and she turned and walked back to 
the 
band.

"Is she okay, sir?" Harriet asked concerned.

Harm suppressed a grin. 'Somehow I get the feeling she's never been 
better,' 
he thought. "Mac's just fine, Harriet. We exchange a lot of emails and 
as 
far as I know, she's doing well. She's one of my most ardent students," 
he 
added, letting his grin finally come out.

"I see," Harriet smirked. Bud silently smiled to himself, comfortably 
leaning on his crutches.

Harm glanced at his watch. "I'm sorry, folks, but our guest will arrive 
shortly and we're supposed to be playing when she does. Bud, I want you 
and 
Fred to join me after the reception. I need to show you something 
that's 
really interesting."

"Aye, sir," Bud replied with a smile. It felt good to be back.


The official part of the morning went rather well. The band played two 
pieces at Senator Clinton's arrival, the 'Stars and Stripes' and 'Blue 
Skies' from the Goodman program. Fred had some difficulties coping with 
his 
saber while playing. Tonight covers, gloves and sabers wouldn't be worn 
on 
stage but now, being at an open-air reception, they were. He tried not 
to 
move too much and luckily his tone didn't suffer from his uneasiness. 
Bud 
and Harriet were impressed and said that much to Claire who had joined 
them 
by now.

After the speeches and thanks part the band played a short march and 
Senator 
Clinton approached and exchanged a few words with Harm. While guests 
and 
college inhabitants shared a drink on the plaza, the Senator was given 
a 
short tour around the college grounds. When she returned, all went to 
have 
lunch and only after that, Harm found a possibility to pull his friends 
aside.

"I think you haven't met yet, have you?" Harm looked at the 
lieutenants.

"No, sir, I haven't had the pleasure," Fred said a little stiffly, 
indicating that he was nervous once again.

Harriet had obviously briefed Bud about this trait of Fred's character. 
He 
smiled, indicating that he didn't take offence. "Lieutenant Bud 
Roberts. 
Pleased to meet you."

Fred relaxed a little and immediately took up his officer-and-gentleman 
attitude again. "Lieutenant, j.g. Federico Prumetti, sir. My friends 
call me 
Fred. Equally pleased to meet you, sir."

"Lieutenants, let's take this to the library," Harm said quietly, 
motioning 
for them to follow him.

They walked over to the impressive building and entered it. Harm led 
them to 
a quiet room where some older geographical items were stored. Reaching 
behind a row of books on a shelf, he pulled out Cadet Waters's diary.

"What's that, sir?" Fred asked, curious.

"This seems to be the missing link in the crime scheme," Harm 
explained. "We 
still don't have any ideas about who killed her, but Cadet Waters at 
least 
supplied us with the organization of the drug commerce the CIA's been 
investigating."

"Uhm, how so, sir?" Bud asked.

"I'll read you some of her notes," Harm said. "So, here goes:


'Monday, April 20th: All aboard the Cleveland. Nice ship. It's got 
two...'

wait, I'll leave that out, that's just description... yadayadayada... 
okay,

'We're only eight cadets this time, actually I don't know why. Anyway, 
it's 
going to be nice. Sure, I already miss Pablo, but as Pedro...'

that's Pedro Godoy, fourth year, a cousin of the Gonzalezes,

'As Pedro's supervising it'll be fun.'

The next four days go smoothly, she writes about almost everything and 
nothing. She spends a lot of time with Cadet Godoy. But now it gets 
really 
interesting.

'Saturday, April 25th: Arrived at Kingston in the morning. We were 
given a 
few hours of leave. I'm a little disappointed in Pedro. He's been very 
curt 
and almost rude all day. He knows Kingston and I asked him to show me 
some 
of it. But he wouldn't . Normally he'd agree at once. When I asked him 
why 
not, he said he had something to do for his uncle's firm. Wouldn't be 
the 
first time I'd be around when they cut deals. I've accompanied Pablo 
more 
than once and even Pedro, a few weeks back. But he said he didn't want 
me 
around, and the way he said it! Don't think I'll forgive him very 
easily! I 
have been out with Mills and Scott instead. Was okay, I guess. Only 
that 
neither of us knew what we were looking at. Pedro's only just returned. 
I'm 
sure he's in trouble. The CAG doesn't like it when you're late! When I 
finished my turn of duty, I went down to the galley to greet the cook. 
His 
name's Raoul Alvarez and he makes an awesome gumbo! He's about forty 
and 
he's a nice guy. We mainly talk about music. He loves salsa and Cuban 
'son' 
and he knows a lot about them. Nice pastime. Talked to Pablo on the 
phone - 
too short (sigh!). Tells me not to worry about Pedro getting moody at 
times. 
Don't know if I like it.'

Okay... yadayada... here's the crucial passage:

'Tuesday, April 28th: Though Pedro's back to normal after our departure 
from 
Kingston, today he's acting like a jerk again. We arrived in Miami and 
I 
asked him again about taking stroll. He was even more blunt than he was 
earlier. Right now I'm sitting here all alone. I'd waited for him to 
get off 
duty, so all the others are already gone and all over town. Guess, I'll 
go 
find Raoul. He's always got fresh coffee for me. I feel like I need it 
right 
now.'

The next bit seems scribbled very quickly and her handwriting's a bit 
shaky.

'Been down to the galley. No sign of Raoul. Decided to fix my own 
coffee. No 
coffee. Went into storage. Looking for coffee, I stumbled over a pile 
of 
sacks I hadn't seen 'cause they were kind of hidden in a corner. One 
fell 
down and opened. Looked like flour. Actually read 'flour' on the sack. 
But I 
know where the flour is stored and they normally use a special type. 
Raoul 
explained that to me when he showed me how to fix his famous special 
pancakes. Got suspicious and tasted. I'll be damned if that's flour! I 
don't 
know what exactly they keep down there but I'm almost sure it's some 
kind of 
a drug. God, I'm beside myself! Looked up the loading lists from 
Norfolk, 
the flour isn't on it. I don't know who's brought it on board and how 
and 
how he wants to clear it back at Norfolk. I'm gonna call Pablo. He 
always 
knows what to do.'

So that's her initial mistake. She actually called the Gonzalezes of 
all 
people! Anyway, no long entries the next day. I'll skip to the last 
entry 
which is rather interesting, too.

'Thursday, April 30th: God, I can't wait to get off this ship! I'm 
scared 
out of my mind and what doesn't really help is that my strange behavior 
seems to annoy my friends. Pedro and Raoul, mostly. They eye me 
suspiciously 
and avoid me. I've tried to calm down but I can't. Pablo called 
yesterday, 
saying he was calling from a payphone as his cell was broken. I can't 
reach 
him. I need Janni, badly. I need to tell her. But somewhere deep in my 
gut I 
have a really bad feeling. So I decided to leave a backup message for 
her in 
case I don't get round to telling her for whatever reason. Someone 
should 
know besides me. So there'll at least be two of us to try and 
straighten out 
this mess! I'll store this diary someplace safe and leave a hint that 
she'll 
be able to work out. I don't dare to do it openly. My God, I wish we 
were 
back!'

That's it. I already called Webb this morning. He's got his people 
working 
on it right now, and he's confident to have it all wrapped up before 
night. 
What do you think, Lieutenants?"


Fred and Bud exchanged a frown. "Pretty obvious, I'd say," Fred stated, 
slightly shocked.

"I think so, too," Bud agreed. "So now that Webb is..."

He didn't get any further than that because suddenly Fred whirled 
around, 
instinctively drew his saber as he didn't carry a sidearm with his 
dress 
whites, and shouted to Harm: "Sir! Watch out!"

Harm instantly dragged Bud out of the line of fire as the first shot 
rang 
out. Immediately taking in the situation, he knew at once that their 
odds 
were miserable. Outside, the brass ensemble of the band, together with 
the 
percussion, had begun to play a little on their own, obviously 
entertaining 
the guests. The library was rather far from the dorms or the plaza. And 
with 
the loud music he was sure no one could have heard the shot that had 
been 
muffled by a silencer.

They were unarmed. The only 'weapons' they had were Fred's decorated 
steel 
saber and one of Bud's crutches - he had lost the other when he was 
dragged 
out of the way. They were cornered between two shelves, their way out 
blocked by four Hispanic-looking guys carrying guns with silencers. 
They 
couldn't have run, anyway, with Bud at their side. Silently glancing at 
each 
other and swallowing heavily, the three navy officers squared their 
shoulders and lifted their heads, preparing to meet their destiny as 
the 
four assaulters slowly closed in on them.



Same time
Plaza
Dwayne Myers Naval College
Long Island, N.Y.



Jeannine was listening to the brass band, enjoying the fact that for 
once 
Cassandra had the lead and she could actually listen. For the first 
time she 
really watched Mac playing her drum. 'For someone who didn't even know 
how 
to really read music three weeks ago, she's doing great,' Jeannine 
observed 
to herself, her admiration for the colonel still growing. Yes, one day 
she 
would be like her, promised to herself once again.

Suddenly she became aware that the 'Stardust' topic hadn't been 
mentioned 
yet. Feeling that she absolutely needed to make sure the right copy had 
been 
found, and silently wondering if indeed there could have been more to 
the 
score than just errors, she resolved to find Cmdr. Rabb. As she didn't 
see 
him around, Jeannine approached the blonde lieutenant he seemed to be 
friends with. Maybe she knew where he was.

"Excuse me, ma'am." Jeannine snapped to attention.

Harriet, who was animatedly talking to Claire, turned around and with a 
smile saluted back. "Yes, Cadet? Can I help you?"

"Cadet Jeannine Stiller, ma'am. I play the solo flute in the marching 
band 
and I need to find Cmdr. Rabb. Do you happen to know where I can find 
him?"

Harriet kept her eyebrows from rising. So this was the poor girl who 
had 
come to see Harm. In a gentler voice still, she answered: "I do, Cadet. 
I 
think he's gone to the library with my husband and Lt. Prumetti."

"Thank you very much, ma'am."

"You're welcome, Cadet."

Jeannine greeted again and Harriet with a smiling salute dismissed her.


Upon entering the silent building of the library Jeannine suddenly 
stopped 
dead in her tracks. Had that been a gunshot she'd just heard? Feeling 
herself start to tremble heavily, she thought of Mac and willed herself 
to 
stay calm. Cautiously she followed the long corridor in the direction 
that 
she suspected the shot to have come from.

At the back, a door stood slightly ajar. She heard angry hisses and 
muffled 
commands. Holding her breath, she carefully peeped around the corner 
and 
stifled a cry at what she saw. Rabb, Prumetti and the lieutenant's 
husband 
were gagged and being bound. Rabb was lying on the floor. He had 
bruises on 
his temple. The others seemed to be all right, except for their pallor.

"Les traemos a la cabaña de barcas, debajo la resaca del pinar. El jefe 
aguarda a nosotros allí," Jeannine heard one of the kidnappers say. [We 
get 
them to the boathouse, along the shore with the pines. The boss will be 
waiting for us there.]

When she saw them begin to lift the commander, Jeannine knew she had to 
get 
away ASAP. Slipping out of her shoes and taking them in her hands, she 
sprinted out of the library at top speed.

Outside the building she put her shoes back on and casually strolled 
over to 
the plaza. The brass ensemble had just finished another piece and 
Jeannine 
seized the opportunity and slipped between the musicians of the 
percussion 
group, her expression immediately telling Mac that something was wrong. 
With 
a smile Mac excused herself and followed Jeannine who lead her over to 
where 
Harriet and Claire were standing.

Astonished to see Mac and Stiller coming to attention before her, 
Harriet 
put them at ease and, with growing anxiety at the Cadet's expression, 
asked 
for an explanation. She could see that Mac was just as curious as 
herself 
and Claire.

"Ma'am, the commander, your husband and Lt. Prumetti have just been 
taken 
hostage," Jeannine quickly told them in a guarded voice. "Some Spanish 
speaking guys are going to take them to a hidden boathouse I happen to 
know. 
The commander seems to be injured."

Mac had to refrain from jumping as Jeannine mentioned Harm. She had to 
stick 
to her cover. Nothing but the tight edge in her voice conveyed her 
inward 
turmoil. "How do we get there?" she whispered.

"It's past the 'Driftwood'. After half a mile we have to turn left," 
Jeannine explained quietly.

Harriet had by now regained her composure and knew she had to play the 
part 
of the highest-ranking officer. She put on a grim face. "Well, then, 
Cadet 
Stiller, Cadet O'Hara, Miss Farnham, I suppose it's up to us to rescue 
the 
guys. Follow me to the gate, I'll get you past the guards."

"I have my sidearm in my apartment," Mac said. "I'm going to get it."

"And I know where Fred's is," put in Claire, trying to steady her 
voice.

"Okay. We'll meet at the gate in five. Dismissed, Cadets," Harriet 
said.

"Aye, ma'am," Jeannine and Mac replied, turned and left the plaza, 
trying 
not to be too conspicuous.


Five minutes later, four women - a lieutenant and two cadets, all in 
dress 
whites, and a civilian, clad in a stylish light-blue suit - approached 
the 
main entrance to the college. Claire stayed back a little while 
Harriet, Mac 
and Jeannine approached the guard, a young Marine corporal who 
instantly 
came to attention.

"Ma'am!"

"At ease, Corporal!" Harriet's voice would have intimidated any Marine. 
"I'm 
Lt. Harriet Sims, JAG headquarters. I need those two, Cadet Second Year 
Jeannine Stiller and Cadet Second Year Patricia O'Hara, to accompany me 
on 
an errand."

The corporal hesitated a second as if to object, then met Harriet's icy 
stare and wrote down the names. "Aye, ma'am." Claire handed him her 
visitor's badge and the foursome set off in the direction of the beach, 
silently condemning their high heels.


They had taken off their shoes to be able to walk faster on the sand. 
As 
they approached the 'Driftwood', the beach was starting to get rather 
crowded so they put them on again and, chatting, fell into a 
companionable 
strolling pace, trying to make people believe they were enjoying the 
sun. 
They knew they were rather conspicuous in their dress uniforms and that 
fact 
would be a hinderance once they got near the boathouse, but time was 
short 
and it couldn't be helped. Eventually, Jeannine stopped.

"We have to take this path between the dunes, ma'am," she told Harriet.

"Okay," Harriet replied without a moment's hesitation. "So we'll do it 
just 
as we planned on the way here. Claire and Mac, you are armed, so you go 
to 
the rescue, while Jeannine and I keep the guards busy. Let's just hope 
there's not too many of them."

"I'll have to get on top of the boathouse," Claire said, "So what if I 
went 
first and signaled you from that dune over there how many of them are 
down 
there?"

"Good thinking, Claire," Mac replied. "I'll go for the direct approach 
between the dunes as soon as Harriet and Janni have the guards' 
attention. 
Signal me when you see them. I'll stay right here until you do."

"Okay."

The four women for a moment looked silently at each other. "Good luck," 
they 
finally said simultaneously. The following chuckles somewhat managed to 
ease 
the tension.

Claire put on a grim half-grin, stuffed her shoes into the pockets of 
her 
jacket and began to climb the dunes. A couple of minutes later she 
reappeared on the dune she had pointed out, holding up four fingers of 
her 
right hand, with her left hand indicating that those four guards were 
outside. She then pointed her right index down directly and visibly 
shrugged 
as if to say that she didn't know how many men were inside the 
boathouse.

Harriet acknowledged with a nod, put on a radiant smile, wrapped her 
arm 
around Jeannine's shoulder and began telling her stories of little AJ, 
walking towards the boathouse. Mac waited, silently praying that Harm 
hadn't 
played the hero once again. 'God, let him be okay,' she kept repeating 
fervently in her mind. Finally Claire signaled her to approach. Trying 
to 
stay close to the dunes, Mac set off, her gun drawn. She saw Claire 
cautiously lower herself from above onto the roof of the boathouse, 
taking 
out Fred's sidearm.


As Mac peeped around the last dune that separated her from the 
boathouse, 
she saw Harriet and Jeannine converse happily with two of the guards.

"You know, we're not from here. It's so easy to get lost," she heard 
Harriet 
say with an embarrassed laugh, casting one of them a flirtatious smile. 
The 
man seemed to be flattered and started pointing something out to her, 
the 
other one eager to contribute his part and earning himself an equally 
seductive, innocent smile. Harriet had taken off her jacket and 
casually 
held it in front of her belly, thus covering the little swell that 
otherwise 
would have been noted.

'Good job, Lt. Sims.' Mac would have grinned at the display, had she 
not 
been consumed with worry for Harm's well-being.

The guards that Harriet and Jeannine were talking to had now their 
backs 
turned to the boathouse, indicating and explaining some path to the 
charming 
young women.

'Men,' Mac thought, 'How stupid can they get? They have no defense 
against 
feminine wiles.' From her hideout she looked over to Claire who by now 
lay 
flat on top of the house. Claire signaled to her that the other two 
guards 
were at the back of the house, one starting to come to the front.

'I'll take out the one at the back,' she mouthed to Mac, underlining 
her 
words with gestures. Mac understood and prepared herself. As the fourth 
guard came around the corner she let him pass her and then silently and 
swiftly stepped out of her cover behind him and efficiently knocked him 
down 
with the butt of her gun. The man went down without uttering a 
syllable.

Mac looked up to the roof and saw one of Claire's arms rise, her gun's 
butt 
ready to come down on someone's head. By the muffled 'thud' she heard a 
moment later, Mac knew that it actually had. She decided it was 
showtime.


Harm had a massive headache but he tried to ignore the throbbing. He 
didn't 
have a clue where they were or how they got there. The only thing he 
remembered was that he had stepped out from between the bookshelves 
with his 
hands up, trying to negotiate a release for Bud and Fred, saying that 
he was 
the investigator. And he remembered the heavy blow he'd felt on his 
head 
before all had gotten dark around him.

He had realized that his hands and feet were bound, as were those of 
Bud and 
Fred who were sitting next to him. By unspoken agreement, neither of 
them 
said anything as they were first questioned by a man unknown to them 
and by 
Juan Gonzales himself about who this 'Webb' was and who knew about the 
affair.

The kidnappers had first tried their luck with Bud, believing him to be 
the 
weakest, but he had remained silent. They had taken off his prosthesis 
and 
kicked his stump cruelly several times, causing him to wince sharply as 
the 
injury still hurt badly. But although Harm could see silent tears of 
pain 
trickle down the lieutenant's cheeks, Bud stubbornly pressed his lips 
together, lifted his chin and stared back at his torturers. Harm was 
incredibly proud of his young friend.

But now the situation was starting to get out of hand. Juan Gonzalez, 
with 
an evil grin, took Fred's saber and approached the Italian lieutenant, 
locking his gaze with Harm's.

"Commander, I know you like this young man, don't you?" he asked 
maliciously, pointing the saber at Fred's throat. The lieutenant closed 
his 
eyes and tried not to move although he was starting to tremble badly.

"Leave him alone, Gonzalez!" Harm roared. "It's me you're after!"

"He knows about us, so we're after him, too," Gonzalez replied coldly. 
"But 
I might just spare him if you tell me what I want to know. Consider 
your 
options, Rabb. Do you want to be responsible for your friend's painful 
death? Or do you prefer to talk?"

"Don't, sir!" Fred managed to choke out.

Harm swallowed and closed his eyes. It was hopeless. He knew they'd be 
shot 
anyway. The syndicate wouldn't let people live who knew what they did. 
But 
he might at least spare Bud and Fred from further torture. "No need for 
heroes, Fred," he said quietly, a sad smile on his lips. "All right, 
Gonzalez. I'll tell you whom I contacted and what I told him. Let go of 
my 
friend."

He tried to steady himself, drawing a deep breath. 'Mac,' he thought, 
feeling bitter sadness. 'I'm sorry. I wanted so much to be with you. I 
thought finally God had mercy upon us and let us have our future 
together. 
There's nothing in the world that I've been looking forward to so much 
as 
growing old at your side and seeing our kids grow up. I only hope that 
one 
day you'll find the man who'll finally be able to give you the love and 
family you deserve. I wanted to be that man but it seems it wasn't 
meant to 
be. But at least I had the guts to tell you. That'll be my comfort. 
I'll 
miss you, my favorite Marine.'

Suddenly his head snapped up as he heard the door being forced. 
Gonzalez and 
the other man whirled around. A shot rang out, and Harm's heart skipped 
several beats when he saw his Sarah standing in the doorway, her gun 
pointed 
at Gonzalez, whose shirt had started to turn red. With an expression of 
utmost horror, the Columbian swayed and fell to the ground.

From the corner of his eye, Harm detected a movement. "Mac! Watch out!" 
he 
shouted.

Another shot was fired, not from Mac's gun, but not from the other 
man's, 
either. As the second kidnapper silently went down from a shot to the 
head, 
Harm and his coworkers just stared at the trembling figure that had 
appeared 
in the doorway. Claire Farnham's tears started to flow freely and she 
broke 
down where she was standing, sobbing violently: "I killed a man! My 
God, I'm 
a doctor, and I killed him!"


Hearing the gunfire, the guards started and turned their heads in the 
direction of the boathouse. But before they had time to think, Harriet 
silently and efficiently exercised her Singer-tested right hook on the 
distracted man and efficiently took him out. The second guard started 
to 
draw his gun but Jeannine's knee very pointedly met his most sensible 
parts 
and the pain made him drop the gun and drop to his knees. Harriet 
picked up 
the gun and pistol-whipped him with it to knock him unconscious."

"Not my type, anyway," she muttered, satisfied, and, together with 
Jeannine, 
ran over to the boathouse.

They arrived to find Mac trying to console a totally broken-down 
Claire. 
"Claire, you had no choice. If you hadn't shot him he would have shot 
someone else. Fred, maybe. It was self-defense."

Claire looked up with a tear-stained face. "But I am a doctor, Mac," 
she 
said in a low voice. "I swore an oath to save life, not to take it."

Harriet had instantly understood that freeing Fred was priority number 
one 
right now. As soon as she had untied him, the lieutenant ran over to 
his 
fiancée and took her into his arms, rocking her gently and soothingly 
whispering to her in Italian, thus giving them a little privacy. 
Jeannine 
untied the two other officers and took whatever rope was left outside 
to use 
it on the guards to allow the others privacy as they reunited with 
their 
loved ones.

Harriet was too shaken to speak. She and Bud just fiercely held on to 
one 
another, crying with relief. Mac went over to Harm and gently encircled 
him 
in her arms, suppressing a sob. Examining his bruises, she very slowly 
felt 
him relax as he realized that they still had each other.

"I was so scared, Mac," he confessed in a low voice. "Not so much for 
my 
life. But for losing our love and our future. I thought I'd never see 
you 
again."

Remembering that she still had to refrain from openly showing her 
feelings, 
she just held him, gently caressing his hair. "I was scared out of my 
mind, 
flyboy," she whispered, her voice shaking slightly. "You okay?"

"I am now. Thank you for saving my life once again, Sarah."

She smiled. "You're welcome. But if it hadn't been for the others, I'd 
never 
have made it in time. Jeannine happened to see you being assaulted. She 
alerted us, and Harriet took the command of the operation."

"Wow. The four of you really proved that women do stand their ground in 
combat." He gave her half a flyboy-grin.

She just kept smiling, holding onto him.

Claire cleared her throat and, with a shaky smile on her lips, stepped 
over 
to them. "I'd like to quickly look you over, all of you, just to make 
sure 
no one's been hurt."

"Go ahead, doctor," Harm smiled.

Claire examined his bruises and decided he had a slight concussion, but 
nothing broken. Bud's stump was a little red and swollen from the 
blows, but 
Claire considered it safe to put the prosthesis back on if he promised 
to 
let someone help him when he stood. Fred had a tiny cut on his throat 
where 
Gonzalez had pointed his saber. But it had already started to clot. 
Harriet, 
in her state, luckily hadn't been involved in any real violence. She 
just 
had to promise to Claire to take it easy for the next days. Mac didn't 
show 
any signs of injury, either. Relieved, all left the boathouse and 
Claire 
started to look for Jeannine in order to examine her as well. As she 
walked 
over to where the cadet was finishing her work by gagging one of the 
guards 
with her handkerchief, Mac motioned for Claire to stop, making sure 
they 
wouldn't be overheard.

"Uhm... Claire, could I ask you a favor?" she began uneasily.

Claire's eyebrows went up a notch. "Sure. What's up?"

"Do you have your med bag around?"

"Back at Fred's, at the college, yes."

"Could I drop by for a minute once we're back, in private, to get 
something 
checked out?"

"Sure."

Just then Jeannine walked up to them. Mac decided she'd tell Claire 
when 
they were alone and, upon mutual agreement, she quickly set off for the 
college to get help. The others carried the motionless guards into the 
boathouse and tried to brush the dirt off their dress uniforms. Only 
then 
did they start to walk back to the college.


Mac had been running all the way across the sand, feeling the urge to 
tire 
herself down to be able to digest the recent events. When she finally 
arrived at the campus gate, she was panting heavily and her uniform was 
all 
but in order. She quickly approached the Marine corporal.

"Have some people sent over to the boathouse half a mile south of the 
'Driftwood' café," she ordered in boot-camp voice. "There's two dead 
and 
four ready to be taken in custody."

The corporal just eyed her from head to toe. "And you would be...?" he 
said 
superbly.

After the day's events, Mac's patience was almost non-existent. She 
drew 
herself up to full height, took off her cadet's cover and hairpin, 
quickly 
shaking her head, and said very pointedly: "Lieutenant Colonel Sarah 
Catherine Mackenzie, United States Marine Corps, Chief of Staff to the 
U.S. 
Navy's Judge Advocate General."

The corporal smiled. "Sure. And I'm the Secretary of Defense."

At this, Mac lost it. She pulled out her dog tags, slammed them on the 
counter in front of the guard and, with a killing stare, shouted: "Get 
me MP 
reinforcements, Corporal. ASAP!"

The corporal jumped, took a look at Mac's dog tags, blanched visibly, 
came 
to attention and shouted: "Yes, ma'am, Colonel Mackenzie, ma'am!" Then, 
shaking, he quickly grabbed the receiver of his base telephone and 
executed 
her order.



Sun, June 21st
1940 ZULU
Fred's apartment
Dwayne Myers Naval College
Long Island, N.Y.



Fear made Mac clutch the seam of her uniform skirt as she sat and 
waited for 
Claire to finish her tests. She had had a certain suspicion for several 
days 
now, ever since her menstruation hadn't set in as punctually as it 
normally 
did. Mac would never have worried about a delay of a day or two, but 
taking 
the pill, she had always been able to rely on her body to function like 
clockwork. She always started taking the hormones on Tuesdays, stopped 
on 
Mondays and was sure to be due for her menstruation the following 
Thursday 
morning. So it worried her that this time, for the first time in years, 
on 
Sunday morning there was still no sign of it. For three days she had 
pushed 
it away from her thoughts, the investigation being much more important. 
But 
now that they seemed to have accomplished their official task, the 
gnawing 
uncertainty had come back and she was glad Claire was there to release 
her 
from her state of hanging - one way or the other.

As soon as she had made sure that the MPs were underway, Mac had called 
Webb 
and had briefed him about the latest events. He had instantly sent his 
people to arrest Alvarez and any possible accomplices that would come 
up 
during the interrogation. Other MPs had been sent to take care of Pedro 
Godoy and question the Gonzalezes' other cousins. Hopefully, a hint at 
who'd 
killed Meryl Waters would now be within reach, too.

Clay had sung high praise about the discovery of the diary and had 
mentioned 
some document the Secnav must have sent to Harm... He had sounded 
rather 
strange as he had hinted at the topic, and he had quickly passed on to 
another one, once he had realized that she didn't know what he had been 
talking about. Well, she'd ask Harm later on. But it really seemed that 
they 
were finally done with this game of hide-and-seek.

Mac had butterflies in her stomach at the thought of being able to 
return 
into Harm's waiting arms - well, at least privately. On the other hand, 
she 
was astonished to feel a slight pang at the thought that she had to 
leave 
college life, too. The past few weeks had provided her with an insight 
into 
what her youth could have been, had she been born into the 'right' 
family. 
She was going to miss the fun. And she was going to miss the music. 
Who'd 
have guessed?

And now there was this other thing looming over her future. 'We'll take 
one 
step at a time and let everything develop slowly,' she remembered Harm 
telling her in Venice. They'd done great so far. Everything had come up 
at 
the right time, they had adjusted to their new relationship with ease. 
By 
the by, each of them had dropped little bits of emotional baggage as 
they 
carried on down the road.

If her suspicion were proven right, would Harm be ready to face the 
full 
consequences of what it meant, and would he do it from the heart, not 
from a 
mere sense of honor and duty? Mac sighed heavily and kept counting the 
seconds, imagining that her stomach had to be completely made of knots 
by 
now. After what seemed an eternity to her, although in reality it had 
been 
only fourteen minutes and twenty-eight seconds, Claire came back into 
the 
room, slightly smiling and obviously unsure how to talk to the colonel.

Mac saw her expression and felt her throat go dry. "Just tell me the 
verdict, Claire. No beating around the bush."

Claire cleared her throat. "Well, Mac... I don't know if this is the 
way you 
feel about it right now, but all I have to say is: congratulations."

Closing her eyes, Mac felt a wave of conflicting emotions wash over her 
in 
an instant. Her first thought was: 'Run and hide!' But then a second 
thought 
made its way to her conscious, filling her with sudden warmth. 
Unbeknownst 
to her, a smile began to slowly spread over her face as she let 
Claire's 
words sink in. 'This is it,' she realized with wonder. 'Right here, 
under 
your very heart, you carry Harm's child. A child of your love.'

She looked up at Claire whose smile had brightened at her reaction. "I 
don't 
really know what I should feel right now," Mac confessed in a low, 
confused 
voice that yet carried audible traces of her smile. "You know, Claire, 
I was 
so sure it couldn't happen. I'm on the pill. But I think I forgot that 
I'd 
been sick due to the concussion I suffered when I fell during my first 
band 
rehearsal and hit my head on my drum. Throwing up must have lessened 
the 
effect of the hormones."

Claire decided she'd take the plunge. "It's Harm's, isn't it?" she 
asked 
quietly.

"Yeah," Mac said with a far-away smile on her face as she remembered 
the 
night the child must have been conceived. Or the following day, for 
that 
matter...

"How do you think he'll take it?" the younger woman ventured carefully.

Mac let out a low chuckle, studying her hands and fighting with her 
emotions. "I guess 'shock' wouldn't quite describe it. But I'm rather 
sure 
that once he's gotten used to the idea he'll be on cloud nine. After 
all, we 
did have that deal..."

"What deal?" Claire's voice showed traces of curiosity as she sat down 
on 
the couch beside her friend.

Mac hesitated for a moment, but then thought she might as well tell 
her. 
"Don't laugh, okay?"

Claire gave her a puzzled smirk. "Okay..."

"Well, when Bud and Harriet's son AJ, our godson, was born four years 
ago," 
Mac again smiled at the recollection, "Harriet didn't make it to the 
hospital in time and actually gave birth in Chegwidden's office, the 
admiral 
playing the best midwife I've ever seen."

"No!" Claire gasped in amazement, making Mac chuckle.

"Yes, believe me. Anyway, when we'd finally gotten her and Bud in an 
ambulance together with their son, Harm and I watched them leave and I 
started musing about my biological clock. That's when he offered that 
we'd 
go on halves on a kid in five years if neither of us were in a serious 
relationship. I accepted. That's it." Mac looked at her friend to see 
her 
stare at her in utmost bewilderment.

"You're kidding."

"Nope."

"But you've been together for quite some time, then?"

"Nope." Mac's grin was steadily growing.

Claire shook herself from her shock. "Okay, now we're going to 
straighten 
out some details!" she said in a tone that would have made a drill 
sergeant 
proud. "Just what's going on between the two of you?"

By now Mac was openly laughing. "It's been a little more than three 
months, 
to be exact. It took me almost marrying someone else I didn't love and 
him 
almost dying in a plane crash at sea plus another two years to get back 
to 
our friendship before we finally had the guts to face our seven years 
of 
history and get it right."

Claire silently counted backwards. "Venice..." she finally said.

"Yep."

"Does anyone know yet?"

"You do now. And Harm's parents. And Jeannine. She put two and two 
together 
when she saw that I carry a picture of Harm in my wallet."

"Fred's been suspecting something ever since his first day at JAG," 
Claire 
admitted with a grin. "He said you were kind of emanating an aura."

Mac laughed at her statement. "Well, if he can keep secrets you might 
let 
slip that he was right. I guess, things being as they are, it won't 
stay a 
secret for too long anyway. We'll have to come up with some solution 
quickly, concerning the regs," she added with a frown.

"Mac," Claire said soothingly, taking her hand as she sensed her 
friend's 
discomfort, "Don't try to create the world in one day when even God 
needed 
six to do it. First get used to the idea that you and Harm will have a 
family. That's a wonderful thing. Then break the news to the future 
daddy. 
Then wrap up this case as quickly as possible. And then I'll allow you 
to 
think about regulations, okay? I'm your obstetrician, I'm in the 
position to 
order you now, Colonel. That is... if you'd like me to do the job," she 
added, a little unsure.

Mac's smile was one of genuine gratefulness. "I'd love that, Claire," 
she 
said, squeezing the younger woman's hand.


Walking over to her quarters, Mac decided she wouldn't need Pat O'Hara 
anymore. Her dress whites were stained anyway. How on earth did Harm 
and the 
other squids succeed to keep them white whatever they did? Not that it 
concerned her now. She'd told Harriet to bring her dress blues, just in 
case. So tonight she'd step onto that stage in the uniform she was 
proud of.
Uniform. Mac gasped when a picture invaded her mind, a picture of 
herself in 
a maternity uniform. 'How will Harm take it?' she asked herself, 
feeling a 
little frightened. Rationally she was sure he would be rapturous. But 
emotionally she still had difficulties to fully trust her luck. What if 
he 
backed away? Not from his responsibility. He'd never let her down. But 
emotionally, if he didn't feel up to the task... 'Oh God, please, don't 
let 
that happen!' she silently prayed.

She knew he'd immediately ask her to marry him. But initially he had 
begged 
her to be patient for a little while until he felt he could ask her 
properly. She didn't want him to rush it now because he considered it a 
question of honor. She wanted him to ask of his own free will. But that 
wouldn't be an option anymore, once he learnt of her state. Why hadn't 
she 
just been more careful?


Mac was so lost in thoughts when she entered her apartment that at 
first she 
didn't notice the person that was quietly sitting on the couch. Only as 
he 
rose Mac jumped and froze, instantly switching to Marine-mode.

"Pablo, what are you doing here? How did you get into my room?"

Pablo, with the hint of a thin smile, approached her. "I have my ways, 
sweetheart."

Mac decided she didn't like the sound of his voice and prepared for a 
possible attack. But Pablo just stopped in front of her. "You wanted 
war, 
Colonel Mackenzie, you got it," he stated simply. "You know, I did care 
for 
you. As did Maribel for your commander. But I guess that's our problem 
now. 
Your problem is gonna be a little different: facing our revenge."

With that he quickly pulled his hand out of his pocket and lunged at 
Mac. 
She was quick to parry his blow, but not quick enough. She felt a 
stinging 
pain in her side, and only moments later started to feel dizzy. She 
swayed, 
lost her footing and fell to the ground, hitting her temple hard at the 
edge 
of the coffee table.

Pablo, with a sad smile, held up a syringe. "Insulin," he said quietly. 
"Overdose. All I gotta do now is prevent you from getting to your 
sweets as 
long as you'd still be able to eat. Shouldn't be too long now." He 
grabbed 
Mac and dragged her onto the couch, applying an amazing amount of 
strength 
to the Marine that already wasn't quite able to defend herself anymore.

"You were the one who killed Meryl, weren't you?" she managed to ask in 
a 
hoarse voice while her vision began to swim. 'Harm!' she silently, 
desperately called out, knowing he'd never make it in time. How would 
he 
know she needed him? And Jeannine, the only one who was likely to come 
to 
the apartment, would be being questioned right now and not likely to 
show 
up. 'Harm, I need your help!'

"Good thinking, Colonel," Pablo replied coldly. "The family couldn't 
let 
Meryl run around and ruin our business. Whereas with you... consider it 
my 
personal revenge for betraying me the way you did, Patricia. I couldn't 
believe it when Maribel told me this morning."

But his last remark already went unnoticed by Mac who'd by now lost 
consciousness. Pablo just sat by and watched, smiling his thin, sad 
smile.



Same time
Outside House Mistral
Dwayne Myers Naval College
Long Island, N.Y.



Once Harm had written down her testimony, Jeannine had been dismissed 
to 
prepare herself for the concert. Relieved that the horror she was going 
through might shortly come to an end, she had immediately set off for 
her 
apartment, hoping she might be able to even take a little nap before 
having 
to prepare for leaving.

When she arrived at her dorm, she was astonished to find Maribel 
Gonzalez 
standing in front of the entrance, obviously waiting for her. Jeannine 
chose 
to ignore her and tried to get past her to reach the door. But Maribel 
stepped in the way, glaring at the petite blonde in front of her.

"No way you're going in there right now, Cadet."

Jeannine had a feeling of alarm. "What's up?" She stared back.

"My brother needs to finish something."

Hearing that remark, Jeannine inwardly snapped to red alert. "Let me 
through!" she yelled, trying to push the tall woman away. She had to 
get to 
Mac!

Maribel only laughed, standing her ground. "I told you, no way you're 
going 
in there right now."

'Damn sure I am,' Jeannine thought grimly and, thinking of how Mac 
would 
probably handle this, she decided she'd either do it or die trying. 
Tightly 
clenching her fist, never breaking the eye contact with Maribel, 
Jeannine 
said, deadly calm: "Let - me - pass."

"Go to hell."

"Go yourself." With that, a quick, well-aimed right cross hit Maribel 
to the 
classic knockout point under her chin. The tall woman went down without 
so 
much as an 'ouch'.

Jeannine sped up the stairs, found her door half open and froze at the 
sight 
of Pablo sitting calmly beside an obviously unconscious Mac. 'God, 
don't let 
it happen again!' Jeannine prayed as she, trembling, sneaked into her 
room, 
unseen by Pablo, and instantly dialed Harm's cell-phone number on her 
telephone.

"Rabb?"

"Commander, it's Jeannine," she whispered agitatedly.

Harm had immediately detected the fear in her voice. "What's up, 
Cadet?"

"Pablo's trying to kill Mac!"

She heard Harm gasp. "Where are you?"

"Our apartment."

Harm didn't even acknowledge her response. Jeannine just heard the line 
go 
dead and prayed that Mac would hang on until he arrived. In the 
meantime, 
she desperately thought about a plan to save her friend without being 
taken 
down by Pablo first. Not that she feared the situation - but attempts 
at 
heroism wouldn't be of any help right now. And she knew she didn't have 
the 
hint of a chance against the broad-shouldered Columbian.

But a loud noise of wood cracking and splintering saved her from 
further 
actions. Jeannine just watched as Harm, closely followed by Fred, 
entered 
the apartment, having forced the door. Both officers were tightly 
clutching 
their guns, instantly pointing them at Pablo whose expression conveyed 
utmost shock. This wasn't supposed to happen.

As Harm saw his Marine lying motionless on the couch, he lost it 
completely. 
He ran over and, in no time, had a dumbfounded Pablo pinned beneath 
him. He 
could see the utmost fear in the young man's eyes as he put his gun to 
Pablo's temple.

"You bastard!" Harm shouted, his voice shaking. "What did you do to 
her?"

Pablo didn't respond but just stared back at the tall commander who 
right 
now held Pablo's life in his hands.

"Answer me!" Harm cried, forcefully nudging the weapon against the 
Columbian's head.

Fred thought it wise to intervene. Otherwise Harm might do something 
that he 
might regret for the rest of his life. Quickly joining him, he knelt 
down 
and, meeting Harm's wild glare, said as calmly as he could: "I'll take 
care 
of him now, sir. You get the Colonel to the infirmary, I really suggest 
you 
do, sir!"

Harm emerged from his daze, instantly got a clear picture of the 
situation 
and cast Fred a quick grateful look.

Meanwhile Jeannine had noticed a small object that must have rolled 
under 
the coffee-table more or less from where Mac was lying. She instantly 
ran 
over, picked it up and recognized it as an empty insulin pen. "Oh God, 
sir," 
she blurted out, startling the officers, "She's had an insulin 
overdose. 
Hurry!"

"Oh God..." Harm let Fred take the job of exercising a precise blow on 
Pablo's head to take him out and let Jeannine bind him like she had the 
kidnappers. He himself effortlessly lifted Mac to his arms and, running 
for 
his - her - life, carried her to the infirmary.


"She's had an insulin overdose, get a glucose IV ready, ASAP!" he 
shouted to 
the first nurse they came across. Seeing the haunted look on Harm's 
ashen 
face, the woman didn't even think about arguing. She started to run 
down the 
corridor, in no time came back with a doctor and soon Mac had highly 
concentrated sugar trickling into her vein.

Harm sat down beside Mac's bed, firmly holding on to her hand, not 
caring 
that the nurse shot him an odd look, thinking that this professor cared 
far 
too much about his student.

Fred stood by quietly, his hand on Harm's shoulder, worried for both 
his 
friends who, in the short time he had known them, had already grown 
very 
close to him and Claire. And he was thanking God that it wasn't Claire 
lying 
there. He could only imagine what the commander had to be going through 
right now.

Clearing her throat, the nurse stepped up to the bed, puzzled that the 
commander didn't seem to care that she saw him fraternize with one of 
his 
students. "Uhm... sir, I need the cadet's name and a few other things 
for 
the register."

Harm's eyes were blank when he looked up at her, never releasing Mac's 
hand. 
The nurse, against her better judgment, began to feel pity for him. 
"Lieutenant Colonel Sarah Mackenzie, United States Marine Corps, Chief 
of 
Staff to the U.S. Navy's JAG," Harm said tonelessly and instantly 
turned his 
focus back to Mac who still didn't show any sign of awakening yet.

The nurse all but dropped her pad. "Excuse me, sir?" she asked 
hoarsely.

Fred sensed that Harm needed to be with Mac, entirely. So he gently 
took the 
woman's arm and led her to the other end of the room.

"Uhm, Ensign.... Carter," he read her name tag, "You heard the 
commander 
right. The colonel's been conducting an undercover investigation in the 
college. You might find her in your students list as Cadet Second Year 
Patricia O'Hara. She's been the commander's working partner for more 
than 
seven years now. That's why they're so close."

Ensign Carter gulped down her astonishment and, instead of asking for 
details, interviewed Fred about the necessary data she needed. The task 
finished, she looked at the couple. "I guess we might let them have 
some 
privacy then, sir," she said softly. "If everything goes well she 
should 
wake up soon."

Fred gave her a small grateful smile and led her outside.


Harm was sitting motionless at Mac's side, silently praying. He 
couldn't 
lose her now. What would his life be without her? The same void it had 
been 
until Venice. And an eternal torment, knowing they could have been 
together, 
had she lived. 'God, no, please, don't do this to me!' he pleaded 
frantically.

He jumped when he suddenly felt her hand slightly return his squeeze.

"Mac?"

"Harm... what..." her strained voice trailed off.

Fighting down his tears of relief, Harm bent over her, softly kissing 
her 
forehead. "Hang on, Marine," he whispered, not trusting his voice.

Mac, through her slowly fading daze, forced her eyes to focus on the 
face 
above her.
"Harm..."

"I'm here, honey, I'm right here," he said soothingly, stroking her 
head.

"What happened? Pablo..."

Harm swallowed at the thought of what might have happened, hadn't 
Jeannine 
been quick enough to get to him. Both of them now owed their lives to 
that 
incredibly brave girl, he realized.

"Jeannine was the one to save you. Again," he softly told her. "She 
returned 
in time to find Pablo at your apartment and called me on my 
cell-phone."

Mac felt him shudder briefly. With the glucose IV nearing its end, her 
world 
quickly came into focus again. 'Thank God hypoglycemia has no further 
lasting effects,' she thought. Still feeling a little groggy, she 
nevertheless managed to slowly sit up and hug him tightly.

Harm held on to her as if his life depended on it. "My Marine, so near 
to 
losing you once again..." Was that a sob? She wondered.

"It's over now, flyboy," she whispered soothingly, "I'm with you. But 
you 
could do me a favor..."

He pulled back and, for the first time, allowed himself a slight smile. 
"Anything, Sarah."

She smiled back, quickly coming back to her normal self now as the 
glucose 
began to work in her body. "Give me something else to think about, 
something 
totally unrelated to this damn case and something that'll make me 
happy. Can 
you come up with something of the sort?"
She looked at him challengingly.

Harm decided that, although he had planned everything a little 
differently, 
this would nevertheless be the right moment to get his plan to work. 
He'd 
come too close to losing her once again. Gently lowering her to her 
pillow, 
he reached into the inside pocket of his dress whites and, with an 
enigmatical smile, handed her an official-looking envelope.

"I think I might just be up to the task. You able to read, Marine?" he 
only 
asked.

Quizzically raising her eyebrows at him, she only nodded and unfolded 
the 
letter.


Subject: Regarding Commander Harmon Rabb, Jr. and Lieutenant Colonel 
Sarah 
Mackenzie, both assigned to the Judge Advocate General Corps

Answering to a special request ventured by Undersecretary of State 
Clayton 
Webb, referring to a wish expressed by the USN Judge Advocate General, 
Rear 
Admiral AJ Chegwidden, I declare that the senior lawyer team assigned 
to JAG 
Headquarters, Commander Harmon Rabb, Jr., USN, and Lieutenant Colonel 
Sarah 
Mackenzie, USMC, receive the guarantee not to be obliged to change 
designator, regardless of whatever facts might suggest the necessity.

Any event or situation whatsoever that is connected to Cmdr. Rabb and 
Lt. 
Col. Mackenzie and might cause conflict with chain-of-command 
regulations is 
to be considered of minor importance. In the interest of achieving 
continuity, regarding thoroughly conducted investigations and carefully 
researched and successfully argued court-martials, JAG Headquarters 
must not 
be deprived of its most efficient and successful personnel who set an 
example of excellent work to the entire JAG staff.

Signed,
Secretary of the Navy Nelson,
Department of Defense


Mac had to read the letter twice before the full meaning of the words 
hit 
her. Unable to utter a syllable, she stared at the sheet, her hands 
starting 
to tremble. "Clay..." she finally managed to say, still not looking up.

"Yeah..." she heard her partner acknowledge softly.

Mac swallowed and turned her head in Harm's direction - and her heart 
skipped several beats.

Harm was holding his hand out to her, palm up, and on it lay a simple, 
stunningly beautiful diamond solitaire. Mac's eyes switched back and 
forth 
between the ring and Harm's face, needing a few moments to put two and 
two 
together. As she noticed that her partner's expression was getting 
increasingly frightened the longer she was hesitating, she finally 
allowed 
herself to let out the breath that had caught in her throat. Tears were 
starting to form in her eyes but she didn't mind. A radiant smile broke 
through her puzzled frown.

"Harm... do you... I mean..."

Having already seen his dreams dissolve at her hesitation, Harm now 
dared to 
hope. He cleared his throat and in a very low voice said: "I told you 
I'd 
ask properly, didn't I? So here goes: Sarah, will you marry me?"

A sob prevented her from answering immediately, but she gulped it down 
and, 
slowly extending her left hand in his direction, palm down, replied in 
a 
shaky voice: "With all my heart, Harm."

As he gently took her hand in his, Mac could feel that he was 
trembling. 
Seemingly in awe about what they had just agreed upon, he slowly slid 
the 
ring on her finger. Then he looked up at her again, not knowing what to 
say.

"It's beautiful, Harm," Mac whispered, studying the ring.

"It's Grandma Sarah's," he replied. "She told me long ago to ask for 
it, 
should I ever find a woman I could love as much as she loved my 
granddad. 
Mom would always keep it for me 'cause Gram said it could be sent 
quicker 
from where they live than from where she does, in case it had to be a 
quick 
delivery. There isn't any UPS office or something in Beallsville and 
Gram 
doesn't trust Postal services in the rural area she lives in. Anyway, 
when I 
told my mom to send the ring over, she gave a scream that half of La 
Jolla 
must have heard." He chuckled slightly, avoiding her eyes and studying 
their 
entwined hands instead.

Mac felt overwhelming relief flood through her veins. All her fears 
that his 
commitment would be one of responsibility, not of love, had vanished in 
an 
instant. Now she couldn't wait to give him the news of their baby... Oh 
God. 
With all that had happened, the knowledge of her pregnancy had 
completely 
slipped from her mind. Nothing too surprising, given the fact that 
she'd 
only learned about it ten minutes prior to Pablo's assault. But what if 
anything had happened to their child?

Harm looked up sharply as, all of a sudden, he felt her fingers clench 
around his. All color had drained from her face.

"Mac! What's up?" Adrenaline instantly shot up high in his body.

"Harm! Get me Claire, please, I need her right now!" Mac's voice was 
shaking.

Not taking the time to ask, he jumped to his feet and hurried out of 
the 
room, fate being kind to him, as he saw Fred and his fiancée walk up 
the 
corridor just as he wanted to start running to their quarters.

"Claire! Come in quickly," he shouted, "Mac needs you!"

Claire instantly sped to Mac's bedside, Fred close in her tracks.

Mac looked up to her with an expression of utmost dread. "Claire," she 
whispered, "Can insulin do any harm? Please, say it won't," she begged.

Harm only looked frantically from one to the other, exchanging helpless 
looks with an equally clueless Fred. Harm felt he wanted to shake 
either of 
the women, to make them tell him what he obviously wasn't supposed to 
know. 
Was there a further threat that his Marine was hiding from him?

Claire soothingly put one hand on Mac's head while she studied the data 
on 
the pad Ensign Carter had left at her bedside. Fred could tell his 
fiancée 
was inwardly tense, but eventually she seemed to relax. And even Harm 
managed to calm down as he finally saw a small smile appear on the 
young 
woman's face.

"I don't think you need to worry, Mac," she said gently. "You've been 
enormously lucky, sure, but you know, when a person loses 
consciousness, 
that means that the body tries to focus on keeping the essential parts 
alive. And growing life is as essential as anything. At least to 
nature. 
Everything should be fine. We'll do some tests tomorrow, if you like. 
But I 
want you to relax, okay?"

Mac only swallowed and nodded, her face by now mirroring Claire's 
smile.

Harm sat thunderstruck. "Did you..." his voice caught in his throat. He 
cleared his throat and tried again. "Claire, did you just say what I 
think 
you said or does what I think you just said mean what I think it does 
or..." 
he stopped, lost.

At that, Mac burst out laughing, Fred and Claire immediately joining 
in. 
Harm's expression was hilarious.

"Hey, tell me!" he protested.

Claire managed to get a grip. "You heard me right, Harm," she said with 
a 
slight chuckle. "In a little less than nine months you're gonna be a 
daddy."

Harm looked at Mac, dumbfounded. "But didn't you say..."

She smiled back, just a little unsure about how to interpret his 
reaction. 
"I... well, I forgot that I had been sick when I had that concussion, 
remember? The first band rehearsal..."

For a few more moments Harm just stared. Fear was beginning to rise in 
Mac's 
eyes. But then, all of a sudden, Harm jumped to his feet, grabbed his 
cover, 
tossed it in the air and, catching it, shouted: "I'm gonna be a dad!!!"

His reaction caused new, relieved fits of laughter. Harm, cheeks 
flushed 
with excitement, beaming radiantly, sat down again at Mac's bedside, 
taking 
her hand. "Thanks, Mac," he said, overwhelmed. He looked at his 
fiancée, 
whose cheeks were rosy with excitement as well and whose dark eyes were 
sparkling. He just couldn't get over how lucky he was.

Her glance was one of pure joy. "Thanks to you, flyboy," she softly 
answered, "For keeping your promise."

"It hasn't been five years, yet," he reminded her with a smirk, "But I 
think 
we make it count. What do you say, Colonel?"

"Absolutely." With that she let herself be drawn into a tight embrace.

Suddenly she heard Claire gasp sharply. They broke apart and looked up, 
curious.

"Mac! Is that an engagement ring you're wearing?" Claire asked, 
incredulous.

"Yup!" Mac answered gleefully.

"Congratulations, sir!" Fred patted Harm on the back, grinning widely, 
determining not to wonder about anything those two superiors of his 
would 
come up with. Later would be enough time to clear the details.

"Thanks, Fred," Harm said with a heartfelt sigh. "Took me long enough. 
Speaking of long enough," he added, glancing at his watch, "We have to 
get 
ready. In half an hour we have to leave on our bus trip to Carnegie 
hall. 
I've got a concert to conduct, remember?"

"Claire," Mac's voice had a decidedly begging tone. "This will most 
probably 
be the one and only occasion in my life that I get to play on stage at 
Carnegie Hall. Can I go, please?"

"I'd never thought you'd even be as wise as to ask," Claire stated, 
caught 
off guard. Harm and Fred just stared at the suddenly all too reasonable 
colonel. Claire went on: "From what I heard you do what you want, 
anyway. 
But as you did ask and if you promise to be a good girl and take it 
easy: 
yes, Colonel, you may go."

"Then let's not keep them waiting," Mac replied with a huge grin as she 
allowed Harm to support her while she climbed out of bed, utterly 
surprising 
him for the second time in one minute with this new, docile attitude of 
hers.

'Obviously motherhood works miracles...' Fred thought by himself, 
hiding his 
knowing grin.



2148 ZULU
Harm's apartment
Dwayne Myers Naval College
Long Island, N.Y.



"Ma'am, sir, I'm so happy for you, so happy!" Harriet's cheeks were 
flushed 
with excitement as she tightly hugged Mac.

"But, excuse me, sir," Bud carefully asked Harm, "Don't get me wrong, 
I'm 
really happy for you and the colonel, but what about the regs? What if 
Singer..."

"Don't worry, Bud. All settled. Read this." Harm good-naturedly handed 
him 
the Secnav's letter and watched his junior officer's eyes go wide as he 
read.

"Wow... sir, this is... how did you... I mean..." he stopped, lost.

Harm chuckled. "Webb," he said simply. At that, a grin slowly spread 
over 
Bud's face.

Harriet stepped up to her husband and peeped over his shoulder. "Oh my 
God!!!" she only exclaimed and motioned Fred and Claire to come and 
read as 
well.

"Ma'am, sir, I don't know Agent Webb too well, but from what you told 
me 
about how he normally acts... well, I guess he felt he really did owe 
you 
this time," Fred stated with a smile.

"Seems so," Mac answered, smirking. "But now we've got a mere ten 
minutes 
left to get ready and get to the plaza. What did the MPs do about 
Pablo? 
And, God, Harm, did you contact Cadet First Year Hannah Brown? We'll 
need 
her clarinet! Pablo's not gonna play."

"I'm beginning to get sick of clarinets," Harm murmured as he instantly 
rushed over to the telephone. "Cadet Stiller? Can you give me the 
number of 
Cadet First Year Hannah Brown? I need to... oh, you already called 
her... 
you, what?"

Grinning, Harm covered the receiver and hissed to his friends: "Listen 
to 
this: when tied up Pablo and called the MPs, the first thing she did 
was ask 
for access to his apartment to retrieve his Goodman scores and then 
call 
Cadet Brown!" He tried to swallow his astonished laughter and turned 
back to 
the telephone.

"Yes, Cadet?... She's up to it? Great... good work, Cadet! See you in 
ten... 
yes, she's fine... yes, she's gonna play, hypoglycemia doesn't last 
long if 
you get enough sugar back into the system... yeah... I see... I'll do 
that. 
Mac sends you her love. Bye, Cadet Stiller." Harm put the receiver down 
and 
grinned contently. "Everything's under control."

Mac turned to Harriet. "Harriet, I'm feeling okay, but just in case, 
I... 
uhm... I might need you while I take a little express shower. I have 
to, ran 
too much to get back and get help. Just be present in the bathroom, 
just in 
case I get dizzy, okay?"

"Sure, ma'am," Harriet complied. "I've got your dress blues ready. Got 
them 
from the car and brought them here while you were out of it."

"Thanks, Harriet." Then Mac turned to the rest of the assembly. "I'm 
sure 
Harm's got a good clothes brush. See that you get your dress whites in 
order, people. I still don't get it how you manage to keep them clean 
when 
you're wearing them, especially with today's events. I had mine covered 
with 
something the minute I put them on."

Harm grinned a little nastily. "It's a navy thing, Mac."

"Jerk!" With a laugh she vanished into the bathroom while Harm, Fred, 
Bud 
and Jeannine busied themselves to brush the traces of the day's events 
off 
their clothes. Harm had a stain of dried blood on the collar from his 
initial injury. But with a little cold water from the sink, Claire 
managed 
to clean it off almost completely. Bud's uniform trousers were a little 
stained where the kidnappers had previously kicked his stump. But in 
this 
particular case it was even lucky that the trousers hung loosely around 
his 
prosthesis. The dirt could pass for a shadow of a fold if you didn't 
look 
too closely. A button was missing from Fred's uniform jacket but as the 
Italian dress whites had the front buttons covered anyway, it wouldn't 
be 
noticed. Fred readjusted his royal blue sash so that it passed right 
over 
the missing button, thus keeping the jacket closed firmly. Only Claire 
had 
to replace her skirt with matching trousers as her climbing onto the 
boathouse roof had caused stains that wouldn't come out by simply 
brushing 
them. Fred quickly supplied the needed item from his quarters where she 
had 
left her luggage.

Just then, Mac reemerged from the bathroom, clad in her usual dress 
blues, 
all herself again - finally! She approached Harm with her make-up case. 
"Flyboy... would you please see to my forehead?"


Two minutes later, the six of them hurried to meet the rest of the band 
on 
the main plaza. Just before turning around the last corner, Harm 
gallantly 
held his arm out to Mac. "Ready for the show?" he asked her with a 
dashing 
flyboy-grin.

"Let's go, sailor!" she only shot back, grinning, taking his arm. The 
other 
four, curious how everyone would react, let the couple walk in front.

Cassandra was the first to see them. "Holy shit!!!" was all she 
exclaimed 
before staring with her mouth wide open.

Instantly, the murmurs stopped and everyone turned in their direction. 
A 
faint 'thud' told of a bag that had just dropped to the floor 
somewhere. 
Harm and Mac smiled easily at the group as they approached.

"Att... attention on deck!" Danny shouted half-heartedly. Everyone woke 
from 
their shock and snapped to attention. Harm thought the plaza had never 
been 
this quiet.

"At ease. Cadets, I'm sorry we're a little late but, uh, something's 
come up 
that had to be taken care of first. I'm sorry, too, for the little game 
of 
hide-and-seek we had to play but my partner here..." he cast a 
brilliant 
smile at an equally smiling Mac, "Had to do a little research from the 
insiders' prospective. Nothing worth talking about, actually, you could 
call 
it routine in the end."

At this, Jeannine started to desperately bite her lower lip, trying to 
stifle her laughter. She didn't know why Harm didn't tell the truth but 
he 
must have had a good reason for wanting to keep the Gonzalez affair 
quiet. 
And she agreed that the others didn't need to know about the nature of 
Meryl's death. She'd ask Mac for details after the concert, she 
decided.

"Anyway," Harm went on, "As we're now finished with the investigation, 
I 
might as well present my partner to you. Cadets, I'd like you to meet 
Lieutenant Colonel Sarah Catherine Mackenzie, United States Marine 
Corps, 
Chief of Staff to the United States Navy's Judge Advocate General. And 
my 
fiancée," he added with a smile after a short pause.

A sharp gasp, both from Cassandra and Dorothy, was the immediate 
answer.

Harm went on: "I also want to welcome Cadet Brown as a regular member 
of the 
band now. You've done some of the rehearsals as have the other 
substitutes, 
but as Pablo Gonzalez asks you all to excuse him as he's suddenly 
ill..." 
Harm managed to look slightly grave for a moment, "You're the lucky one 
to 
step in, Cadet Brown. You feel up to the task?"

"Yes, sir!" came the answer, along with a radiant beam, from the 
excited 
young girl.

"Good. So I suggest we get on the bus and move. Is the colonel's drum 
already stored?"

The students exchanged astonished glances at the prospect that the 
Chief of 
Staff at JAG would actually take her place in their band's back row.

"I've seen to it, sir," Jeannine said immediately.

"Thank you, Cadet Stiller. So, Cadets, this is it. How do you feel?" 
Harm 
asked cheerfully.

No one dared to answer. He frowned. "It's not that I've grown a second 
head 
or something, is it? Just accept that Cadet O'Hara's wearing blue 
today, 
okay?"

Slowly, the tension began to dissipate. Harm decided to try again and 
get 
his band into concert mood. "So, you up to the challenge, Cadets?"

"Yes, sir!" all shouted in unison as they came to attention again, many 
of 
them hiding grins. 'Cute couple, Rabb and O'Hara...'



Mon, June 22nd
0325 ZULU
Carnegie Hall
New York City, N.Y.



Harm felt stunned, dazed, swept away... standing in the middle of a 
bright 
spotlight, he bowed to an enthusiastic audience that he couldn't see 
because, from the brightly-lit stage, the dark auditorium seemed just 
one 
enormous blackness devoid of any distinguishable forms. But he could 
hear 
people cheer and wildly clap their hands. All for him, in this one 
short 
moment. He savored it, letting a relieved, full-blown flyboy-grin grace 
his 
features, and then quickly stepped aside, gesturing to the musicians 
who, 
more than he, deserved the ovations for having performed one singular, 
perfect show.

Lt. Cmdr. Laird had come to wish him luck before the concert, once 
again 
telling him about the many emails he had continuously been receiving 
from 
his students who seemed to very much like Harm's way of working with 
them. 
"You'll do just fine, sir," he had told him with a reassuring smile, 
slightly patting the back of a very pale and incredibly nervous Harm.

What hadn't really helped Harm's stage fright, had been Laird's news 
that 
the Hall was completely sold out, as the city's administration had 
turned 
the college concert into a major social event, combined with 
fundraisings 
for several charitable institutions. Harm had been sure his knees would 
buckle when he stepped onto that stage. And seeing that Fred's face 
matched 
the color of his dress whites hadn't helped either.

But eventually he'd realized that Fred, after all, was a professional 
musician. The moment the backstage door had been opened for the two of 
them 
to step on stage, the lieutenant had straightened his shoulders, taken 
a 
deep breath, put on a dashing smile and seemingly easily gone out into 
the 
lion's den. Harm had simply followed his example.

While Fred had been doing the solo pieces, Harm had reveled in the 
secure 
feeling of sitting in the middle of a group, being a part of it. But as 
soon 
as he'd had to stand up and be the conductor, he'd thought he'd lose 
it. 
He'd instantly sought out Mac's reassuring glance - easy task, now that 
she 
was the only one in a blue uniform - and she'd helped him through the 
evening as she'd said she would.

Mac had had the time of her life playing on that stage. Now that she 
finally 
didn't have to watch out for her cover anymore, she was as excited as 
any of 
the students. From her seat in the back that was raised slightly above 
the 
other rows, she had been able to face the auditorium from a slightly 
different angle and subsequently hadn't been blinded by the spotlights. 
She'd seen them all, sitting in the fourth row: Bud, Harriet, Claire, 
the 
admiral, Tiner, Sturgis and Bobbi, Webb, even Carolyn had flown in from 
Great Lakes. And next to her, to her utmost astonishment, she had 
detected 
Gunny Galindez who probably was on home leave right now. Then came 
Harm's 
parents, Sergei and... no, that couldn't be possible: Chloe with her 
father 
and grandmother! The admiral must have pulled some strings to have them 
all 
come. Mac hadn't seen Singer, though. Well, who cared?

But most of the time Mac kept her eyes on Harm. Her fiancé. The father 
of 
her child. He had certainly acquired remarkable conducting skills by 
now and 
he succeeded to be enough of a professional to lead his musicians 
swiftly 
and never let them off the hook unless he wanted to. Often enough, 
though, 
Harm deliberately stepped aside to let his soloists lead the way just 
as 
they needed it for their parts. 'A gentleman even on stage,' Mac 
thought 
happily. He looked breathtaking in his dress whites, as always. And, 
with 
the help of his well-dosed smile, he succeeded in motivating the 
musicians 
ever more, up to the grand finale: Fred playing 'Stardust'. Mac leaned 
back 
in her seat, her left hand on her drum, subconsciously placing her 
right 
hand on her belly. She closed her eyes and finally allowed herself to 
be 
happy. Absolutely, unlimitedly, overwhelmingly happy.

Just then, Harm motioned for Fred to step into the spotlight to bow. 
The 
young lieutenant's cheeks were flushed and his smile matched Harm's. 
'They 
could pass for brothers,' Mac stated to herself. As Fred had joined 
Harm a 
little further to the side, it was Jeannine's turn to step forward. Mac 
could tell she was in her element. Beaming radiantly and firmly holding 
her 
flute in her right hand, Jeannine exercised an elegant courtesy and 
graced 
the whole audience with a carefully aimed look around. 'Another 
professional,' Mac thought, amused. She saw Chloe clapping wildly. It 
was 
quite natural that the very young and fragile-looking petite blonde 
must 
have especially impressed her with her gorgeous playing.

Then Harm detected a little movement in the open doorway that led 
backstage. 
Lt. Cmdr. Peter Laird was enthusiastically applauding to his own band 
and to 
him, Harm, who had taken the spot he, Laird, should have been in 
tonight. 
Out of the impulse of a moment, Harm took three quick strides to join 
him 
and gently pulled him on stage before Laird realized what was happening 
to 
him.

There he stood in the spotlight, embarrassedly bowing to a public that 
knew 
very well who he was - the magazines had been full of the event, 
telling the 
story why Commander Harmon Rabb, Jr. had had to fill in once again for 
a 
concert. Laird bit his lip to control his commotion as, in the end, he 
got 
to have his dream come true - being on stage at Carnegie Hall - the 
dream 
he'd had to let go of when Wells had told him that Harm would take his 
place. Smiling, Harm motioned for Fred and Jeannine to get their 
instruments 
and retrieved his conductor's baton to put it into an overwhelmed 
Laird's 
hand. Then Harm sat down next to Jeannine, taking his guitar, and 
watched, 
more than a little touched, as Laird bit his lip once more to prevent 
it 
from quivering.

The public settled down again and Laird, finally allowing himself to 
smile 
ever more, raised his baton and cued the band into the 'Da Capo' of 
everyone's favorite piece: 'Stardust'.

'I am damn proud of you, squid!' Mac quickly wiped away a tear of 
commotion 
from the corner of her eye and, as Harm casually turned his head in her 
direction, mouthed: 'I love you!' It didn't matter anymore if anyone 
noticed.

Down in the fourth row, AJ Chegwidden tried in vain to wipe his proud 
grin 
off his face. Although he suspected that his officers had gotten 
themselves 
into serious trouble more than once during this investigation, they 
seemed 
to have wrapped it up neatly, ready to be unpacked in court. And they 
had 
managed to do it quietly. Thinking of a rather particular letter that 
had 
arrived the other day from the Department of Defense, accompanied by a 
call 
from Webb, AJ appreciated even more that word of the affair hadn't 
leaked 
out.

AJ had never let drop a single word in front of Nelson that he expected 
problems with chain-of-command regs regarding his senior team. In 
dealing 
with the Secnav, Webb had expressed AJ's wish of keeping Harm and Mac 
without so much as informing him, but for once in his life, AJ 
absolutely 
agreed with the unusual measures everyone's favorite spook had taken. 
Now 
that Harm and Mac had indeed succeeded in fulfilling their half of this 
extraordinary treaty by keeping Dwayne Myers out of the headlines, AJ 
dared 
to hope that he'd never have to face the decision that he'd been 
dreading 
for so many years now: keeping his most successful team or supporting 
his 
friends' personal happiness.

He had been watching his protégés intently during the whole evening. 
Not a 
single glance, smile or wink that they'd exchanged had escaped his 
notice. 
Ever since Venice when he'd first had his suspicions, AJ had tried to 
make 
out signs that they had indeed gotten closer. But Rabb and Mackenzie 
were 
professionals. Their behavior in the office had been immaculate. And 
even 
outside the office he had waited in vain to stumble across any little 
display of personal involvement. But tonight all seemed different. With 
Mac's cover broken, there was no need whatsoever for them to conceal 
their 
relationship now, knowing that they were protected by an agreement with 
the 
Secnav himself. AJ's affectionate heart had warmed at the tenderness 
that 
was now displaying openly between his 'kids' - finally! 'Well, JAG's a 
family,' he happily stated to himself. 'I daresay it's time for a 
couple of 
grandchildren who don't bear the name of Roberts!'



Epilogue
Sat, August 1st
1635 ZULU
Anglican Church, Campo San Vio
Dorsoduro, Venice
Italy



As the last verse of the hymn was sung, Cadet Jeannine Stiller felt her 
stomach tighten. 'This is it,' she thought happily, 'Now we'll get the 
true 
happy end to this story!' When Mac had called her a few weeks ago and 
asked 
her to be her Maid of Honor, she had been unable to trust her ears. 
With a 
trembling voice she had accepted the honor, and her composure had been 
completely lost as Mac had gone on, asking her if she'd agree to lend 
her 
name to their unborn child, should it turn out to be a girl. Jeannine 
knew 
that this didn't mean that she were to become a godparent - this task 
fell 
upon the Lieutenants Roberts. But hearing Mac explain their choice of 
name, 
had made her cry with commotion: "If we're to have a girl, we would 
like to 
name her Patricia, after Harm's mother, and Jeannine, after the friend 
who 
saved both our lives during the assignment that we were in when the 
child 
was conceived. If you consent to it, Janni." She had gladly consented.

Glancing at the girl standing next to her, she found her smiling back, 
quickly taking her hand and squeezing it in mutual happiness. Chloe 
Madison 
was just as excited as she was. A third hand was placed on top of 
theirs 
now: Harriet Sims-Roberts, Matron of Honor, tried to put into her 
squeeze 
all remainders of calm she might still possess. With a reassuring smile 
at 
the pale but beaming girls, she especially gave Jeannine the necessary 
feeling of confidence that she was up to the task that she was there to 
perform.

A happy congregation had gathered in the small church on this sunny 
Venetian 
afternoon: the whole extended JAG family including Francesca, the 
Burnetts 
along with Grandma Sarah Rabb, Clayton Webb, Harm and Mac's friend Rear 
Admiral Salvatore Della Rosa, CO of the Venice Port Authority, their 
still 
closer friend from the Venice Police Department, Commissario Amedeo De 
Carlo, both accompanied by their wives. Captain Wells had flown in from 
New 
York, together with Lt. Cmdr. Peter Laird and his fiancée, and they had 
even 
brought the entire college band on an extended school trip to perform 
during 
the service. But the most beautiful surprise to Mac had been that AJ 
and 
Webb had managed to arrange a special leave for Colonel Matthew O'Hara 
who 
had led his niece down the aisle.

At a sign from the priest, Jeannine now stepped closer to the altar. 
From 
the other side of the aisle, Sergei Zhukov, for this special occasion 
allowed to once again put on his Russian uniform, did the same. All 
looked 
over to the two figures in white standing in the center of attention, 
and 
they silently agreed that they'd rarely seen anything so touching.

Commander Harmon Rabb, Jr., just a little pale but smiling from the 
bottom 
of his heart, took both hands of his beautiful bride in his and 
listened as 
the priest spoke the words that were to change his life forever:

"Do you, Harmon David, take Sarah Catherine to be your lawful wedded 
wife? 
Do you promise to love, honor and protect her, in good as in bad times, 
in 
wealthy as in poor days, in health as in sickness, till death do you 
part?"

Seeing nothing else than Mac's loving glance, Harm took a deep breath 
and, 
with all the love and honesty that he possibly managed to put into his 
voice, softly but clearly answered: "I do."

In the brief moment of silence that followed his vow, Harm took in the 
sight 
of his wife-to-be: Mac was in a simple long white dress without so much 
as a 
hint of any decorative elements besides the thin strips of lace that 
went 
around the hem of each short sleeve, and she had his mother's bridal 
veil 
attached to her beautifully pinned up hair at the back of her head. Her 
cheeks were flushed a little more than usual and an incredible amount 
of 
love was radiating from her huge dark eyes. 'Thank you, God, for 
letting me 
find such a treasure,' Harm thought, overwhelmed.

Feeling all the warmth and tenderness that his smile conveyed to her, 
Mac, 
tears brimming in her eyes, looked at the tall man that stood in front 
of 
her in his dress whites, his gold wings in the right place as always. 
'This 
is all you ever dreamed of, Sarah,' she silently told herself, her 
heart 
beating loud, 'Now prove to yourself and to God that you deserve it.' 
As the 
priest addressed her, she swallowed and subconsciously held her breath.

"And do you, Sarah Catherine, take Harmon David to be your lawful 
wedded 
husband? Do you promise to love, honor and support him, in good as in 
bad 
times, in wealthy as in poor days, in health as in sickness, till death 
do 
you part?"

Her glance never leaving his, Mac answered in a low but clear voice 
that 
rang with joy: "I do."

The priest looked at Sergei who stepped up to him, holding a little 
cushion 
with the wedding bands. The handsome young Russian cast yet another shy 
glance at his petite blonde female counterpart and, not for the first 
time, 
received a quick blushing smile in return.

"Take each other's rings as a visible sign of the bond between the two 
of 
you," the priest said.

Harm took the smaller ring and, sliding it onto Mac's left hand, 
declared 
solemnly: "With this ring, I thee wed, with this heart, I thee 
worship." 
Mac, a moment later, repeated those exact words as she returned the 
gesture.

The priest raised his hands and held them over the heads of the couple 
for 
the final blessings. "Through the power given to me by the Lord our 
Father 
and through the authority entrusted to me by the Republic of Italy, I 
declare you husband and wife. May man never meddle with what was joined 
by 
God."

Sergei now turned to the congregation and with a loud and clear voice 
announced: "Ladies and gentlemen: Mr. and Mrs. Harmon Rabb, Jr.!" Then, 
following a very Rabb-ish impulse of the moment, he threw his cover 
high 
into the air with a Russian cheer that everyone - in their own 
languages - 
joined in.

Upon a conspiratorial wink from the priest, Harm lifted the veil from 
Mac's 
face and brought his lips to hers in an exact replica of the chaste 
kiss 
they had first shared under the Bridge of Sighs, back in February. And 
once 
again, the kiss was to be the promise for so much more that was yet to 
follow in the many years to come.



THE END