Title: "The Greatest Gift"

Author: AeroGirl

Spoilers: anything with Palmer – especially "Webb of
Lies", "Boomerang, Part II" (as always), "Ghost Ship"
(barely), and "Heroes". And it’s not a spoiler per se,
but if you don’t know why Christmas sucks for Harm,
you’re not worthy of understanding the reference. So
there.

Rating: PG-13 for violence, language

Classification: Romance, Angst

Summary: Badly injured, Mac is ready to give up hope
when she is given a glimpse into the future – a future
without her. Somewhat borrowed from "It’s a Wonderful
Life", but not nearly as shiny-happy. Assumes that
Brumby and Renee aren’t worth mentioning, and the only
things standing between Harm and Mac are their own
insecurities.

I’m not obsessive about feedback, but a little
encouragement wouldn’t be bad. Find me at
michaerogirl@hotmail.com 

 

The Greatest Gift

(with apologies to Frank Capra)

 

 

There was a light snow falling outside the window,
dusting the street with a shimmer of white. She’d
never cared much for snow before, but now she watched
the tiny flakes with a new fascination. The snow was
the last thing of beauty she would ever see in this
life, and she wanted to capture it forever.

Sarah Mackenzie had finally accepted the realization
that she was going to die. It had taken nearly three
hours of watching her own blood trickle down her arm
and onto the concrete floor, but she could find no
escape this time. Her wrists were handcuffed to an
unyielding iron pole, and anything she might have used
as a tool had been taken away hours ago. She’d
struggled against the cuffs for a long time, but the
effort had only drained her strength.

The day had started off so well. She’d won her case, a
slam-dunk minor in possession charge against a
nineteen-year-old seaman, and she’d even had time to
buy little A.J.’s Christmas present. When she’d opened
the door to her building, Clark Palmer had been the
furthest thing from her mind – which was precisely why
he’d chosen to strike at that moment.

Whatever drug he’d given her had long since worn off,
leaving her with the dull ache from the slash across
her wrist. "Suicides are so simple, yet so dramatic,"
the special-agent-turned-freelance-killer had
commented as he’d secured her to the pole. "This one
is hardly my finest work, but it’ll serve the
purpose."

"No, it won’t," she’d argued, more out of desperation
than anything else. "No one’s going to believe that I
killed myself."

"That’s all right. I’m only looking to buy myself a
little time to disappear." Palmer had flashed a truly
evil grin. "I don’t need to convince everyone. I only
need to convince everyone but Harmon Rabb."

Hoping to keep him talking, she’d pushed further. "So
this is all another elaborate way to play mind games
with Harm?"

"Hey, everyone’s got to have a hobby. I’ll deal with
him sooner or later, but right now I want to see him
suffer."

He’d said little else, finishing his scene-setting and
locking a deadbolt on his way out. "See you soon,
Sarah. Though I don’t expect you’ll see me."

So she lay there, turning over the possibilities in
her mind until the blood loss began to take effect.
Harm will find me, she repeated to herself, but
eventually a dismal sense of reality crushed that
hope. No one knew she was gone. Even if someone did,
no one could possibly know where she was – hell, she
herself didn’t even know. Harm had pulled off some
impossible tricks before, but this one was beyond even
him. While there was still time, she would have to
make her peace.

Lieutenant Colonel Sarah Mackenzie prepared herself to
die, alone, on the floor of an empty warehouse, the
victim of a bizarre, senseless murder. As
consciousness slipped away, she felt a strange calm
wash over her …

*********

Mac opened her eyes to nothingness, a brilliant, white
oblivion. "Hello, Sarah," said an unfamiliar voice,
and she turned. Did she turn? Or did the figure before
her appear out of the air? She couldn’t be sure.
Nothing hurt anymore: in fact, she could barely feel
her body. "Oh, God," she whispered. "I’m dead."

"No, not yet. That’s why I’m here." A young woman in a
glistening white gown stepped toward her with a serene
smile. "Don’t be afraid. I’m Hope, your guide."

"Guide for what?" Mac glanced around, doubt clouding
her eyes. "Is this a dream?"

"If you’d like to think of me that way, you may. I’m
not here to challenge your faith or beliefs.
Typically, though, I’m referred to as an angel."

"An angel? Shouldn’t you have wings?"

The girl – Hope – only shrugged gracefully, and a pair
of huge, gleaming wings appeared. "I don’t know who on
earth came up with that idea. They tend to intimidate
more people than they comfort." The wings vanished.
"I’m sure this all seems very peculiar, but it’s
important that you keep an open mind. I’m here to help
you, Sarah, to help you see why you can’t give up. You
have to make the choice to live."

"It hardly seems like my choice anymore."

"That’s only your perception. Come with me. I will
show you what I mean."

And with a wave of her hand, they were gone –

 

– and standing in the middle of JAG Ops. Mac looked
around the room, uneasy. It was as full of activity as
ever, but something didn’t feel quite right. She
didn’t recognize many of the people hurrying past, and
she could have sworn the walls weren’t that shade of
gray before.

As if reading her thoughts, Hope explained. "This is
the future as it would be if you died that day. Six
years have passed. Your friends, loved ones – their
lives are very different."

A lieutenant flew into the bullpen, straightening his
jacket along the way. He pulled up short at Gunnery
Sergeant Galindez’s desk, where he received a
disapproving stare. "Morning, Gunny," the young
officer said cautiously. "I take it the captain isn’t
too happy right now."

"Well, he was doing just fine until he got a call from
Norfolk NCIS about twenty minutes ago." The Marine
folded his arms. "You wouldn’t happen to know anything
about that, would you, LT?"

"Word travels fast. How long do I have to live?"

"He’s on the phone with NCIS HQ, arguing jurisdiction
and trying to save your ass. I’d say you’ve got three
minutes, give or take."

Mac listened to the exchange with growing curiosity. "
‘The captain’? Is Admiral Chegwidden – "

"Retired, a little over a year ago," Hope answered
easily.

"I guess the more things change, the more they stay
the same." She smiled. "I remember Harm making an
entrance like that a few times."

"Funny you should mention that …" The angel moved away
from the door to the JAG’s office. The immaculate gold
lettering read Captain Harmon Rabb, Jr. "He’s expected
to get his star soon."

"Wow," Mac said softly. "Way to go, flyboy." It was
difficult to imagine her partner, who’d written the
book on bending the rules, now as the authority who
held others up to those rules. But he’d never been
anything less than passionate about finding justice in
any form, and she had no doubt that he served the
office faithfully.

At that moment, she heard his voice from behind the
door, deadly calm. "Lieutenant Merrick, please
report."

The lieutenant exchanged a glance with Galindez. "Nice
knowing you, Gunny." He raised his head and strode
into the C.O.’s office.

Mac watched him walk right past her without flinching.
"They can’t see us?"

"We’re not really here, so we can’t affect them. We’re
simply observers. It doesn’t work quite like in that
movie. You know, when the bell rings, the angel gets
its wings?" Hope raised an eyebrow.

"I’ve never been a big fan of ‘It’s a Wonderful Life’,
anyway. Even if it is that time of year." Mac didn’t
bother asking how she knew of movies. She seemed to
know everything else. "Can we go in? I’d like to see
Harm, even if he can’t see me."

"That’s why we’re here." Hope laid a delicate hand on
her arm. "I should warn you, Sarah. The man in there
isn’t the Harm you remember. A lot has happened in six
years. I just want you to be ready."

She nodded, but the seriousness in the girl’s tone
sent a chill through her. "I am."

"Then go ahead."

She reached for the doorknob, but her hand passed
through it as if it wasn’t there. Startled, she looked
to Hope for guidance, but the angel only smiled and
stepped effortlessly through the wall. Shaking her
head at the surreality of it all, she followed.

In the office of the Judge Advocate General,
Lieutenant Sean Merrick stood at attention in front of
his commander, waiting for the worst. Captain Rabb sat
behind the imposing oak desk, his ice-blue eyes
holding the anger that he’d managed to keep out of his
voice. "Do you have an explanation for me,
Lieutenant?" he asked quietly.

"Sir, I thought it was the only way – "

"The correct answer is, ‘No, sir.’ Because I don’t see
what possible explanation you could have for pulling a
stunt like you did last night. It is going to take
months to repair the damage you caused in one fell
swoop to the authority of this office." He rose from
his chair, towering over the silent junior officer. "I
don’t ever want to get another call like the one I got
this morning. Is there anything unclear about that?"

"No, sir."

"Good." The JAG took his seat again, and some of the
anger dimmed. "Now you can tell me how you got into
the simulation server room at Sea Systems Command."
The younger man hesitated. "At ease, Merrick. I just
want to know how the hell you did it."

"I sneaked in with the custodial staff, sir. I had a
friend who got through college by mopping floors, and
he always said you could learn anything that way. That
is, up to a point, of course."

"Was he right?"

Merrick relaxed a little. "Yes, sir. The records were
right there, and the navigator’s scores were
outstanding. Her commander had to have falsified the
OPRs."

Captain Rabb nodded and leaned back. "Look, Merrick,
I’m not going to sit here and tell you that everything
here goes strictly by the book. My reputation alone
ought to be proof enough against that. But you have to
choose your battles, or you run the risk of making
some powerful enemies. The Navy has a long memory at
times. The good news is, you can usually get around a
roadblock without having to bulldoze it. And if your
back’s against a wall, come talk to me. I’m willing to
go to the mat for my people, provided they give me a
good reason."

"Yes, sir. I’ll think it through more carefully next
time."

"That’s good enough for me. Dismissed."

"Aye, sir. Thank you, Captain." The lieutenant turned
on his heel and headed for the door, but paused
halfway. "Um, sir?"

He glanced up from his paperwork. "Something further,
Lieutenant?"

"On the subject of unconventional tactics … It’s not
really my business, sir, but I heard rumors about a
case, a long time ago, where someone fired an
automatic in the courtroom. I asked Commander Roberts
about it, but he told me to drop it."

There was a hint of amusement in the captain’s
expression. "I’ll bet he did. Ancient history, Merrick
– probably most of ten years ago now. But as I recall,
it did prove the point."

"So it really did happen?" Merrick shook his head,
amazed. "I’d like to meet the lawyer who had the …" He
trailed off, slowly comprehending. "You, skipper?"

"Me, Lieutenant. And I’m still living it down. So take
that as a warning."

"Aye, sir." The junior attorney snapped to attention
and exited quickly, leaving his commanding officer
lost in thought.

"Marines don’t duck," he said softly, recalling that
day. "They take cover, but they never duck."

Unseen, Mac watched from the corner, realizing how
painful the memory was for him. Did it hurt him to
remember her at all? She couldn’t tell; he was even
more guarded than she remembered. In his career, at
least, he seemed to be doing well for himself. There
was no ring on his left hand, and no evidence of a
family: the only picture on his desk was of little
A.J. Their godson must be nearly eight by now … She
smiled inwardly, thinking of how adorable he must be.

She studied her friend’s face. As handsome as ever,
Harm was also clearly older. There were a few streaks
of gray at his temples, and lines around his eyes that
spoke of a long-standing tension. That wasn’t quite
right – maybe it was something else. In any case,
there was surprisingly little happiness to be found in
his being.

She looked at Hope, questioning. The girl shook her
head. "Be patient. There is more to see."

The phone signaled. "Sir, just a reminder that you
have a briefing with Admiral Patrick in half an hour."

"Thank you, Keller. Tell Commander Roberts that I’ll
need to see him when I get back."

"Aye, sir."

Harm gathered the files on his desk and reached for
something behind him. As he stood up, Mac realized
with sudden horror that it was a cane. She watched,
shocked and saddened, as the tall, proud captain
walked stiffly over to the bookshelf, favoring his
left leg. He leaned the ebony stick against the
fireplace and picked up a framed photograph that had
been hidden near the back of the shelf. She hurried to
look over his shoulder and saw the two of them smiling
out at their future selves. They’d been caught in a
water-bottle fight after a JAG softball game, and a
certain someone had thought to bring a camera. She
remembered threatening to steal Bud’s film after that
one … He stared at the picture for an immeasurable
time, his features a mask of non-emotion.

"Oh, Harm," she whispered, wanting to reach out to
him. "What happened to you?"

Then he shoved the frame back onto the shelf and
limped to the door, ready to confront the here and
now.

When he’d gone, Mac whirled on the angel. "What
happened? Why does he walk like that? Is it
permanent?"

"As I said, much has changed. He was injured in the
performance of his duty five years ago. His leg will
never fully recover."

She didn’t speak for a moment, stunned. The idea of
Harm being disabled was unthinkable. He’d always been
so strong … "How did it happen?" she asked in a low
voice.

"I will show you. Come." Together, they walked back
through the wall –

**********

– and directly into Harm’s office. His old office, or
was it his present one? Mac gave up trying to keep the
timelines straight in her head. The version of Harm
that stood there wore the three stripes of a
commander, and there was no trace of a limp in his
rapid pacing. This was five years earlier, and
therefore, she reasoned, a year after her death.

"Stop it, Rabb. You’re making me dizzy." Clayton Webb
was leaning over the desk, studying the floor plan of
a building. "You know this is a suicide mission, don’t
you?"

"Not suicide. Kamikaze, maybe." Harm was intently
focused on a piece of paper in his hand. "Are we
absolutely sure he’s there?"

"If he were that predictable, we’d have had him years
ago." The deputy director of CIA operations looked up.
"I checked our intel backwards and forwards. He’s
there."

"Then I’m going in tonight."

"What are you, Dirty Harry? You’re not going in there
alone. I’ve lost partners to this guy, too, and you’re
going to need help."

"Webb – "

"Save it, Harm. I’m going."

"Need a third?"

Harm whirled. "Admiral – Sir, we were just – "

"I know what you were just doing, Commander, and I
know that I couldn’t stop you if I tried." A.J.
Chegwidden leaned against the doorframe, his arms
folded. "I also know that Palmer is one tricky
bastard, and an aging SEAL is better than no SEAL at
all. Especially when all you’ve got is a spook and a
jetjock."

"A vengeful jetjock," Webb added, earning a dangerous
glare from Harm. "Welcome aboard, Admiral. I hope you
know what you’re getting into."

"I always do. Let’s come up with a plan, shall we?"

As the three men gathered around the desk, Mac
listened with growing dread. Even if she hadn’t seen
the future, she’d have known that this couldn’t end
well. Palmer was too smart, too well prepared, too …
evil. Harm had gotten it right from the beginning.
"He’s like a disease … you know that sick, eerie
feeling you get just before the flu attacks your body
…"

This wasn’t just for her, she tried to tell herself.
She hadn’t been his only victim. Clark Palmer deserved
to die a hundred times over for his crimes, and they
were simply trying to prevent him from striking again.
But as she watched their body language, she knew it
was more than that. This was revenge, as pure as it
could be. Especially for Harm – she could read it in
his eyes. Her partner would not rest until Palmer was
stopped.

"I don’t know if I want to see this," she told Hope.

"I sympathize, but it is necessary. I wish there were
an easier way to make you understand." With a
dismissive wave of her hand, their surroundings
morphed into a darker, more ominous scene.

Inside a deserted factory, not unlike the building in
which she’d found herself trapped, a figure crept
along the wall. Clad in black fatigues, Harm moved
cautiously with his weapon drawn. The trio must have
split up to cover the building. Mac wanted to scream
at him to go find Webb or the admiral, as if she could
change or control anything about the current
situation.

"I’ve swept the north end of the first floor," he said
quietly into a tiny microphone on his collar. ‘I’m
heading for the south annex." The radio crackled in
his ear for a moment. "Anybody read me?" Nothing.
Frustrated, he yanked the earpiece out, letting it
dangle against his shoulder.

Mac followed him, with Hope a few steps behind. The
Marine in her sensed something in the shadows, and
instinctively she shouted, "Harm!"

But of course, the warning went unheard. A silenced
gun jabbed into his back, and he stiffened. "You
should have let Webb’s boys handle this one," came
Palmer’s voice from the darkness. "You’re not exactly
built for stealth."

"You knew I wouldn’t." The commander kept his voice
level.

"Of course you wouldn’t. You’re too damned
self-absorbed to think anybody could do the job better
than you." Palmer smirked, but his eyes were cold.
"Especially since you don’t just want me caught. You
want me dead."

"If you’re waiting for me to disagree, forget it. I do
want you dead. I don’t think there’s any other way to
stop you." Harm’s eyes were just as cold: it
frightened her to see that barely-veiled rage.

"You’re probably right. But oh, how the mighty have
fallen. A year ago, you really believed you could only
kill for the greater good, didn’t you? ‘To defend the
Constitution of the United States against all enemies,
foreign and domestic’, and all that red, white and
blue bullshit you people spout off at every
opportunity?"

"You are an enemy of the United States, Palmer. You
always have been."

"That isn’t why you’re here. That honor-and-justice
mantra died with Sarah Mackenzie, didn’t it? You knew
it was me from the start, and now you’re here to take
your revenge for her. Congratulations, Rabb. You’ve
finally learned the way of the world."

Harm’s expression didn’t change, but she could hear
the grief behind his anger. "Why did she have to die,
Palmer? What did ending her life get you?"

"It got me this moment. That’s enough." There wasn’t a
trace of remorse in his words. Right then, Mac could
have sworn that he wasn’t even human. "Now are you
going to put down your gun so we can do this face to
face?"

"What if I said no?"

Without warning, Palmer lowered his weapon and fired
directly into his adversary’s left knee. Harm
collapsed with a cry of agony that tore at her soul,
and the gun fell from his hand.

"No!" she screamed, unable to repress the urge to run
to him. "You bastard!"

As Harm writhed on the floor, clutching at his ruined
leg, the killer shook his head. "You never learned
when to give up, Rabb. I said I’d break you, and I
have."

"Maybe," he managed to say, gritting his teeth against
the blazing pain. "Maybe not."

Palmer laughed. "Well, in any case, you’ve pretty much
outlived your usefulness. Or your entertainment value,
at least. I bet you never thought this would actually
happen, did you? The day when I finally stopped
screwing with your mind and decided to end it once and
for all?"

Slowly, Mac realized that her friend wasn’t helpless.
As the oblivious Palmer continued to gloat, Harm
reached down with a trembling hand, past the bloody
mess of his knee, and withdrew a small pistol from his
ankle holster. Come on, Harm, she willed him. Finish
this.

"Well, it’s been educational." Palmer returned his
full attention to his prey. "Give your partner my
best."

With the last of his strength, Harm raised his gun and
fired. The shot reverberated from the walls, and
Palmer staggered back, a ragged hole through his
forehead. His own weapon went off out of reflex, and
another bullet sliced through Harm’s upper arm. He
seemed to barely feel it, watching with no
satisfaction as the mercenary agent’s lifeless body
fell to the floor. His grip on the gun went slack as
blood began to soak his sleeve.

In a weak, tortured voice, he whispered, "It’s over,
Mac … I’m sorry I was too late."

She reached for him, but her hands passed through
unnoticed. "Hang on, sailor," she pleaded, desperate
to help him somehow. "You’re going to be okay. Just
hang on."

The excruciating pain was threatening to overtake his
consciousness, but he fought it back. "Webb," he
moaned, "Admiral … somebody …"

The gunshot had brought them running, and now both men
burst through the doorway. "Damn." Admiral Chegwidden
quickly measured up the situation. "Check Palmer. I’ve
got Harm." He dropped to one knee by his officer’s
side, tearing away the fabric to examine the wounds.
Upon seeing what was left of Harm’s knee, he recoiled.
"Oh, Christ."

"Palmer’s dead," Webb reported from across the room,
reaching for his radio. "Operative down. We need an
ambulance in here. Threat has been neutralized."

Harm was drenched with sweat and white with pain.
"Talk to me, Commander," A.J. demanded, expertly
binding his arm to slow the bleeding. "Stay with us,
all right?"

"Trying, sir – God, it hurts…"

The former Navy SEAL had seen his share of ugly
wounds, and it wasn’t a world he wanted to revisit. "I
know it’s bad, Harm, but you have to hang in there."
He grasped the younger man’s hand, feeling it tighten
involuntarily with each stab of pain. "Help’s on the
way. I promise."

A team of paramedics rushed in, and Mac stood by
helplessly as they worked on her closest friend,
knowing that even their best efforts wouldn’t be
enough. His life was not in danger, but it would never
be the same.

A.J. left Harm to the medics’ care and moved to stand
by Webb near the doorway. "He was ready to die for
this," the CIA operative mused quietly.

"Not for this. For her." The admiral’s dark eyes were
haunted. "Now we have to convince him that he’s ready
to live without her."

She barely heard them, watching as Harm surrendered to
unconsciousness. "Get me out of here," she pleaded.
Hope nodded, and their surroundings faded back to
white.

"It took four surgeries to reconstruct his knee," the
girl explained, empathy in her lyrical voice. "The
doctors still weren’t convinced he’d ever walk again.
He does walk, but … well, you saw the cane."

Mac was almost afraid to ask the question on her mind.
"Can he fly?"

"Not for the Navy. It took all of the admiral’s pull
just to keep him on active duty. He’s flown Sarah
once, because Bud and Harriet insisted. They had to
help him, and he can’t stand to be helped. He hasn’t
been up in three years."

"This can’t be real. Harm’s never given up on anything
in his life."

"Even someone as strong as your Harm has a breaking
point." Hope waved again, and Mac closed her eyes,
dreading what she’d see next.

**********

When she opened her eyes, they were standing in a
physical therapy room at Bethesda. By the dim light
shining through the windows, it looked to be early
evening, and across the room she could recognize her
friend on the treadmill. Harm walked slowly,
haltingly, leaning heavily on the guardrails for
support. His gray T-shirt was dark with perspiration,
and the brace on his left knee seemed to envelop most
of his leg. The image of weakness was shattering. Mac
looked away.

"How did he manage to live by himself through all of
this? The steps in his apartment – he probably
couldn’t drive …" She shook her head. "I suppose
that’s not really important now."

"Actually, it is somewhat significant. As it turned
out, he wasn’t alone." Hope inclined her head toward
the corner, where A.J. Chegwidden stood in jeans and a
sweater. "The admiral’s house is fairly accessible,
even for a wheelchair. It was difficult sometimes, for
both of them. But they became rather close in those
few weeks."

"I guess I’m not surprised. He’s been more of a father
than Harm’s ever known. Now that he really needs
someone …" The sentence was forgotten as Harm faltered
and collapsed against the rail. The therapist
immediately caught him, locking an arm around his
waist – he’s so thin! Hasn’t he been eating at all? –
and helping him into the nearby wheelchair.

"That’s enough for today," the young woman said
kindly. "You look like you could use some rest." He
only stared at the floor, his expression stormy. She
tried again. "Harm, it’s okay. You can’t bounce back
from something like this overnight. Give yourself a
chance." Still, he didn’t respond. With a glance
toward A.J., she left quietly. The older man pulled up
a chair beside him and waited.

Finally Harm spoke, and his voice rang with defeat.
"Don’t waste your time on me, Admiral. I’m not exactly
getting anywhere."

"That isn’t true, and you know it. Last week you
couldn’t even stand up on that thing." A.J. paused,
continuing cautiously. "We got a couple of new cases
today. Nothing big, but I could really use your help.
If I bring the files home tomorrow, will you take a
look at them?"

"What’s the point?"

"What’s the point? It’s your job, and sometime you
have to come back to your life."

Harm gave a short laugh, charged with bitterness. "My
life. That’s worth a lot these days."

"What, so you’re raising the white flag?" The JAG
hesitated for a moment, but decided to push further.
"God, wouldn’t Colonel Mackenzie kick your six if she
could hear that."

"Isn’t that the point? She would, but she can’t. Maybe
this is fate’s idea of justice."

A.J. steeled himself and forced a stern edge into his
voice. This is going to hurt, his eyes said plainly,
but it’s the only way to make you open up. "Suck it
up, Commander. Self-pity isn’t your strong suit."

"What the hell do you want from me?" Harm demanded
angrily, showing more unbridled emotion than Mac had
ever seen from him. "Do you really expect me to just
pretend it’s all fine, like I don’t ever think about
everything’s that’s happened in the last year and a
half? Forget it. I don’t do that anymore. I’ve lost my
touch for it." His outburst finished, he raised his
head, and there was only quiet anguish in his
expressive blue eyes. "Sir, I know it wasn’t my fault
– at least, I think I do. I know I couldn’t have saved
her. But knowing that doesn’t keep me from waking up
in the middle of the night and hearing her voice,
pleading for help …"

He’s talking about you, something in Mac’s mind said.
He’s suffering, and if what Hope said is true, it’s
because you gave up.

"Harm, listen to me," A.J. said firmly. "You got him.
It’s finally over. Palmer will never hurt another
person, and you’ll never have to look over your
shoulder again."

"Then why does it feel like he’s won?"

Was there any good answer to that? "Because he took
your best friend, and nothing can ease that. But
you’re still here, and if you don’t keep fighting, he
really will have won. There are other people that care
about you, remember? A lot of us lost a friend that
day, and we don’t want to lose another one. We need
you, Harm – not just as a friend, but also as an
officer. This battle didn’t begin and end with Palmer.
We will always need someone to go after the truth, and
no one does that better than you. But you have to come
back to us."

Harm closed his eyes. "I don’t know if I can," he
whispered.

"Then do it for Mac," the admiral told him. "You know
it would break her semper-fi heart to see you beating
yourself up. And you ought to know that she admired
you just as much as you did her. It would honor her
memory if you were to continue the duty that you both
performed so well. Could you do that for her?"

"I’d do anything for her." The simple honesty in that
statement nearly moved her to tears. "I just … I’m so
afraid that it won’t be enough."

"I know. But faith and courage have always been
enough. Especially for you." A.J. laid a hand on his
shoulder briefly. "You ready to go home?"

"Almost. Can I have a minute?"

"Sure. I’ll be in the hall." He rose and started
toward the door, but Harm’s tentative voice made him
pause.

"Admiral?"

He turned, with a half-smile. "Harm, I’m not here as
your C.O. I’m here as your friend."

"I know … Thank you, A.J. For everything."

"You’re welcome, son."

When he’d gone, Harm looked skyward, and she could see
that his eyes were bright with tears. "Help me, Mac,"
he said softly. "God, I wish I didn’t miss you so damn
much."

Her own tears threatening to overflow, Mac watched as
he pushed himself out of the wheelchair. With
determination etched across his face, he dragged his
fragile body onto the treadmill to try again. She tore
her gaze away, unable to bear the pain that marred his
handsome features with every step.

"I can’t do this anymore. I can’t." She rushed out of
the room, but instead of a hospital corridor, there
was only nothingness. When Hope followed, she whirled
on the angel. "Why are you doing this? Why do I have
to watch him hurting and be powerless to do anything
about it?"

"You can do something about it. That’s why you’re
here. Don’t you understand the power you have? Think
hard. What would have happened if you hadn’t died?"

"I – don’t know." Pacing the empty space, she ran a
frustrated hand through her dark hair. "Maybe Harm
wouldn’t have been so obsessed with going after
Palmer. Or maybe he still would have gone, but I would
have been there. Maybe I could have protected him
somehow. Is that what you want me to say?"

Hope wasn’t put off by her anger. "It’s never been
about what I want. You may be right, but there is
more. It is not his leg that holds him back from
life."

"Then what is it? Guilt? We all know that he never
could have gotten to me in time. He said it himself.
Then again, reality’s never kept him from blaming
himself before. If he could, I think he’d make Pearl
Harbor his fault. Usually I’m the one who convinces
him to let go of his guilt. We’ve played those roles a
hundred times, but it still hurts to see that doubt in
him. And now, it’s so much worse … " She shook her
head, hopelessness descending on her. "I don’t suppose
you could understand how it feels to see a friend in
such pain, but it’s torture. Please don’t make me go
on."

The girl’s porcelain-like face remained nearly
expressionless, but there was a kind of compassion
that resonated from her being. "Perhaps I could better
understand if you told me something of the Harmon Rabb
you remember. What does he mean to you?"

Startled by the blunt question, Mac answered almost
without thinking. "What does he mean to me?
Everything. We’ve been through some of the most
important events in our lives together. Sometimes I
don’t like to admit it, but he understands me – better
than anyone else I’ve ever known. I’ve saved his life,
and he’s saved mine, and if I had to trust anyone with
my life again, I’d choose him in a heartbeat."
Suddenly aware of what she was saying, she cast her
gaze downward. "That must sound strange right now."

"I don’t think so. You love him, don’t you?"

Her head jerked up, and she fumbled for a response.
"Are you asking if I’m in love with him, or – "

"Semantics are a waste of time. Do you love him,
Sarah?"

A million conflicting thoughts flew through her head;
times she’d wanted to deck him, times she’d wanted to
run away from him … times she’d wanted to fall into
his arms and let his touch soothe away the nightmares.
"Yes," she said simply. "I don’t think I was sure
before, but I am now."

"And he doesn’t know?"

"He knows enough. He knows that I asked him for a
chance once, and he couldn’t give it. He also knows as
well as I do that there are roadblocks between us."

"Is that how you see it?"

"How else could I see it? Damn it, are you an angel or
a shrink?"

Hope forced her to meet her gaze, and spoke gently.
"Regret can be a very powerful thing. If you were
never to see him again – if he were to slip away,
never knowing that you loved him – what would you
feel?"

"What kind of question is that? I can’t …" And then it
hit her. "You’re talking about Harm, not me. He’s
miserable because he loved me and I never knew? Is
that what you think?"

"As I said, I’m not a part of this. I’m only showing
you what is, or will be. Why is it so hard to
believe?"

"Because it doesn’t make sense. He doesn’t want me.
Maybe he thought he did, after I was gone, but it’s
not the same. If he really loved me, why would –"

"For the same reasons as you. You’re both afraid,
because you’ve both been hurt before. But because of
that fear, the road you travel now leads to this."
Hope studied her and sighed. "You still have doubts. I
suppose that’s only natural for an attorney. One last
piece of evidence, then. If my word isn’t enough,
perhaps his will be."

********

 

Almost before she could blink, Mac looked around to
see the familiar walls of the bullpen. The future
bullpen, she realized, seeing Harm’s name on the JAG’s
door. It was morning, and a few young officers were
chatting easily as they hung Christmas decorations
around the desks. After a few minutes, someone called,
"Captain on deck!" and everyone snapped to attention.

"As you were. Morning, all." Harm moved through the
room with a brisk, if uneven, stride. There was a
chorus of ‘good morning, sir’s from the staff. A
yeoman took his coat and cover, and he started toward
the inner office.

A petite ensign cleared her throat. "Captain Rabb?"

He paused. "Yes, Ensign Billings?"

"Sir, last month you said you’d do your rifle trick if
the office raised five hundred dollars for the Toys
for Tots program."

He raised an eyebrow. "My ‘rifle trick’? Don’t they
teach you kids anything these days? At the Academy,
the drill team used to be revered. We got more dates
than the football team." There were a few chuckles. "I
take it we met our goal?"

"Six hundred and twenty dollars. Pay up, sir."

"All right, all right. I’m a man of my word." A smile
flickered in his eyes. "If anybody so much as reaches
for a camera, I’ll have a reprimand in your record
before you can say ‘cheese’. I’d hate for the Navy
Times to get word of how I deal with crew morale
around here."

He stepped into the center of the room and raised his
cane from the floor. As the staff looked on,
fascinated, he snapped it smartly to his shoulder and
spun it with the precision of a career rifleman. The
‘weapon’ flew effortlessly in his hands, but he stared
straight ahead, the apparent ease of the routine
betrayed by his focus. At last he flipped the cane up
into the air, and it whirled rapidly before striking
his palm with a resounding smack.

The assembled crew clapped and whistled
appreciatively. "Who needs the Marines?" called
someone. From the back of the room, Gunny shouted
back, "Everybody!"

There were laughs all around, and the commanding
officer rolled his eyes. "Okay, show’s over. Staff
call at 0900."

As the crowd dispersed, Mac was left shaking her head
in awe. Only this man could turn his own disability
into a skill. "I never knew he could do that. I
thought only the Marines had drill squads."

"Not at the Academy. It’s open to all cadets. It’s
just that usually only Marines can cut it."

Just when she thought she knew all about him … "Why
are we back here?"

"We’re early, actually. I just thought maybe you’d
like to see the entertainment." With something vaguely
resembling a smirk, Hope gestured, and the sunshine
faded away into evening. Most of the staff had
vanished, but in her old office, a man and woman were
having a heated discussion. Mac recognized him as
Lieutenant Merrick, the one who’d pulled that very
Rabb-like stunt earlier. The young woman,
surprisingly, was an Air Force captain, and a pair of
silver wings gleamed on her blouse. Mac couldn’t
recall ever having seen a zoomie at JAG HQ before. She
listened as their voices grew in volume and intensity.

"Where do you get the nerve to question my authority
on my own damn base? The only reason I called you in
the first place was to avoid a jurisdictional issue
when the charges get filed. I gave you a heads-up, and
you yanked the floor out from under me."

"I didn’t have a choice," Merrick fired back. "If your
suspect is a Navy officer, I don’t care if you found
the body on the flight line or behind the Burger King.
I have to be able to interview him."

"So you had to come into my office and accuse me of –
"

"Now, this doesn’t sound like the spirit of the season
to me."

Both officers leaped out of their chairs. "Sir!"

"At ease." Harm stood in the doorway, sizing up the
newcomer. "Seems like I’ve seen you around, Captain –
?"

"Madigan, sir. Office of Special Investigations, at
Andrews."

"Of course. I’ve been meaning to ask you: how does an
OSI agent come by those wings?"

"The same way as you, sir. I flew Eagles with the
325th, out of Tyndall."

"Ever buzz NAS Pensacola while you were down there?"

Despite herself, the young woman smiled. "Once in a
while, sir."

"Good, because I have fond memories of buzzing your
friends." His pleasant demeanor never wavered as he
swiftly changed the subject. "I trust that the two of
you can work out this ‘jurisdiction issue’ without
coming to blows?"

"Yes, sir." "Sorry, Captain."

"Glad to hear it. Go home, you two. Tomorrow’s
Christmas Eve." He turned to leave. "Merrick, if
you’re not in a hurry, stop by my office on your way
out."

"Aye, sir."

Mac followed her friend back to the spacious office of
the Judge Advocate General. There was a fire glowing
in the fireplace, and Harm brought his coffee mug over
to the table before taking a seat in one of the
overstuffed chairs. Pain momentarily flickered across
his face, and she noticed that he was moving slowly.

"You okay, skipper?"

Merrick hesitated in the doorway, concerned. Harm
waved it off. "I’m fine, Lieutenant. But let me give
you a tip: if you ever have your knee reconstructed,
go south for the winter."

"Fair enough, sir."

"Come in, have a seat." He gestured to the other
chair, and the junior officer joined him by the fire.
"How do you know Captain Madigan?"

"She was one of my expert witnesses in the Baker
court-martial last year. We’ve been helping each other
out on inter-service cases, when the Air Force JAGs
are dragging their feet."

"You’re friends?"

"I’d like to think so, sir."

The captain nodded. "Not that it’s any of my business,
but why doesn’t she fly anymore?"

Merrick drew a deep breath. "Sir, her brother was
killed in a flight-test accident at Edwards a few
years ago. Kate – Captain Madigan – transferred out of
the fighter wing so she could challenge the findings
of the mishap board. She did it, too. She proved that
it wasn’t crew negligence that caused the fire. After
that she went into OSI, mainly because she wanted to
keep looking for the truth. She didn’t want any other
families to ever be left with the kind of questions
that her family had. But also – she’s an only child
now, and they learned the hard way that flying’s a
dangerous business. Her parents … she’s their whole
world. I think she didn’t want them to constantly be
worrying about her."

"Does she miss it?"

"Not as much as you’d think. Kate’s a good pilot, sir,
but she was born for this job. You should see her
handle a crime scene …" Merrick suddenly looked
uncomfortable. "Well, you get the idea. I really am
sorry about the argument, Captain. We’re both too
stubborn for our own good sometimes. It won’t happen
again."

"That’s all right. It’s hardly the first time there’s
been a difference of opinion in that office." Harm
smiled with a trace of wistfulness, and beside him,
Mac’s heart ached. "Actually, I’m about to overstep my
command authority here, so don’t feel you have to
answer this next question if you don’t want to." He
met the lieutenant’s gaze squarely. "Are you thinking
about being more than friends with her?"

The moment of shock that lit Sean Merrick’s face was
quickly damped. He forced an embarrassed smile. "Is it
that obvious?"

"Not unless you’ve been there."

Merrick didn’t catch the meaning as his mind whirled.
"It’s not unethical, sir. We’re not in the same chain
of command – we’re not even in the same service."

"Do you see me filing a reprimand? Besides, you
haven’t even talked to her about it yet, have you?"
The younger man only looked back at him in confusion.
"Humor me for a minute. Have you told her how you
feel?"

"It’s complicated, sir." A hard edge came into his
eyes then, and Mac began to understand why she was
there. "She’s had some bad relationships, and our
friendship would be on the line, and … forget it, sir.
You wouldn’t understand."

"You have no idea how well I understand," Harm said
quietly. "Merrick, you’re going to think I’ve lost it,
but I want to tell you something. Do you think you
could put up with a few minutes of story time from the
old man?"

"Captain, aren’t you one of the youngest JAGs in the
Navy’s history?"

"Good answer. I guess you know a little about me,
then?"

"You’re the C.O., sir. Everybody knows a little about
you. Two DFCs, all sorts of high-profile cases …"

"That’s what I figured. But my record isn’t me. Do you
think someone like me has many regrets, Lieutenant?"

"I don’t know, sir," Merrick said, surprised and
cautious to answer. "Does this have something to do
with what happened to your leg?"

"Not directly." Shadows lingered in his ice-blue eyes,
but his voice remained level. "There are a great many
things I think about, things I could have done
differently. I try not to spend too much time thinking
about what might have been, but there is one thing,
above all others, that I regret. And it’s not the fact
that I can’t walk across this room without help. The
man responsible for that also killed my partner."

"Lieutenant Colonel Mackenzie. I’ve heard about her,
sir. She must have been one hell of a Marine."

"That she was, Merrick. That she was." He was lost
somewhere in the past, and she was struck by how much
he’d seemed to age in such a short time. "She was
amazing. I’ve never known anyone so dedicated to her
duty and her friends. I don’t think there was anything
she couldn’t do if she tried. And she had my number
from the start. Sometimes I think she knew what I was
going to say before I did. She was always there when I
needed someone. In five years, she never once let me
down."

"You didn’t let her down, either," Merrick said
quietly, but the other man shook his head.

"Maybe not. Even hindsight isn’t always twenty-twenty.
But that isn’t what I regret. My regret is that she
died without ever knowing …" His voice faltered, and
Mac caught her breath.

"You loved her, sir."

"More than anything," Harm said softly, looking into
the fire. "I lived to see her face each day. When she
was there, it felt like all was right with the world.
But I couldn’t admit it to myself. My life, and hers …
well, the word ‘complicated’ hardly covers it. I
wasn’t prepared to depend on another person for
anything, even for a chance at real happiness. I
didn’t trust myself not to destroy everything we had.
There are a lot of reasons I could give you, but
they’d all be empty. The fact is, I had a hundred
chances every day to tell her how I felt, but I never
did. And then one day, time ran out." He met the
lieutenant’s gaze, sincerity radiating from every
corner of his being. "I loved her, and I let her
believe that I didn’t care. And for that, I will never
forgive myself."

Merrick was silent for a moment as the weight of the
captain’s words sank in. Harm continued, leaning
forward. "I’m not trying to play some melodramatic
scene here, and I’m not trying to be morbid. I’m just
telling you that things can happen, things you don’t
expect. And I’m asking you, Sean – if you feel even a
fraction of that, don’t hesitate. Please believe me.
The risk isn’t worth the regret." Breaking the spell,
he shook his head. "All right, that’s it. End of
lecture. Go see if she’s still waiting for you."

Stunned, the young officer took a moment before
answering. "I … thank you, sir. I guess I have some
thinking to do." He rose from his chair and came to
attention before turning toward the door. "Merry
Christmas, Captain Rabb."

"Merry Christmas, Lieutenant."

With that, he was alone again, except for the unseen
visitors who’d witnessed the entire conversation.
Harm’s expression grew distant as he stared at the
flickering flames, and for the first time, Sarah
Mackenzie saw what she’d been looking for in those
oh-so-familiar eyes. Maybe, in a way, it had been
there all along, but he made no attempt to hide it
now. Part of her wanted to feel joy – he loves me! –
yet she couldn’t tear her gaze away from him. His
anguish was utterly overwhelming, and she didn’t
bother to stop the tears from streaming down her face.

"It’s all right, Harm," she whispered, kneeling by his
chair. "I know why you were afraid – I was, too. But
I’m not afraid anymore, and I’m going to fix this. I
promise. Please hear me …"

"I’m trying, Mac," he said, and she wondered briefly
if he really had heard. "I’m still doing it for you. I
hope you know that."

"Harm, I – " As she reached out, the room began to
fade, and she was left with only the vast emptiness.

"Do you believe now?" Hope asked simply.

Did she? "Yes," she whispered, overcome by all she’d
seen and heard. "I do. Now please, for the love of
God, show me how to prevent this. Show me how to
survive."

"That, unfortunately, is a step I cannot take with
you. You must finish this battle on your own."

"What? Then how – "

"A word of advice, though," the angel continued
without missing a beat. "Escape is not your only
option. You may be able to bring help to you. Look
around you. A Marine will always find a way. Good
luck, Sarah."

"Wait!" Mac had the sensation of falling, and Harm’s
words echoed in her mind.

"The risk isn’t worth the regret …"

 

 

-- and she came to consciousness with a start. The
cold, damp warehouse had returned, and so had the
feeling of weariness that penetrated her entire body.
She tried to shake it off enough to focus on the
situation. Okay, back to reality. Think, Mackenzie.
She didn’t stop to wonder about whether her glimpse of
the ‘future’ had been real, or simply a dream, a
hallucination. None of it would matter if she couldn’t
get out of this.

What can I use? Mac scanned the room. The only piece
of furniture was a workman’s bench, too high to see
properly. She struggled to see over the top, and
caught sight of something familiar. In a corner of the
countertop, nearly hidden from view, Palmer had left
her purse. If he’d meant it as a taunt, the effort had
failed. She would find a way to get at it. There were
still many obstacles in her path, of course. But if he
hadn’t thought to take out her cell phone, there might
be a chance …

She stretched out flat along the floor, as far as she
could before the muscles in her handcuffed arms could
give way. Her feet just barely brushed the leg of the
bench, and she gathered all of her strength to kick at
the wooden table.

On the third kick, the purse tumbled to the ground.
Mac breathed a silent prayer of thanks, then hooked
the strap with her foot and pulled it slowly toward
her. It was relatively easy to dump out the contents,
which included her slightly-battered phone. She
awkwardly maneuvered the phone into her lap and stared
at it for a moment. How would she press the buttons?
Her nose? Her toes? Both were too clumsy to be
accurate on the tiny numbers. And even if she could
get it into her hand, she wouldn’t be able to speak
into it …

"A Marine will find a way," she repeated, attempting
to think critically despite the gray weight of fatigue
that threatened to close in.

And then she saw it; the emblem of the anchor, globe
and eagle affixed to her collar. Suddenly it all fell
into place. Thank you, Hope. She lowered her head and
yanked the insignia off with her teeth. Then,
carefully, she raised her knees so that the phone was
balanced only a few inches from her lips. Using the
pin, she leaned forward and pressed Memory-2. Please
be home …

The answer was immediate. "Commander Rabb."

Mac sagged with relief, letting the pin drop. "Harm,"
she said weakly, her head swimming. "Help …"

"Mac?" His tone rose sharply with concern. "I’ve been
trying to reach you for the last hour. Are you all
right?"

"No …" Damn it, why couldn’t she talk? "Palmer …"

There was a moment of stunned silence, and through the
tiny speaker she heard genuine fear in his voice. "Oh,
God. Mac, where are you?"

"Don’t know … warehouse …"

He was instantly back in control. "Okay. Don’t worry,
Mac. Just leave your phone on, and I’ll get it traced.
Hang on, ninja-girl. I’ll find you. I promise."

"Be careful … Harm …"

But he was already gone; probably halfway to Webb’s to
get the trace. She hoped desperately that he would
come armed. Palmer could be half a world away, or he
could be around the corner, waiting for his favorite
adversary.

She didn’t know how much time had passed. She couldn’t
even be sure if she’d been awake the entire time. When
the sound of a heavy metal door alerted her, she
scarcely had the energy to lift her head. "Mac?"
Harm’s voice called from somewhere far beyond, and for
the first time, she allowed herself a glimmer of hope.

Suddenly, he was standing there, as strong and
handsome and full of life as ever. Her heart soared.
Lowering his weapon, he went white at the sight of his
dear friend lying by a growing pool of blood. "Jesus
…"

In a split-second, he was at her side, deftly
manipulating the lock and freeing her from the cuffs.
"Talk to me, Marine," he ordered as he wrapped his
coat around her shivering form. "Webb’s on his way,
with half the Agency. Let me know you’re still with
me, all right?"

He gathered her into his arms, using his leather
watchband to stop the flow of blood from her arm. Mac
fought to speak, wanting to ease the worry she saw in
his features.

"How did you … do that?"

"What, the handcuffs? One of the most useful and least
talked-about skills you pick up at Annapolis." Harm
raised an eyebrow, but his smile was forced. "You’re
going to be okay, Mac. You just have to hold on."

He lowered her gently to the floor and pulled out his
own cell phone. "Clay, she’s here. Get an ambulance. I
don’t care if the building’s not secured yet. Get some
help in here now, or so help me God I’ll carry her to
Bethesda myself." He started to rise, but she clutched
fearfully at his arm.

"Don’t leave," she managed to say. "Please."

"Never," he replied solemnly, stroking her pale cheek
with a tenderness that was both surprising and
comforting. "I’m not going to let you go, Sarah."

Some part of her brain registered the fact that he’d
called her ‘Sarah’, for the first time in nearly a
year. She looked up into his striking blue eyes and
found the depth of emotion that that she’d seen in his
future self. Perhaps it hadn’t been entirely a dream,
after all…

In that second, there was a flicker of movement across
the doorway, and terror seized her. "Harm!"

He reacted well, sweeping up his sidearm and rolling
to one knee away from her in one fluid motion. But as
he turned toward the door, it was clear that Clark
Palmer had the advantage, and the other man didn’t
hesitate.

The gunshot echoed through the concrete fortress.
Harm’s body jerked back, and he crumpled to the ground
beside his partner.

"No!!" she screamed, straining to reach out to him. An
angry scarlet stain was spreading rapidly across the
lower right side of his shirt, and he raised a
trembling hand to the wound in a vain effort to slow
the bleeding. As she watched him struggle against the
all-encompassing pain, her own was temporarily
forgotten.

"I’m sorry," he choked out, drawing a ragged breath
that ended in a hideous cough. Tears of helplessness
and frustration stung her eyes. This wasn’t supposed
to happen! The similarities to the future
confrontation she’d witnessed were bizarre, but there
she’d known that his life wasn’t in danger. Now … Had
she brought him here only to die with her?

Palmer stood over them, shaking his head with a truly
wicked smile. "Well, that was satisfying. I typically
try to do things with a little more style, but there’s
something to be said for a good old nine-millimeter to
the gut. Supposed to be the worst kind of pain, next
to a point-blank shot to the knee, because it kills
you slowly. Then again …" He examined the small
trickle of blood at the corner of the injured
commander’s mouth. "What’s this? Did I scratch a lung?
Whoops. What do you know, Colonel – you might outlive
your flyboy-sailor after all."

Mac’s eyes never left Harm, willing him to keep
fighting. With great effort, he turned his head toward
her, and lowered his gaze to the floor between them.
She looked, and blinked in surprise. His weapon had
fallen, unnoticed, only two feet from her. Could she –
? She glanced back at Harm, and through the haze of
shock that had descended on him, she could see his
faith in her. You can do this. Just this one last
thing, and it will all be over.

She summoned the last of her strength as Palmer
continued, ignorant of the entire unspoken dialogue.
"I hope you’re ready to make your peace with the
world, Harmon Rabb. I’m sure you thought you were
invincible, but as we can all see, you soak up bullets
just as well as the next guy. Got any parting wisdom
you’d like to share?"

His attention seemed to be focused on Harm, giving her
the opportunity to reach surreptitiously for the gun.
Her sense of awareness was dimming with every second,
but there was no mistaking the sensation of her hand
closing around the cool metal grip. Just don’t miss.

"Actually, Palmer," Harm rasped, each breath becoming
more and more shallow, "there is one thing … I never
told you."

"Oh, really. And what’s that?" Palmer crossed his arms
over his chest – and Mac shot him cleanly through the
heart.

"Duck," she answered quietly, watching his body slide
slowly down the wall. With a long sigh, she let her
gun hand drop. "We got him, Harm – oh, God …"

Harm’s head lolled limply to the side, and his
expressive eyes had fallen closed. There was a bluish
tinge to his lips that turned her heart to ice. No.
This can’t be happening.

Clayton Webb burst through the door, weapon drawn, and
stopped dead with a quiet curse. As agents and
paramedics flooded the room, he regained his composure
and knelt down next to her. "Hang in there, Mac.
Everything’s going to be fine. You’re safe now."

The world was going dark all around her, and her body
felt numb. "Harm," she cried, but it came out a
whisper. "Clay, help him."

Webb obeyed, moving to Harm’s motionless form and
checking for a pulse. Finding it weak, he leaned in,
and the color drained from his face. "He’s not
breathing. Medic! Damn it, Rabb, this is what I meant
when I said the building wasn’t secure."

A pair of EMTs appeared and quickly took over. "Bag
him," one told the other tersely. "This guy needs all
the oxygen he can get." They placed a mask over his
ashen features and pumped it with a steady rhythm,
breathing life into him.

At last, it was too much. Mac’s last reserves were
drained, and she couldn’t bear to watch them racing to
save her friend – the man she loved. For possibly the
first time in her life, she was certain of how she
felt, and now she might never be able to tell him. Was
she to be cursed with the same regret that Hope had
shown her?

As the darkness closed in, her last conscious thought
was to wonder if she would even live long enough to
find out.

********

"Wake up, Mac. It’s all right."

The calm, steady voice that crept into her dreamless
sleep was vaguely familiar. Against the staggering
fatigue that seemed to hold her down, she dragged her
eyes open and slowly focused on her commanding
officer’s face.

A.J. Chegwidden smiled kindly, grasping her hand.
"Welcome back, Colonel. You’re in the hospital at
Bethesda. You gave us a pretty good scare, but you’re
going to be fine."

Her throat was dry, and it was a few seconds before
she could speak. "How long?"

"You’ve been here about a day and a half. They kept
you sedated to give your body some time to recover.
How do you feel?"

"Tired …" Memory came rushing back, and as the gunfire
echoed in her mind, tears began to slip from her eyes.
"Harm," she whispered. "Oh, god – he’s dead …"

Lost in her grief, she didn’t see the admiral’s look
of surprise.

"Mac – "

Was that his voice she heard in her head? Would she
now be hearing it forever, as he had?

"It’s my fault – if I hadn’t called him – I got him
killed and I – " She closed her eyes, wanting to shut
out the world.

"Honey," A.J. said gently, "I think you ought to take
a look at who’s got your other hand."

She hadn’t even realized that there was someone on her
left, but sure enough, there was a hand holding hers.
Slowly, Mac turned her head to see the hand’s owner,
and a sob escaped her lips.

"Surprise," Harm offered faintly.

He was sitting in a recliner next to her bed, wearing
hospital scrubs and hooked up to a nearby IV tree. He
was pale and exhausted, but alive. She stared at him,
unable to speak. He leaned forward, and they embraced
cautiously, both out of weakness and out of fear of
hurting each other further. Through the thin fabric,
she could feel the heavy bandages that encircled his
rib cage.

When he drew back, her eyes were shining with new
tears. "How – ?"

"Well, I’m working on … about seventy percent … lung
capacity right now." His speech was punctuated by
slow, labored breaths. "But it’s getting better … all
the time."

"The commander here is supposed to be in bed, too,"
the admiral added mock-admonishingly. "But even
half-drugged, he managed to con the doctor into
letting him stay down here. Amazing."

"I have priorities." Harm looked at her with a hint of
that perfect smile, and suddenly there was so much she
wanted to say to him.

"Harm …"

He put a finger to his lips. "Later. You need to
rest."

Unable to disagree, she nodded. "Will you stay?"

His gaze dropped to their entwined hands. "I keep my
promises," he replied softly.

Satisfied, she let her eyes close, and when she opened
them again, it was nearly dark outside. Feeling a
little more rested, Mac turned slightly to see Harm
fast asleep in the reclined chair. There were lines of
weariness and pain in his features that seemed to
deepen imperceptibly with each breath. Earlier, she’d
been so relieved to know he was alive that she hadn’t
fully realized the severity of his condition. Now,
though, she saw him without the façade of strength
that he’d put up for her benefit, and she understood
just how close it had been.

As if feeling her eyes on him, he stirred and looked
over at her. "Hey, Sleeping Beauty," he said lightly,
carefully pulling himself to a sitting position.

"Hey, yourself." She told herself not to be convinced
by the famous Rabb charm. "You need to find yourself a
bed."

"Bed, chair – close enough." He gave a slight shrug.

"Seriously, flyboy. You look like hell."

"You think you look much better?"

At that, she had to smile, and she realized that he
wasn’t trying to put up a front. He was hurting, but
he wasn’t going anywhere. "You sound better, though."

"My secret weapon. Short sentences." He gave a
lopsided grin, but it faded quickly. "You scared me
yesterday," he said quietly. "Don’t do that, okay?"

"I scared you?? For Christ’s sake …" She tried to keep
the tremble out of her voice, not entirely succeeding.
"Harm, you weren’t breathing."

"Yeah, so I heard. Funny, I’ve been shot at dozens of
times. I’ve just never been hit before. Those
paramedics know their stuff. Seven hours of surgery
later …" For a second, he looked away, and she
wondered if it still frightened him, as well. Then he
met her gaze. "I’m okay, Mac. We both are. That’s all
that matters."

"And Palmer’s dead?"

"Very. I still can’t believe it." A hard edge came
into his eyes, and she noticed it before he could try
to hide it from her.

"Harm?"

It was a moment before he replied, and this time it
was his voice that trembled. "Mac, I am so sorry. It’s
my fault that you … he only wanted to get to me."

"It is not your fault," she said firmly, reaching for
his hand. "He was a madman. You saved my life, sailor.
I don’t know how you found me so fast."

"Neither do I. I’ve never driven so fast in my life. I
just kept thinking about …well, you don’t want to
know."

"I think I already do know." Hope’s lessons were still
fresh in her mind, but everything was so jumbled up.
Had her subconscious manufactured that ‘future’? Had
it – and his feelings for her – been no more than a
dream? She’d probably never be certain about Hope, but
Harm was right in front of her, and after all that had
happened, she was no longer willing to take any time
for granted. "Harm?"

He moved closer to the bed. "Do you need something?"

"Yeah. I need you to listen to something, and just
trust me for a minute. Okay?"

"Don’t I always?"

"I guess you do. But I haven’t always given you the
same. When we were on the Hornet, and you saw the
ghost of that lieutenant – "

"Mac, I had a concussion."

"Well, maybe I should have believed you. I don’t know
if ghosts and angels fall under the same category,
though."

"I don’t think I understand."

She took a deep breath. "Harm, when I was unconscious,
before I called you … I saw some things. I don’t know
if it was a dream, or a hallucination, or whatever,
but it felt real. And I want to tell you about it."

He nodded, and it was clear that he would not question
her. "What did you see?"

"There was a girl named Hope who called herself an
angel. She said she was there to show me what the
future would be like without me. She wanted me to see
that I had to survive, because … " She trailed off,
uncertain.

"Because of what?" he asked quietly.

"Because of you." Seeing his surprise, she went on. "I
saw you, six years from now. You were the JAG, and you
were close to making admiral."

"Definitely a dream, then," he quipped, but she shook
her head.

"Don’t get your hopes up. There wasn’t much happiness
in what I saw. You’d gone after Palmer, and you got
him, but he shot you in the knee. I watched it happen,
and I couldn’t do anything to stop it … God, Harm, it
was awful. It took you months to learn to walk again,
and you had to use a cane."

"At forty-three? How depressing." There was very
little humor in his expression, though, and his next
words were utterly serious. "If you’re asking whether
I’d really do that, I don’t know if I can answer you.
I’d like to think I’m not the revenge type anymore,
but – Mac, he tried to kill my best friend in the
world. I hated him for that – I still do. If he’d
succeeded … I wish I could deny it, but I think I
would have done everything I could to send him
straight to hell. No matter what the cost."

"I think you’re right. But there was more to it. The
person I saw was consumed by regret, and not about the
cane. You were telling one of the lieutenants …"
Suddenly she didn’t know how to go on.

"Mac?"

Here goes nothing. She steeled herself and spoke
bluntly. "You told him that you loved me, and that
you’d always regret never telling me how you felt."

His face didn’t change, but if possible, he grew even
paler. "Really," he said, his voice nearly inaudible.

"Really." Not knowing what else to do, she rushed
ahead. "It’s not out of the blue, now that I think
about it. We’ve been tap-dancing around each other for
weeks now. Months, even. And I can’t take it anymore.
I’m tired of all this waiting and wondering, because
the fact is, if just one thing had happened
differently yesterday, either one of us might not be
sitting here right now. I can’t justify ignoring this
any longer. I want to get it all out in the open." She
lifted her chin, preparing for the blow. "So tell me
you don’t love me."

His head jerked up. "What?"

"Go ahead. Say you don’t love me, and we can end this
whole thing."

After an endless, torturous moment, he looked directly
into her eyes. "I can’t do that," he whispered.

She felt as if she couldn’t move. "Because you don’t
want to hurt me, or – "

"Because it’s not true." Suddenly the words came
tumbling out, the awkwardness compounded by his
halting speech. "I’ve spent a good part of the last
four years terrified of showing anyone what I really
felt, because I was sure it would only hurt you, in
one way or another. By revenge, like Palmer did, or by
my own selfish obsessions … I didn’t think you’d ever
believe me if I told you. I know you think I see
someone else when I look at you, but I don’t. I
haven’t for a long time. But I have so many ghosts …"
He turned away. "You, better than anyone, ought to
know that I’m not very good at letting people in."

"You’ve already let me in, Harm. That’s the whole
point."

"Yeah, I guess you’re right." He gave a short, nervous
laugh. "Then why is this so hard?"

"I don’t know. It’s hard for me, too. But we have to
do this, or we might never get another chance. I don’t
know when it happened, or how, but – I love you,
Harmon Rabb. I think you know that, and I think if you
have something to say, you should get it over with
before you lose your nerve."

A new light had come into his eyes when she said those
words, and she knew she’d broken through. "Okay, here
goes." She sat up straighter as he moved over to sit
by her on the bed. He reached over to take her hand,
and with a weak but certain voice, bared his soul. "I
do love you, Sarah. I love you more than I thought was
possible. For so long, you’ve been the best part of my
life, the reason I want to get up in the morning. I’ve
always been so careful not to let myself need anyone,
but now I can’t remember a time when I didn’t need
you. If you can ever forgive me for being so blind,
I’ll do whatever it takes to prove to you that I mean
what I’m saying. Even if I can’t believe I’m finally
saying it."

Tears welled up in her eyes, spilling over onto her
cheeks, and she clutched at his hand. He reached up to
brush the moisture away, his own eyes bright. "Oh,
please don’t cry," he whispered tenderly. "I don’t
ever want to make you cry. I promise you, Sarah, I’ll
make you happy. You deserve every happiness in the
world."

In all of Sarah Mackenzie’s thirty-four years, no one
had ever said anything so wonderful to her. "I’ll be
happy if you’re with me," she said softly. "God, Harm,
I love you so much!"

They met in an all-encompassing embrace, each holding
on to the other as a lifeline. In some way, maybe,
that’s what it was. Their lives had been moving
together since that first day in the Rose Garden, but
with everything that had conspired to keep them apart,
the fact that they had reached this moment at last was
nothing less than a miracle. She pressed her lips to
his, reveling in the rush of warmth. This time, there
was no question. He was kissing her and no one else,
and she wished it could last a lifetime.

After a minute, though, he broke away, but he still
held her close. "Go easy on me, jarhead," he said
faintly. "Some of us aren’t breathing so well these
days." He lifted her hand to his chest, and she
laughed shakily as she felt the rapid beat of his
heart.

"So what do we do now?" she asked hesitantly. "How do
we tell the admiral?"

"You just did."

A.J. stood in the doorway, not bothering to hide his
grin at the stricken expressions of his officers.
"Sorry for the bad timing. I was just coming by to
check on you two. I see you’re both doing much better
than I could have hoped. If you need me, I’ll be in
the hall, figuring out a way to keep my two best
lawyers in the same office."

And he was gone again, almost before either had
realized what he’d said. Harm met her gaze and smiled,
that perfect flyboy smile that she now knew was saved
just for her. "I’m not sure life could get any better
right now," he said quietly.

Her head was spinning. In an instant, her world had
changed forever. She had witnessed the very depths of
despair, and then somehow reversed their fortunes – or
had she? She still didn’t know if what she’d seen had
been real; but there was only one way to find out.
"Harm, can I ask you something a little strange?"

"Anything, love."

Such an incredible sound …"Were you on the Academy
drill team?"

He laughed, surprised. "Now who told you about that?
Keeter? If you ask me, he was just jealous. He had
lousy focus, for a pilot. Besides, we got more dates
than – "

" – than the football team," she finished with him,
beaming. He nodded, confused, but she only closed her
eyes and offered a silent prayer of gratitude to her
angel. "It’s enough to make a girl start believing in
miracles."

"Well, it’s certainly the time for it." He smiled and
tightened his hand around hers. "In a few hours, it’ll
be Christmas."

"Is it Christmas Eve?" Her hand flew to her mouth as
she remembered. "Oh, Harm – the Wall, your father – "

"It’s all right," he soothed, shaking his head. "When
we get out of here, we’ll go together. And I’ll tell
him about the best Christmas of my life."

At that, her first reaction was sadness, for the pain
that Christmas always brought to him. Then she
realized that she felt the same. The one thing that
she truly wanted was right in front of her, and no
amount of regulations, old ghosts, or even bullets
would be enough to destroy their happiness. Somehow,
the faith that she’d lost so long ago was finally
restored.

"Is this really happening?" she asked softly.

"I can only hope." She smiled at his choice of words.
Hope, indeed.

Carefully, he rose from the bed and reached down to
help her up. "Come on."

They moved slowly to the window, leaning on each other
for support in more ways than one. As she laid her
head against his shoulder, he wrapped his arms around
her and brushed a feather-light kiss against her
cheek. "Merry Christmas, Sarah. Here’s to new
beginnings."

There was a light snow falling outside the window,
dusting the street with a shimmer of white. She’d
never cared much for snow before, but now she watched
the tiny flakes with a new fascination. The snow was
the first thing of beauty she would see in this new,
perfect life, and she wanted to capture it forever.

**THE END**