Title: Silver Linings

Author: Audrey Higgans

E-mail: audrey.higgans@tiscalinet.it

Rating: R

Classification: Romance Harm and Mac 

Spoilers: Second Sight; Lifeline; Adrift 1 and 2;
parts of Measure of Men

Summary: Added complications from her past threaten
Mac's peace of mind and her relationship with Harm
when she comes back from the USS Guadalcanal. For the
purpose of my story Mac only stays on the Guadalcanal
for a month or so. Harm does not follow her there and
they do not square off against each other on the
special court martial for Major Lasley. THIS STORY
CONTAINS SENSITIVE MATTER RELATING TO DOMESTIC
VIOLENCE BUT I PROMISE IT’S A SHIPPER STORY. 

Disclaimer: JAG, its characters and premise are the
exclusive property of  

Bellasarius Productions, Paramount Television and CBS
Entertainment. No 

monetary gain is appreciated from this endeavour, nor
is any copyright 

infringement intended. This story is created purely
for recreational 

purposes.

Author's note: My thanks to Kim, my wonderful friend
and beta reader. This story is dedicated to my dear
friend Belle. Thank you for your true friendship and
unfailing support. A lot of soul-searching went into
writing this fanfic. It’s just my way of delving into
the heart-wrenching complications of this relationship
- and trying to solve them. Any feedback is always
very much appreciated though never expected. I
sincerely hope you all enjoy it.

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




PROLOGUE

1900 ZULU

GEORGETOWN

WASHINGTON D.C. 



The traffic lights turned green. The woman waiting at
the pedestrian crossing saw her chance and walked
forward on the deserted road. Her considerable weight
caused her to move slowly, almost painfully. Years of
endless medication and comfort eating along with a
prolonged disinterest in her own well being had done
that to her body.  



What would have piqued the curiosity of those who knew
her was the new strength of purpose in the set of her
shoulders and the determined look in her eyes. The
same determination that had induced her to make this
trip to Georgetown everyday for the past two weeks.
She wondered if someone would answer her knocking
today. Or would her mission be fruitless, as it had
been until now? She couldn't let that weaken her
resolve, she decided. She would try again tomorrow and
the day after that if necessary. Dr. Farnsworth would
be proud of her if he could see her now. They had
spoken about this at length.  



"You're doing the right thing," she soothed herself. 

 



The vehicle was almost upon her before she realized
what was happening. 



"Watch out," a voice shouted but it was already too
late.  



She stood rooted to the spot, caught in the glare of
the headlights like a trapped animal. The vehicle
bumper hit her on her lower legs and the force of the
impact sent her flying across the bonnet. The car's
unrelenting speed caused her to roll over twice before
she was sent sprawling to the ground rag doll like.
She emitted an ear-piercing scream at the sudden,
searing pain she felt in her right ankle. A merciful
blackness beckoned to her, blanketing her senses and
she yielded to it gratefully letting it block out the
pain and the harshness of the real world.  



2000 ZULU

HARM'S APARTMENT

NORTH OF UNION STATION

WASHINGTON D.C. 



Silence reigned in the apartment, broken only by the
rain pattering on the windowpanes. Harm sat and stared
at the blank screen of the laptop before him. That was
precisely how his mind felt - blank. The term
"writers' block " came to mind as he frowned down at
his computer, his fingers poised on the keys. This
whole situation was an unwelcome strain on his already
frayed nerves. He closed his eyes and rubbed his
fingers over them. Christ, he was tired. He still
hadn't fully recuperated from his plane crash into the
Atlantic. The jumbled confusion of thoughts inside his
head didn't help matters. He had only come back from
Minnesota last week.  



To say it had been difficult to extricate himself from
Renee's presence was an understatement. Her father's
funeral wasn't the best place to upset her even
further by what he wanted to tell her. It wasn't her
fault he felt so smothered. She wasn't acting any
differently from the way she had always been around
him. He hadn't minded that until now. If anything, he
had hung on to her because she helped kill a part of
the loneliness. That feeling of isolation that had
been looming over the weeks preceding Mac's wedding.
Flying had seemed like the best medicine. He needed to
get away even if he knew few people would really
understand, especially Mac.  



When he was in the air he felt an upsurge of
adrenaline that gave him a feeling of freedom he never
experienced anywhere else. Not even the plane crash
could deter him from going back on his beloved F-14s.
It was something intimately linked with his father's
memory, as if he could hang on to a part of him as
long as he maintained his flying status. But most of
all, it was one of the few things besides his work at
JAG which made him feel alive. When he was in the air,
all the complications in his life seemed to fall away
to the ground below him. For a few precious moments he
had even forgotten that she was marrying someone else.
Had even kidded himself that he wished her well. That
he was happy for her.  



Finding her gone on his return from the funeral
service for Renee's father had floored him. God, he
would never forget the pinched look on her face when
she came to his apartment after Mic left.  



He raked an impatient hand through his short-cropped
hair. She said she understood about Renee but he
wasn't about to stake his life on it. Her absence was
telling. Something was very wrong. The moment he had
asked her if she would be all right on her own before
she left his door he had felt the barrier of her
defenses come up like a physical thing between them.
The look in her eyes, tremulous and hopeful at first,
had changed to a closed, guarded one before she left.
He had shut the door and gone back to Renee feeling
like a first class bastard. What else could he do?
Throw Renee out because he wanted to talk to Mac more
than anything? Yeah, sure! There was only one word to
describe how he had felt – torn. Torn between his
loyalty to Renee and his feelings for Mac. A long sigh
escaped him. Faith had a way of playing with their
lives. It was a hell of a situation to come back to
after the crash.  



Pushing his chair back he straightened up and went
over to the window. Watching the rivulets running down
the windowpanes only served to add to his melancholy
and remind him even more of that night. It had been
raining heavily when Mac left. Of one thing he was
sure. He needed to talk to her - badly. He could wait
until she got back and do it face to face, allowing
the storm to simmer between them in the meantime, or
he could write to her and test the murky waters of
their friendship. Rejection was a big possibility. He
was tuned in to her animosity even though they were
miles apart. Words formed in his head. Just a simple
note. No hidden meanings, no implications. Just a few
sentences to let her know he was here. He quickly
returned to his chair to try and capture them before
they disappeared into the recesses of his mind.  



Hi Mac,

It's me. I thought I'd let you know I'm back. I
expected to find you here at JAG but the Admiral told
me you specifically requested this assignment. I
imagine you felt the need to get away… I can
understand that. I thought we were going to talk when
I got back…

I'll be waiting for your answer.

Love

Harm

P.S. I miss having you around. 



2200 ZULU

USS GUADALCANAL 

INDIAN OCEAN 



"I'm back."  



The cryptic message title caught Mac's eye. She would
know that e-mail address anywhere. She had been
expecting it, her heart in her mouth each time she
downloaded her incoming mail. She knew he would write
sooner or later. That didn't stop the sinking feeling
of dread she experienced as soon as she saw the
message. What more did he want from her? She was
almost afraid to open it. He had already ripped her
heart to shreds. Did he want her self-respect as well?
A lump formed in her throat and she bit her lip. The
profound need to have some kind of link with him,
however slight, got the better of her.  



She left-clicked on the e-mail. Her troubled dark eyes
ran over his clipped message, her lips mouthing the
words silently. The anguished look intensified. Maybe
she should have trusted her instinct and avoided
reading it. His words only added salt to the still
festering wound. She closed her laptop with a bang and
moved to sit on her bunk in the small cabin. As a
senior officer it afforded her some much-needed
privacy. Leaning back against the wall, she pulled her
legs up, hugging them to herself as she rested her
forehead on her knees. He was waiting for her answer. 




What a mess she had made of her life. Mic gone; the
wedding called off; her friendship with Harm in
jeopardy; Harm with Renee. A failure. That was the
only word she could use to describe herself. Nothing
more, nothing less. Work was her only panacea. The
details of this case had made her head spin - a
welcome distraction. Now, it was almost time to go
back to JAG and she wasn't really ready for it. It had
only been a few weeks after all.  



Her mind conjured up the last time she had seen Harm,
regret and embarrassment in his eyes as he shut the
door on her. He would never know how badly he had hurt
her that night. The memory, added to the myriad of
feelings his e-mail had evoked had shaken her more
than she cared to admit. There was a small part of her
deep inside that acknowledged she was being unfair to
Harm. Renee’s father had just died. She knew Harm was
too honorable to turn his back on someone who needed
him and Renee had needed him right there and then. But
logically knowing it and trying to convince her heart
of it were two different things.  



An immeasurable sadness overcame her. For the first
time since that fateful night she lowered her guard.
She fought against it but just the sight of his name
signed below his message and his saying that he missed
her was enough to undo her hard-won resolve. Her
thoughts went to Mic.  



"I'm sorry."  



For the thousandth time since he had left she repeated
the words out loud. She knew now that she had used
him. Not intentionally, but she had done so
nevertheless. He had helped fill an abyss that had
opened up inside her when Harm hadn't wanted her for
anything more than a friend. Mic's declaration of love
had caught her at her weakest moment and she had
succumbed to it. But she had never managed to give
herself completely to him. She had wanted to. Oh God,
how she had wanted to. He had seemed to open the door
to stability, a home, a family, a safe harbor. That
was how Mic had made her feel. Safe from the tumult of
hurt feelings and rejection. Unlike Harm, he had
wanted her. All her life she had felt the need to be
wanted, loved, cared for, cherished. It stemmed from
deep inside her and now, Mic's added rebuttal got to
her even though she knew she would never have married
him.  



"Why doesn't anybody want to love me?" she asked the
quiet room as she lifted her head, her eyes moist.
"What is so wrong with me that nobody wants me?"  



She buried her face in her hands. This was just a
temporary lapse she told herself. Just a few seconds
and she would go back to being her usual stoic self.
With a defeated sigh she yielded to her momentary
weakness and let the tears come. She cried for all of
them. For the hurt she had caused Mic. For her own
hurt in being abandoned. For the pain inside her heart
when she had seen Harm embrace Renee through the
lighted window while she hugged herself in the pouring
rain. For the aching loneliness she felt inside now
that she was alone once more. She cried for herself
and Harm. For their lost chances, the missed
opportunities, the way their friendship was
floundering, the impossibly complicated situation they
were in. Her whole being ached with the need to feel
his arms around her. But he belonged to someone else.
His actions spoke louder than any words he could have
uttered. He had made his choice and there was nothing
she could do about it except resign herself to it.  



A wave of self-pity overtook her and she felt the
sadness twist like a knife in her chest. What would
she do without him? Her foolish heart had hoped
against hope but now? She lay down on the bed and
sought comfort in the soft pillow as she hugged it and
rocked back and forth, trying to ease the pain.  



"Enough, Mac," she told herself brokenly. "Don't cry
anymore."  



The other officers on the Guadalcanal would have been
hard pressed to believe the vulnerable, fragile woman
lying on the narrow bunk was the same one who faced
them professionally each morning, pushing herself to
the limit and expecting them to do the same. But that
was her way. She was good at holding things inside. It
was a habit she had picked up as a teenager when the
mothers of her schoolmates would look down on her with
pity in their eyes. Poor little Sarah. Abandoned by
her own mother. By her own flesh and blood. Left in
the clutches of an alcoholic father who had never
understood the meaning of the word tenderness. That
same pity she saw in the eyes of her colleagues after
Mic left her. Would it never stop? 



"Stop it, Marine." 



She sat up and brushed angrily at her tears. Reaching
for a packet of tissues she wiped them away. She had
to get a grip on herself. She massaged her temples,
trying to ease the insistent hammering. Going over to
the small sink she splashed some cold water over her
hot face. As she dabbed at the moisture with the towel
she looked at the image staring back at her from the
small mirror and turned hastily away. She would find a
way to make it somehow. Friendship was all they had
left and it would have to do. In the meantime, he was
waiting and she had to give him an answer.  



Hi Harm,

It's good to hear from you. I hope everything is fine
with Renee and that you're feeling better. I'm due
back at JAG in three days so I guess I'll see you
then. The man overboard case here is almost wrapped
up. The rest I would rather not think about right now.
Don't work too hard and I'll see you soon…

Love

Mac 



0700 ZULU

BENNEKER HOSPITAL

WASHINGTON D.C. 



"How’s our patient doing?" Dr. Courtney entered the
private room and addressed the nurse hovering near the
bed. 



"I just checked her vitals, Doctor." The petite,
red-haired nurse smiled at the young, handsome
surgeon. "She seems to be doing fine but she still
hasn't regained consciousness."  



"Any news from the police?" 



The nurse's face fell as she looked at the sleeping
woman. "No, I'm afraid not. It's sad that she has to
be alone at a time like this." 



"That's true," Dr. Courtney agreed his gray eyes grave
as he pushed back the fringe of sleek black hair from
his forehead. "I'll be checking in on her every hour
or so. Keep her monitored and please notify me
immediately if she wakes up." 



"I will, doctor."  



Giving her one last nod Dr. Courtney left the room to
start his morning rounds. 



1945 ZULU

HARM'S APARTMENT

NORTH OF UNION STATION 



"Hi, Harm." She breezed into his apartment leaving a
wave of expensive perfume trailing behind her as she
kissed his cheek and sailed past him. 

 



"Renee." Harm acknowledged her presence with a slight
nod as he shut the door behind her. "It was good of
you to come up so soon. I would have come down myself
if it weren't for my caseload at JAG. I've already
been away long enough as it is." 



"That's Ok. I had to come up here anyway. It's time
for me to get back to work. We're working on a
commercial for a new brand of mineral water. It's
quite funny actually, the actress has to dress up as a
salted peanut…" She noticed his absent-minded look.
His mind was elsewhere. "What was so urgent that you
had to see me right away?"  



She had a fairly good idea considering the chasm that
had been growing increasingly wider between them
lately, and not just because she had been in Minnesota
and he was in DC. She didn't see why she had to make
it any easier on him though. She moved over to the
couch and sat down. He had no way of knowing how hard
her heart was thumping in her chest beneath her cool
exterior.  



Harm stuffed his hands deep in the pockets of his
denims. He looked uncomfortable as he shifted his
weight from one foot to the other. "I don't know where
to start," he murmured. His eyes darted away from her
for a second and then came back to rest on her face -
a sure sign of his nervousness. Renee took one look at
his tired face and relented. 



"A few weeks ago you asked me if I wanted to know the
truth. I told you I could handle it, remember? Just
come right out and say what you have to say, Harm. I
won't break." She smiled at him and he smiled back,
admiring her aplomb. This couldn't be any easier for
her than it was for him.  



"I don't want you to think I've been stringing you
along. I really did think we could make a go of it,"
he blurted. 



"However?" Renee's heart plunged at his words. Her
worst fears were being confirmed. Some relentless,
sadistic instinct inside her pressed him to continue. 




Harm shrugged helplessly. "We both know it isn't
working. It hasn't been for some time now." 



Renee looked down as she straightened an imaginary
wrinkle in her skirt. "Well at least you're honest."
Her voice was shaky as she looked up at him. "What did
I do wrong, Harm?"  



Harm shook his head but made no move towards her.
"Nothing, Renee. I just can't seem to settle down into
any kind of relationship. There must be something
seriously wrong with me," he ended ruefully. 

 



"Nothing a trip to Georgetown couldn't cure, I'm
sure," Renee answered perceptively. She found she
couldn't hide the bitterness in her voice. 



Harm lowered his eyes to his feet. When he looked back
at her his gaze was unflinching. "I'm truly sorry,
Renee," he said contritely. He made no further attempt
to deny what he had been denying for months now. He
had been lying to her and to himself. The least he
owed her was the truth.  



She straightened, unwilling to let him see how much
this was hurting her. "Don't worry about it, Harm. You
know me. I'm thick skinned. I'll survive." Renee kept
her voice cheerful but the forced gaiety sounded
almost hysterical to her ears. With as much dignity as
she could muster she walked over to where he was
standing, her pride protecting her like a cloak. He
hadn't moved from that spot throughout the whole
course of their brief conversation.  



Harm opened the door for her. There was nothing left
to say. His bleak _expression moved her to touch his
face with one perfectly manicured hand. "Try and find
some happiness, Harm. We all deserve to be happy. Life
is too short." 



He knew she was thinking of her father. "I hope that
can happen soon, Renee. For all our sakes." He reached
down and kissed her cheek. It was his way of thanking
her for being so understanding.  



The door closed shut behind her sealing their fate.
Slowly, Renee made her way back to her car, her vision
blurring as she took off into the night.  



2100 ZULU

USS GUADALCANAL

INDIAN OCEAN 



"Well, I've had enough for one day. I'm ready to turn
in. I'll bet you're glad to be going back to JAG
tomorrow." Mac straightened up from the table she was
sharing with Gunny in the mess hall and her fellow
marine followed suit. 



"I don't know, ma'am. There's something to be said
about working out at sea. 

There's nothing like a sweeping look at the horizon at
dawn to give you a good start to the day."  



Mac raised her eyebrows at Gunny's poetical summation
but felt she had to agree. She wasn't so keen on
leaving herself. "I'll see you tomorrow at 0700
sharp." 



"Yes, Colonel. Have a good night's sleep," he added as
she walked away. 

 



"I wish," she mumbled under her breath. "Yeah. You
too, Gunny," she threw over her shoulder as she left. 




Back in her cabin she undressed and was just about
ready to drop with fatigue when her she heard an
insistent beeping from her computer. It was on instant
messenger and she saw the message was from Harm.  



"Hello, Mac? How’s it going?" Harm wrote. She couldn’t
know he was sitting in his apartment waiting for her
to answer with bathed breath.  



His message caught her unawares and her breath lodged
in her throat. She could just imagine his deep voice
washing over her as he asked that question. Without
giving herself too much time to dwell on the reason
why her heart was beating so fast she plunked down on
her bunk, taking her laptop with her. 



“Hi, Harm. I’m ok I guess. I’m just a bit tired,” she
typed in. Her index finger drew circles on the sheets
as she waited for his reply. 



"Is Captain Huddleston working you too hard?" he
teased back, knowing she didn't need the Captain to do
that. She could do it very well all by herself.  



"No." She wasn't really up to bantering. 



"Didn't you get my second e-mail?"  



She sighed when she saw that. "No, I'm sorry. It's
been crazy over here. I haven't had time to check my
mail yet." 



"You're not trying to avoid me are you?" His words
challenged her, hardly giving her time to finish
writing her last sentence. 



An alarm bell went off in Mac's head and she felt her
hackles rising. He could be so insufferable at times
and her fingers slammed on the keys with a vengeance
as she wrote her next message. "Harm. What is it you
wanted?"  



Her coming straight to the point was warning enough.
He changed tactics, sensing her annoyance. "What time
will you be coming in tomorrow?" 



"19.00 hours EDT. Why?" 



"Andrews?" 



"Yeah." She knew what was coming. 



"I'll come and pick you up." 



"No, wait. You don't have to do that," she stalled.  



"I know, but I want to. Do we have to argue about
this?"  



She could just imagine his disgruntled growl. Mac
shook her head helplessly. The silence stretched
between them.  



"Mac?" Another beep sounded. 



"Oh, all right." Her answer was non-committal and she
tried to stop her lips from curving up into a smile.
He could be so damn stubborn. 



"Ok. Good night, Marine." She could easily picture the
grin on his face now that he'd had his way.  



"Good night, Harm."  



She severed the connection and frowned thoughtfully.
She didn't want anything to upset her newfound
balance. More than anything she wanted them to go on
being friends. Could they work this out?  



"I guess I'm about to find out," she told herself
wryly.  

 



1915 ZULU

ANDREWS AIR FORCE BASE

WASHINGTON DC 



Her gait was slow, almost hesitant as she walked
towards him. She looked thinner than he remembered.
Wasn't she eating right, he wondered? Mac came to
stand before him and he noticed how she looked even
smaller in her flat-heeled boots and camouflage suit
next to his 6’4” frame. There was a tight feeling in
his chest that he found hard to define as he took in
her pale, delicate face and the dark circles under her
soft brown eyes.  



"Hey, Mac." 



"Hi, Harm." They both fidgeted uncomfortably, not
knowing how to act around each other.  



"Where's Gunny?" Harm craned his neck pretending he
was really interested in Gunny's whereabouts. Anything
to break the silence. 



"Oh, he took a cab. I could have done the same thing.
You shouldn't have gone to so much trouble." Her eyes
looked anywhere but directly at him.  



"No trouble at all. Let me take that." He leaned down
to take her duffel bag. 



"It's not that heavy," Mac protested half-heartedly
pulling on the handle.  



Their hands brushed and they both pulled back as if
burnt at the brief contact. The duffel bag ended up on
the floor. Mac's gaze went from the bag to his
handsome face and she saw a telltale flush creeping up
his cheeks. He grinned self-consciously and she gave
in, rewarding him with a slight smile. She was too
tired to argue anyway. He led the way to his car and
she registered the achingly familiar sight of the
material of his white uniform stretching across the
width of his broad shoulders.  



It took Harm only a few minutes to maneuver them out
of the car park and on the road back to her apartment.
He stole a glance at her as Mac sat next to him
looking out the window, her back ramrod straight and
her hands clasped tightly in her lap.  



"You look washed out," he remarked after the first
minutes of silence seemingly intent on the traffic. 

 



"Thanks, I really needed to hear that!" she answered
sarcastically. No one could fault him for not being
blunt when the occasion called for it.  



He cast her another furtive glance. "So how was it?" 



She relaxed a little. This was Harm after all. Her
long time partner and friend. They exchanged
scuttlebutt and he filled her in on the latest at JAG
ops and the case he had been working on against the
newcomer.  



"Sturgis and I were company mates at the Naval
Academy. We went through some great times together.
Boy, the scrapes I used to drag him into," he smiled
and shook his head reminiscently.  



"Poor guy," Mac ventured dryly. She could well picture
Harm as a young cadet getting into a multitude of
pranks. 



Harm simply grinned. They were silent for a while,
listening to the soft oldies music floating from the
radio.  



"Have you eaten yet?" Harm asked as they neared her
apartment.  



"Harm, all I want to do right now is get home and pass
out on a bed I can turn around in without falling
off." Her answer was sharper than she intended. But
the last thing she needed right now was to sit across
from him in the intimacy of her apartment, sharing
dinner. She was having enough trouble keeping her cool
sitting so close to him in the car. She just had to
convince herself they would only ever be friends,
nothing more.  



"I'll take a rain check," she added at his wounded
look. 



"Fine." His answer was curt to say the least. 



The rest of the trip was completed in uneventful
silence. When they drew up outside her apartment Mac
was tempted to say goodbye there and then. Harm was
already hauling her bag up the stairs outside,
however. With a resigned sigh she locked the car door
and went in after him.  



Inside her living room she could hear the seconds
ticking by from the clock on the mantelpiece as they
continued to stare at each other.  



"Thanks…." 



"Mac, I…." 



They both spoke at once. Harm gave her the lopsided
smile she remembered so well.  



"You go first," Mac conceded. She wiped her sweaty
hands on her pants. 



"All right." His gaze turned solemn. "It's good to see
you again, Mac." 



"I wish I could say it's good to be back but I don't
know the answer to that one yet." She lowered her eyes
to the floor. 



"That bad, huh. How are you feeling?" he ventured
cautiously. 



"Well, it was a long flight and a tricky case so…" 



"That's not what I was referring to," he insisted. 



"Harm, don't do this." She turned away from him
wearily and failed to see his hurt _expression. 



"We need to talk, Mac." 



"Well, I'm not ready for it. Stop pushing, Harm," she
bristled.  



"Putting it off isn't going to make it any easier. We
both know that." He couldn't help pressing her. Damn
it, she could at least pretend she was glad to see
him.  



"What do you want from me, Harm?" she asked as she
rounded on him, her patience dwindling. "All right.
You want to talk? We'll talk. How's Renee?" How's that
for a loaded question, she thought.  



"She's fine." he answered unperturbed. 



She hated it when he kept his cool while she was
burning with resentment. She was unaware of the
attractive picture she presented as she cocked her
proud little head at him, arms akimbo, her eyes
shooting fiery sparks at him.  



"Is she? And what does she think of you coming to pick
me up at the airport and you wanting to talk to me?
I'll bet she would have something to say about that." 



"It's over between me and Renee." His quiet words
stopped her short and her eyes widened in shock. Had
she heard him right? Her mind reeled with the
possibilities his confession presented.  



"When … when did that happen?" she managed finally. 



"I broke it off yesterday," he replied
matter-of-factly. 



Mac was overwhelmed. A multitude of thoughts crossed
her mind at the same time. She needed time to digest
this on her own.  



"I think you should go." 



Impulsively, Mac went over to the door and her hand
was already on the doorknob. She felt him come up
behind her and he pulled her hand away. He then placed
both his hands on her upper arms and turned her round
to face him. 



"Is that all you have to say? Didn't you hear what I
just said?" His voice was incredulous.  



"I don't know what to say, Harm," she stammered afraid
to look at him. "I'm tired and confused and I need to
think about this." 



"What's to think about? It's not Renee I care about.
Period." 



Mac could hardly believe her ears. She wasn't ready
for his heartfelt confessions. She gazed up at him
pleadingly. "Harm, every time we try to talk things
over words just seem to get in the way and we end up
worse than before." 



"Who says we have to talk?" he whispered, a dangerous
look in his eyes as they gazed deeply into hers.


She gaped at him. "You did." 



"Since when do you do everything I say?" his voice was
a low murmur. His gaze fell to her mouth, which was
slightly open as if waiting in anticipation.  



She felt his warm breath on her face as he bent
closer, his lips barely inches from her own. Mac
looked into his blue, blue eyes and all thoughts of
sending him away flew out of her head. She swayed
towards him and the tips of her breasts brushed his
chest. His masculine, spicy scent filled her nostrils.
She closed her eyes and swallowed hard.  



"Harm."  



Her husky voice cracked as she said his name, sending
shivers down his spine. Her head dropped back and he
felt her trembling as he lowered his head and captured
her mouth with his. Her lips were as soft and sweet as
he remembered from the Admiral's porch as they moved
under his. He ran his tongue experimentally over the
seam of her lips and her mouth opened invitingly. He
boldly slid his tongue inside, entwining it with hers,
probing and searching.  



Mac's knees buckled and he slid his hands around her
waist and pulled her roughly against him as the kiss
deepened, pressing their lower bodies close. They
tasted each other hungrily. His hands slid lower still
and he ground her hips against his.  



Mac was lost in a world of feeling. Her hands rested
against the hard wall of his chest and she could feel
his heart beating just as wildly as her own beneath
her fingertips. She slid her palms up and clasped his
neck, pulling his face down towards her, keeping his
head firmly in place, reveling in the closeness of
their bodies. She ran her fingers through the silky
down of his hair and gave in to the heavenly sensation
of being kissed by him. She never wanted him to stop.
It had been on her mind ever since he had kissed her
at her engagement party.  



Thoughts of that night brought back a flood of
unwanted memories and she suddenly froze in his
embrace. Feeling her tensing in his arms, Harm pulled
back from her so that he could look into her eyes.  



"What is it, Mac?" he asked uncertainly. His pupils
were dilated, his breathing harsh and erratic. 



Mac leaned her head weakly against his chest,
breathing just as heavily. "We can't do this."  



"Why not?" He sighed as he rested his chin on the top
of her head. "Do you know how many times I've imagined
myself doing this? I've thought of nothing else but
kissing you ever since I saw you at the airport." 



His honesty touched Mac. She looked back up at him,
her eyes almost black with emotion. " It's not that
simple. We've both just come out of other
relationships. This could blow up in our faces. I feel
like I'm on a roller coaster ride and frankly I'm
scared." 



"Are you chickening out on me?" His voice was quietly
teasing.  



"I just don't want to ruin everything by going too
fast, Harm," she returned solemnly. 



He smoothed her hair back from her face, seeing the
wisdom of her words. "I don't either. Tell me, what
makes you so wise all of a sudden?" His vulnerable
look melted her heart. "Truce?" he added referring to
their earlier sparring match. 



"Truce." She nodded and smiled at him. It warmed him
like sunshine breaking through the clouds and his
breath caught in his throat. He decided to leave
before he changed his mind and proceeded to kiss her
senseless. 

"Ok. I'll tell you what. You go get some sleep. I
don't want a drooping jarhead for a partner on my
hands tomorrow morning."  



She caught his amused glint. "You're leaving?" she
asked almost wistfully. She felt strangely reluctant
to let him go. A moment ago she had wanted him to
leave. His kiss had changed everything in the space of
a few minutes.  



"You need your beauty sleep." 



How could he joke at a time like this, Mac asked
herself.  



"Sleep tight. We'll talk more tomorrow."  



"Is that a promise or a threat?" she managed in a
lighter tone but her eyes betrayed her insecurity.  



"Depends which way you look at it." With a devilish
lift of his eyebrows and the half-grin she knew so
well he opened the door and a second later he was
gone, leaving Mac wondering what exactly she had let
herself in for.  



14.00 ZULU

JAG HEADQUARTERS

FALLS CHURCH VA 



Mac sat at her desk enjoying a rare moment of peace
and quiet, contemplating the day ahead of her. Beyond
her office door the bullpen was slowly coming to life.
Most of the JAG staff had yet to arrive but soon the
whole place would be bustling with activity. In a few
minutes it would be her favorite time of day. Admiral
Chegwidden would request her presence in his office to
assign her a new caseload.  



She felt a familiar thrill as she anticipated the
surprises and drama behind each story, behind each
client. She even looked forward to wading through the
plodding details that were an inevitable part of her
line of work. Her love for detail was partly why she
was so good at learning foreign languages.  



She thought of the last translation job she had been
working on for the Department of State before she left
on her assignment on the Guadalcanal. Between that and
the research for the lecture she had given at the
Academy on the H.M.S. Summers court martial plus the
JAG cases, her plate had been full and it had left
little time for much else. She was good at what she
did and took pride in her work. Her personal life
might be full of holes but there was nothing wrong
with her professional one and she found comfort in
doing what she loved best. It made up for so many
other things.  

 



"Morning, Colonel. Daydreaming at the place of work?
The Admiral wouldn't approve."  



Mac returned to the present to find Harm leaning
against the doorjamb, a lazy smile on his face and a
steaming cup of what she presumed was coffee in his
hand. He looked robust and fit and her spirits lifted
as she watched him. It was good to see him looking so
much like his usual self with that arrogant, devil may
care attitude so soon after his crash. He had
abandoned the use of a stick and his limp was
practically non-existent.  



"I thought you'd like your morning dose of poison."  



"Thanks, Harm. You're a mind reader." He approached
her desk and she accepted the cup from him, inhaling
the pungent aroma and taking a tentative sip.  



"Strong and black. No sugar. Just the way you like
it." He glanced down at her warmly as he circled the
desk and came round to lean against it, folding his
arms across his chest. "Did you sleep well last
night?" he asked innocently. 



Mac was thrown off course by his question. It reminded
her acutely of their heated kiss the night before. He
was so close his trouser clad leg rested against her
own below the desk. Her heartbeat quickened despite
herself and she feigned a sudden interest in the
contents of her mug to hide her confusion. When she
looked up at him, however, she saw the barest hint of
a smile lurking in the blue depths and realized he
knew exactly what he was doing to her.  



"Like a baby," she returned smoothly. "How about you?"
Two could play at that game.  



"Well, if you must know, I had a hard time falling
asleep," he returned in a low voice meant only for her
ears. "And when I did, I slept fitfully. There's a
certain Marine I can't stop thinking about and there's
this recurrent dream I've been having…" His voice
trailed off as he arched an eyebrow at her.  



Mac did her best to keep a straight face. "The good or
the bad kind?" she asked. 



"The kind you don't want to wake up from," he taunted.




Mac's lips tilted upwards and she couldn't keep from
smiling. "Harmon, you are a rake. Red light,
Commander."  



He chuckled, basking in the beauty of her face as she
smiled up at him, her eyes gleaming softly.  



"Commander, the Admiral wants to see you in his office
ASAP." Tiner interrupted their light-hearted exchange.
 



"I'll be right there, Tiner." Harm held her eyes a
fraction more than was necessary. 

With a final grin he ambled out.  



Mac shook her head. He acted so smug it made her want
to bring him down a peg or two. 


On his way to his C.O.'s office Harm crossed a man in
civilian clothes heading straight for Mac's office. He
watched as she ushered him in.  



"Any idea who that is, Tiner?" Harm asked the Petty
officer.  



"That's Detective Collins of the Washington Police,
Sir," Tiner replied.  



Harm was still wondering what a police detective could
possibly want with Mac when he heard a cry and the
sound of broken china. Ignoring the Admiral's summons
he strode quickly back to Mac's office and found her
kneeling on the floor attempting to pick up the broken
pieces of the coffee cup he had brought her only
minutes before. 



"Mac, what happened?" he demanded as he knelt down
beside her. "Be careful with that." His warning came
too late. He cursed softly at her gasp of pain as she
cut her palm on a jagged piece of china. Blood oozed
out of the shallow wound. 



"I'm sorry, Colonel." The Detective apologized
effusively. "I should have prepared you for the news."
 



"What news?" Harm asked as he helped Mac up. "Leave
it," he ordered gently, clasping her injured hand from
the wrist as she made to continue cleaning up the
mess. Her face was deathly pale and she had yet to say
a word since he had come into the room. He quickly
accompanied her to the break room and stuck her hand
under the water running from the tap in the sink in an
attempt to staunch the blood flow. She was trembling
visibly and his forehead creased with worry.  



"Mac, what did the Detective tell you?" he asked her
gently but insistently as he placed a bandaid on the
cut in her palm. 



"My mother." Her voice was a hoarse whisper. She gazed
up at him, shock and something else he couldn't put
his finger on in her eyes. "She's been involved in a
hit and run accident. She's at the Banneker Hospital
here in Washington."  



1530 ZULU

BANNEKER HOSPITAL

WASHINGTON D.C. 



Mac ran up the steps of the hospital building and
rushed into the reception area. Harm had wanted to
accompany her but she had brushed him away after
recovering from her initial shock. This was one hurdle
she would have to face alone and she wanted no
witnesses. With the Admiral's permission she had fled
JAG headquarters and driven straight to the hospital. 




Her heels clicked on the clean, polished floor as she
walked briskly up to the desk. The matronly looking
nurse sitting behind it did not look up and seemed
extremely engrossed in the computer screen before her.
Mac drummed her fingers impatiently on the desktop.
Patience was not one of her virtues. 



"Excuse me. I'm here to see a patient. A woman
involved in a car accident three days ago. Her name is
Deanne MacKenzie." 



The nurse looked up and gave Mac a quick once over. 



"And you are?" she asked suspiciously. 



"Colonel Sarah MacKenzie?" a male voice questioned
behind Mac. She turned to find a good-looking man of
medium height wearing a white coat, looking at her
with what looked like relief in his gray eyes.  



"That's right," she answered, shaking his hand. He
looked to be about her age, more or less. 



"I'm Dr. Courtney. I've been following your mother's
case from the beginning. If you would care to follow
me there are a few things I would like to discuss with
you before you visit your mother." 



Mac did as he bid and entered the privacy of his
office.  



"Is she all right?" she asked calmly as they sat down.
"The police told me she was here and that the accident
took place in Georgetown but they didn't say anything
about her physical state. Is she badly injured?" 



"She was unconscious when they brought her here and
she stayed that way for two days, Colonel. She
suffered severe concussion and three cracked ribs plus
a few bruises here and there. The ligaments in her
right ankle are damaged. Apparently the car ran over
her leg. She was lucky it wasn't crushed in the
process. She'll need plenty of rest and we plan on
keeping her here for a while in view of the length of
time she was unconscious. We want to make sure there
are no relapses. With the right care and attention she
will heal nicely in a few weeks' time. Except for her
ankle, that is. That will take a little more time." 



Mac secretly breathed a sigh of relief. She considered
how to frame the next question without sounding too
awkward but realized there was no easy way to do it.  



"How did you find me?" She resolutely kept her
features neutral. 



"Your name was the first thing your mother said when
she came out of her unconscious state. When we told
her we were trying to contact you she became extremely
agitated. She refused to tell us anything of your
whereabouts. She seemed to be under the impression
that she would be a burden to you."  



He paused when Mac lowered her gaze and his own eyes
narrowed. Something between mother and daughter was
not quite right here. He had reached that conclusion
after witnessing Deanne MacKenzie's reticence in
revealing any information about her daughter and the
Colonel's odd behavior only confirmed his suspicions. 




He was used to dealing with problems of a personal
nature between his patients and their relatives here
at the hospital. Often, such harrowing situations
brought relatives closer and helped them overcome
their grievances but sometimes it drove them further
apart. He hoped this would not be one of those cases.
He had been prepared for tears, anxiety, hysterics
even, but the young woman before him seemed to be
completely in control as she gazed at him with her
beautiful brown eyes and politely waited for him to
finish. There was something distant, almost cold, in
the way she acted. As if she wanted to remain aloof
from everything. He realized she was not going to
answer his silent query.  



"I had to inform the police. I hope you understand
that," he continued. "They linked the name Sarah to
the surname MacKenzie on your mother's ID card. I took
the liberty of insisting and your mother finally told
me you were a JAG lawyer. That narrowed the police's
search to JAG and it was relatively easy for them to
trace you after that." He smiled kindly but got no
answering smile from Mac.  



She straightened. "If there is nothing else I would
like to see her now, doctor."  



"Did you know she is on strong anti-depressants?"
Doctor Courtney's blunt question stunned Mac and
brought forth the first hint of emotion he had seen so
far. Her eyes widened and the blood seemed to drain
out of her face.  

 



"No, I didn't," she replied. "But that's not the only
thing I don't know about her," Mac said enigmatically.
"Can I see her now?" 



"Of course, Colonel." Dr. Courtney straightened and
led the way out. "We can talk more about this when
I've contacted the doctor who has been following her
for the past year. You wouldn't know who that might be
by any chance?" He smiled again as she shook her head.
"Let's hope your presence will make her feel better." 



"I sincerely doubt that, doctor," Mac murmured darkly
to herself as they made their way to her mother's
room. 



* * * 



Deanne MacKenzie lay propped up on the pillows on the
hospital bed, her listless blue eyes staring vacantly
before her. It had been well over twenty-four hours
since she had involuntarily said Sarah's name.
Unfortunately Dr. Courtney had pounced on it. She knew
he meant well but he had no idea of the ugly can of
worms he was uncovering. She had wanted to stop him
but had weakly given in.  



The story of my life, she thought dejectedly.  



Weak was a word she used frequently to describe
herself and her behavior towards her daughter,
although she could think of many other more
disparaging ones. It was funny how she could think up
a whole list of faults in seconds in her sessions with
Dr. Farnsworth. But it had taken her months to find
even one positive trait that she could see in herself.
She closed her eyes and a single fat tear rolled down
her cheek.  



How could she tell Dr. Courtney she had abandoned her
daughter, her own daughter, when she had needed her
most? No amount of analyzing could rid her of the
shame and guilt she felt at the end of each day in her
useless life. She deserved to feel bad and depressed
after what she had done to Sarah. It didn't matter
that she had been unable to take care of anyone, least
of all herself when she had left. It was a weight she
had been carrying for a long time.  



This trip to Georgetown had seemed like a good idea. A
gesture of the new Deanne who was ready to face up to
her responsibilities after years of running away from
them and from herself to beg her daughter's
forgiveness and finally try to make it up to her. But
the accident was an omen. Her plan had backfired and
she was confined to this hospital bed for God only
knew how long and she had no one to turn to. A
familiar feeling of panic and anxiety took hold of
her. Her throat constricted with fear as she felt an
impending sense of doom hovering over her. She needed
her pills. They were her lifeline. No good would come
of this and she knew it. She reached out to ring for
the nurse, wincing with the pain in her ribs caused by
the slight movement.  



Suddenly she became aware of a presence at the open
doorway. She saw her daughter standing there and a cry
of joy escaped her. She hadn't changed much since the
last time she had seen her in person. Perhaps she was
a little slimmer and her pale face showed signs of
stress. But what would she know? She hadn't seen her
daughter in four years and even then they had only
spent a few hours together.  



That brief interlude at her father's deathbed hadn't
been enough to cancel the seventeen years they had
been apart. And they both knew whose fault that was.
She stared hungrily at her face, drinking in her
features, her own eyes moist and her lower lip
trembling. She knew now why she hadn't prevented Dr.
Courtney from trying to contact her. The desire to see
her daughter again had been too strong.  



"Sarah."  



"Hello, mother." Mac came haltingly into the room
taking in the ugly bruise on her mother's forehead and
the line of tiny stitches on her cheek. A sudden hot
rush of anger at her mother's assailant coursed
through her as she approached the bed. She hid it
well, however. "How are you feeling? Are you in pain?"
she asked awkwardly. 



"Not very. I feel a little better now that you're
here," her mother answered with a slight smile.  



Mac glimpsed the eagerness in her mother's eyes and
drew back from it instinctively. She walked over to
the window, her back to the woman who had caused her
so much pain. "What happened?"  



Deanne’s defeated stare took in Mac’s rigid back and
she swallowed convulsively. She was here. That had to
count for something.  



"Didn't the police tell you?"  



"Yes, but I want to hear it from you," Mac replied
tightly.  



"There isn't much to tell. I was crossing the street
at the traffic lights. I'd almost made it to the other
side when this maniac rushed at me with a car and hit
me. The next thing I remember I woke up in this
hospital bed and I've been here ever since." 



"Are you sure the light was green?" 



Deanne was taken aback by the skepticism in Mac's
tone. So far no one, not even the police, had hinted
that she herself might have been the cause of the
accident through her carelessness. They gave her that
much credit. Apparently that wasn't the case with her
daughter.  



"Yes, I'm sure," she answered humbly, hurt by her
daughter's accusation. 



"Did you see what kind of car it was?" 



"No, I didn't." 



"Did you get a look at the license plate, the make of
the car, the driver?" Mac continued relentlessly,
hardly able to contain her impatience. 



"No. It's all hazy after I was hit. I don't remember
anything." 



Mac sighed, still looking out the window. "How are
they treating you?"  



"Everyone has been very nice here, especially Dr.
Courtney," Deanne replied. Her daughter sounded like
the policeman who had drilled her after she came
awake. There was no spark of emotion in her flat tone
of voice.  



"Good. I'm glad you're doing fine. I'll have a talk
with Detective Collins about this and I'll let you
know what they find out." Mac moved towards the door. 




"Sarah, wait. Will you be coming back to see me?"
Deanne looked at Mac with pleading eyes but shrank
back when she saw her daughter’s wintry _expression.
The seconds ticked by in the silent room and Mac's
face was a mask of conflicting emotions.  



"What were you doing in Georgetown?" she got out
finally.  



"I've been staying there at the Mayfair motel for the
past two weeks. I was coming to your apartment.
Actually, I've been plucking up the courage to speak
to you for months now." 



"Months?" Mac's voice was incredulous, as was the look
on her face. 



"Yes… I've been living in Baltimore for the past year.
I wanted to be close to you even though I know what
you think of me. I … saw the marriage bans in the
paper and I decided to wait until after the wedding to
approach you again. But I suppose you were still on
your honeymoon." Deanne's eyes widened in horror as a
thought struck her. "Oh God, I hope I didn't spoil
that." 



Mac didn't answer. She didn't have to. Her face said
it all. 



"Don't you believe me?" Deanne's plaintive plea grated
on Mac's nerves.  



"It's been four years mother. You never called. You
never wrote. You never even bothered to see if I was
still alive. Why should I believe you?" Mac's voice
was bitter as she gazed at her mother, her eyes dark
and unyielding. 



"Because I'm your mother," Deanne answered although
she knew she had no right to say it. 



"Ha! My mother! Fat lot of good that did me. I stopped
thinking of you as my mother when you left me with my
father so many years ago. You're the poorest excuse
for a mother I have ever seen and this is the worst
idea you've had yet." Mac couldn't stop the venom from
pouring out of her. It was like a stream of hot lava
consuming her soul. In that instant she forgot her
mother was injured. All she saw was the woman who had
been the cause of so much heartache in her life.  



Deanne's eyes filled with tears but she accepted Mac's
torrent of words without a murmur. She knew her
daughter was right. Who could blame her? "I'm sorry
you feel that way. I had hoped…" 



"I have every right to feel this way." Mac
interrupted, the pitch in her voice increasing.  



"Please, Sarah. If only you would let me explain. I
need you to listen to me." 



"And I need you to leave me alone." Mac heard the
rising hysteria in her own tone. Taking a deep
steadying breath she forced herself to slow down. She
was not going to let her mother put her through this
again.

"Look, I'll go over the accident with the police and
see what they've got and talk to the doctor about your
medication. But that's as far as I'll go. As soon as
you feel better you'll go back to wherever you came
from and we'll both get on with our separate lives.
It's too late, Deanne." 



She swiveled angrily around and stormed out of the
room, slamming straight into Harm who was standing at
the doorway. She felt his strong hands on her arms and
her startled eyes looked up at him uncertainly. How
long had he been standing there? How much had he
heard? His grim _expression left her in no doubt. He
had heard every word. She decided she didn't care.  



Drawing back from him she walked away as fast as her
legs would carry her without a backward glance, tears
streaming down her cheeks. She felt his eyes boring a
hole in her back as she strove to put as much distance
between them as possible. 

She was revving up the engine and ready to leave the
car park when Harm put a hand on her arm through the
car window. 



"Where do you think you're going?" he asked. 



"Back to JAG, where else?" she asked flippantly, her
eyes still awash with tears.  



"Why don't I take you?" he suggested softly. "You're
too upset to drive." 



"I'm fine," she returned brushing at her eyes. "I just
need some time alone."  



Harm straightened and she backed out of her parking
space. The tires screeched as she drove away leaving
Harm wondering how the hell he was supposed to help
her if she kept running away from him.  



With slow steps and a heavy heart he retraced his way
back to Deanne MacKenzie's room. He stood silently at
the door, fiddling with his cover, unsure whether to
make his presence known or not. Deanne's head was
turned away so she wasn't aware of him at first.
Presently, she sensed someone was there. She turned
her face towards him and he saw she was crying. 



"Yes?" She patted her hair and wiped away her tears
with the heel of her hand, desperately trying to
compose herself. 



Feeling rather out of place Harm entered the room and
went to stand beside the bed. "Good morning, ma'am. I
apologize for barging in on you like this. I'm
Commander Harmon Rabb, Mac's partner at JAG."  



They shook hands and Deanne's eyes traveled over the
handsome man in the white navy uniform, taking in his
height and elegant bearing. She noticed he had a
frank, open smile and judged him to be a few years
older than Sarah.  



"If you're looking for Sarah she just left," she
answered dully. 



"I know that, ma'am. Actually, I came by to see how
you were doing." 



Deanne was surprised by his words and it showed in her
eyes. A total stranger was worried about her state of
health. She guessed that he must be very close to her
daughter if he had taken the trouble to come check on
her himself.  



"That's very nice of you, Commander." She shifted
uncomfortably on the bed, grimacing at the searing
pain she felt in her chest each time she tried to
breathe or move. "You'll forgive me for not getting up
but as you can see I am somewhat the worse for wear at
the moment." 

Her lips made a slight upward movement and he answered
in kind. The older woman held no physical resemblance
to Mac but he noted that the look in her eyes when she
smiled reminded him of her. He was intrigued. 



"So, you are a friend of Sarah's?" Deanne asked as
charmingly as she could. 



"I like to think that, ma'am," Harm replied ruefully. 



"Sounds like she's been giving you a hard time,"
Deanne said a weak smile playing around her lips and
Harm suppressed one of his own.  



"Yes, ma'am. She seems to be doing a good job of it,"
he admitted. 



"That's my Sarah. Always playing tough," Deanne said
gruffly. She startled Harm when her blue eyes suddenly
filled with tears and her voice wavered. "I hurt her,
Commander. More than you or I will ever know. Her
father and I did a thorough job of ruining her
childhood." She searched around for a handkerchief and
Harm promptly gave her his. "Thank you. I'm sorry. I
shouldn't be boring you with this." 



"Anything that has to do with Sarah could never bore
me, ma'am." 



Deanne saw that Harm was in earnest and suddenly she
knew that her daughter had talked to him about her and
her father. 



"She hates me and with good reason," she said
dissolving into tears once more. 



Harm wondered what he could say to the woman. He was
walking a tightrope here and he knew Mac wouldn't
thank him for interfering.  



"I find that hard to believe. I think she just needs
some time to think about this, ma'am. Once she's
thought this over maybe you can both sit down and talk
things through." 



Deanne shook her head miserably. "It's too late. I
left it too late. I don't think she ever really
forgave me in her heart of hearts. Even if she said so
the last time we met at her father's funeral. She had
such a look of reproach in her eyes when she said it
and I was so ashamed. Too ashamed to ever call her
again once she left." 

 



She coughed and it jarred her battered rib cage. She
grimaced in pain and Harm quickly reached for the
bottle of water on the bedside table and poured some
into a glass. Gently he placed his hand at the back of
her head and helped her sit up and drink some of it.
She sipped gratefully then sank back against the
pillows with a sigh, the simple movement wearing her
out. 



"You're a kind man, Commander Rabb." 



Harm watched the woman struggle for control and wished
he could do more to help her. It was always this way
with him when he saw someone helpless. He wanted to
turn a wrong into a right. A negative into a positive.
But his loyalties lay first with Mac.  



"Please call me Harm, ma'am and don't upset yourself.
Try and get some rest now."  



"Thank you… Harm," she breathed, her eyelids closing
as the pain killers the nurse had given her earlier
began to have their effect on her. 



Harm left the room as quietly as he had entered it.
When Deanne woke up hours later she found his card on
her bedside table. A neat message was scribbled on the
back: "Please call me if you need anything. I’ll be
back. Harm."  



* * * 



That night, Mac tossed and turned restlessly in her
rumpled bed. Sleep was proving impossible. Following
the clash with her mother, old feelings of hurt and
anger had resurfaced and were keeping her awake. She
lay staring unseeingly into the shadows, haunted by
episodes she had been trying all her life to forget...




She was that frightened, little eight-year-old girl
all over again, creeping up to her parents' bedroom
door in her nightgown, eavesdropping fearfully on
their voices. Or rather, on her father's voice. Her
mother was crying softly.  



"You're a tramp. Just a low-down, cheap, good for
nothing, tramp." Her father's slurred, vicious words
reached Mac's young ears and she covered them in
desperation with her small hands as she squeezed her
eyes shut.  



He's jealous, Mac thought. Jealous because some guy at
the annual Christmas dance dared to glance at his
wife. Why is he always yelling at her? Why does he
always make her cry? She didn't do anything wrong. She
can't help it if she's beautiful. 

 



Her eyes widened in alarm and she trembled both with
cold and fear as her father's voice came nearer to the
door. She took a deep breath and held it in, afraid
that he was going to open it and find her there. Then
he moved away and she allowed herself to breathe
normally again. Her relief, however, was short-lived. 



"Stop crying, damn you." 



It was then that the slapping started. Each time he
hit her mother, Mac repeated the litany. "Make him
stop. Please make him stop," and hot tears coursed
down her young cheeks unchecked.  



"Why can't he shut up and leave her alone?" Mac
wondered desperately. "I hate him. I hate him. I want
to stop him but I don't know what to do." 



Deanne's sobs grew louder and Mac felt something tear
inside her small chest at the unfairness of it all.
Finally Deanne's crying mingled with that of Joe
MacKenzie as he slowly came to his senses and fell to
his knees in shame.  



"I'm sorry, Deanne. My God, what is wrong with me?
What have I done?" 



Their voices dropped to a murmur and the night was
suddenly silent. Had they stopped quarrelling? Mac
removed her hands from the sides of her face. Clasping
them fervently together she sent up a silent prayer.

"I can't hear anything. Maybe it's ok…Please, God. Let
it be ok." 



She tiptoed silently back to her bed and lay down in
the dark.  



"I hope mummy's all right…." That was her last thought
before she curled up under the covers into a tight
little ball and sobbed herself to sleep.  



The ritual of the morning after never changed. Mac
would get ready and kiss her mother goodbye before
going to school. Deanne's face was often bruised and
puffy, but some inner force gave her the strength to
smile as she looked into her daughter's grave face.  



"I love you, mummy." Her daughter’s somber brown eyes
told Deanne what she couldn’t seem to say out loud. "I
hope you know that." 



"Don't cry, baby." Her mother would croon, putting on
a brave face and cupping her daughter's tiny face in
both hands.  



Mac would pick up her schoolbag and bravely set out to
face the outside world, where her father's alcoholism
was a major family secret, denied by her parents and
denied to outsiders. Here she could be the perfect
student - first in her class, never rude, always
diligent. Here she could pretend that none of this was
real. There was nothing else she could do…

1300 ZULU

WASHIGTON POLICE DEPARTMENT

WASHINGTON DC 



"Colonel MacKenzie. Please come in." Detective Collins
invited Mac into his office and took a seat opposite
her. "I'm glad you stopped by. I wanted to apologize
again for the way I sprung the news of your mother's
accident on you. It was thoughtless of me." 



"That's ok." Mac reassured the older man. "What have
you got on the case?" 



"Well, we do have a witness. A man who was working in
his front garden at the time of the accident. The
garden faces the road so … It was his phone call that
alerted 911 and he described the car as…." He
consulted his notes. "A gray sedan. Unfortunately the
victim did not see her assailant and the witness did
not catch the license plate. So I'm afraid there isn't
much to work on." 



Mac stared at him in disbelief. "So that's it? You're
not going to do anything about it?"  



"Colonel, I don't know if you're aware of this but hit
and runs are common accidents in this state and it is
hardly ever possible to identify the culprit.
Statistics say…" 



"We are not talking about statistics here, Detective
Collins." Mac's look left him in no doubt what she
thought of his protests. "That animal ran over my
mother and cold-bloodedly left her for dead." 



"Colonel, I understand your anger," he placated her.
"I deal with cases like this every day and I see the
agony the victims and their families go through when
people are maimed or even killed by an individual who
thinks so little of human life. But you must realize
that the evidence we have on this case is scarce at
best. All we have is a shattered passenger mirror and
the tire marks the vehicle left on the asphalt." 



"In that case you must find the vehicle before any
repairs are made," Mac insisted. 



"I can promise we'll do the best we can, Colonel. But
I can't promise it will lead anywhere." 



Mac stood up and turned to leave, her disappointment
and frustration evident. The detective's parting words
stopped her. 



"Colonel, your mother is one of the lucky ones. She
survived the accident. You must try to concentrate on
that or it will drive you crazy." 



LATER THAT NIGHT… 



In the dark and quiet of her apartment that night the
detective's words still echoed in her ears as Mac lay
on her bed, exhausted.  



He was right about one thing. She was going crazy.  



Her life seemed to be falling apart at the seams. She
knew she was giving everyone around her a hard time.
Bud and Harriet, the Admiral, Harm - they all wanted
to make her talk, but talking was the last thing she
wanted to do.  



Don't trust, don't feel, don't talk. Those were the
three golden rules she had learned to follow during
her painful upbringing and they still spilled over
into her adult life. Every time she had a personal
problem she reverted to type, falling into the
behavioral pattern of her childhood.  



Her father's moods had been unpredictable. There was
never a good time to talk in those days. It was
impossible to do so when Joe Mackenzie was drunk and
when he was sober all they wanted to do was forget the
unpleasantness. So the problem was pushed aside and
ignored like so much dust under the carpet. Until the
next time.  



How many times had her father promised to be there for
a school play, a birthday or an outing when his brain
wasn't befuddled by the alcohol he consumed? Then he
would get so drunk he'd forget all about his earlier
promises. He would turn from loving to abusive in the
space of a few hours. It had taught her not to trust
him and embedded in her a mistrust of people in
general. Her mother would be the only one present.
Unless she was so badly beaten up that she couldn't
possibly show her battered face in public. And then of
course, she had left. It was almost like being an
orphan.  



She had stopped watching out for them after a while.
In order to quit suffering she had to quit feeling. It
was the only way to survive. She had fabricated a web
of fantasies to satisfy her schoolmates' curiosity and
her own desire for normality. She made up stories
about beautiful Sundays spent at the beach, phantom
picnics and longed-for trips to amusement parks. 



Meanwhile, she worried constantly about the situation
at home. She feared the fights and arguments between
her parents. She was always scared her mother might
become sick or injured. And she was too embarrassed to
invite any of her few friends home. She had a terrible
secret to hide and was too ashamed to ask anyone for
help. One particularly vivid moment flashed before her
eyes… 



She had been about twelve or thirteen. It was a
responsibility she had taken on herself on Saturdays
to do a tour of the house. She checked on what was
needed and made a list for her mother's weekly trip to
the supermarket. It made her feel she had some control
over her father's volatile temper. She knew from
experience what would happen if everything wasn't in
place when he came home.  



But it had been such a beautiful day. One of the rare
ones spent on a day trip to a nearby funfair with her
class. The list had skipped her mind. She had only
been home for a couple of hours when she heard her
father swearing and cussing furiously upstairs. 



"Oh God, this is my fault. I forgot to put a new bar
of soap in the bathroom." That was Mac's first thought
as she watched her mother run hastily up the stairs to
the first floor of the house. Mac followed slowly,
knowing it was already too late.  



"Hell and damnation. How am I supposed to shower if
there's no soap in the bathroom? You're both so
goddamn stupid you can't carry out even the simplest
tasks. What in God’s name do you do here all day?" 



Deanne tried to placate him and ran to produce the
offending article but her husband followed her inside
the bathroom, grabbing her arm and making her wince in
pain. Mac watched fearfully from the doorway. 



"You stupid slut. Get out of my way." 



It took so little to set him off. In a blinding rage
he slapped Deanne hard across the face and she fell,
hitting her head on the toilet seat. Tears streamed
down her face silently but she kept her face lowered,
knowing that if he saw her crying she would only fuel
his anger. Then he grabbed the toiletries from the
shelf above the sink and with a growl he threw them
out of the window. Her mother dragged herself up and
held on to him, pleading with him to stop, trying to
pull him back as he started shouting from the window,
his voice growing louder, his curses more vulgar and
offensive. 



Mac hung on to the doorjamb, sobbing quietly. She was
filled with shame, her thoughts echoing those of her
mother as she wondered what the neighbors would think
of them. She hated his foul mouth, his vulgar way of
speaking. She didn't care if he was a marine. It was
wrong to use that kind of language around them. But
that was just the way her father was. He didn't care… 



Jingo padded up to Mac's bed and whined softly. She
realized it was already 0530, local time. It had been
another sleepless night. Giving up on the possibility
of resting she got out of bed, much to Jingo's
delight. The dog promptly went to a corner near the
door and returned with his leash in his mouth. Mac
bent down on her haunches and gave Jingo a sad smile.
The dog seemed to sense his mistress' deep melancholy.
He looked at her with his mournful brown eyes and in
his own affectionate way he tried to console her.
Lovingly, he licked her face. Mac hugged him and
scratched him behind the ears. She knew he loved that.




"Sweet Jingo. C'mon pal, let's go for a walk."  



Changing into a pair of khaki shorts and white tank
top she attached the leash to Jingo's collar and took
him outside. The air was warm and balmy in the
twilight. Jingo trotted obediently beside her,
enjoying the unexpected, early morning stroll. A few
other early risers were walking their respective dogs
and Mac recognized a couple of people she usually
crossed during her morning run. The streets were
already filling with traffic and she could hear the
rumble of the trains in the distance. 



"Life goes on," she mused.  



Following the recent upheavals in her own life she had
half expected the world to sit up and take notice. But
the sun would continue to rise and set whether she
solved her problems or not, she realized.  



Her thoughts slid back to the past. She had tried so
hard as a child to be especially good and obedient. To
smooth over upsetting situations by trying to think
beforehand what might cause them. But it was never
enough. 

With her mother's departure Mac's own anxiety and
confusion had turned into hurt and a consuming anger.
She was angry with her father for being who he was and
driving her mother away. She was angry with her mother
for not defending her and leaving her without any
support or protection. 

She had started drinking her way into oblivion to dull
the edge of that pain. Before her mother left she had
been the responsible, over-achiever in the family. She
had to act the role of the responsible parent since no
one else in the household seemed capable of it.
Following her mother's departure she slowly but
progressively became the family problem. She started
hanging out with Chris and Eddy, her new friends. The
former a thief and a heavy drinker, the latter a
self-declared alcoholic - a perfect recipe for
trouble. She knew now that it had been an act of
rebellion. Her way of expressing her anger and
despair. 



Her father had denied having an alcohol problem all
his life but how could her mother have denied it for
so long? Deanne had tried to hold the family together
for years without telling anyone anything. Not even
Uncle Matt or grandma. Mac blamed her mother not for
running away but for leaving her behind to grow up in
chaos and confusion. Why the hell did people decide to
have children if they couldn't handle the
responsibility involved? And now her mother was back
and wanted to pick up where she had left off. Just
like that.  



"What am I going to do? I don't want to hurt more than
I already do. I've suffered enough. How can I
willfully add to my inner turmoil?" Mac posed her
question to the dawn sky. By the time she was dressed
and ready for work she was no closer to her answer. 



02.00 ZULU

JAG HEADQUARTERS

FALLS CHURCH VA 



Harm watched Mac from the doorway. She sat at her
desk, head bent, completely absorbed as she studied
the file in front of her. Every now and then she would
consult the voluminous book lying open at the side of
her arm. Other documents and open books were scattered
helter-skelter all over the area around her desk. Even
the chair in front of it was piled high with an
unsteady column of law books that seemed in precarious
danger of toppling to the floor. He strolled in and
went to stand behind her chair. 



"Are you planning on setting a new record for the
busiest lawyer of the century?"  



His amused question boomed in the quiet office making
Mac jump. 



"What? Oh, Harm. You startled me." She placed a
flattened palm on her chest and looked up at him
warily. "I didn't hear you come in."  



"Sorry." Harm smiled lopsidedly, glancing down at her
tenderly. "I did knock but you seemed a million miles
away. What are you up to?" 



"Just catching up on another translation job for the
State Department," she returned, flexing her arms
tiredly.  



"Everybody else has gone home except for security.
It's time to call it a day, Mac," Harm said gently. 



"I guess so." She rubbed the cramped muscles at the
back of her neck.  



Without thinking, Harm placed his large hands on her
slim shoulders and kneaded the knots of tension he
felt under his fingers. Mac tensed for a moment. 



"Relax," he urged her, his warm breath brushing her
ear.  



It was too much of a temptation to ignore. He
straightened back up and Mac leaned the back of her
head against his firm stomach succumbing to the heady
feeling of wellbeing the warmth of his skilful fingers
invoked as they worked their magic on her. It felt
good to lean on his strength even if only for a few
minutes. She closed her eyes, sighing contentedly,
then leaned forward and bent her head to give him
easier access. 



Harm looked down at the nape of her neck and fought
the urge to plant a kiss on the delicate band of skin
she exposed to his view. She looked so fragile and
vulnerable, completely at his mercy as she meekly
succumbed to his tender ministrations.  



What was it with this woman? She moved something
inside him, something too deep to explain through mere
words. He loved to measure himself with her sharp
mind. She was smart, clever and successful. Good to
talk to and good to listen to. A true friend. Her
smiles had always been tinged with an inner sadness
that intrigued him. They had been few and far apart at
first but had increased as they got to know each other
better. He liked to think he'd had a hand in that.  



Her exotic beauty had stunned him from the beginning.
His initial surprise at her resemblance to Diane had
worn off quickly. Mac was quieter and much more
serious. An enigma at times.  



What was it he wanted from her? Until she had been on
the point of marrying Brumby he had been convinced
that platonic friendship was the best thing for both
of them. Now, especially after his accident, he
realized he wanted more. A hell of a lot more, he
decided. His brush with death had brought many things
into perspective.  



They hadn't discussed her meeting with her mother. Not
since their conversation at the hospital four days
ago. There were so many questions he wanted to ask but
he didn't know how to do it. Even now she seemed
content to let the silence linger and he hated the
thought of upsetting her again.  



We'll have to talk about it soon and she knows it, he
thought.  



"I'm leaving for Norfolk tomorrow. There's an article
32 investigation I have to look into at the Submarine
base there," he said out loud. 



"So Bud told me earlier. How long will you be gone?"
Mac mumbled.  



"Your guess is as good as mine," he replied. "Four to
five days, a week at the most. I thought you'd be a
part of the team, too, but the Admiral informed me
it's going to be just me and Bud." 



"Yeah. This is a tough translation I'm working on and
the deadline is in two days. I'm going cross-eyed with
staring at my computer screen for so long." 



"Mac, you're working too hard," Harm admonished
gently. His hands stopped their massaging but still
rested on her shoulders, his fingers absently
caressing her there. "You've got that case of willful
dereliction of duty coming up and part of my caseload
while I'm gone. Don't you think you should slow down a
little?" He was concerned for her. She was pushing
herself to the limit and had been doing so for days
now.  



"I can handle it." She stood up and moved away from
his disturbing touch.  



"Can you?"  



Mac knew he was referring to her recent encounter with
her mother. The look she shot him warned him to back
down. She put the files she needed to take home with
her in her briefcase and clicked it shut. "All set and
ready to go," she said a little too brightly.  



"I'll walk you to your car."  



It was on the tip of her tongue to tell him that she
walked alone to her car each night and had been doing
it for the past six years without his help. But she
didn't. Since their kiss in her apartment he had
become more tender and protective towards her and
although it irked her sometimes there were other
times, like now, when she had to admit she liked him
this way. They entered the lift and rode down to the
basement together. 



"What's so fascinating about translating English into
Farsi anyway?" he teased curiously as they walked
towards her car in the dark, their footsteps echoing
in the deserted parking area. 



"Well, it certainly widens your vocabulary, especially
the technical stuff. But what I love most about it is
searching for that perfect turn of phrase to convey
the exact sense without making it sound like a
translation. It's all part of the challenge and a good
translator can always pick that up in a text." 



Harm noted how her eyes sparkled as she explained her
work to him. He smiled down at her animated
_expression. "Sounds like you enjoy it."  



"I do," she answered simply. "Actually, I'm attending
a three-day seminar on Internet resources for
translators and interpreters at the Academy in a few
days. The Admiral received a memo on it and thought I
might be interested. That's probably why he didn't
assign me to the Norfolk case." 



"Your knowledge of Farsi is an asset to JAG. Does your
mother speak the language, too? I know you've often
mentioned that your grandmother spoke it but…" 



"She does." Mac's tone was abrupt as she faced him,
her eyes knowing. "But I don't want to talk about her
so you can stop thinking up ways to make me open up
about it." 



"I'm just trying to help, Mac," Harm said his own eyes
growing intense and earnest.  



"I wish you wouldn't," she said moodily and turned
away impatiently. "I don't need any mollycoddling from
you or anybody else. I'm a big girl and I can take
care of myself." 



"Well, I don't know about that." 



His quiet words hit a raw nerve. She looked back at
him suspiciously. "What do you mean?" 



"I know you haven't been back to see your mother in
the past week but that you go there everyday to check
on her progress with Dr. Courtney. If your idea of
dealing with your relationship with your mother is by
avoiding her then I'm afraid you're going about it the
wrong way," he answered boldly. 



"My life is an open book, I see," she gasped out
angrily. "How do you know about this?" 



He had the grace to look uncomfortable. "I …I went to
the hospital myself a couple of times," he stammered. 




"To see my mother or to spy on me?" she asked
indignantly. His actions smacked distinctly of
betrayal. 



"I wasn't spying on you, just worried about you," he
retorted, squirming under her close scrutiny. "I also
wanted to see how your mother was faring. You haven't
been exactly forthcoming with any news." 



"Well, you had no business doing that, Harm, and I'll
thank you to stay out of my personal life in the
future." She glared at him and Harm lowered his eyes,
not wanting to show her how much her words affected
him.  



"I thought I was part of your personal life." 



Mac stared up at him helplessly. "If you really care
about me you'll stay out of this." 



"Mac, the only reason I did it is because I do give a
damn about you. You ought to know that by now." 



She didn't answer as he stared her down and he decided
to press his luck. It was now or never. "Mac, there
are people you can talk to about this. You might
consider seeking professional help."  



"I don't believe this," she exclaimed as she placed
her briefcase on her car bonnet but he continued
relentlessly.  



"Look, the last time you met your mother, when your
father died, you told me it was a growing experience.
But as far as I can see, you've simply transferred the
anger you once felt for your father onto your mother,
because she's the surviving parent and you need to
blame someone for what happened to you. You're running
away just like you did when you went to the
Guadalcanal. You still haven't come to terms with it
and it's affecting your whole life. Even us." 



“Oh please, spare me the psychobabble," she mocked
angrily, finally managing to get a word in edgewise.
She was incensed at his audacity. The words spilled
out of her mouth and she was powerless to stop them.
"You really have a nerve. As for the "us" you were
referring to, it was just a kiss, Harm. You're reading
too much into it and it doesn't give you the right to
barge into my life, dictating orders." 



"Not orders, just good advice," he corrected tightly. 



"For God's sake, stop breathing down my neck. Memo to
you: I'm a marine and I can handle anything life
dishes out to me. Anything! I don't need a hotshot
pilot turned lawyer telling me what to do. Hell,
you've changed your designation so many times you
ought to be having an identity crisis. And you want to
tell me what to do? You should concentrate on the
complications in your life, Harm. It's pretty screwed
up as far as I can see." She mimicked the phrase he
had used, throwing it fiercely back in his face, her
index finger pointing at his chest as she finished her
tirade. 



Harm's face flushed at her cruel words. He stood
rigid, a muscle working in his jaw as he fought the
anger he felt rising within him. They were standing
physically close but emotionally speaking, he realized
they were miles apart. He had thought they were
building something together but it looked like they
were back to square one. His eyes were wide and icy
blue as he looked down furiously at her upturned face.
 



"Fine," he rasped in a low voice, unable to conceal
how much her words got to him any longer. "I'm glad we
both know where we stand. Next time I feel like
helping you remind me to ask for your permission
first. Come to think of it, remind me to get as far
away from you as possible." Stepping back, he turned
on his heel and walked away from her. 



"Harm… wait." Mac tried to call him back. 



He kept his back to her as he lifted his hand in a
mock salute, too mad too even risk looking at her.
"Forget it, Mac."  



She stood there and watched helplessly as he left the
car park. She bent her head in defeat and hugged
herself, feeling suddenly cold and lonelier than she
had ever felt in her entire life.  



0700 ZULU

BENNEKER HOSPITAL

WASHINGTON DC 



Mac looked down at her mother's sleeping form. She was
breathing in short rasps due to the pain in her ribs
and the bruises on her face had turned an ugly purple.
Her leg was set in a heavy cast.  



Mac reached a hand out. Hesitantly, she lightly
touched the silky dark hair, so like her own. The face
she had adored as a little girl was still pretty
despite the fact that she had gained so much weight.
She was only a shadow of the beautiful woman Mac
remembered from her childhood. The texture of her
mother's hair under her fingers jogged her memory and
she was transported back in time… 



She was dreaming and her alcohol-induced dream made
her feel good. She was kneeling before Deanne, her
head resting in her mother's lap and Deanne was
lovingly caressing her hair.  



"It's going to be all right, darling," Deanne soothed
as she threaded her fingers through Mac's dark
tresses.  



The sound of breaking glass rudely awakened a
sixteen-year-old Mac. She lay still, a fierce
hammering in her head, her mind swirling and woozy
from her hangover - the result of a trip to the bar
with Eddy, her drinking buddy, the night before.
Across the small expanse of her bedroom the early
morning light revealed her tiny desk, still cluttered
with the books she had consulted to finish yesterday's
homework. The half-empty bottle of gin standing on it
gave mute testimony to her own self-indulgence.  



She didn't know who she hated most, her father or
herself. She heard him cursing and throwing things in
the next room. He was back from his drinking binge
with his buddies at the NCO club. It was what he
always did on payday. One year. It had been one whole
year since her mother had left and nothing had
changed. At least for her father.  



"Damn you, Sarah, where the hell are you? Come and
help me off with my boots." 



This time there was only Sarah waiting for him. Her
mother was gone. A stream of dark thoughts flowed in
her mind, tripping over each other and confusing her
with their intensity.  



"Why did she leave me? What did I do wrong? Why didn't
she take me with her? How could she do this to me? I
don't want to get up. I don't want it to be morning. I
want to sleep. I want blessed oblivion, where I can
forget I even exist. Sweet Jesus, where are you?
Yesterday I sent you a prayer. I asked you to take me
and not make me wake up to this again. Why won't you
do it? You know I will never have the courage to do it
myself. So why won't you do it for me? I can't go on
like this. I can feel the darkness creeping up on me,
threatening to drag me down. I'm so scared. Help me.
Somebody please help me. I'm falling into a dark
bottomless pit."  



But there was no one there. No arms to hug her, no lap
to cuddle into, no adult, reassuring presence to chase
the anguish away… 



"Sarah?" Deanne shifted in the hospital bed and looked
straight into her daughter's pain filled eyes. 



"I'm sorry, mother," Mac choked out before she turned
and fled the room.  



2200 ZULU

JAG HEADQUARTERS

FALLS CHURCH VA 



Admiral A.J. Chegwidden stood in front of the
fireplace in his office, his hands folded behind his
back, lost in thought. He cared about the officers
serving under his command and Mac was no exception.
She was special. Almost like a daughter to him. With
his daughter Francesca living in Italy and his ex-wife
married to another man, he had grown to look on the
JAG team as his surrogate family and he thrived on the
responsibility he felt towards all of them.  



He frowned slightly as he recalled how often Harm and
Mac had been there for him. He remembered the time
Francesca had been kidnapped. In her own gentle way
Mac had offered him a shoulder to cry on. He had
refused, of course. Protocol and his hard headedness
couldn't let him do otherwise but her gentleness had
not escaped him. She had an uncanny ability of sensing
what others were going through emotionally at the
expense of her own feelings. A tough marine with a
heart of gold. A.J. knew that her sensitivity for
other people’s pain stemmed from her own personal
experience of it as a child.  



She'd been so quiet and withdrawn lately. Professional
to a fault but deeply troubled. After what Mic Brumby
had put her through and her mother's accident he
wasn't surprised. Ever since she had come to JAG he
had felt it his duty to take her under his wing. Her
abusive childhood brought his strong paternal
instincts to the fore and his hands balled into fists
as he imagined all the traumatic episodes she must
have gone through because of her father's alcoholism. 




When she had come to his office a few days ago he had
tried to draw her out. She had looked at him
pleadingly, saying that everything was fine, her eyes
begging him to let things be and stubbornly refusing
to talk about how she was feeling. And now she was
avoiding her work and her closest friends. He
recognized the pattern and he couldn't let it continue
without any intervention on his part. He cared too
much about her as a person and about her career.  



Dammit, sometimes being the JAG sucked, A.J. thought. 



He knew that as her C.O. he could order her to go into
counseling but he also knew she would be unbelievably
hurt by his lack of confidence in her ability to solve
this on her own. He was still considering that as a
last resort but he didn’t want to risk alienating her
if he could help it. She was so set on doing it all by
herself, he could sense that.  



A knock sounded on the door.  



"Enter." 



At A.J.'s command Harm stuck his head inside his
C.O.'s office. "You wanted to see me, sir?" 



"Come in." The Admiral motioned for Harm to sit down.
"Going flying, Commander?" he asked as he eyed the
leather flight jacket and ball cap Harm was wearing
over his jeans. 



"Yes, sir. I thought I'd take the opportunity since I
had the rest of the day off." 



"I appreciate your coming straight over here
considering you just got back from Norfolk." 



"Well, you said it was urgent," Harm answered. "Is
this about the Norfolk investigation, sir? I told
Lieutenant Roberts to hand in our report as soon as he
came back to JAG today."  



"No, no. That's all taken care of. That's not why I
asked you to come." The Admiral circled his desk and
sat down. He pursed his lips thoughtfully and laced
his hands together on the legal pad in front of him as
he faced the younger man. "Have you heard from Colonel
Mackenzie recently?" 



Harm's eyes widened. He hadn't expected this to be
about Mac. "We spoke before I left Washington a week
ago. Is something wrong, Admiral?"  



"That's what I need you to find out." A.J. stood up
and walked restlessly back and forth behind his desk.
"A couple of days after you left she requested leave
for personal reasons. Based on recent events, of which
I'm sure you are aware, I decided to humor her. I'll
spare you the details on how I had to reassign all her
cases to Commander Sturgis. She isn't answering any of
Harriet’s' phone calls and I happen to know that she
didn't show up at the translation seminar she was
supposed to attend at the Academy today." 



"Well, maybe she’s feeling a little under the
weather," Harm suggested, his mind racing back to his
recent fall out with Mac. "Mac has been under a lot of
stress lately." 



The Admiral stopped his pacing and looked Harm in the
eye. “That may be true. But as I'm sure you've noticed
the Colonel hasn't been herself since she received
news of her mother's accident. I fear her personal
life is in danger of interfering with her professional
one."  



"Respectfully, sir, that doesn't sound like Mac." Harm
instantly rose to her defense.  



His C.O.’s eyes were black burning coals as he placed
his hands flat on his desk and glowered at Harm daring
him to contradict him. "Are you questioning my
judgment, Commander?"  



Harm faced him squarely but decided against voicing
his thoughts out loud. “No, sir." 



"Find out what is going on, Commander," A.J. said
sternly. "I will not have the Colonel messing up on
her duties." 



"Aye, sir." Harm rose and stood to attention, eyes
unflinching. He seemed in a great hurry to leave. 



"Dismissed." The Admiral straightened and watched as
Harm walked to the door. "Rabb."  



Harm halted his progress.  



"For the record, I am as worried about the Colonel as
you are." 



"I know that, sir," Harm replied hiding a smile. 



"Good."  



The Admiral waited until the door closed behind the
younger man, then his _expression softened and a
worried frown marred his features.  



"Take good care of her, son." He had set the ball
rolling. If anyone could get through to Mac it was
Harm.  



2300 ZULU

MAC'S APARMENT

GEORGETOWN 



Mac lay curled up on her couch in a fetal position,
hugging a cushion to her chest. Her eyes were closed
but she muttered restlessly in her sleep… 

 



In her dream she was back in her childhood home and a
song played on her cassette-recorder. Coupled with the
sound filling her darkened bedroom came an impending
feeling of danger. It registered in her fuddled state
of mind that the music was too loud. She heard the
sound of the doorknob rattle and fear took hold of
her, dark and threatening. Someone was trying to open
the door. It was her father. He was shouting at her to
turn the music down.  



She tried to get out of bed but her limbs wouldn't
respond. Her father started banging on the door, his
incoherent shouts growing louder. Her eyes locked on
the doorknob that was turning slowly, inexorably. A
beam of light came through the crack as the door
opened and she tried to scream. Only, the sound caught
in her throat and a low moan escaped her instead. She
was having difficulty breathing… 



Her eyes snapped open in panic and she sat up with a
start, her chest heaving, her breath coming in short,
painful gasps. She glanced about her in bewilderment.
Reality set in and she realized she was safe in her
apartment. In a rush of relief, she leaned back
heavily and closed her eyes, resting her head on the
back of the couch, waiting for the furious thumping in
her heart to diminish. It had only been another bad
dream.  



Wearily, she moved to the kitchen and went about
preparing herself a cup of herbal tea, hoping it would
help her relax. She felt tired and drained. The past
few days had passed in a blur, flowing into each other
and leaving no trace. Her quarrel with Harm had left a
dull ache in her chest. She'd had a lot of time on her
hands to think about it during her time off from JAG.
She wasn't physically sick, just sick at heart, she
thought sadly as she poured some steaming water into
the cup. 



She couldn't stand the way everyone at the office kept
tiptoeing around her, as if they expected her to break
down any minute. So she had opted for a few days on
her own. Their concern for her emotional state
bothered her all the more because losing control was
what she feared most.  



After calming down she had taken Harm's words to heart
and visited her mother. But it hadn't worked. Once
again she had retreated into her shell, hardly ever
moving outside her apartment, although she had called
the hospital several times. She was torn between
wanting to give her mother another chance and fearing
the risks involved. The nightmares didn't help. Far
from providing the solace she yearned for, her
self-imposed isolation had merely dredged up old hurts
and bitter memories.  



With a sigh she opened the cupboard and reached for
the sugar container. Her eyes fell on the as yet
unscrewed bottle of whisky standing next to it. A
leftover from Mic's love for a nightcap when they had
been engaged. Forgetting all about the tea she was
preparing, she pulled the bottle out and went over to
the couch. Placing it on the coffee table in front of
her she sat down and pushed her hair back from her
face, her eyes dark and troubled.  



"Who would it hurt? No one would ever know," a tiny
voice inside her head whispered. 



She licked her dry lips and swallowed spasmodically.
She wanted a drink so badly she could feel the taste
of the liquor on her lips and tongue. She knew from
experience the rush of satisfaction the fiery liquid
would provide as it slid down her parched throat,
dulling her senses until her brain went numb. Once an
alcoholic, always an alcoholic - she had learned that
the hard way. Her heart beat a strong tattoo in her
chest and a film of perspiration lined her upper lip.
Her hand trembled as she reached out and picked up the
bottle. She was tempted. Oh, so tempted. It would
provide a way out of her mental torture.  



The coward's way out. Did she really want to put
herself through all that again? She knew the shame and
guilt that would inevitably follow once the alcoholic
stupor wore off. She'd had first hand experience. 



"I have to get out of this place," she muttered to
herself.  



Determinedly she grabbed her keys and walked straight
out of her apartment, throwing the whisky bottle in
the trashcan outside her building.  



What she really needed was to talk to her best friend.
She doubted if he would give her the time of day at
this point, however. She had been so angry with him.
She knew he meant well but it had hurt like hell when
she learned he had been to see her mother. It was
stupid but she felt like he was fraternizing with the
enemy instead of being on her side.  



Now that he was gone she felt a consuming longing to
see him again. In the six years she had known him he'd
always been the one person she knew she could always
turn to and she missed his reassuring presence. Mac
roamed the streets of Georgetown with no specific goal
in mind, her thoughts in a painful whirl. The throng
of people mulled around her going about their
business, oblivious to her suffering. A couple
strolled by her, arm in arm. The man lovingly kissed
the woman on the lips as she laughed happily up at
him.  



"I want that," she thought wistfully.  



And she knew now that she wanted it with Harm. Despite
what she had led him to believe the feel of his lips
on hers the other night had left her weak at the knees
and craving for more. She wanted to tell him she was
sorry. She wanted to explain that her mother's return
had tied her up in childhood fears, reopening old
wounds that still had the power to anger her or drive
her to tears. She felt so alone and piercingly lonely.
 



Feeling somewhat tired she stopped at a coffee shop
she often went to at the Dupont Circle on Connecticut
Avenue. She gazed absently around as she sipped her
coffee, her mind a million miles away.  



She had worked so hard to build a new life for herself
after overcoming her alcohol problem. The Marine Corp
had given her life a sense of purpose. She became
harder, tougher and convinced herself she didn't need
anyone anymore. Through her years in Bosnia and
Okinawa she had polished that image until she'd
started believing it herself. Then she discovered that
to practice law was exactly what she wanted to do.
Whether she defended or prosecuted, her country needed
her in its quest for justice and truth. Nobody had
ever needed her before. It felt good to be needed.  



She'd never really let anyone in on her feelings until
she was transferred to JAG. Then Harm had come along -
charming, incredibly attractive, larger than life. His
easy-going affection was like a salve on the scars she
had brought to Washington. Their friendship had
blossomed, strong and true. It had felt good to be
alive. Her engagement to Mic and his dating Renee had
driven them apart for a while there but things had
seemed to be turning around between them since her
return from the Indian Ocean. Now her mother was back
and she fell to pieces. How could she face him after
what she had said?  



The hair at the back of her neck prickled and she
shivered. She had the uncanny feeling that she was
being watched. Slowly she turned in her chair and what
she saw made here stare in disbelief. A familiar tall
figure was standing a few feet away from her. She
blinked thinking her mind was playing tricks on her. A
second look told her it was no figment of her
imagination and her heart skipped a beat.  



She stood up in one swift movement. For one split
second the world stopped turning. The people moving
around them faded into insignificance. Only the two of
them existed as they looked into each other's eyes
across the brief distance that separated them.  



She feasted on the high intelligent forehead beneath
the ball cap, the rakish eyebrows and the gorgeous
aquamarine eyes that could tell so much with a single
glance. Her gaze moved to the straight nose and the
hard mouth she knew would hint at an underlying
softness when he smiled, the determined set of his jaw
an indication of his stubborn streak.  



Then Harm smiled.  



It was a slow, gentle smile, full of warmth and a
promise of understanding and it went straight to her
heart. She loved him, she realized. The thought took
her breath away but she knew it was true. She was
hopelessly and completely besotted. She loved him with
all that was in her and not just as a friend but as a
woman loves the man she dreams of spending the rest of
her life with.  



Harm opened his arms to her and she ran to him
eagerly, all her previous misgivings forgotten in the
beauty of her discovery. She flung herself into his
arms and felt his warmth surround her completely as he
wrapped her in a strong embrace and hugged her as if
he would never let her go, oblivious to the people
around them.  



She pressed her face to his chest and clung to him
almost desperately.  



"Hey," Harm laughed softly, slightly taken aback at
her intensity as she burrowed her head in the juncture
between his neck and his shoulder. He lightly loosened
his hold of her, still keeping her within the safety
of his arms and gazed deeply into her tearful brown
eyes.

"I've been thinking about you." He smiled down at her
with infinite tenderness. 



"You're here. You came back to me," Mac murmured still
hardly able to believe it, her gaze locked with his.
Her hand slid up to lovingly caress his cheek.  



"I'll always be here for you, Mac."  



"Harm, I'm so sorry." 



"I'm sorry, too, Mac. I was way out of line. I had no
right to judge you." 



Their words tripped over each other as each tried to
make the other see there was no need to explain. He
looked down at her for a long moment, worriedly
absorbing her drawn features. 



"Harm, take me away from all this. Make the pain go
away," she begged urgently, her hands gripping the
sleeves of his flight jacket.  



"Do you trust me?" he asked. 



"Always." 



He grabbed her hand and grinned from ear to ear. "Come
on." 



He coaxed her into a run and they both laughed like
children as they raced across the crowded street. When
they reached his car her soft brown eyes questioned
his clear blue ones as he settled her in the passenger
seat. He bent low over her as he helped her fasten her
seatbelt.  



“Where are we going?" she asked breathlessly. When he
turned his head he was so close their noses touched.  



"To see the last act," he whispered mysteriously. Then
he closed the short distance and kissed her full on
the lips. It sent a ripple of desire all the way to
her toes.  



The drive to Leesburg airfield didn't take too long. 

In the hangar Harm helped Mac into the front cockpit
of Sarah, his yellow steerman, and got into the rear
one behind her. Then he slowly taxied the vintage
plane to the top of the runway. The small aircraft
gained speed and was soon climbing high into the air. 




Mac adjusted her flight goggles and closed her eyes
for a brief moment, feeling her whole being soar
upwards. As the plane gained altitude in the evening
sky she felt her battered spirit lifting steadily
along with it. She inhaled the air rushing against her
face, loving the way it ruffled her hair into wild
disarray, clearing the cobwebs and the sorrow from her
head and her heart.  



Harm steered the aircraft northwards and cruised over
Chesapeake Bay. As they flew across the beautiful
expanse he dipped the plane to one side to give Mac an
unobstructed view of the bay below them. They peered
down in wonder at the tranquil, stirring beauty of the
water. The last rays of the setting sun threw a path
of shimmering light towards the horizon on the calm
azure of the sea.  



Mac gazed at the breathtaking view in almost religious
awe. They both watched, suspended in mid-air as the
sun turned into a fiery red ball, casting shades of
mauve and indigo reminiscent of the strokes of a giant
paintbrush across the rapidly fading blue of the
cloudy sky. It was as if nature was putting on its
best performance just for the two of them.  



For the first time in days a feeling of peace and
harmony invaded Mac. In the face of the miracle of
nature being played out before them her own problems
seemed small and insignificant. She lifted her arm and
reached out behind her. Harm's warm clasp enfolded
hers as he squeezed her hand tightly in silent
communication. No words were spoken as they sped
across the sky, sharing the spectacular beauty of the
sunset.  



By the time Harm touched down skillfully on the runway
darkness had fallen. He taxied the aircraft to the
hangar and switched off the engines. Then he got out
of the cockpit and helped Mac down beside him. 



"Thank you," was all she said, the wonder of it still
in her eyes. 



Harm just smiled. He reached out and pulled her into
his arms, pressing her head against his chest and
dropping a kiss on the top of her head. There was
nothing sexual in the way he held her. There would be
time enough for that. They were linked by something
deep and spiritual that went far beyond the physical
side of love. For now he just needed to hold her and
believe that she was going to be all right… 



On the drive back from Leesburg airfield Mac invited
Harm to dinner at her apartment. It was quite late by
the time they got there so they decided on something
light and easy to prepare.  



As she put the finishing touches to the nicoise salad
she was making, Mac glanced furtively over at him from
the corner of her eye. He was standing next to her,
busy mixing a pre-dinner cocktail for them both. It
struck her how relaxed and at home he looked as he
moved about in her tiny kitchen, his height dwarfing
the narrow surroundings. It was a scene she could
easily get used to.  



Harm raised his eyes and caught her staring. He
flashed a wide, knowing grin at her and it made her
blush to the roots of her hair. She lowered her head
to hide her embarrassment and went back to tossing the
salad. All of a sudden she felt inexplicably shy of
him. 



“Here, taste this.” Harm took pity on her and pushed a
tall glass in her hand.  



“What is it?” Grateful for the diversion she sniffed
the orange colored concoction curiously. 



“Tropical fruit juice mixed with lemonade. It’s all I
could find in your refrigerator,” he teased. He raised
his own glass and clinked it with hers in a toast, his
gaze suddenly solemn.  



“Here’s to us,” he murmured his knuckles brushing
hers. His warm touch sent a tiny shiver up her spine. 




“To us,” she echoed, her eyes never leaving his.  



They stood there for a long intense moment. His eyes,
blue as the summer sky, seemed to see all the way
through her. Mac lost her nerve and looked down at her
drink. She took a sip of the cool liquid. “It’s
delicious!” she exclaimed in surprise.  



Her comical _expression broke the spell he was weaving
around her. Harm threw back his head and laughed.
“Hey, you don’t have to look so surprised. You’re
looking at the best bartender in town.”  



She giggled, happy just to be with him again. Picking
up the salad bowl she made her way to the living room.
She placed it on the table next to the cheese platter
and the freshly sliced French bread. 



“Very nice, Mac.” Harm came up behind her and surveyed
the white, embroidered table linen, the gleaming
silverware set for two and the soft candlelight. A
pale pink carnation stood in a tall silver vase along
with a sprig of baby’s breath. Mac’s innate eye for
beauty had lent a touch of elegance to the simple
meal. She smiled her thanks and shrugged modestly as
they settled down to eat.  



Harm contemplated the food before him. As inviting as
it seemed he found he had lost his appetite. There
were too many unresolved issues between them and the
mouth-watering mixture of raw and cooked vegetables
tasted like cardboard as he swallowed the first bite. 




Mac was picking at her food, pushing it around in her
plate.  



“Looking for clues among the salad greens, Mac?” Harm
tried to make light of the strangely charged
atmosphere between them but when he saw his unease
mirrored in her eyes he gave up any pretense at
eating. “Any news about the hit and run driver?” he
ventured almost casually. 



Mac shook her head disconsolately and pushed her plate
away. She wasn’t very hungry either. “The problem with
these cases is that they don’t have a motive,” she
declared in frustration. “When someone is shot or
stabbed in most cases there’s a relationship between
the suspect and the victim. In a hit and run that’s
hardly ever the case. The car wasn’t abandoned at the
scene and neither the witness nor my mother can
identify the driver. All the police can rely on is
physical evidence.” 



“And that doesn’t give them much to go on, “ Harm
guessed correctly. 



“So Detective Collins keeps telling me. They contacted
the MVD and got a list of people who own gray sedans
in DC. They’re checking them all out but it’s still a
long shot. The car might be registered in another
state for all we know.” 



“What about car wreckers, used car dealers….” 



“…auto repair shops, autorecycling, they’re checking
them all out.” Mac finished Harm’s sentence before he
could do so himself. “I get so upset when I think
they’ll probably never catch the person who did it but
I know they’re doing all they can. I’ve been toying
with the idea of making an appeal on TV although it
might be a little late for that.” 



“I still think it’s a good idea. You should go ahead
and do it,” Harm agreed. 



She nodded. “I’ll start working on it tomorrow. At
least my mother wasn’t seriously injured.” Her haunted
eyes looked huge in her small face as she said the
next words. “She could have died, Harm.”  



“But she didn’t.” Harm slid a comforting hand over
hers where it rested on the table. 

“She’s alive and is slowly on the road to recovery.” 

He hesitated and his next words came out in a rush.
“Listen, Mac… I didn’t mean to trample over your
feelings by visiting your mother at the hospital. It’s
just that you weren’t talking to me about it and
keeping an eye on her progress seemed like a good idea
at the time. I only wanted to help you both in some
way.” 



Mac’s face took on a pained _expression. “Don’t
apologize, Harm. I’m the one who should be doing it. I
should be thanking you for caring enough to do
something like that. I don’t know what got into me. I
guess your words hit too close to home.” 



They were both recalling her harsh words and Mac was
mortified. She knew she had hurt him and wished she
could turn back time and take back what she had said. 



“I had to go back, Mac,” Harm stated earnestly as he
stroked her hand. He was talking about his change of
designation two years before. “Flying was my whole
life until the ramp strike on the carrier forced me to
change careers. When I found out I had been
misdiagnosed, eye surgery seemed like the logical
thing to do. With my eyesight back on track I felt I
had been robbed of what was due to me by right. I
needed to prove to myself that I could still do it.
That I could still be a damn good pilot if I wanted
to.” 



“I know that, Harm,” she sighed. Her eyes fell on his
hand resting over hers. Her fingers laced with his and
she absently played with his academy ring as she
spoke. “As I recall I wasn’t very supportive at the
time. I was thinking of your brilliant career at JAG.
It seemed such a waste to throw it all away. But I
think that more than anything I was just plain sad and
disappointed that I was losing my best friend to an
F-14.” She glanced back up at him and her smile was
sweet and wistful.  



Harm felt some of the ice around his heart begin to
thaw. He’d always wondered why she had protested so
vehemently when he’d changed his designation from JAG
lawyer to fighter pilot two years back. “When I did
come back it looked like you had replaced me with
Brumby.” His tone was slightly accusing. 



“I think I tried to for a while,” she admitted
honestly. “You were off fulfilling your dreams and I
was excruciatingly lonely. But it didn’t work.”  



That had become crystal clear to her when his plane
fell into the cold Atlantic on his way back to her
wedding. She had felt like she was being torn apart
when she had feared she might never see him again.
That would have been unthinkable. She just couldn’t
picture life without him. She looked directly at him,
her tone slightly whimsical. “You’re one of a kind,
Harmon Rabb. You’re irreplaceable.” 



They shared a sweet smile and a brief silence
followed. Harm was the first to break it.  



“My crash into the Atlantic sure screwed up a lot of
things.…Mac…If it hadn’t happened, would you have
married him?”  



“Does that really matter anymore? It’s all in the
past.” She pulled her hand away with a frown and
leaned back in her chair.  



“I know, I’m sorry,” Harm tried to sound contrite but
found it hard to do so. It was something he had asked
himself often and he was sure she must have, too. He
was more than a little disappointed that she was
avoiding his direct question. “I’m just trying to
understand.” 



Mac saw the hurt in his eyes. It made her feel as if
she was letting him down somehow and that pushed her
to move through the barriers that came up so naturally
around her when anyone got too close. She didn’t want
him to be disappointed in her and suddenly, she felt a
burning need to explain everything to him.  



“I’m not saying I didn’t have any doubts. I did. Lots
of them.” Her eyes pleaded with his, begging him to
understand. “But I was so overwhelmed by all the
wedding preparations. Mic had everything all planned
out and admitting that I didn’t want to marry him
would have meant admitting to yet another disastrous
personal relationship. It’s the reason I took it so
hard when he left. I think that maybe I might have
been pigheaded enough to go through with it although
I’m sure I would have spent the rest of my life
regretting it.” 



“I thought it was what you wanted,” he returned sadly.
“That’s why I left and that’s why I risked coming back
in that storm. I wanted to show you I was happy for
you even if it killed me.”  



“And it very nearly did,” she added, the haunted look
back on her face. She reached both hands over the
table and he took them in his. “We made such a mess of
things. I feel so bad about it all, Harm. If it
weren’t for me you would never have had the accident.”
 



He shook his head. “It was just destiny, Mac. No one’s
to blame. It just happened. I shouldn’t have gone to
do my quals in the first place. But I felt there
wasn’t really any reason for me to miss them. I mean,
it was too late for us and I waited too long. I
couldn’t face Renee knowing how I felt about you.” 



“And how exactly did you feel about me?” Her soft
question disconcerted him but her chocolate brown eyes
bored into his, imploring him not to back down now
that they had come so far. 



Harm lowered his eyes. “Are you sure you want to
know?” 



“I wouldn’t have asked you if I didn’t.” 



His look was dead serious as he looked back up at her
and she had no doubt he was telling the truth. “I had
visions of coming to your wedding and getting there
just in time to tell you he was wrong for you. That
you couldn’t marry him. That you didn’t belong
together.” And that you belong to me, he added
silently. “But you seemed so set on doing it. It
wasn’t my place to tell you. I guess that makes me
stupid.”  



“Not in my book,” she answered, her eyes fixed
solemnly on his for a long tension-filled moment.  



Then Harm sighed. “That’s why I left. I just had to
get away for a while. Flying has always helped me in
the past and it seemed like a good idea at the time.” 




“Oh, Harm.” Her look was tender and compassionate. “I
think that deep inside you’ll always be a flyboy, no
matter what you do.” It was one of the many things she
loved about him and she wouldn’t have him any other
way.  



He smiled forlornly at her words. Giving up his wings
and getting to fly only twice a year for his quals had
been a bitter pill to swallow but he was learning to
accept it. “I don’t know if this makes any sense to
you but the reason I went back to flying two years ago
was because I wanted to be the one to walk away from
my career as a naval aviator if and when I decided to
do it. Not the other way around,” he explained. 



Mac gave his hands a reassuring squeeze. “You don’t
have to explain it to me. I know how important flying
is to you, Harm. A part of you still wishes you could
be up there doing what you love best. And after today
I can understand even better why you love it so much.”




Harm felt a weight lifting from his shoulders at her
words. She really seemed to understand. It was more
than he had dared hope for. He gave her a relieved
smile. “Well, I’m glad we got all that out of the
way.” Letting go of her hands he picked up his knife
and fork in a mock-menacing manner. “Now let’s eat!” 



She laughed for the second time that day as she
watched him tuck into his food with gusto. They spoke
of inconsequential things after that, slipping into
the easy camaraderie that had always come so naturally
to both of them when they were together.  



As soon as they finished the fresh fruit salad she had
prepared for dessert, Mac got up to clear away the
dishes but Harm protested it was his turn to do them
since she had taken care of all the rest and she
acquiesced. He shooed her away to the couch with the
promise of a cup of tea as soon as he was done.  



He joined her a few minutes later, bearing a tray
laden with a teapot and cups for the two of them. He
glanced down at her bowed head and saw that, of all
things, she was holding a little doll in a blue
gingham dress in her hands.  



“Who’s that?” he asked curiously as he sat down beside
her, placing the tray on the coffee table. 



She gave him another wistful smile. “This is Missy,”
she announced proudly, handing over the toy to him. In
his large hands the soft, little doll looked even more
delicate. “Uncle Matt gave her to me once when he came
back from one of his missions. I was about five or six
at the time.” It was a sweet memory. She had taken one
look at the doll’s long chestnut hair and cornflower
blue eyes and had fallen in love with her on sight.
“We became inseparable after that. I took her to bed
with me every night for years. I didn’t have the heart
to leave her behind the day I left home.” 



Harm pictured Mac in bed as a tiny little girl, curled
up beneath the covers with her favorite dolly and the
thought brought a smile to his lips. He could imagine
her talking to Missy, sharing her hopes and dreams and
probably her fears too. He guessed Missy had been
party to many a tearful outpouring.  



“She’s very pretty,” he said gently but he couldn’t be
sure if she heard him or not. She had that look on her
face again and he knew she had retreated to that
secret place inside herself and that she was thinking
about the past.  



“I always knew she would leave sooner or later. It was
just a matter of time,” Mac said softly. 



Harm’s gaze traveled over her finely chiseled features
as she spoke. She was talking of Deanne. He knew how
hard this was for her. He refrained from saying
anything and clasped her small, cold hand in his
larger one, his tender smile encouraging her to
continue.  



His touch brought her out of her trance-like state.
She looked almost surprised to see him there as her
sad eyes bared her soul to him.  



“I heard her say it once while they were quarreling,”
she continued in a low voice. “It was shortly after I
got Missy. My parents were in the kitchen downstairs.
They thought I was in bed… but I wasn’t. I was sitting
at the top of the stairs, crying in the dark.” 



“Mac, you don’t have to tell me anything if you don’t
want to.” Harm tried to shield her from the inevitable
pain he knew she would feel once she brought it all
out in the open. 



She shook her head. “I have to tell someone about it
before I go crazy and I’d rather talk to you.” Her
eyes pleaded with him and he nodded in tacit
agreement.  



“They were arguing as usual but there was something so
strange that time. Usually it was just my father who
did the shouting but this time my mother was yelling,
too. They went from room to room, hurling insults at
each other and my mother said she was sick of him and
the living hell he was putting her through day after
day. She threatened to leave him…” 



Mac’s voice faltered. She pulled away from his grasp
and buried her face in her hands, her elbows resting
on her knees. “I felt so helpless and frightened. I
thought they were getting a divorce or something. The
parents of a girl I knew at school had just divorced
and she had been shipped off to a boarding school. I
was terrified the same thing was going to happen to
me.”  



“That must have been awful for you,” Harm said
feelingly as he placed his arm on the back of the
couch behind her.  



He knew more than anyone what it meant to feel lost
and alone and frightened. He had felt that way when he
was only five years old and his mother had told him
his father was never coming back from his flight
mission over Vietnam. He had never accepted his
father’s MIA status and it had affected his whole life
until he found out for himself that his father had
indeed died defending a Russian woman who had given
him shelter and a little love and comfort after he
escaped from the POW camp.  



And when his mother had married his stepfather Frank a
few years later, that feeling of aloneness had
intensified. He had felt his mother was betraying his
father’s memory at the time and even if he understood
her reasons as an adult and didn’t hold it against her
anymore, he still suffered every time he went to the
Vietnam Veterans Memorial to honor his father’s
memory.  



He suffered for what could have been and never was. It
was what had drawn him to Mac from the beginning. They
had both been through harrowing experiences during
their childhood and it had robbed them of the carefree
innocence that adults so often took for granted in
children of that age.  



She leaned back and placed her head on his shoulder.
Harm drew her close, her soft cap of hair against his
chin, and wrapped a comforting arm around her. Mac
hardly seemed to be aware of it.  



“Yes, it was terrible,” she admitted in a small voice.
“My father was livid. He started yelling obscenities
at her and telling her that she wasn’t going anywhere
unless he told her to. He must have tried to hit her
again because she came running up the stairs and I
could tell she was scared. He came after her and I
scurried to my room and closed the door as quietly as
I could. I was terrified of what he might do if he
found me eavesdropping… But she was crying so hard and
I just couldn’t help taking a peek to see if she was
ok.” Mac’s voice thickened with emotion. “He… he
slapped her twice right across the face and then he
grabbed a handful of her hair and dragged her all the
way across the landing to their bedroom. It was right
opposite of mine….” 



She looked up at him and her compelling brown eyes
were filled with horror and tears. “She saw me and she
smiled… Can you believe that? She actually smiled and
told me they were playing a game. I guess she was
trying to shield me from the brutal reality. I was
only seven or eight and I knew it wasn’t true. He was
beating her and her lip was bleeding and I wanted to
help her but I didn’t know what to do…”  



Her voice broke and Harm’s heart ached for her. He
drew her close and hugged her tightly. His gentle
gesture reached out to her and without warning the
floodgates opened, and the next thing he knew she was
crying, pouring out all her heartache and pain and
disappointment. Harm stroked her hair lovingly and
whispered sweet, comforting words in her ear.  



“That’s it, baby,” he said tenderly as she sobbed into
his neck. “Go ahead and cry. It’s all right.” 



How her parents could have done this to her was beyond
his comprehension. He wanted to protect her from all
the pain the world had inflicted on her. To shield
that little girl who had suffered too much, too soon
and the woman who still bore the scars and probably
always would. His embrace spoke of everything he felt
for her and everything he wanted to give her. His love
for her was there for her to see when she raised her
tear-drenched face to his and looked into his
incredible eyes. He kissed her swollen eyelids and
then his lips covered hers in a brief loving caress. 



“They can’t hurt you anymore, Mac,” he whispered
fiercely. “I won’t let them.”  



And she believed him. His words brought forth fresh
tears as she clung to him. But they were tears of
relief. Relief that she had finally opened up to him
and showed him the darkest side of her life. Relief
that she no longer needed to hide her weaknesses from
him because he was not afraid to face them with her.  



She could cry in front of him because he understood
what she was going through. The first fingers of hope
crept inside her heart as she lay in the comforting
warmth of his arms, her head on his strong chest.
Maybe there was a way out of this. In all her life she
had never felt so safe. 



They talked far into the night, long after their tea
had grown cold. She poured out the secrets she had
kept hidden inside her soul for so many years. She
revealed her story of confusion and pain… of guilt and
shame… the heartache… and her constant worrying. And
as she told him about her painful memories, the horror
receded and they became just that… memories.  



What made Harm so special to Mac was that he listened.
He didn’t do anything or try to provide a solution. He
just heard her out. He seemed to sense that she was
discouraged and faltering but not helpless. That alone
was enough to earn him a place in her bruised heart
that was all his own. 



When she was so tired she could hardly keep her eyes
open, he took her slight weight in his arms and
carried her to the bedroom. Her arms around his neck,
her cheek against the warmth of his muscled shoulder,
Mac felt so incredibly safe…so right. On the bed she
lay looking up at him. Then she reached out to take
his hands in hers, sending him an unspoken plea. For a
split second Harm hesitated, his usual caution taking
hold. Then he gazed down at the drowsy look in her
brown eyes, her flushed cheeks and her soft rosy
mouth. And he was lost. The iron hold he’d had on his
feelings slipped away into nothingness. He just
couldn’t resist her with that look in her eyes. That
glow that seemed to be there only for him. He gave in
to the sweet temptation and lay down beside her,
sighing deeply as he wrapped her in his arms, her warm
body against his filling an emptiness only she could
replenish.  



There was no question of his leaving at that point. It
was natural for her to nestle against him and as his
hand traveled up and down her back in a soothing
movement it dawned on her that she was no longer
alone. He was the father and mother she had never
really had, her best friend and the man she adored all
rolled into one. Her burden was lighter because now
she had him to share it with.  



“I love you, Harm.” She looked at him, her heart in
her eyes and her voice was barely audible as she
confessed her true feelings. She couldn’t deny the
truth any longer.  



Harm’s hand paused in mid-stroke at her declaration.
Then he pulled back slightly and looked down at her,
overcome by a deep tenderness. Loving Sarah MacKenzie
was the sweetest thing he had ever experienced.  



“I love you too, Sarah, so very much.”  



He watched over her as she closed her eyes, a tired
but happy smile on her lips. And as he held her he
fiercely swore to himself that he would do his utmost
to protect her always. Slowly, Mac felt herself
drifting and finally his gentle presence and the
reassuring beat of his heart lulled her to an
exhausted sleep.  



* * * 



Mac went to the hospital every day during the
following week to check on her mother’s progress but
she still couldn’t pluck up the courage to go and talk
to her. She contacted a local TV station and arranged
for an appeal to be made on a fairly new program
dealing with victims of unsolved crimes. The public
was invited to make a phone-call to a special number
if they had any useful information. It was possible
for the informer to remain anonymous so there was no
danger involved. 



She didn’t really have the chance to see much of Harm
either. The day after he took her up in his steerman
they both went back to their duties. He resumed his
work at JAG ops on an important court-martial that
kept him busy until the wee hours and she attended the
translation seminar at the Naval Academy.  



“How did it go?” Harm asked when she finally went back
to JAG. 



“Inspiring and stimulating,” was her enthusiastic
answer. “There’s going to be another one next month
and the Admiral has already granted me permission to
go to that one too.” 



They were working as opposing counsels on another case
by that time. A Lieutenant accused of conduct
unbecoming and failure to obey a direct order from his
superior. So they were both busy researching and
preparing their strategy, and rehearsing opening and
closing statements.  



To compensate, Harm called her several times a day and
left her messages on her cell phone. It was always
something sweet and tender and she answered with
something just as silly and romantic. She felt like a
teenager with her first crush. Only this wasn’t an
infatuation. This was something that had been lying
latent for six years and she knew there was no turning
back. He had said he loved her and she hugged the
knowledge to herself, feeding her starving heart on it
when they were apart. The cloud of her mother’s
presence still hovered above her however, and she knew
that she would have to deal with her feelings in that
area if she wanted to find some peace. She felt that
she couldn’t get on with her life unless she did so
somehow.  



She hadn’t been up long on Sunday morning when she
heard the doorbell. It was Harm, looking very handsome
in jeans and a v-necked, figure-hugging T-shirt that
matched his eyes.  



“Care to go for a stroll in the park?” he asked with a
grin.  



“The park? I don’t know,” she looked uncertain. “I
just got up and, well, I have some work to do.” She
didn’t really want to go out. She felt it was wrong
and selfish to allow herself to have any kind of fun
considering her unresolved issues with her mother.  



“You’re kidding right? Mac, it’s Sunday,” he scolded
patiently, as if she was a child who needed reminding.
“It’s a sin to stay inside on a day like this and
after what you’ve been through lately you have a
certified right to play.” Putting his hands on her
shoulders he turned her round and gave her a push in
the direction of her bedroom. “Now you go and put on
something festive like a good girl and when you come
back we’ll go out and you can relax and enjoy a free
day for a change.” 



Mac found herself giving in to his gentle coaxing.
When she came back out she was grinning and ready with
a comeback. “Is this festive enough?” 



Harm glanced at the pair of red knickerbockers that
fitted snugly over her hips, leaving very little to
the imagination and the red and white striped top she
wore. He didn’t usually pay much attention to women’s
clothes but he knew what he liked. He smiled
appreciatively and one eyelid came down in a slow,
sexy wink. 



In the park, they walked lazily along in the glorious
July sunshine, his arm tucked in hers, the grass lush
and green beneath their feet. The park was full of
people enjoying the beautiful day. Cyclists,
youngsters and teenagers playing ball, young couples
holding hands and dogs galore. Here and there, old
distinguished-looking ladies with perfect hairdos and
elegant clothes sat chatting on the benches, and
grandfathers hovered patiently over squealing
toddlers.  



As they walked on the open green it felt wonderful to
both Harm and Mac to be able to do such a simple thing
together. In these pleasant surroundings they could
shed protocol and regulations for once and just be
themselves. A man and a woman, deeply in love,
spending a Sunday together doing what other couples in
love usually did.  



Catching the longing glances Mac kept darting to a
nearby ice-cream stall Harm stopped with a resigned
smile. “All right. I want a chocolate and vanilla one.
What are you having?” he asked. 



Much to the ice cream vendor and Harm’s confusion Mac
couldn’t make up her mind among all the fruit flavors.
In the end they decided on three scoops each in a
different fruit flavor so that Mac could get to taste
them all.  



“That’s some sweet tooth you’ve got there, Colonel,”
Harm teased her as they laughingly finished all of it.
He used his thumb to remove a trace of ice cream from
the corner of her mouth. Mac smiled then watched in
fascination as he brought the fingertip to his hard,
sensual mouth and licked it. A tingling sensation in
the pit of her stomach sent her senses scattering and
the blood singing in her veins. God, the man could
have a devastating effect on her when he put his mind
to it. She could lose herself in those eyes when he
looked at her like that.  



“Careful, Harm.” She shot back, doing her best to hide
her flustered state. “Never tease a woman about
overdoing it with sweet things. It might get you into
trouble.” 



Harm widened his eyes and put up his hands in
mock-surrender, almost toppling over in his haste to
back away from her, which inevitably made her giggle. 



They spotted a couple of shy squirrels and the ducks
and swans in the pond. Naturally, Mac wanted to feed
them so Harm requested an empty roll from an elderly
hot dog seller. With a flourish he gave it to her and
she tore it up into tiny pieces and threw them to the
birds. She chuckled in pure merriment when they
squabbled over a particularly large tidbit.  



Harm took pleasure in watching her face break into a
smile and thought he had never seen her look lovelier.
He wanted to remove that haunted look from her eyes
but knew that she was probably the only one who could
do that for herself. He felt they were on the brink of
discovering something good and lasting. Mac wasn’t a
woman he could mess around with for a brief affair.
The closeness they shared was unlike any other he had
ever shared with a woman and he was both anxious and
fearful of taking the next step in their relationship.
 



So far they had limited themselves to heated kisses
when they could spare the time from work. When they
spoke they touched each other often. They just
couldn’t help themselves. They were flying high, both
feeling the thrill of pushing themselves until they
were a hair’s breath away from touching the forbidden
threshold. And neither of them wanted to come back to
earth.  



There had been a brief stolen moment of passion in the
elevator at JAG. They’d been going down to the first
floor together and were the only ones in there at the
time. The elevator had lurched and stopped between the
floors. Harm rang for assistance and was told that
help would be along in five minutes. Mac had looked up
at him, an unspoken invitation in those lovely brown
eyes of hers. She was driving him insane with her
sultry looks and protocol had gone flying out the
window. He had kissed her long and hard, his mouth
plundering hers. He’d backed her against the wall, his
body pressing urgently against hers, his hands roaming
all over her and her eager response had left them both
breathless. They’d both appeared uncharacteristically
disheveled when the elevator reached their floor and
they went back to their respective duties.  



Harm felt happier than he had been in a long time. He
wanted to shout what he felt for her from the
rooftops. But he couldn’t do that before they
discussed the effect their relationship would surely
have on their careers. Mac had a lot on her mind with
her mother still in town and he didn’t want to push
her, but it was costing him several sleepless nights
and cold showers. God knew he had fantasized often
enough on what it would be like to make love to her.
The corners of his mouth tilted upwards at the thought
as he squinted up at the clear blue sky.  



A light summer breeze teased Mac’s hair as she walked
beside him, just enough to make the heat bearable. 



“The day’s perfect for sailing,” he murmured. 



“Spoken like a true squid.” 



Harm raised an eyebrow and if possible it made him
look even more attractive. “It’s what I am, Mac. Would
you like to go sailing with me next weekend?” 



“I’d like that,” she answered after a brief
hesitation.  



The thought of being alone with him in the middle of
the ocean made her heart beat faster. They’d had so
little time to be together and all she wanted now was
more. Just watching his lips cover the rim of a coffee
cup when he drank from it or the movement of his hands
when he gesticulated in front of a witness in court
during his cross-examination had her imagination
working overtime.  



She couldn’t help wondering how those lips and hands
would feel on her body. She couldn’t help wondering
what kind of a lover he would be. She was a bit wary
of taking the next hurdle and imagined he felt the
same way. Until now they had both indulged in their
friendship. But they could both feel the chemistry.
The fact that they had both fought so hard to deny it
was there was proof that it existed. Their friendship
was just an alibi to mask it, a safe retreat for both
of them. But they both knew they couldn’t do it any
longer. They couldn’t keep it protected under a
vacuum, afraid that it might break. They could read
each other’s thoughts and they had shared things they
wouldn’t dream of revealing to anyone else. But this
magical understanding between them was no longer
enough. They were playing with fire. The rules had
changed when they admitted their love for each other. 



Mac sat down on the soft grass beneath the shade of a
large secular tree and Harm lay down with his head on
her lap. He closed his eyes and she ran her hand
through his short hair in a soothing motion. It was
velvet soft beneath her fingers. She hadn’t allowed
herself to believe anything like this could happen
between the two of them and actually being here like
this with him seemed like a dream to her. She saw him
smile. 



“What are you thinking?” she asked curiously.  



Ham’s voice was dreamy as a particularly delightful
moment of his childhood flashed before his mind’s eye.
“On days like these my dad used to take me fishing
with him when he was home. Mom stayed behind because
she said it bored her to tears but Dad maintained it
gave him time to think. It was always just the two of
us, the sun and the silence.” 



“Did you catch a lot of fish?” Mac asked teasingly as
she stared down at him, images of Harm as a cute
little five year-old running through her mind. 



“We caught a few but they never made it home.” He
opened his eyes and grinned up at her like the
mischievous little boy he had once been. “After we
caught them I always felt so sorry for them that Dad
had to put them back in the water. He said they were
attracted to my hook because they knew I was a big
softy at heart.” 



Mac burst out laughing at his description. “And they
were right,” she exclaimed.  



“How about you, Mac?” he prompted and then could have
kicked himself for bringing up the subject of her
parents.  



She read his thoughts and was quick to reassure him.
“It’s ok, Harm. I don’t mind talking about it.”  



Seeing the vulnerable look she sent his way, Harm sat
up and moved to sit behind her. He leaned back against
the massive tree trunk and wrapped his arms around her
as she moved to sit between his long legs. “Tell me
about it,” he urged.  



She snuggled back against him with a contented sigh,
completely surrounded by his warmth. For a moment he
thought she hadn’t heard him. She was very quiet for a
long time but he waited patiently. She would tell him
when she was good and ready.  



“It has nothing to do with summer,” she began softly
after a while. “But I remember how I loved to stay in
my mother’s room and dress up when I was a little
girl. I used to put on her lace petticoats and high
heels and all her fake jewelry and she would even let
me put on a little makeup and paint my nails
sometimes. I would pretend I was the lady of the
manor.” She giggled. “She had an unbelievably long
string of pearls I was crazy about. I was sure I could
wind it around my throat a couple times and I would
still have some left to form a necklace. But I was
never allowed to try it on because it was real. I
remember dreaming that when I grew up I would find a
prince who would shower me with all the most beautiful
things.”  



“Well that sounds like a happy memory to me,” he
declared and she could hear the smile in his voice as
he ran his hands over her arms in a shooting motion. 



“Yes, it is. Oh, and here’s another one.” Mac turned
round to face him in her eagerness, her eyes shining.
To Harm she looked endearingly sweet and innocent. “I
remember in winter I would be freezing cold and I
didn’t have an electric blanket in my bed. There was
one in my mother’s bed though. So, in the evening,
after I had my bath I would curl up in the big double
bed with her and we’d do the crossword in the daily
paper together. She’s the one who transferred her love
of English literature and languages to me and we both
loved it.” She lowered her head. “I usually nodded off
to sleep in the middle of it and in the morning I
would find myself back in my bed.”  



They both refrained from speaking for a while. Then he
saw her frown and without warning she raised troubled
eyes to him. They swam with tears and it tore at his
heart to see her suffer so. “I can’t hate her, Harm.
No matter how hard I try.” 



“Is that such a bad thing?” he prodded in a gentle
voice. 



“I’m not sure,” Mac said truthfully as she tried to
talk past the lump in her throat. “I thought I had put
it all behind me but apparently I still haven’t… Maybe
I never will… I’ve been holding on to my anger like a
shield for so long that it’s hard to change. I know
it’s not going to happen overnight and even if it does
I don’t know if I can ever trust my mother again.”
Tears slid down her cheeks and she wiped away at them
ineffectively. “God, I hate all this crying and it’s
all I seem to be doing lately… I feel so guilty about
it, Harm. That’s why I haven’t been back to see her
yet. What do I tell her? What if I can’t give her what
she wants?” 



“What do you think she wants?” Harm pressed
cautiously.  



“Forgiveness, I suppose.” Mac returned. 



“And how do you feel about that?”  



“Harm, I can’t just forget how she abandoned me,” she
exclaimed. “I mean, she made the effort to come and
see me for myself, I’ll give her that. But as for
picking up where we left off, I don’t think that’s
possible.”  



Harm tried to find the words to express his thoughts
without hurting her feelings. “Mac this doesn’t mean
you have to step into an involved relationship with
her. Even just talking would be a good place to start.
Forgiving your mother doesn’t mean you necessarily
have to forget or excuse what she did to you. It
doesn’t mean denying your wounds. It means
acknowledging what she did to you and letting go of
the illusion of what should have been different.” 



“And how do I do that?” she asked helplessly. She
sensed from his eloquence that he must have gone
through something like this himself. His father had
found solace with another woman while he was hiding in
Russia. He had even had a son by her. It must have
been hard for Harm to discover his father had had his
weaknesses too, considering how he hero-worshipped
him. 



He shrugged. “Your mother’s seeking to make amends.
She admitted to doing wrong by you to me and she
seemed genuinely sorry. I don’t think she would have
any trouble admitting it to you if you tried to talk
to her.” 



“What if I’m not ready to talk?” she asked ominously. 



Harm looked her squarely in the eye. “Only you can
determine when you’re ready to do that, Mac.
Forgiveness may bring healing to some of us but it has
its own timing. You can’t ignore the truth of how you
feel. You were pressured enough when you were growing
up. Don’t let anyone push you to do this before you’re
ready. Not even me or your mother.” 



Mac leaned her head tiredly against his shoulder and
let his words and the sound of his voice wash over
her. It was a good, strong voice. The voice of a
sensitive man used to explaining things with
painstaking detail in the courtroom and it calmed her
a little. “I do want to find some peace,” she admitted
finally. “And if I continue like this I’m afraid it
might be more destructive than healing. I still feel a
need deep inside myself to know if she truly loves me.
I’ve often wondered if I’d done something wrong for
her to leave me like that. I felt so unloved…so
unwanted.” Her voice lowered to a whisper.  



Harm tightened his arms around her protectively. He
planted a soft kiss on her hair and pressed his cheek
to the soft strands, wishing he could somehow take
away all her pain. “Then you’ll just have to ask her
to explain,” he replied softly. “That way you’ll ease
some of all those questions running around in your
head.” 



She sighed and raised her eyes to his, resting her
palms against his chest. “Do you think I’m capable of
getting over this, Harm?”  



“I have faith in you,” he replied, his smile true and
sincere.  



Once again, Mac’s eyes filled with tears. She just
couldn’t help it. She looked up at the man she adored
and cried in confusion because she didn’t understand
why he was so handsome and sweet and gentle with her.
She’d looked at herself in the mirror as a teenager
and as a woman but never saw beauty or self-worth in
herself. Harm had changed all that. He made her feel
special. As if she really had something worth giving
inside. No man in her life had ever cared so much
before. Not even her own father. Why did he care so
much? How was it that he knew exactly what she needed
to hear? The questions flitted around in her mind,
overpowering her. 



Harm read her confusion and kissed her ever so softly
on the forehead, his touch almost a whisper. “In love,
forgiveness is the hardest lesson of all,” he said in
a low voice.  



Mac continued to stare up at him, her pretty brown
eyes dark and luminous. Harm spoke again his tone
soothing.  



“You know, Mac, some people are physically close to
their parents all their lives but they never forgive
them. Others decide never to see them again but still
manage to do it in their hearts. In the end what it
boils down to is what you need to do for yourself in
this. If you really want it maybe you could try
building something out of the ashes of your
relationship with her. Concentrate on the here and
now, not on the past. And if you decide to do
something about it you have to do it for yourself. Not
for your mother, not for me, or for some half-baked
idea of doing the right thing and assuaging your
guilty feelings. You’ve done nothing wrong, Mac. If
anything, you’re the one who was treated badly. You
have a right to the way you feel and you owe it to
yourself to listen to your heart and do what’s best
for you, nobody else. You’ll know in your heart when
you’re ready.” 



Mac let his words sink in. After a short while she
felt a little better and leaned back to look at him, a
smile playing around her lips. “You’re very
convincing, you know. You should be a lawyer…or a
shrink. Are you sure you aren’t a shrink?” she joked. 




“I’ve been called worse.” He smiled lopsidedly,
raising an eyebrow in the way she found so adorable.  



She resumed her previous position. Crossing her arms
over his, Mac laced their fingers together and went
back to stare up at the blue of the sky visible above
their heads. The sun filtering through the overhead
leaves and branches warmed her cheeks. She felt
strangely at peace.  



“Thanks, Harm. I’ll think about it,” she murmured
softly. 



13.00 ZULU

BENNEKER HOSPITAL

WASHINGTON DC 



A few days later, Mac was walking down the corridor to
her mother’s room with Harm at her side. She was a
nervous wreck but determined to go through with it.
She didn’t really understand why she needed to do this
so badly. She’d simply woken up that morning with a
visceral need to find out if a minimum connection
still existed with the woman who had given birth to
her.  



She was far from sure about what she was doing. She
was at the mercy of an emotional seesaw. Feeling sorry
for her mother and realizing her limitations one
minute and recalling her neglect in full force the
next. But she was tired of constantly fighting her
emotions. She didn’t want to feel guilty or sad or
frustrated anymore. She didn’t want to bury her past
any longer just because certain episodes were too
scary to contemplate. And she felt that the only way
to get ahead of them was to speak to Deanne and see
what they could salvage from their past relationship. 




Over and over in her head, Mac rehearsed what she
would tell her mother when she saw her. She wanted so
much to ask her if she’d done something that might
have caused Deanne to leave and she hoped to extract a
promise from her that she wouldn’t disappear again. It
was important that they trust each other if they were
ever going to get even close to being the mother and
daughter they had once been.  



As Harm and Mac both halted just outside the closed
door he glanced down at her tense features and saw the
panic and uncertainty in her eyes.  



“Mac, are you sure you don’t want me in there with
you?” he asked. 



“At the moment I’m not sure of anything,” she admitted
ruefully. “But I do know this is something I have to
do alone.” 



He nodded and gave her hand an encouraging squeeze. He
admired her spunk but he still wished he could
shoulder some of her inner conflict. “I’ll be here if
you need me,” he reassured her gently. 



Mac braced herself on his forearms and reached up on
tiptoe to kiss his cheek. 



“You’re really something, flyboy, you know that?” 



His eyes sparkled down at her, silently urging her to
hang in there. Mac squared her shoulders and took a
deep breath. 



“Here goes nothing,” she muttered, before knocking
briefly and opening the door. 

Silence greeted her. The room was empty.  



“She’s gone.” Mac’s hoarse whisper was one of hurt and
disbelief as she hurried into the room in a daze. It
couldn’t be; not now, not when she had finally made up
her mind. Harm followed her inside and watched
helplessly as she circled the bare room. She checked
the empty locker and sat down on the stripped mattress
in defeat. There was nothing to show that Deanne
MacKenzie had ever been there. Mac’s pain was a raw
thing in the room and Harm felt it as if it were his
own. 



“Colonel MacKenzie.”  



Two pairs of eyes turned towards Dr. Courtney who was
standing at the door in his white overcoat. Mac was at
his side in an instant, her hands gripping his arm in
agitation. “Doctor, where’s my mother?”  



“Deanne MacKenzie left the hospital this morning. She
was feeling much better and I saw no reason to keep
her here any longer.” His tone bordered on the
defensive. 



“But you never said anything about dismissing her when
I called you yesterday!” Mac’s eyes were huge in her
drawn face, her tone bewildered. 



“I know. I’m sorry, but she asked me not to tell you.”
His glance was full of compassion. “The hospital
wasn’t having a very good effect on her depression and
I think she might be better off recovering in her own
home in Baltimore. The sun and the sea can work
wonders for people in her condition.” 



“But how did she manage it all by herself? Her leg is
in a cast for God’s sake!” Mac was beside herself.  



Dr. Courtney tried to remain detached but fought a
losing battle with his emotions as he witnessed Mac’s
distress. He placed a hand on her shoulder and tried
to soften the effect he knew his words would have on
her.  



“A middle-aged woman came to help her. They seemed
very familiar with each other. I think your mother
mentioned they share a flat together. She left this
for you.”  



He handed her a small white envelope, the only
precious link she still had with her mother. It had
her own name on it and tears sprang to Mac’s eyes at
the sight of her mother’s childish scrawl. It was
ironic, but the moment she had discovered her mother
was gone was the same one she realized how much she
really wanted to make things right between them again.
She clutched the envelope from his hands and
feverishly ripped open the envelope, drawing out two
sheets of paper. Then she moved away turning her back
to both men.  



“Dearest Sarah,” she read.  



“The reason I am leaving is because I know you’re
having a hard time accepting me back into your life.
My fear and shame and my burden of guilt have kept me
from coming to you before and it took me four years of
analysis after your father’s passing away to find the
courage to do so this time. But even if the time may
seem right for me it does not mean that the same goes
for you. I know I hurt you beyond all reason and I
have no right to force myself on you. I have no right
to your forgiveness or your love.” 



“Oh, mama,” Mac whispered. 



“Please don’t worry about me,” the letter continued.
“My ribs are healing and I can rest my leg just as
well at home. My friend Cora will take good care of
me. 

I know that nothing I can say will ever cancel the
pain I caused you. But please, please believe me when
I say I am deeply sorry. I know I will never forgive
myself for what I did to you and I will always regret
the years I spent away from you. I’m so sorry, Sarah.
I didn’t mean to hurt you. In my mind I was truly
convinced you would be better off without a mother
like me and a part of me still believes that.  



This is very hard for me to explain. I’ve always
thought I deserved everything I got from your father.
I really believed him when he said I wasn’t good
enough for him or for you. I’ve been my own worst
enemy, Sarah. I’m learning through therapy that I
didn’t deserve the abuse no matter how low my opinion
of myself but I am only just starting to grasp this.
I’m sorry you had to suffer the consequences. And it
cannot be easy for you to understand. I was the abused
wife but you were the suffering child. It probably
isn’t possible for you to see it from my point of view
but I want you to know it’s all right.  



I wish I could go back and undo the wrongs but that’s
impossible. I beg you, try to understand that I have
always been terrified of your father and up to the day
he died I was always afraid he might find me and come
after me. He always threatened he would finish the job
if I ever came back.  



My weakness and my inability to stand up to your
father ruined both my life and yours and I will carry
that burden with me to my grave. It’s why I have never
been able to settle down in one place for long. Too
many demons haunt me. That is why I couldn’t even
bring myself to attend his funeral. I only really came
that time because I knew there was a slim chance I
might get to see you. I just couldn’t pretend to
grieve over the death of a person who hurt me so much
it almost destroyed me. I would have felt like a
hypocrite. I know you think I should have tried to do
it for you and you’re probably right. I failed you
once again, Sarah, but I swear I am trying to improve.
I really am. That’s why I came to Georgetown this
time. To try and show you how much I care and ask you
to let me make it up to you somehow. I know now that
it was wrong of me to expect anything from you. It
just wasn’t meant to be.  



My marriage to your father wasn’t one of my wisest
decisions. But despite all the heartache and sorrow it
brought to all of us there is one thing I will never
regret. I will never regret giving birth to you, my
darling. Somehow, in the midst of all our quarrels and
recriminations your father and I still managed to
create something beautiful and pure. You were the only
good thing we always agreed upon, and despite his
terrible ways your father loved you. I’ve always known
that and yes… I, too, have learned to look on Joe more
kindly over time.  



You are my silver lining, Sarah. You’ve grown into a
remarkable woman and I am proud to be your mother. For
what it’s worth, you were never to blame. It was all
mine and your father's. It doesn’t matter if you
cannot find it in your heart to forgive me. I
understand. Despite all the things you may think to
the contrary I do love you. I always have and I always
will. But we have too many memories that cause tears,
you and I. Be happy, my darling. May God bless you and
keep you safe.  



Your mother, 

Deanne.”  



“I have to go to her,” Mac said in a low monotone as
she stared down sightlessly at the sheets of paper in
her hands.  



“Mac, be reasonable.” Harm moved closer to her,
putting a hand on her shoulder. 



Mac whirled round and faced the two men before her,
feeling like she was in the middle of a nightmare.
“Don’t you understand?” she cried. “How do I know she
won’t leave Baltimore for good? If I don’t go to her
now I’ll lose her forever. There’s no address, no
phone number, nothing! She thinks I never want to see
her again but it’s not true. I do. Please, Harm, I
need to find her to tell her that.”  



She looked pleadingly up at him and seeing the
desperation in her eyes Harm was moved to instant
action. Never detaching his gaze from hers, he spoke
to Dr. Courtney.  



“Doctor, did Mrs. MacKenzie say how she was going back
to Baltimore?”  



“Yes. She said she was catching the 08.45 train.” 



“That would be the daily commuter from Union Station,”
Harm reasoned. “How long is it since she left?”  



“She left about twenty minutes ago. I called a cab for
her,” Dr. Courtney returned.  



Mac listened anxiously to the exchange, her eyes fixed
on Harm’s face. A tiny ray of hope wormed its way into
her heart as he uttered the next words. “Maybe we can
still make it. We’ll take my car.” 



13.30 ZULU

UNION STATION

WASHINGTON DC 



The mechanical voice crackled on the speaker,
announcing the destination of the train that had just
rolled into the station. Deanne sat awkwardly on a
bench facing the railway tracks, waiting patiently for
her friend, Cora Matthews, who had gone to get the
tickets for their trip back to Penn Station,
Baltimore. Her leg itched abominably beneath the cast
and she shifted uncomfortably. 



“All done!” Cora stated gaily as she perched on the
bench next to Deanne.  



They made quite an odd pair as they sat there. Cora,
too, was getting along in years but in contrast to
Deanne’s generous curves her small body was reed thin.
Her short gray hair framed a delicate face that had a
sharp, bird-like quality to it and she had a lively,
cheerful air about her that had drawn Deanne like a
magnet from the first time they met. 



When Deanne had moved to Baltimore a year before she
had been lonely and disoriented. On impulse she had
visited a nearby church. The priest there had sensed
her loneliness and promptly invited her to meet the
community on a Sunday picnic organized by the parish.
Full of doubts, Deanne had accepted his kind
invitation.  



Cora had noticed her lurking on her own on the fringes
of the gathering and had approached her with the
excuse that they needed a hand in preparing the
sandwiches for the children. Before she knew what hit
her, Deanne had found herself busy arranging plastic
plates and glasses, spreading butter and jam, cutting
cake slices and preparing ice-cream portions for the
crowd of picnickers. It had made her feel a part of
something for the first time in as far back as she
could remember and she was so grateful and told Cora
so at the end of the day. Cora simply brushed away her
thanks in her quiet, capable manner and invited her
over to tea the next day.  



Deanne discovered Cora lived in a rambling old house,
not far from the harbor. It was quite big and had a
beautiful front garden. Cora lived there with some
students who were boarding with her. When her husband
died the house had been too expensive to maintain. So
after a while, she had made some minor alterations and
started renting out the three extra bedrooms. Deanne
and Cora hit it off immediately, chatting like old
friends and Deanne soon found herself confiding in
Cora about her past. When one of the boarders left,
Cora invited Deanne to take the room for a monthly
rent. It was the perfect solution for both of them.  



“I’m sorry I had to drag you all the way up here,
Cora. If it wasn’t for my leg I wouldn’t have bothered
you.” Deanne turned her melancholy gaze on the friend
she had come to care deeply about. 



“If I’ve told you once I’ve told you a thousand times.
Stop apologizing! We’re friends remember? You would
have done the same for me. Anyway, I was getting
lonesome in that big house all by myself. The other
two boarders are too young to want to listen to the
list of all my aches and pains.” Cora’s maternal green
eyes twinkled at her as she smiled and Deanne touched
the other woman’s hand in silent thanks. 



“Deanne, are you all right?” Cora surveyed her friend
worriedly.  



Deanne nodded and looked away.  



Still not satisfied Cora spoke again. “Listen, my
dear. I know I’m a terrible busybody so if you think
I’m butting my nose in where it doesn’t belong, you
just say so and I’ll stop right here.”  



Deanne looked at her friend with resignation. She knew
she wouldn’t stop until she had the whole story.
Another person might have thought Cora nosy but Deanne
knew it was only because she cared about her. She
twisted her hands in agitation. “I shouldn’t have
come, Cora. All I did was dredge up old hurts and my
daughter doesn’t deserve that. She deserves to be
happy.” Tears slid down her cheeks and she wiped them
away with an impatient hand in a manner, which had she
but known it, was entirely similar to her daughter’s. 



“Now, now,” Cora soothed in a gentle voice as she
patted her hand. “Don’t be too hard on yourself,
Deanne. The important thing is that you tried. You
made the effort.”  



She hoped this didn’t mean her friend would retreat
into herself again. She had been doing so well lately.
Cora understood depression. It was true that the
reasons behind the suffering varied from person to
person but the apathy, the deep sadness, the lack of
enthusiasm and low self-esteem were the same.  



No one would have thought it to look at her, but Cora
herself had suffered from it for ten long years after
her husband died of a stroke in the prime of his life.
They had loved each other to distraction but had never
had any children, much to Cora’s regret. After her
poor Tom’s death she’d been devastated and remained so
for many years. Until she had discovered her friends
and her voluntary work at the parish, which had given
her life meaning and the courage to live again.  



When she had met Deanne she’d been reminded of herself
when she still had the sickness and Cora wanted to
help her in the same way she had been helped herself.
She had fixed her an appointment with Dr. Farnsworth,
an excellent psychiatrist, and her friend had seemed
to draw comfort from her sittings with him and from
Cora’s friendship. But Cora knew there was only one
thing that could cure Deanne and that was to have her
daughter back in her life.  



Deanne shrugged despondently. “It doesn’t matter,
Cora,” she whispered. “The best thing I can do for
Sarah is to leave her alone. I’m only sorry I didn’t
get to say goodbye to her in person.” 



The drone of the speaker attracted their attention.
The departure of their train was called and Deanne
stood up with difficulty, balancing herself on her
crutches as best as she could. “That’s us,” she
muttered. 



Silently, Cora picked up Deanne’s small suitcase and
they both headed towards the train. 

* * * 



It was exactly 8.45, local time, when Mac and Harm got
to Union Station. They rushed in and searched on one
of the various TV screens scattered here and there for
information on the departure of the next
Washington-Baltimore commuter. Harm found it first and
he signaled to Mac to follow him through what seemed
to her like an endless maze of corridors. Finally they
both ran out to the tracks and Harm bumped into an
elderly ticket controller.  



“I’m sorry,” he apologized breathlessly, grabbing the
man by the shoulders to steady him. “We’re looking for
the train to Baltimore.”  



“I’m afraid you’ll have to wait for the next one,” the
ticket controller replied. “The one you’re looking for
just left.” He pointed a gnarled finger to the vehicle
in the distance and as Mac watched it grow
progressively smaller it dashed the last remnants of
any hopes she had harbored of stopping her mother in
time. Stubbornly, she refused to give up. 



“It can’t be!” Her exclamation reflected Harm’s
sentiments as she turned towards him, her eyes
frantic. “Maybe she didn’t catch this one, maybe she’s
still inside getting her ticket.” 



Without waiting for an answer she ran off to the
ticket counter. Harm followed her patiently at a
slower pace but as he had suspected there was no one
there. 



“Ok, maybe she went to the ladies’ room,” Mac
reasoned, her voice bordering on hysteria. “Or maybe
she’s just sitting somewhere resting her leg. She
can’t move around much with her cast and…” 



“Mac. Mac, stop it.” Harm hated to do it but someone
had to make her see the truth. He took hold of her by
the shoulders and shook her gently. “Don’t do this to
yourself. She’s gone.” 



Mac looked up at him, the wild look of a few moments
ago turning to one of defeat. “I know,” she whispered
brokenly as her shoulders slumped and Harm felt a
wrench inside his chest. She didn’t deserve this. 



“I’m sorry,” he said feelingly.  



Mac simply turned away and walked back to his car. He
caught up with her and opened the door for her. The
silence in the car was eerie and Harm tried to break
it with what he hoped were words of encouragement.
“Mac, we could still find her. Hell, we’re lawyers. We
investigate other people’s private lives all the time.
We could ask Dr. Courtney if he has any information on
your mother’s friend and take it from there. Or we
could drive to Baltimore ourselves and try to get
there before the train. What do you think?” 



“Please, Harm. I don’t want to talk about it right
now.” Mac’s voice sounded hollow. “Just take me home.”
 



They both knew that the issue here was that her mother
had left her once again and nothing could change that
even if Mac did manage to find her. They didn’t say
anything during the drive back to her apartment. Mac
was lost in her own private hell and Harm didn’t know
what else to tell her. Shortly afterwards they reached
Georgetown.  



As he took the last turn Mac’s heart somersaulted in
her chest and she let out an exclamation of
incredulity. There, standing on the curb outside her
home, next to another middle-aged woman was her
mother. She looked extremely haggard and tired and
unsure of herself but she was there nevertheless.  



Mac hardly gave Harm the time to stop the car before
she rushed out and flung her arms around Deanne,
hugging her tightly to her. Deanne forgot her bruised
ribs and the cast on her leg. She let go of her
crutches and put her own arms around her daughter and
they both burst into tears. They were both laughing
and crying at the same time as they held on to each
other for dear life. 



“I thought you’d left me again,” Mac cried. 



“Oh, honey,” Deanne sobbed. “I know it’s too late for
us but I just couldn’t go away without seeing you one
more time.”  



“Oh, mama.”  



Hearing Mac call her in the way she used to do as a
child made Deanne cry even harder.  



Mac looked into her mother’s face and a wave of
compassion coursed through her. She gently clutched
her mother’s shaking form to her chest and pressed her
cheek to hers. “It’s not too late.” She whispered in
Deanne’s ear. “We’ll work something out. I know we
will. Just don’t ever walk away from me again.” 



“I won’t, I promise. I love you.” Deanne vowed
fervently as the sobs continued to rack her body. She
pressed her lips to the side of her daughter’s neck
hardly able to believe that her daughter still wanted
to have anything to do with her.  



The tight knot inside Mac’s chest melted. In all of
her childhood her mother had never said those words
out loud. She closed her eyes and tears coursed
silently down her cheeks as she embraced her. And as
they stood there the roles were suddenly reversed. It
was almost as if Mac was the strong parent and Deanne
the child in need of reassurance as Mac comforted and
calmed her.  



She knew then that she could forgive her mother for
being who she was. For her inability to take care of
her and cherish her like every little girl should be
cherished. For not being the mother she should have
been. For only giving her the love she was capable of
giving and not the love Mac would have wanted from
her. She wasn’t denying the act of abandonment, just
forgiving the person who did it.  



Mac looked the anger and hurt she had held inside her
all these years in the face and laid it down. By
holding on to that resentment she had been hurting her
mother but most of all she had been hurting herself.
It had been sapping her life, her vitality. She knew
she was doing this for herself first and foremost. She
couldn’t forget the past but she could embrace the
present. She had to. It contained the only potential
for the love and healing they both needed.  



Mac knew it wasn’t going to be easy. She knew they
would never have an ideal mother-daughter relationship
but maybe they could at least be friends. It would
take time for the healing process to unfold but Mac
had faith that it would do so. They just had to give
themselves another chance. 



Harm’s height dwarfed Cora’s as they watched from the
sidelines, both deeply effected with the turn of
events. 


“Well now, young man, isn’t that the most wonderful
thing you’ve ever seen?” Cora’s kind green eyes were
wet with tears as they shone up at him. “Your Sarah
sure is special. She has a good heart.” 



“That she does, ma’am,” Harm answered softly, his gaze
intense. And as he pushed back his cover he had eyes
only for the woman who had come to mean so much to
him. “That she does.” 



15.00 ZULU

JAG HEADQUARTERS

FALLS CHURC VA 



When Mac spoke to the Admiral about her reunion with
her mother she was alone with him in his office. As he
took in her excited, happy smile, he came around the
desk and with a fatherly look in his eyes, he took
both her hands in his. Mac was surprised at the break
in protocol and even more so at his next words. 



“I’m glad things are working out so well for you,
Sarah.” He looked down at her warmly. “When my wife
and I divorced, my daughter Francesca was only ten
years old. She took it hard… Refused to speak to me
for years. When she finally made up her mind I wasn’t
the ogre everybody seemed to think I was, I was
grateful for the second chance. I hope your mother
appreciates what you’re doing for her.” 



“I think I’m doing it for both of us, sir,” Mac
replied, deeply touched in the face of her C.O.’s
obvious affection for her. In the years she had known
him he had been more of a father to her than her
biological father had ever been in the span of an
entire lifetime.  



A.J. nodded and then resumed his position behind his
desk. He saw Mac look at him uncertainly. “Is there
anything else, Colonel?” 



“Admiral, I know I’ve been quite the deserter at JAG
lately but I’d like to request permission for a week’s
leave to accompany my mother to Baltimore and help her
settle in.” 



“Permission granted, Colonel,” the Admiral replied
easily. “We’ll manage without you for a few days
although I suspect the SECNAV will have something to
say about it.” 



“Sir?” Mac couldn’t imagine what her leaving for a
week could have to do with the SECNAV. 



A.J. folded his arms and leaned back in his chair to
look up at her enigmatically. “Your language skills
coupled with your legal expertise have made quite an
impression, Colonel. The SECNAV has personally
requested that you take up a position at the Office of
Political and Military Affairs at the State
Department.” 



Mac was flabbergasted. If she accepted she would be
answerable to the Office of the Legal Advisor but she
would still be in Washington. Every two or three years
she would be rotated to different assignments to
broaden her experience and take on new challenges.
This was one thing she hadn’t seen coming. But now
that she thought of it, it couldn’t have happened at a
better moment.  



“Sleep on it, Colonel,” her C.O. suggested. “It’s
quite a boost for your career. We can discuss it on
your return.” 



“Yes, sir.” Mac beamed down at him then walked over to
the door. Just before she left she turned. “Admiral?”
Her C.O. looked up at her. “I think you’re anything
but an ogre.” 



“I am an ogre and don’t you let on any different,
Colonel.” His tone was stern but his eyes were alight
with amusement. 



Mac was still smiling at his comment when she picked
up her briefcase and exited her office. Harm came
towards her across the bullpen.  



“How did it go?” he asked, looking down at her
tenderly. 



“I’m on vacation for a week.”  



“Oh, so you managed to worm your way back into the
Admiral’s good graces,” he teased. 



“Who says I was ever out of them in the first place?”
she joked back. “Could you take care of Jingo for me,
please?” 



“Consider it done,” he replied. 



Then her eyes turned solemn. “I guess we can’t go
sailing this weekend.” 



“That’s ok.” he replied soothingly. “This is more
important.” 



“How can I ever thank you?” she asked feelingly, her
voice soft and low. 



“Hey, you’re not getting off that easy, Marine.” He
wagged a finger at her and puckered his lips in that
funny way of his before he smiled widely. “Let’s just
say you owe me.”  



His grin was so sexy it made her want to pull his head
down and kiss him thoroughly. But they were in the
middle of the bullpen, surrounded by fellow officers.
She tried to convey with her eyes and voice what her
actions could not.

“I’m going to miss you.” Her eyes filmed over and her
voice was husky with emotion. 



“Call me?” he suggested softly, the look in his
aquamarine eyes and the longing in his voice implying
he was going to miss her just as much, if not more. 



She nodded, too overwhelmed to say anything else. The
thought of not seeing him for a whole week filled her
with a strange sense of loss but she had to do this
for herself and for him. Only after facing her past
could she come back to him a whole woman. With one
last look at his handsome face she picked up her
briefcase and went to pick up Deanne and Cora. 

 



CORA MATTHEWS’ BOARDING HOUSE

BALTIMORE, MARYLAND 



The days spent with her mother were a time of
discovery for Mac. There were so many years to catch
up on, so many episodes to share, and not all of them
were pretty. Their conversations were stilted at
first. Cora settled Deanne in a room on the ground
floor and gave Deanne’s old room to Mac. Mac wanted to
pay the rent but Cora insisted she was a guest.  



The first couple of days, Mac sat with her mother on
the comfortable lounge chairs on Cora’s porch, which
faced the harbor, listening to Deanne tell her about
the years she’d spent fighting her depression. Mac was
shocked to learn of her mother’s lonely life, drifting
from one badly paid job to another, seeking help in
various hospitals but finding no real solace or cure
because she never stayed around long enough for the
doctors to be able to help her. Until Joe had died and
she had finally moved to Baltimore. They had never
divorced and she now survived on her widow’s benefits.
Her dead husband had left her that much at least. It
had helped her to slow down and lead a more normal
lifestyle now that she had a steady income and her
life with Cora provided her with the stability that
had been missing from her nomad-like existence for so
long. 



“Cora has been an invaluable friend,” Deanne confessed
as she told Mac how they had met. 



Little by little Mac found herself wanting to open up
to Deanne and with a conscious effort on both their
parts, the years and the awkwardness began to crumble
away. Mac spoke about her bout with alcoholism and the
terrible accident on the day of her graduation when
she had been too drunk to stop her friend Eddy from
crashing the car they were both riding in and killing
himself in the process. She told her mother of her
desperation and how Uncle Matt had helped her dry out
and encouraged her to join the Marine Corp.  



“I’ll have to remember to thank my brother the next
time I see him for saving my daughter,” Deanne said
softly, thoroughly shaken by the horror of what her
daughter had gone through.  



“You’ve kept in contact with Uncle Matt?” Mac asked
incredulously. 



“I visited him a few times in Leavenworth but he never
told me anything about this.” Deanne replied. “I know
you tried to help him when he stole the Declaration of
Independence. He did reveal that much.” 



Mac shook her head ruefully at the memory. “That was
the first case Harm and I worked on together at JAG.
Harm defended Uncle Matt in court but he was still
sent to prison.”  



“Harm is very special to you, isn’t he?” Deanne
guessed as she saw the glow in Mac’s eyes when she
spoke of the man. Mac had hinted at her broken
engagement with the Australian she had almost married
and Deanne sensed it had something to do with the
handsome naval officer who had visited her at the
Benneker hospital.  



“Yes, he is,” Mac answered and as her eyes followed
the slow progress of a ship on the horizon, her mind
filled with memories. Harm had been there for her and
for Uncle Matt that first time despite the fact that
she had hidden her relationship with her uncle from
him at the start of the investigation. Even when Uncle
Matt’s men took him prisoner it hadn’t stopped him
from talking her uncle into turning himself in and
defending him to the best of his abilities. She
realized she had probably started loving Harm way back
then even if she didn’t know it at the time. She
looked down at her mother’s hands as they grasped hers
where they lay in her lap. 



“You’ve been through so much, Sarah, and I’m entirely
to blame for it.” Deanne whispered. “It’s no wonder
you found it so hard to let me back into your life. I
still can’t believe it. Please, forgive me.” Tears of
remorse welled up in her eyes and spilled down her
cheeks unheeded. 



“It’s all right. I’m over it now,” Mac reassured her
gently and as she squeezed her mother’s hands
affectionately she realized the truth of those words.
She’d had her share of good and bad things in life. A
little too much pain perhaps but that was something
she accepted now and it had been instrumental in
helping her become the woman she was today. A woman
capable of love, compassion and forgiveness. There was
no plausible reason for all the things that had
happened to her but it was up to her to exploit them
to the best of her ability and make some sense out of
them. “What’s past is past, mama. All we can do is
learn from our mistakes and try to do better in the
future.” 



Things ran much more smoothly between Mac and her
mother after that. No matter how flawed Deanne was,
Mac knew her mother loved her. They continued to spend
a lot of time together and Mac went for long walks
down by the harbor in the evenings and her thoughts
inevitably turned to Harm. She called him every other
evening and told him how things were going and he told
her he was happy for her.  



“It’s lonely here without you, Mac,” he said the last
time she called him. “I can’t wait for you to come
home.” 



Cora outdid herself in cooking them delicious dinners
and Mac laughingly swore to Deanne she had put on
weight in the few days she had been there. Under the
two older women’s care and attention Mac blossomed and
it showed in the bloom in her cheeks and the sparkle
in her eyes. Cora hovered and fussed over them both
like a mother hen and when Mac found some time alone
with her she awkwardly tried to thank her for her
kindness to her mother. But Cora just gave Mac a hug
and told her not to worry about it. 



“Having your mother board with me suits us both fine,”
she said warmly. “And you’re welcome to come and stay
anytime you like. It warms my poor old heart to see
you together like this. Your mother is lucky to have
you. I’m just sorry about her accident.” 



“It’s like looking for a needle in a haystack,” Mac
confided with a sigh, referring to the difficulty the
police were having in finding the driver that had
caused it. 



“You’re right,” Cora replied. “Anyway, the important
thing is that your mother is on the mend and will soon
be back to her old self again. It’s no use wasting our
energy on what we can’t solve. Who knows if they will
ever catch the culprit.” 



The answer to Cora’s question arrived sooner than they
imagined and in the most unexpected way. On Friday
morning Detective Collins called Mac and told her that
a young man had turned himself in the night before and
confessed to running her mother over. Apparently he
had been drunk while driving back from a bachelor’s
party. Seeing Mac’s appeal on TV had pushed him into
going to the police against his lawyer’s advice. Mac
knew he would probably only get from three to three
and a half years of imprisonment but as Deanne pointed
out they were not looking for revenge, only justice.  



They had a special celebratory dinner that night and
Cora treated them to her special recipe of chicken
cacciatore with crunchy roast potatoes and mixed
vegetables. Afterwards, they sat on the couch enjoying
their coffee and speaking of nothing more important
than the hot weather they had been having. After a
short while, Cora pleaded tiredness and took herself
off to bed. 

Deanne, too, was feeling quite worn out. Her ribs
still hurt and Dr. Courtney had warned her not to
overdo it. She struggled awkwardly to her feet and bid
Mac good night. Mac didn’t answer and when Deanne
looked at her closely she saw she had a faraway look
in her eyes. 



“Go to him.” Her mother’s words pulled Mac out of her
reverie.  



“I’m sorry. What did you say?” Mac turned to her
mother in bewilderment, not understanding what she
meant. 



“Go to your Harmon Rabb,” Deanne repeated. “Call him
and tell him you’re going back to Washington tomorrow.
I know you’re dying to do so and he probably can’t
wait to hear from you. It’s been really wonderful
having you here, Sarah, and I look forward to seeing
you often now that we’ve found each other again. But
I’m sure you and the Commander can think of many more
interesting ways of spending your time than hanging
around two old women like me and Cora.” She smiled
down encouragingly at her daughter. “Do it, darling. I
promise I’ll still be here whenever you feel the need
to come and see me but you have to think of your
happiness now.” With a final peck on her daughter’s
cheek she went to her room.  



As soon as her mother left Mac went up to her bedroom
and dialed Harm’s number. 

“Hi, it’s me,” she said when he answered. 



“Mac! How are you?” He was so delighted to hear from
her and didn’t attempt to hide it. “Guess, who’s
here,” he teased and she laughed when Jingo barked
into the phone. She told him about Detective Collins’
phone call and he told her he knew about it. The
Detective had dropped by at JAG looking for her and
Harm had told him she was out of town.  



“Is everything all right with Deanne?” he asked
eventually. 



“We’re doing fine. At least we understand each other a
bit better now,” she confided. “It’s a start. I was
running from my problems but they were following me
everywhere. I was looking for the solution outside of
myself but the truth is I have to try and solve them
from within. My relationship with my mother is far
from perfect but it’s the only one we’ve got and I
feel I want to hang on to it.” 



“You’re getting wiser with age,” he joked. 



“I’ll get you for that, Commander,” she warned him
laughingly. His light-hearted banter was just what she
needed to stop from taking herself too seriously. Then
she told him she was returning to Washington earlier
than expected. 



“That’s great,” he said warmly. “Hurry back, Mac.
Jingo and I miss you like crazy.”  



“Me, too, Harm,” she replied, her throat clogged up
with emotion. “I’ll see you tomorrow.” 



Mac could hardly sleep that night. She was as excited
as a little kid about seeing him again and his
eagerness on the phone had her floating on a cloud of
happiness. Her dreams were filled with his beautiful
smile, his eyes, his touch and she woke up bright and
early the next morning and informed Deanne and Cora of
her decision.  



A couple of hours later she was heading back to
Washington in her car, her mother and Cora’s warning
to drive carefully and to come back and visit them
soon still ringing in her ears. And as her car ate up
the miles she couldn’t help flying on the wings of
anticipation, her thoughts already on her upcoming
meeting with a certain naval aviator who had stolen
her heart.  



17.00 ZULU

MAC’S APARTMENT

GEORGETOWN 



As soon as she heard the knock, Mac flew to her door.
A rush of excitement coursed through her as she
glimpsed Harm through the spy hole. He was early but
she wasn’t complaining. Her happy cry of greeting died
on her lips as she opened the door and took in his
forbidding _expression. It confused her and she moved
aside as he strode into her apartment, a barely
repressed tension emanating from his every pore. 



“Harm?” His name on her lips was a soft, tentative
question as she tried to gauge his mood, her eyes big
and uncertain.  



Closing the door she faced him as he stood before her,
his long legs splayed out, hands on hips, his deep set
eyes unfathomable. He was apparently upset about
something. But after not seeing him in the flesh for a
whole week all Mac could think of was how magnificent
he looked. He wore his summer whites as casually as he
wore civilian clothes but the uniform enhanced his
male beauty even further and made her heart flutter in
her chest at the familiar sight of his powerful chest
and shoulders.  



“Why didn’t you tell me?” he demanded testily as he
threw his cover on the coffee table, blissfully
unaware of the way her eyes were devouring him.  



His words confused her and the trace of arrogance in
his voice irked her as it always did when he spoke to
her like that.  



“Tell you what?” she asked defensively, utterly
bemused by his attitude. She had expected him to come
running to her with open arms and here he was, ready
for battle, looking at her as if she had committed the
ultimate betrayal. “What’s the matter with you?” she
scowled. 



“I stopped on an errand at the Office of the Legal
Advisor this morning. Ring a bell?”


She detected a note of hurt in his words and suddenly
she knew what he was going to say.  



“The office is literally buzzing with the news that a
certain Lt. Colonel Sarah Mackenzie will be joining
their staff soon. Dammit Mac, you should have spoken
to me about this,” he grated. 



So that was it. He’d heard of her upcoming move from
JAG and thought she had excluded him completely.  



“Harm, I was going to tell you.” She smiled slightly
and tried to calm him but his look was unrelenting as
she continued. “The Admiral sprang the news on me last
week before I left for Baltimore. It’s just
scuttlebutt. I haven’t even made a decision yet. There
was no time to talk about anything and I didn’t want
to discuss it on the phone. It’s too important.” 



“You’re damn right it’s important,” he retorted
sharply, her explanation not mollifying him in the
least. “I’m not going to let you make any changes
because of your relationship with me. I know you’re
happy at JAG and I won’t have you sacrificing your
career with some hair-brained scheme of yours.” 



Hair-brained scheme? Was that what he thought she was
capable of? The man was insane if he thought he was
going to start ordering her around. Her face hardened
into a stubborn mask as she looked at him. “So what do
you suggest?” she returned evenly, her quicksilver
temper rising. “Giving up your career? Is this what
this is all about, Harm? You want to be the one to
make all the sacrifices? Don’t put on your macho act
with me. It hasn’t worked in the past and it’s not
going to work now. I’m just as stubborn as you are and
nothing is going to stop me from doing what I think is
right if I put my mind to it.” 



Her stormy brown eyes clashed in a battle of wills
with his equally determined blue ones. They continued
to glare heatedly at each other, neither one of them
giving an inch, both their expressions grim. Then,
abruptly, something in Harm’s features wavered. A
ghost of a smile penetrated his eyes and played around
the sensual line of his mouth. His lips twitched. Then
his whole face cracked into a smile and a throaty
laugh rumbled out of his chest, transforming him
completely. His shoulders shook with mirth and his
laughter was contagious. Mac found herself smiling
sheepishly though she was still glaring at him. 



“What’s so funny?” she asked, giggling in spite of
herself. 



Harm gazed at her with a mixture of wonder and
exasperation in his blue eyes. “I should have known I
wouldn’t be able to tame you just because we decided
to make a go of it,” he murmured. 



Relief and the smile in his eyes left Mac feeling weak
at the knees as she made her way towards him. He
wasn’t mad at her anymore. Well, for the moment
anyway, she thought giddily. She had a feeling this
wouldn’t be their last disagreement. But that was all
part of the challenge and she knew exactly what she
wanted as she took his large hands in her smaller
ones. 



“Harm, we can argue about this all you want but the
truth is, I want to make this change. It would solve
so many complications at work. I really don’t want
anything to stand in the way of our being together.
We’ve wasted enough time as it is.” 



“I know,” he relented looking like a chastised little
boy. His gaze moved to their joined hands and his
thumbs stroked her palms in slow sensual movements.
“But are you sure this is what you want? I don’t want
you to look back in the future and regret something.” 



Mac trembled at his touch but couldn’t resist casting
him an exasperated look of her own. “Will you stop
worrying?” she frowned up at him anew. She could
almost hear the wheels turning in his mind as he
fretted. “It’s not like I’m making any major career
changes. I’ll still be practicing law but in a
different chain of command from yours. Besides, I’m
excited and flattered. I want to do this. Please,
Harm,” she pouted up at him entreatingly.  



Harm still didn’t look entirely convinced. Then his
gaze fell to the enticing curve of her mouth. A split
second later she couldn’t see his face any longer
because his hands slid around her and he pulled her
towards him almost roughly, enfolding her in a hard
embrace with a groan of surrender.  



“This conversation isn’t over,” he growled as he gave
in to his burning need to hold her and buried his face
in her neck, inhaling the heady scent of jasmine he
knew he would find there.  



Mac heard the hint of obstinacy in his voice but she
knew capitulation when she saw it. She closed her eyes
and a deep sigh of happiness escaped her as she buried
herself in him like she had been craving to do ever
since they had been apart. A fleeting smile crossed
her features as she stood on tiptoe and wrapped her
arms around his tall form, resting her head on his
strong shoulder.  



“God, how I’ve missed you,” he whispered raggedly
against her ear, making her shiver as he dropped a
kiss on the trembling pulse just below it. 



“I couldn’t stay away,” she breathed on a sigh and as
he held her she seemed to dissolve into his arms.  



Eyes closed, Mac pressed her cheek to his and slid it
sensuously up and down along the side of his face,
feeling the lean line of his jaw beneath his
freshly-shaven cheek. Her palms slid up and down over
the strong planes of his back as she held on to him
and she placed a soft kiss along the strong column of
his neck. Harm’s arms banded tightly around her and
when she felt the warm touch of his lips against her
throat she arched her head back to allow him more
access. Harm pulled her up against him, so close she
could feel every single fiber of his body touching her
intimately. She brought her head back up and met his
molten gaze, her own eyes glazed with her budding
passion. 



And then he brought his mouth down on hers and kissed
her. 



That first kiss was like a drink of water to parched
throats. It fanned their desire, causing their mouths
to cling to each other fiercely as passion exploded
through them. Harm combed shaking fingers through her
hair and brushed his lips against hers over and over,
his open mouth warm and soft. Mac tasted the spicy
flavor of his tongue and melted into his tender yet
passionate onslaught. He kissed her like he couldn’t
get enough of her, feeding a hunger he had been
suppressing for too long. 



“Sweetheart, sweetheart,” he whispered feverishly as
he rained kisses along the delicate line of her
cheekbone, her sensitive earlobe, the slender line of
her neck. He couldn’t stop kissing her. His tongue
traveled along the line of her shoulders and his hands
pushed the flimsy straps of her pale blue summer dress
aside to savor the sun kissed skin beneath. Her dress
bunched around her waist, revealing her soft feminine
curves beneath the wispy material of her bra. Harm
glanced down at her in reverent awe as he stroked the
sensitive skin for the first time with the tips of his
fingers. Mac felt a series of tiny explosions in the
pit of her stomach at his gentle touch and she
strained against him exciting him further. His
caresses and kisses grew bolder. The tip of his tongue
worked a hot trail from the hollow of her neck to the
top of her breasts and Mac moaned in pleasure at the
rasp of his tongue on the delicate skin. 



“You taste so good,” Harm said huskily, his voice
thick with need. His low baritone slid along Mac’s
tender nerve endings, making her shudder with a
craving only he could fulfill. Her blood sang in her
veins and her hands slipped to the front of his shirt.
He felt her fingers at the buttons and for a fraction
of an instant they gazed into each other’s eyes, his
asking if she was sure and hers replying she couldn't
hold back even if she wanted to. They were both too
far gone. With her eager help, Harm shed his shirt and
T-shirt. The touch of her small questive hands against
his bare chest made Harm shudder in pleasure and he
gasped something incoherent into her mouth as he
reached out for her and claimed it with his own in a
deep, almost savage kiss. Mac’s hands roamed all over
him from the top of his proud dark head, down to the
smooth skin of his muscled shoulders. Her hands slid
over his chest, the silky hair she found there
tickling her fingers and nostrils as she buried her
face in it. She inhaled the compelling, masculine
smell of him. He was all male as he held her to him
possessively and kissed her with growing passion, the
hunger they had kept under tight reign for so long
spilling forth and overwhelming them both with its
intensity.  



His mouth never left hers as they helped each other
off with the rest of their clothes. They dropped onto
the couch, their lips and bodies locked in a frenzy of
need and anticipation. And then they were gazing at
each other, their bodies bare, with no barriers, no
hesitation, no uncertainty between them. Mac feasted
on Harm’s powerful physique, completely captivated by
his male beauty. His muscles were long and hard, his
body lean and strong and he looked like some ancient
pagan god as he hovered over her, the evidence of his
desire for her standing proud. He pushed her back
against the couch and gently, he came to her. The
sensuous glide of his hard male body sliding against
her softer one and pressing her down against the
cushions was like nothing she had ever felt before.
His hands began to caress her all over again. She gave
back as much as she got, her whole being anxious and
eager to please him. He took his time with her, his
hands stroking her urgently from shoulder to thigh and
back again and her sensitive breasts came alive under
the skilful touch of his fingers. 



“Harm, I want you,” she whispered when she managed to
detach her mouth from his long enough to catch her
breath. “I’ve loved you ever since I can remember.” 



“Sweet. You’re so sweet,” he whispered back lovingly.
“What you do to me, Sarah.” Mac felt herself go weak
with yearning at the soft caress of his words.  



And suddenly they could bear it no longer. Her dark
gaze locked with his. Their eyes glazed with passion,
she found him and guided him to her. When he finally
entered her they both gasped with the exquisite
pleasure that coursed through them both. They fit
together perfectly, and they paused to savor this
first sweet moment of their ultimate union.  



“Feel it, Sarah,” Harm whispered fiercely as he
started moving his lean hips against hers with slow
fluid thrusts. “Feel how much I love you.” 



And then he was plunging into her and they climbed the
heights together, seeking, searching for that ultimate
release. And when it was upon them they gave each
other all they had to give… their bodies, their
hearts, their minds…their very breath. In a spiraling
storm of emotion they became one. Mac felt him shudder
repeatedly in her arms as he came and she held on to
him tightly, her head spinning, her own release
culminating with his. And as he lay spent and helpless
in her arms Harm knew he really loved her. 



They lay like that for what seemed like an eternity,
their bodies bathed in their mingled sweat, still
linked together intimately, never uttering a word.
Emotions ran too high. Tears snaked helplessly down
Mac’s cheeks from the corner of her eyes as she held
him tenderly to her breast. She could hardly believe
how much he loved her, how much she loved him, how
beautiful they were together. No one had ever made her
feel this way and she knew now that no one else ever
would. Harm felt the dampness against his cheek and
shifted slightly to her side. He pulled her to him and
pressed his face to hers soothingly.  



“Please, don’t cry,” he whispered tenderly. Mac raised
her beautiful brown eyes to his and as she did so he
swore he caught a glimpse of their unborn children in
her eyes. 



“I just love you so much it hurts,” she responded,
moved by the adoration she saw shining in his face.  



“I feel the same way, Mac,” he replied. “This is
forever. There will never be anyone for me but you.” 



Lovingly, he picked her up in his arms and carried her
to her bedroom. They lay together on the fresh silk
sheets and cuddled into each other’s arms, giving in
to the sweet fatigue that claimed them. And when they
woke up again a few hours later he took her again and
again with such tenderness it moved her to tears once
more. She murmured his name repeatedly in the throes
of her passion and her eyes were filled with wonder
when they came back to earth. 



“You’re insatiable,” she whispered, still in awe of
what they had just shared. Her eyes caressed his
handsome face in the darkened bedroom.  



“And you’re beautiful,” he returned sleepily, a
half-lidded look on his face. “I think I’m addicted.” 



“Well, I’m not complaining,” she replied, her hand
coming up to stroke his cheek in a loving caress.  



Abruptly, Harm lifted his head and moved back from
her. Mac muttered a protest but the softly spoken
words he mumbled against her mouth quieted her.  



“Wait, Mac,” he whispered breathlessly. “I have a gift
for you.” Letting go of her he got out of bed and went
back to the living room, returning a minute later.
There was still enough light to see and she watched
him unabashedly as he strode naked towards her. She
sat up and the sheet pooled around her waist. She made
an attempt to cover herself but he stopped her.  



“I love to look at you,” he murmured. Then he dropped
down on the bed next to her and took hold of her
hands, placing a dark, velvet pouch into her upturned
palms.  



Her expressive dark eyes traveled from the small
package to his face in surprise.  



He looked down at her with a boyish smile. “I thought
it was high time someone showered you with all the
beautiful things you’ve always wanted.” His gentle
words reminded her of what she had confided to him in
the park when she spoke to him of her dreams as a
little girl. 



Deeply moved, Mac pulled the string that held the
small bag together and gasped as it fell open in her
hands. Amidst the soft velvet folds was a delicate
circlet of amethyst stones alternating with infinity
knots of solid silver. The workmanship was exquisite
and looked slightly medieval. But what touched her
most was that he had remembered. Her eyes misted over
and for a second his beloved face was blurred as she
glanced up at him. 



“Oh God, Harm,” she protested. “You don’t need to do
this. It must have cost a fortune. I can’t let you…” 



Harm silenced her with a shake of his head and a soft
kiss on her lips. “It’s a bridal necklace, Mac,” he
murmured, his love for her blazing in his eyes.
“Amethysts are a symbol of sincerity and stability.
Legend has it that in Victorian times this kind of
necklace was offered by the suitor to the woman he
wanted to marry. If she accepted she wore it on her
wedding day as a symbol of their bond.” 



Mac was speechless as she stared up at him. 



“I know this is an unorthodox way of proposing,” he
continued with an endearingly uncertain smile on his
face. “But when I saw this it reminded me of you. I
know most men do it with a ring.” 



But he wasn’t most men. He was unique and wonderful
and so thoughtful and her heart swelled with her love
for him. 



“Sarah.” His tone was husky with emotion. “I want to
be with you for the rest of my life, to take care of
you and have you close to me for always. And I want
the whole world to know it.” Then his mouth quirked
upwards and he couldn’t help adding a touch of levity,
“Not to mention that I am getting along in years.” 



She had bent her head as he spoke and was strangely
silent. Harm was growing increasingly uneasy. “Say
something, Mac,” he urged, his eyes wide and
vulnerable. 



“Oh, Harm.” The soft look of love in her compelling
brown eyes told him all he needed to know. Reverently
she caressed his cheek. Then she handed him the
necklace and rested her forehead against his shoulder.
Harm wound his gift round her slender neck and closed
the elegant clasp with shaking fingers, stooping to
drop a warm kiss on the smooth skin above it, making
Mac tremble. Solemnly, she faced him. With that simple
gesture in their hearts they were committed to each
other until they had breath in their bodies. Clasping
his dear face in both her hands she pulled him down
into her waiting arms and his lips descended on hers
possessively, sealing their promise as they tangled in
a loving embrace.  



It had been a long road for them both before they
finally gave in to their need for each other. They had
danced around their feelings and tried to work their
way around them. Harm had almost lost his life before
he realized how much he loved her. Mac had tried to
run away from him, afraid that he would hurt her
again. She had even shut him out for a while, afraid
that he wouldn’t want her when he saw her weaknesses.
But now they had come full circle. They were both
strong and knew what they wanted. Their relationship
was based on trust and they would always be there for
each other as lovers and friends. And as she gave
herself up to Harm’s sweet caresses Mac knew that in
the arms of this man she had found happiness and love
beyond her wildest dreams. 



THE END