Title: Under the Stars
Author: StarTrails
Summary: Set during season 8, Bud's injury affects Harm and Mac much more 
strongly than TPTB would have us believe.  The upstanding Cdr. Rabb takes a 
little fall, but as always, his relationship with Mac gets him through.
Rating: PG-13 for mild violence and language.
Spoilers: Anything through Critical Condition (Season 8 premiere)
Disclaimer: I do not own JAG or the characters pertaining to it.  No profit 
is being made from this.  Also, this is a work of fiction, and any 
resemblance to actual people or events aboard the USS Curtis-Wilbur is 
purely coincidental.
Feedback: If you liked it, I'd love to know!  StarTrails@hotmail.com
Notes: Text preceded by *** is a dream!


Under the Stars


***Harm and Mac had been interviewing some of the locals, trying to get any 
information they could about Kabir and his whereabouts.  Even with Mac's 
fluency in Farsi, they added almost no new knowledge to what precious little 
they and Webb had already gathered.  They were riding in a humvee, headed 
through the desert back toward camp.  Harm was at the wheel.

"Harm! Lookout!" Mac cried.

Harm swerved the vehicle sharply to the right, missing a goat by mere 
inches.  Suddenly, there was a loud explosion underneath them and Mac was 
thrown from the humvee.  Harm watched in slow motion as his partner's body 
flew several feet through the air.  Just as she landed on the parched 
ground...***

Harm jolted up in his bed.  His heart was racing and his body was covered in 
a sheen of sweat.  He fought for his breath, the quick gasping a match for 
the pounding in his chest.  He looked at the clock on his nightstand.  0347. 
  Damn.  Another night of sleep shot to hell.  He'd always found it easier 
to function on no sleep at all than on just two or three hours, and now, 
thanks to this recurring dream - or nightmare, he corrected himself - that 
was all he would get tonight.

It always took him a few minutes to look around the room and reassure 
himself that he was in his own apartment, in the wonderful U.S.of A., and 
not in a minefield in a country most Americans probably couldn't have even 
found on a map a year ago.  He didn't trust himself to get out of the bed 
until he was certain of where he was, and of what was real.

After calming down a little, he walked to his bathroom.  He splashed cold 
water onto his face and looked at himself in the mirror.  The circles under 
his eyes were getting bigger and darker, and his skin more sallow every day. 
  He looked and felt like crap, and he wasn't sure how much longer he could 
go on like this.

He'd been having this nightmare, or some close variation of it, for almost 
three weeks.  So far, strong coffee and a growing addiction to espresso had 
helped him survive the days.  But it was the nights he had come to dread.  
It was bad enough that the dreams interrupted his sleep, but some nights, 
they prevented it altogether.  He was so afraid they'd haunt him again that 
sometimes he forced himself to stay awake all night.  Being sluggish at work 
was much more bearable than watching Mac fall on a land mine.  Well, 
actually, he always woke up a second before the impact.  It was the one 
thing he was grateful for.  He'd heard stories that if you die in a dream, 
you die in real life.  That was why if you dream you're falling from a 
building, you always wake up the moment before you hit the ground.  Harm 
didn't know what would happen if he didn't wake up before Mac landed, and he 
prayed he would never have to find out.

After drying his face, he headed to his kitchen and poured himself a glass 
of ginger ale.  It was what his mother used to give him when he had an upset 
stomach, and to this day, it still helped a little.  Even if it was mind 
over matter, it stopped his stomach from doing flip-flops inside his body.

He turned on a small lamp in the corner of the living room, giving him just 
enough light for him to see what he was doing.  Some nights, he'd just lay 
in bed all night staring at the ceiling.  Sometimes he'd read.  And then, 
other times, like tonight, when he couldn't get into his plane and fly away 
from everything, he did the only other thing that ever made him feel better 
- he listened to the tapes from his father.

Soothed by the sound of Harmon Rabb Sr.'s voice, and his stomach calmed by 
the soda, he stretched out on the black leather sofa and watched the hours 
tick by.  Sad, he thought, that at almost forty, he still relied on his 
mother and what was left of his father to comfort him when he was scared.  
There was something else that might've done the trick, especially on nights 
like this, but he couldn't be sure, since he had never had it before - Sarah 
Mackenzie, warm and alive, protected in his arms.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

***"You know you can be infuriating sometimes?" Mac said.

"I know," Harm answered.  "Now go."  He had one foot placed firmly atop the 
ammo box from the humvee they were driving back to camp.  Mac had been 
driving, and when she swerved to avoid a goat on the road, they had landed 
in the middle of a minefield.  They were both lucky to still be alive.

They were counting on the weight of the ammo box to give Harm enough time to 
jump to the other side of the humvee.  Mac watched as he threw the water 
canteen into the vehicle and steeled himself to make his move.  They 
exchanged one last look and she took cover - not ducked - she reminded 
herself and smiled.  Anything to make the gravity of their situation more 
bearable.

Harm stood on top of the ammo box and leaped.  Mac heard a blast and saw a 
small fireball...***

She awoke violently, bolting upright in her bed.  She caught her breath and 
rubbed her eyes, trying to get a sense of where she was.  Not again, she 
thought.  She had to glance at the clock to see what time it was.  0425.  
This recurring horror had thrown off her internal clock and that unnerved 
her almost as much as the dream itself.  They had been to so many places in 
the past few months that when she woke up, sweaty and disoriented, she 
didn't know if she needed the time for Falls Church, Kandahar, the Seahawk, 
or the Guadalcanal.

At least tonight the dream was fast.  Some nights it played in slow motion, 
every detail magnified, the seconds seeming like hours.  Always though, she 
woke up before knowing if Harm had made it over the humvee.  She supposed 
not knowing at all was better than him not making it, and her having to 
witness it over and over again every night.

She got up and took her blanket with her out to the living room.  She got 
comfy on the sofa and flipped on the TV.  This had become a routine, so she 
was already painfully aware that there was nothing on but mindless repeats 
and infomercials.  She didn't mind, though; it was enough just to have 
another voice in the room and not feel so alone.  Sometimes, she'd read a 
book or do a little cleaning, anything to keep her mind occupied.  She had 
even tried being her own drill instructor, yelling at herself in the mirror 
that she was letting bad dreams take control, that she was a disgrace to the 
Corps.  That a compost heap could make better use of the oak leaves than she 
could.  But even that didn't help.  After all, bad dreams had penetrated her 
sleep for as long as she could remember, Marines or not.  This was 
different, though.  In those other dreams, she feared for her own safety, 
but always knew she'd be okay somehow.  This time, it was Harm's life that 
hung in the balance, and there was nothing she could do to help him.

These days, there were really only two things that could make her feel 
better, neither of which she could have: a cold drink of...*anything,* or 
her partner's strong arms wrapped around her.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

0748 LOCAL
JAG HQ
FALLS CHURCH, VA

As Mac approached her office, she noticed Harm already at his desk.  She 
widened her eyes in pretend shock.

"You're here early.  What gives?  You gunning for a quick promotion?"

"Very funny," Harm replied dryly.  "I've got a lifetime before I make 
Captain."

"Okay, but you still didn't tell me why your chronically late six is in here 
at..." she glanced quickly at her watch, "0748."

Her action did not go unnoticed.  "Mac?  You all right?"

"Fine, why?"

"Uh, no reason.  You want some coffee?"

"Want some?  Do I *want* some coffee?  Harm, I *need* it.  I want Starbucks 
to hook me up to an IV."

Harm closed the file he was working on and added it to the stack on his 
desk.  Everyone was always a little bit behind at JAG, but with Bud out for 
a while, the other lawyers all had to pick up a few extra cases.  It had 
been tough, but being up all night so often meant that at least he'd been 
getting an early start on his workload each day.

They walked to the breakroom together, past Lt. Singer's desk.  She was 
always there early, like an anti-vampire.  As soon as the sun rose, her 
powers went into full effect and she'd be out for blood all day, until night 
came and she crawled back into whatever cave she'd come out of.

"Good morning Sir, Ma'am," she chirped cheerfully.

"Lieutenant," they said simultaneously.  God, Mac thought, she must be the 
poster child for peppy morning people.  Harm's thought was slightly darker - 
she could work as many hours as she wanted to.  As long as she played the 
office gossip and stirred up trouble, she'd stay a Lieutenant forever.  Even 
the Admiral didn't need his reading glasses on to see every despicable move 
she made.  In fact, if it would prevent her from ever, *ever* becoming the 
first female JAG, AJ was sure he could will himself to live and work 
forever.

In the breakroom, the coffeepot was empty.

"How nice of Singer to think of anyone but herself," Mac commented.

"She probably starts her mornings with a glass of blood, or roots and herbs, 
or whatever witches put in their big, black cauldrons," Harm suggested.

Mac held up the coffeepot.  "You want to make it or should I?"

"You do it.  I'm afraid I may need some liquid Marine to get me through the 
day."

Mac's eyebrows went up.  "Bad night?" She went about filling the pot with 
water and putting the grinds in the filter.

"Yeah.  I haven't been sleeping very well lately."

"You want to talk about it?"

Harm looked at her for a moment, while the sound and smell of the brewing 
coffee filled the room.  He shook his head.

"Okay, but if you change your mind..."

"Yeah.  Thanks, Mac."

When Harm was settled back at his desk, double strength coffee and all, it 
occurred to him that Mac didn't look like she'd been getting much sleep 
either.  He knew she had never slept well, but it didn't usually show like 
it was beginning to.  He was concerned about her, but he shrugged it off for 
now.  It had been a few weeks since Bud's injury, and everyone at JAG had 
been working on overdrive since then.  And besides the workload, one of 
their closest friends had almost died and was facing a long, long time of 
physical and emotional rehabilitation.  He and Mac were both strong, capable 
military officers, but they were only human.  Maybe everything was finally 
catching up to her, Harm thought, just like it was him.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

0830 LOCAL
SAME DAY
JAG HQ
FALLS CHURCH, VA


Everyone was seated around the conference table with Admiral Chegwidden at 
the head for the staff meeting.  Harm and Mac both had steaming cups of 
coffee in front of them, already their second.

"Okay people," the Admiral said matter of factly.  "First order of 
business."  His tone softened, and he looked at Harriet.  "How's Lieutenant 
Roberts?"

"Good days and bad, Sir," she answered.  "Thankfully, more good than bad 
lately."  She paused to think before continuing.  "Everyone's been so good 
to us with stopping by, or dropping off home cooked dinners."  She scanned 
the faces of her fellow officers, but conspicuously avoided Singer.  "I 
don't know how we would've made it even this far without all of you."

"You give him my best, Lieutenant," Sturgis told her.

"I think that goes for all of us," the Admiral added.  He delegated cases to 
the rest of the attorneys before turning to Harm and Mac.  "Colonel, you get 
an easy one this time.  A Lieutenant j.g. Michael Brodeur on the USS 
Curtis-Wilbur has been accused of instigating a fight that landed the ship's 
XO in the hospital with two broken ribs and left several other crewmen with 
assorted injuries."

"Any more details, Sir?"

"Yes, Colonel.  He was high on speed at the time. Commander, you will 
defend."

Harm's eyes went wide. "Sir, with all due respect-"

"Don't waste your breath, Commander.  Apparently, even drug addicts are 
entitled to a good defense."  AJ kept the rest of his response to himself - 
that it would do Harm's ego some good to lose now and then.  "You'll both be 
going to Yokosuka in a few days to interview the parties involved."

"Aye, Sir," Harm said, and he took his copy of the file from Mac.  The work 
had been assigned, but everyone remained at the table.

"People," the Admiral said, "I know I've got a pretty face, but try and tear 
your eyes away.  The clock is ticking."

Everyone stood, and after a chorus of aye ayes and yes Sirs, they filed out 
of the room.

"Lieutenant Simms," AJ called.

"Yes Sir?"

"Walk with me to my office."

"All right, Sir."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Harm was headed back to his office when Gunny stepped into his path.

"Sir?"

"Hey, Gunny, what's up?"

"Can I ask you something, Sir?"

"Shoot."

"Not out here."  Gunny pointed to Harm's office.  The two men went inside 
and Gunny shut the door behind them.  "Is something going on between you and 
the Colonel?"

Harm's face wrinkled in confusion.  "Why would you ask that?"

"Well, it's just that...Lieutenant Singer said something about both of you 
looking very tired, and--"

Harm cut him off. "Gunny, do you believe everything you hear?  If you trust 
a word Singer says, you probably believe Elvis is gonna sing at the Kennedy 
Center tonight after he comes back from Mars in his spaceship."

Gunny laughed.  "Yes, Sir. Sorry."

"No problem.  And Gunny, if something ever *does* happen between me and Mac, 
I doubt we'd be able to hide it from anyone here."

Gunny went back to his desk and Harm resumed his own work.  Singer had a big 
mouth and no ethics.  He was certain the combination would bite her in the 
six someday.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

AJ and Harriet approached his office.  "Tiner, get the Lieutenant a cup of 
coffee, would you?"

"Yes Sir." Tiner jumped up from his desk.

"Thank you, Admiral, Tiner, but I'm fine."

"You sure?"

"I'm sure, Sir."

AJ closed the door behind him.  "Have a seat, Lieutenant."  He sat next to 
her, rather than behind his desk.  He always hoped it made him appear more 
like AJ, the friend, instead of the Admiral and former SEAL.

"Harriet?"

"Yes, Sir?"

"Well, you've told us all how Bud's doing.  Now how about you?"

"Sir?"

"How are *you* getting along?"

She sighed.  "Permission to speak freely, Sir?"

"Absolutely."

"I appreciate what everyone's doing, I really do.  I meant what I said about 
it being a big help when people bring food by and talk to Bud and get his 
spirits up."

"But?"

"Well, Sir, what Bud and I need are fewer tuna casseroles and balloons and 
more time and understanding."

"Go on," he encouraged.

"It isn't easy to smile and act positive so often.  It's like every time the 
doorbell rings, I have to put on some kind of show, and poor Bud, he has to 
smile and pretend like nothing's wrong, like everyone in the world is 
missing half a leg, and that's fine when people visit, but it just makes it 
worse after they leave because...I don't know, maybe it's like drugs - the 
higher the high, the harder the fall, and then I'm the only one who's left 
to handle--" she paused mid-sentence and buried her face in her hands.  "Oh, 
Sir, I'm so sorry.  That was completely inappropriate."

AJ spoke softly.  "Nonsense, Harriet.  I asked for it, and I'm glad you were 
honest."

"But Sir, I shouldn't have gone on like that.  I work here.  This is my job, 
and my personal life should stay at home."

"That's a commendable thought, Harriet, but I am giving you my permission in 
advance to lock yourself in the ladies' room and stomp your feet and scream 
your head off whenever you need to.  And, hell, if there's someone in there, 
you can use my office.  Lord knows I do plenty of that in here myself."

Harriet giggled and wiped away a tear before it could trickle down her 
cheek. "Yes Sir, thank you, Sir."  She stood up to leave.

"Harriet," AJ began, "you are a *fine* Naval officer, and an even finer wife 
and mother, and you deal with this in whatever ways you need to.  Don't be 
ashamed or afraid to ask for help.  That is an order.  Because you can let 
your mind wander and let your work pile up around here now and then, but if 
I find out that there was something more I could've done for you and you 
didn't ask, *that's* when you'll be in real trouble." He reassumed his 
commanding voice.  "Is that understood, Lieutenant?"

Harriet snapped to attention.  "Yes Sir! Understood, Sir!"

AJ smiled at her.  "Good. Dismissed."

"Aye aye, Sir.  Thank you, Sir."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

1300 LOCAL
SAME DAY
JAG HQ

Harm and Mac were seated outside JAG headquarters, enjoying the Indian 
Summer that made the October day sunny and mild.  Mac was eating a hot dog 
while Harm had brought a homemade spinach salad for himself.  Mac watched as 
Harm swallowed two pills before starting in on his food.

"What are those?" she asked.

"Just vitamins."

"I see you have to take two of them just to keep up with me."

"Ha ha.  But I'll tell you what's not so funny - trying to defend a drug 
addict who nearly got his XO killed."

"I haven't had a chance to look at the file yet, but I'm sure we can cut a 
deal."

"We might have to.  This case is over before it even begins.  All he has to 
look forward to is hard labor and a serious rehab program courtesy of Fort 
Leavenworth."

"Harmon Rabb, are you conceding victory?"

He rolled his eyes.  "Dream on.  Just keep eating your processed, 
dead...dead...what the hell kind of animal do they put in hot dogs, anyway?"

Normally, Mac would have a snappy comeback at the ready, but she was too 
focused on the "dream on."  That was the last thing she wanted to do.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A FEW DAYS LATER
U.S. NAVAL STATION
YOKOSUKA, JAPAN


The guard waited outside while Harm interviewed his client.  Lt. Brodeur was 
standing at attention when Harm entered the room.

"At ease, Lieutenant."

"Thank you for coming all the way out here, Sir."

"Don't thank me.  I'm not here by choice.  Orders are orders."

"Yes Sir, but I did hear you're the best."

"I'm good, Lieutenant, but I'll tell you right now, I'm not good enough to 
get you off for this, and quite frankly, I'm not sure I want to."

Brodeur was silent.

"Have a seat," Harm directed.  "I have a file an inch thick of eyewitness 
accounts to this incident.  Now I want to hear it from you.  And don't leave 
anything out; the test results from the time of your apprehension leave no 
question that there was methamphetamine in your system."

"Yes sir."

"That stuff is dangerous enough all by itself.  What could possibly possess 
you to use it when on active duty on a *guided missile destroyer?*"  Harm 
had no patience for the young man, and let it show from the first moment.

"Well, Sir, as I saw it, it was the only way."

"The only way for what?"

"To stay alert. To keep on top of my duties.  They've got me on watch all 
night long and then I have a full day of working and studying for my Officer 
of the Deck certification."

"I hope you've got something better than that, Lieutenant.  *Everyone* on a 
ship has a grueling schedule.  Most do just fine on coffee and cold 
showers."

"With all due respect, Sir, it's not that simple.  I know everyone here is 
maxed out for sleep and gives 100 percent anyway.  But the XO, Commander 
Curtis, he works me harder than anyone else."

"Why would he do that?"

"I don't know, Sir, but it's like he's got some kind of personal vendetta 
against me.  And I can't think of anything I did to deserve it.  He's got me 
doing everything, and I do mean everything.  From washing dishes and 
cleaning the deck to mastering more navigation to standing watch three 
nights in a row.  No one else here goes 72 hours without at least a little 
sleep."

Harm was confused.  "Why does he have an officer doing chores like dishes?"

"I wish I knew, Sir.  But I had no choice.  If I didn't do whatever he said 
to, I'd be disobeying orders."

"And you thought popping crank and starting a barroom brawl on your ship was 
a better solution?"

"I wanted to be a good officer. I thought I could handle it, Sir. At first, 
it was just a little bit now and then.  But it did the trick so well that I 
started taking a little more, and after a while, I needed more and more just 
to get through the day."

Harm sighed.  He thought to himself that Mac would be a better defense 
attorney for this kid.  At least she could understand the addiction side of 
it.  "Where did you get it from?" Harm hoped he didn't have someone sending 
it to him from home.  That alone would be a federal crime for mail fraud.

"Down in Tokyo, Sir.  It's easy to get if you speak a little Japanese."

Harm shook his head.  It was no wonder there were mixed opinions of American 
servicepeople overseas.  They worked hard as hell, but partied just as hard.

During the rest of the interview, Lt. Brodeur told Harm about the fight, how 
he hadn't slept in 48 hours, had just come off his watch at 0600 and the XO 
had ordered him to clean the bathrooms.  The young Lieutenant had snapped 
and before he knew it, several people were involved, punches flying in all 
directions.

Before leaving, Harm promised Brodeur he would find out what he could about 
the XO's attitude, but he also made it clear that whatever the XO's 
reasoning, it didn't justify using illegal drugs.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

2230 LOCAL
BASE OFFICERS' QUARTERS


Harm was at a loss.  For the past hour, he had gone over Lt. Brodeur's 
service record.  He was in the top 15% of his class at the Academy, ran 
track, and was fluent in French.  Not one negative comment in the entire 
thing.  Not exactly the poster boy for Leavenworth.  There had to be more to 
this, he knew, but he'd tackle it in the morning.  Right now, he was hoping 
the change of location would grant him a good night's sleep.  Maybe the bad 
dreams hadn't followed him to the other side of the world.

In the room next door, Mac was reading a romance novel.  Okay, to be honest, 
it was smut.  Hey, a girl's entitled, she reasoned.  Especially if that 
girl's engagement had ended more than a year ago, and she hadn't been on a 
decent date since.

She wasn't too concerned about the Brodeur case.  It seemed pretty open and 
shut.  Boy joins Navy, boy gets stationed on ship, boy can't handle the 
pressure, boy flips out, boy does time.  Not the first time someone cracked 
under the responsibility, and just as surely not the last.

She was exhausted from the long flight and the day's interviews.  She was 
afraid to go to sleep, but thought maybe the new scenery might keep the 
nightmares at bay.  She put her book on the nightstand and turned off the 
lamp.

***The dirt rained down on her after the mine went off.  She waited a few 
seconds for it to subside before realizing Harm wasn't on the other side 
with her.

"Harm? Harm!" she screamed.  She ran to the other side of the humvee and 
found Harm covered in blood, his left arm missing at the elbow.  "Oh God! 
Harm! Harm, you're going to be all right.  Just hold on!"  She took off her 
camouflage jacket and wrapped it around him.  Even though they were in the 
desert, he had lost a lot of blood and was cold with shock.

"Somebody help us!" she cried.  She squeezed Harm's right hand in hers.  
"Stay with me, Harm.  Don't you dare close your eyes!  I've got to get you 
out of here...get out of here...get out of here."***

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Harm was right.  His familiar nightmare was left at home. Unfortunately, a 
new one found him here.  This time, it began just after Mac's body hit the 
dusty ground.

***"Mac! MAC!  Oh my God, Mac, are you okay?"

She wasn't responding.  Her uniform was ripped to shreds and there was blood 
everywhere.  He could see so much shrapnel embedded in the skin all over her 
body.  He took her hand.  "Dammit, Mac, answer me!"  Her eyes stared blankly 
at the sky.  She wasn't blinking.  "Where's my strong Marine?  Don't you 
dare leave me, Mac.  I'll get you out of here."***

Distantly, Harm made out faint cries.  "Get out! Get out," he heard.  He 
awoke sweating and catching his breath.  He could still hear the cries.  He 
threw his blankets aside, and still clad only in his boxers, he ran out of 
his room and knocked on Mac's door.

"Mac!" he yelled, pounding his fist on the door.  "Mac, are you all right?"

Mac woke up to the banging sound.  Her heart was racing and her eyes were 
teary from the dream.  She was sleeping in a white tank top and flannel 
pajama bottoms, and didn't bother finding a more modest top before running 
to the door.

Harm was a sight to behold.  His well muscled chest heaved up and down with 
his rapid breathing, and Mac had never before seen such an intense look in 
his blue-green eyes.

"Oh Mac!" he sighed, and fell into her, hugging her in relief.  "Thank God."

Mac returned the hug, a little confused, but not about to deny herself her 
partner's strong body against hers.  Harm pulled away after holding her 
tightly for a few seconds.

"Harm, what's going on?"

"You tell me.  I heard you screaming."  He shut her door behind him.  
Hopefully they hadn't disturbed any other officers who might be staying 
there.

"Oh, that.  It was just a dream.  Don't worry about it."

"Just a dream? Mac you sounded really scared.  I thought somebody was 
attacking you."

"Just my own subconscious, I guess."

"You want to tell me about it?"

"No," she said right away.  "I'm a big girl, Harm.  I can handle a bad 
dream."

"If you say so, Ninja Girl."  Harm sat down in a chair near the bed.

"I do say so.  And I'm sorry I woke you."

"I wasn't sleeping," he lied.  "I tossed and turned for a while, and finally 
gave up and looked at the Brodeur file again."

"Anything I should know, counselor?"

Harm stared at her but didn't say anything.

"Harm, what is it?  You're holding something out on me."

He sighed.  "It just doesn't make any sense. He's got a spotless record.  
Looks like a real promising career.  Why risk it all for a lousy high?"

"Well, he's not the only good officer who ever snapped.  After all the cases 
you and I have seen, we know that better than anyone."  Mac passed Harm a 
spare blanket.  "Here, cover up.  I don't want to risk you using your good 
looks to persuade the prosecution into a deal."

"Good looks, huh?"

"Don't dwell on it, Commander.  I'm still half asleep and don't know what 
I'm saying."

Harm wrapped the blanket around himself.  "Seriously, Mac.  There's 
something fishy about this case, and I can't put my finger on it."

"What do you mean?"

"It's Brodeur.  I know I only spent a little while with him today, but call 
me crazy, I like the kid."

"And you've always been a good judge of character."

"Yeah.  He was well spoken, respectful, and above all, he was completely 
straight with me, which we both know is pretty rare in a defendant.  It's a 
big help when your client tells you the whole truth from the beginning."

"What else?"

"Well, even about the drugs.  He was one-hundred percent honest.  He 
genuinely didn't intend for anything bad to come from taking them.  We have 
the blood tests, but still, he could've blamed someone else, could've said 
he'd been set up, that somebody spiked his coffee or something.  He's taking 
responsibility for what happened, and I respect that about him."

"And what happened - a few crewmen got roughed up.  But what *could* have 
happened?  He's lucky someone wasn't killed, or that he didn't accidentally 
fire some missiles.  Everyone on that ship has to do things they don't want 
to, and everyone gets an ass chewing now and then.  If he can't handle it, 
then he doesn't belong in the Navy."

"Mac, it's more complicated than that.  An officer doing the dishes?  
Scrubbing the head? Going three and four days on no sleep?  Something's not 
right."

"Okay, maybe not.  We can look into it in the morning, but Harm, you know 
that still wouldn't justify using drugs, and any jury would agree with me."

Harm pressed his hands into his face.  "I know.  It's just that...that..."

"What?"

"Well, I just don't think it's the worst thing in the world, okay?"

Mac was incredulous.  "Are you nuts?!  Who are you and what have you done 
with Harmon Rabb?"

"What was he supposed to do, Mac?  He was getting it from all ends, and just 
trying to keep his head above water, trying to stay on top of his duties.  
Mac, a person can only take so much."

"You're talking crazy, Harm.  Go back to bed."

"Yeah, maybe.  Good night, Mac."  He left the blanket on the chair and 
headed for the door.

"Aren't you going to tuck me in?"

He stopped cold and turned around.  "Do you want me to?"

"You don't have to, but a gentleman would've offered."

Harm rolled his eyes.  "Gentlemen prefer blondes."

Mac threw a pillow at him, but it missed Harm and hit the door just as he 
closed it.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

0800 LOCAL
US NAVAL STATION
YOKOSUKA, JAPAN


The next morning, Harm dragged himself out of bed and practically 
sleepwalked to the officer's mess for breakfast.  Mac was already there, 
with a plate piled high with eggs, bacon, and sausage in front of her.  Harm 
took a seat across from her, with just a glass of orange juice and a cup of 
black coffee.  He got a whiff of her food and put a hand to his stomach.

"Ugh.  How can you eat that stuff so early?"

She ignored his comment.  One look at his face told her he wasn't in the 
mood for sarcasm.  "Harm, you look a little...green."

"Yeah.  Just the jetlag catching up to me, I guess.  Maybe a bug coming on, 
too.  I feel pretty sluggish lately."

"Then you should eat something.  We have a long day ahead of us and orange 
juice isn't going to cut it."

"I'll be fine, Mom.  All I need are two of these."  He had two pills in his 
hand and swallowed them with a sip of coffee.

"All right, but I better see you eat something later, and I'm not talking 
salad."

"Yes ma'am," he said softly.  "I'm sorry Mac.  I'm just not very hungry 
right now and I want to get going on Brodeur's case again."

"Okay, let me have a few more bites and we'll get moving.  I'm not sure I 
agree with you about the Lieutenant, but I do want to get to the truth as 
much as you do."

"Even if it means losing your case?"

"We'll see.  If there really is something else going on, maybe Brodeur 
shouldn't be the one on trial in the first place."

"Thanks Mac.  Have I ever told you you're a class act, all the way?"

"Whoa.  At least grab a bagel or some fruit, Harm.  I think you're getting 
lightheaded."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The XO, Commander Joseph Curtis, was recovering in the base hospital, but 
Harm and Mac had gotten permission to search his quarters on the ship.  Harm 
leafed through some papers on the man's desk.

"What are we looking for anyway?" Mac asked.

"I don't know.  Anything that might indicate that Curtis had a grudge 
against Brodeur."

Mac played with the lock on Curtis' locker and managed to get it open.  
"Harm, take a look at this."  On the inside of the door was a picture of a 
man and a woman at an amusement, in front of the ferris wheel.  The picture 
was from many years ago, but there was no doubt who the man was.

"It's Curtis."

"Yeah," Mac said, "and who's the girl?"

Harm studied it for a moment.  "She's the spitting image of Brodeur."  He 
carefully took the picture down from the locker door and flipped it over.  
"Joe and Rose, Coney Island, 1970."

"What do you make of it?"

"Don't know.  Let's go ask the Commander."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

In between the nurses reprimanding them for upsetting the patient, Harm and 
Mac managed to use enough legal jargon to scare Commander Curtis into 
revealing the whole story.  Years before, he had gone on a few dates with 
Brodeur's mother, long before the Lieutenant was born.  Brodeur's father was 
his best friend, but basically stole Rose away from him.  She was the love 
of his life and he had never gotten over losing her.  He hadn't seen either 
of them in about 25 years, but when the younger Brodeur came aboard the 
ship, he easily matched the face to his name and decided to get revenge on 
his former buddy by making his son's life hell.

In light of the revelation, Curtis dropped the assault charges, but the drug 
offense still stood.  Harm was able to avoid a court martial for the 
Lieutenant, citing the abnormally harsh circumstances he had been subjected 
to, as well as his impeccable record.  He now faced a transfer to a new duty 
station and forfeiture of all pay for the duration of a Navy rehab program.  
He was offered the opportunity to file charges against Curtis, but he said 
breaking two of his ribs was enough justice for him.

They took care of the paperwork the following day, and afterward went into 
town for dinner, to a sushi restaurant recommended by some of the ship's 
personnel.

"Finally, some food we can agree on," Harm said.  "I could get used to 
this."

"Yeah, too bad neither of us speaks a word of Japanese."

Fortunately for them, most of the waiters spoke English and were comfortable 
dealing with American customers.  They ordered a pot of green tea and a 
variety of sushi and sashimi.  Harm was very adept with his pair of 
chopsticks and tried to teach Mac.  He placed her hands in the proper 
position and helped her pick up a piece of salmon.  "Forget it, I'm 
hopeless."

"Come on, it's easy."  He tried again, guiding her hands to grasp the fish, 
but his own hands began to shake.  He pulled them away and took two pills 
from his jacket pocket and tried to down them inconspicuously.

"Harm, what are those, really?" Mac challenged.

"I told you, they're vitamins."

"Stop it.  They are not."

"Then what are they?"

"I don't know - caffeine, speed maybe.  Maybe you got some from your friend 
Brodeur.  But you've been popping them like candy all week and they sure as 
hell aren't vitamins!"  Mac was shouting and the other diners all stared.

"Mac," Harm whispered, "please, keep your voice down."

"So," she continued quietly, "what are they?"

"Can we talk about this later?"

"How many do you take a day?"

"Mac, let's just finish eating in peace and you can convict me later."

"Are they at least legal?"

"Mac! Drop it, huh?!"

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Harm and Mac ate the rest of their meal in silence, and went back to their 
rooms with cold goodbyes.  They were flying home the next morning, and both 
were looking forward to not being in such close quarters.

Harm knew Mac was concerned about him, but dammit, did she have to 
interrogate him like that?  They were over the counter, for God's sake.  It 
wasn't like he was a crank addict or anything.

For Mac's part, she knew her partner better than he knew himself, and he had 
been acting strangely for days.  Everyone was still reeling from what had 
happened to Bud, Harm especially.  Until Sergei, Bud was the closest thing 
to a brother he had ever had.  Add to that the increased workload, and the 
fact that Harm demanded a hundred percent of himself in everything he did, 
and he was bound to short circuit eventually.  However, Mac's understanding 
of the situation didn't make it any less distressing for her.  She knew all 
too well what addiction could do to a person, and she'd be damned if it was 
going to happen to the man she loved.

Harm had paced for a while and finally resorted to doing pushups to use up 
the last of the energy the pills had given him.  Thankfully, he thought, he 
was building up a tolerance, so the two he took with dinner wouldn't keep 
him awake all night.  Or maybe, he realized, he would prefer that over 
closing his eyes and seeing something horrible again.  He did fall asleep a 
short while later, only to be plagued by a new nightmare.

***All the hard-earned medals and insignias on his uniform did nothing to 
make Harm feel like a brave hero.  In fact, looking out at the sea of 
uniforms turned his stomach.  If it was supposed to be of some comfort that 
she was a Marine, killed in the line of duty, and that her "nation was 
grateful," it was lost on him.  He looked at Arlington's rows upon rows of 
gravemarkers.  They lined up from every angle you could look at them.  
Perfect order, which was ridiculous, because Mac dying was complete 
*disorder*.  Chaos.  Harm did his best to stay strong for Chloe, whose tears 
were wetting his uniform.  The Admiral stood behind him, with a firm hand on 
his shoulder.  He wasn't uncertain that his star officer and good friend 
wasn't about to collapse.  AJ felt Harm shudder with each piercing blast of 
the 21-gun salute.  Just as the third round of seven rifles went off...***

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Mac was drained, emotionally and physically.  She hoped her tortured 
subconscious would grant her at least a few hours of peaceful sleep.  
Otherwise, she'd still be furious with Harm in the morning, and that would 
definitely not be a pleasant way to spend a day-long flight.  She managed to 
nod off around 0200.

***It rained that day, as if the sky was weeping for him, the man who 
considered the endless blue a second home.  Who felt for it the passion of a 
lover.  The Admiral said a few words, but Mac didn't hear them, focusing 
instead on the casket containing the body of her partner.  Her best friend.  
The man she might've spent the rest of her life with.  The Honor Guardsman 
handed Trish the folded flag and Mac's heart broke for this woman who had 
now lost *two* men to war.  She heard a distant rumble and looked up as the 
F-14s approached.  They soared overhead, and one broke away, leaving a gap 
for the missing man...***

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

0415 LOCAL

Mac woke up out of breath and with her heart racing, even though these 
dreams no longer paralyzed her as badly as they had at first.  She hated 
that she was getting used to them.  Still, this was the first one in which 
Harm had actually...

She wrapped a blanket around herself and went into the hallway.  She could 
see in the crevice under the door that a dim light was on in Harm's room.  
She knocked softly on the door.  Harm answered, wearing just boxers again.

"Hey," Mac whispered.

"Hey yourself," he replied.  "Can't sleep?"

She shook her head.  "You?"

"Nope.  Come on in." They took seats opposite each other at a small table.

"Harm," Mac began, "about tonight."

Harm put his hand up to stop her.  "Forget about it.  We're both pretty 
stressed, and neither one of us is getting much sleep."

"At least let me say I'm sorry."

"Can't let you do it, Mac.  Don't want to establish a precedent.  Then 
you'll make me say it for something sometime."

"Would that be such a bad thing?"

"Sure it would.  I have a reputation to protect."

Mac rolled her eyes.  They sat together quietly for a few minutes before Mac 
spoke again.  "Harm?  Do you...do you ever think about Bud?  About what 
happened?"

He nodded slowly, his eyes focused down on the table.

"How does it come to you?"

Harm hesitated, but he caught her eyes, and saw that she was reaching out 
desperately to him.  He spoke slowly.  "It comes in pieces, mostly.  
Sometimes I think, what if Coates hadn't been able to keep a cool head and 
get him out of there?  I think, what if little AJ's godfather was the *only* 
father he had left?  I think how messed up the world is and how if it 
wasn't, none of us would've been in Afghanistan in the first place."

Mac stayed silent, but gave Harm an understanding nod.

He went on.  "But that's not the worst of it, Mac.  Sometimes...God, I'm a 
horrible person..."

Mac took his hand.  "What is it?  You can tell me."

He shook his head and bit his lip.  "Sometimes I'm just grateful it wasn't 
*me.*"

Mac squeezed his hand and stared into his eyes.  They were endless tunnels, 
filled with infinite guilt.  He looked like a little boy, searching for 
something familiar in all directions, but finding nothing.  "Oh, Harm.  
That's a natural feeling.  Especially considering...well, we're both lucky 
to be alive."

"Mac, that's *still* not the end of it."  He stood up from the table and 
rubbed his hands into his face.  "Most of the time I thank God it wasn't 
*you.*"  He walked to the window and stared out at the night sky for a few 
moments.  "Why the hell did it have to be *anyone?*"

Mac walked over to him and put a hand on his shoulder.  With the other hand, 
she gently stroked the tense muscles in his back.  She was glad for the 
opportunity to reassure herself that he was, in fact, very much warm and 
alive.

"I don't know what to say. I wish I could make this all go away.  I wish I 
could close my eyes just once without seeing you or me fall on that mine.  
But right now, I'd settle for making you feel better."

Harm let out a long sigh and turned around to face her.  "Just you being 
here makes me feel better."

Mac managed a small smile.  She knew it wasn't easy for Harm to say things 
like that.

"Our plane leaves in a few hours," Harm said, "and it's obvious neither of 
us is going to get any sleep, so what do you say we hang out here until it's 
time to get ready?"

"Um, okay."

Harm led Mac over to the bed.  He sat down on top of the covers and 
stretched his legs out.  Mac was still standing.  "Come on, Mac.  I don't 
bite."

She laughed.  "That probably calls for some kind of traffic light, but I'm 
exhausted, so I'll let it go."

"Good, because you know I tend to speed right through most lights anyway.  
What good is a corvette idling behind a red light?"

Mac gave him a playful smack and he used the opportunity to pull her onto 
the bed.  He fluffed the pillows and propped them up to support her back.  
They were crowded, but very cozy on the twin bed.  Harm put his arm around 
Mac and she snuggled down a little to rest her head on his bare chest.

"Comfy, ninja girl?"

"Yes.  The Commander makes an excellent pillow."

"If you ever repeat that to anyone, I'll deny it."

"Good.  I wouldn't want anyone else trying out this pillow anyway."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

After resting in each other's arms for a while, and relishing the absolute 
peace and quiet of the wee hours, the yellow sunlight that began to stream 
into the room told Harm and Mac that it was time to get up and get ready to 
leave Japan.

"I guess they don't call it the Land of the Rising Sun for nothing, huh?" 
Mac said.  "Come on, sailor, time to get moving."

"Do we have to?" he whined.

"That *is* generally what people do in the morning.  No wonder you're always 
late to the office."

"I am *fashionably* late, thank you."

"Right.  What with all the different outfits to choose from.  Must take you 
hours deciding what to wear."

"Well, speaking of getting dressed," Harm said, "we need to get a move on if 
we're gonna make our flight.  Are you packed yet?"

"No, but it shouldn't take long."

"All right.  Tell you what - I'll get ready and then head to the mess and 
bring you something back, so you'll have some time."

"Careful Harm, a girl could get used to this level of service."

"Yeah, she could, but if she was smart, she wouldn't." He winked and flashed 
the classic grin that made Mac's knees weak every time she saw it.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

After showering and getting dressed, Harm went to the mess to get breakfast 
for Mac.  He hadn't had much of an appetite the past few days, but he knew 
Mac could eat anytime, anywhere, and he didn't want her whining about hunger 
during the long flight.

He covered a plate of bacon and eggs so it would stay warm.  He took a pear 
for himself.  He knew he should at least try to eat something to keep his 
strength up.  He was starting to get run down and the last thing he needed 
was to get sick.  He managed only a few bites of the fruit before tossing it 
into the garbage.  It was no big deal.  There would be food on the plane if 
he was hungry later.

By the time he got back to the BOQ, Harm felt like he'd been hit by a brick 
wall.  A wave of exhaustion washed over him, and he stopped in his room 
before bringing Mac her breakfast.  He swallowed just one of the pills, 
trying to ration the remaining few until he got back home.  He'd be 
traveling for almost 24 hours and didn't have many left.  He didn't want to 
be caught without any.  I'll be fine as soon as I can get some sleep, he 
told himself.  That's all this is. All I need is a little shuteye.

He went next door with Mac's food.

"Mmmm.  Smells delicious," she said. "And it's still hot!"

"Yeah, I'm afraid of that kind of service you expect now.  I wouldn't want 
to disappoint you."

"Impossible.  You could never disappoint me." They looked at each other for 
a second and then both burst into laughter.  Mac dug into her food greedily. 
  "I know, stupid question, but do you want some?"

"No thanks. I ate already."

"Anything good?"

"A bagel. Some fruit."

"I don't know how you keep up those muscles.  I never see you eat any 
protein."

Harm flexed his biceps and looked at the solid muscles.  "I seem to do okay. 
  Maybe everyone should eat the way I do."

"I think I'll stick to my dead animals, Commander.  I like to think of it as 
my economic contribution to all the cattle ranchers and chicken farmers out 
there."

"You'd be better off eating those dollar bills for breakfast, y'know."

"Play nice, Harm.  We have a long day ahead of us."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

1030 LOCAL
NARITA INT'L AIRPORT
TOKYO, JAPAN


They checked in at the ticket counter.  The airline agent told them the 
flight wasn't full, so they'd be able to carry their bags on instead of 
checking them.  There were no convenient military flights they could take, 
so they were flying commercially to San Francisco. An Air Force member would 
meet them there and take them northeast to McClellan AFB in Sacramento, 
where they could get a flight back to DC.

Mac picked up a magazine at a newsstand along the way to the gate.  There 
was a crowd of people waiting for boarding to begin, but Harm and Mac found 
two empty seats.  They heard a few people speaking English, but the majority 
of the other passengers were Japanese.

Harm felt his energy start to wane again.  It had been a busy morning with 
finalizing the Brodeur paperwork.  He pulled a bottle of water out of his 
carry-on and dug around for the bottle of pills.  He was opening it when Mac 
saw it out of the corner of her eye.  She put her magazine aside.

"Taking more of those?" she asked, her tone argumentative.

Harm nodded. "So what?"

"How many have you already had today?"

"I don't know. What difference does it make?"

"I can't answer that until I know what they are.  So, what are they?"

"What do you want them to be?"

Mac was disgusted. "I want them to be M&Ms, but they sure as hell aren't! 
Now what's going on?! What are you doing to yourself?!" By now, the other 
passengers were all staring at them.

"Mac," he admonished, "please, you're making a scene."

"Better a scene here than at the emergency room when you die from an 
overdose!"

"That's ridiculous. They're over the counter. Just to give me some energy. I 
just need them until we get back home."

"You do NOT need them!" she yelled. She tried to grab the bottle out of his 
hand, and the remaining pills spilled out and rolled in different directions 
on the carpet.

"Look what you've done! What am I supposed to do now?!"

"For starters, stop lying to me!" She was incredibly hurt, but at the 
moment, anger was the only thing she could express.

"I'm not lying. They're totally safe."

"Over the counter does NOT mean they're safe!"

"Well, you would know!"

Mac was shocked. The depth of her love for Harm meant only that his capacity 
to hurt her knew no limit.  She'd be damned if she would give him the 
satisfaction, and she ran into the ladies' room.  She locked herself into a 
stall and bawled until she heard her flight announced.  Several women had 
knocked on the door, trying to help. Mac heard consolations in English, and 
what she assumed were words of comfort in Japanese and German as well.

When she exited the restroom, she looked presentable.  Her eyes were still 
red, but at least she could stand. Harm hadn't waited so they could board 
together. He was up ahead in the line.  A few of the women turned their 
heads toward him, the reaction to a handsome man the same all over the 
world.  For once, Mac didn't care. At that moment, he was the ugliest person 
she'd ever seen.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

When Mac got to her seat, Harm stood up to let her in.  He needed the aisle 
seat because of his size.  No one was comfortable in the middle seat, but it 
was much easier for Mac with her tiny frame.  She put her bag into the 
overhead compartment and Harm didn't even look at her as she took her seat.  
It was just as well.  She didn't feel much like looking at him either.

Harm pulled down the armrest between them, separating them as much as 
possible.  Fine with me, Mac thought.

A little while later, Mac was engrossed in a magazine article when she was 
distracted by a tapping sound.  Harm had pulled down the plastic tray from 
the seat in front of him and was drumming his fingers on it.  Mac tried her 
best to ignore it for a few minutes, but it was incessant and grated on her 
already frayed nerves.  She banged her hand down on top of his and gave him 
a look that said, unquestionably, STOP.  He met her eyes, but she couldn't 
read them.  Harm locked the tray back against the seat and signaled to a 
flight attendant as she walked by.

He pointed to one of the back rows.  "Ma'am? Nobody's sitting back there. 
Would it be all right if I changed seats? We're a little crowded here."

She answered in perfect English, but with a heavy Japanese accent.  "Sure, 
no problem Sir. Is there anything else I can do for you?"

"No, thank you." The flight attendant smiled and bowed, and when she was 
gone, Harm got up and made his way to his new seat.  Mac moved to the now 
empty aisle seat, giving herself and the man in the window seat some more 
breathing room.

"Thank you," the man said.

"Hmm?" Mac looked up.

"That fidgeting.  It was driving me crazy."

"Yeah.  He has that effect on most people."

An hour later, the flight attendant came around with headsets for the 
in-flight movie, Crocodile Dundee.  Mac chose not to watch it.  That's the 
last thing I need now, she thought.  Silly comedy and Australian accents.

When they came around again to take the drink orders, Mac ordered a Coke.  
The man in the window seat shelled out six dollars for one of those 
miniature bottles of wine.  He took his time with it, closing his eyes and 
leaning back for several minutes after each sip.  Mac watched longingly.  
What I wouldn't give...

The man fell asleep a short while later and Mac stared at him unabashedly.  
His chest rose and fell with his breaths, and his face was calm.  It looks 
so easy, just sleeping.  Why did it have to be so hard for her?  Even now, 
she was tired, but she wouldn't risk having a nightmare and bolting out of 
her seat on the plane. Especially not now, on an international flight, 
U.S.-bound.

That little bottle...God, it would be so easy. Just a nice drink of this and 
that and she's sleep like a log.  But no way.  She didn't make it through 
almost twenty years, minus one terrible day, to fall off the wagon now.  
Besides, struggling through the tough times was infinitely easier than 
dealing with the anger and shame of going the other route.  She had been 
through more hard times than she could count, and she'd survived just fine, 
thanks to her resolve and her friends.

She sighed.  That's what Harm needs now. His best friend. His words had cut 
like knife, but she knew better than anyone that he really had no idea what 
he was saying.  Still, he *had* said them, and there was no taking them 
back.  It was like it didn't matter. Nothing she had achieved mattered. She 
was a grown woman, a successful lawyer, and a Marine Colonel. But Harm had 
cut right to the heart of it, hadn't he. Deep down, to him, she was just 
Sarah, the drunk teenager.  He was cold. Hurtful. Just plain mean.

"You're not just a drunk, you're a mean drunk." She replayed the events of 
that day like a movie in her mind. Dalton's death, her stalker, the assault 
case. It had been too much for her. She said some venomous things to Harm 
and he forgave her.

Their relationship began in a rose garden, and they had had their share of 
thorns.  Lately, there just seemed to be more of them than usual.  We were 
due, Mac reasoned.  Jordan's death, the CAG being on trial, and even his 
being missing at sea hadn't affected Harm this deeply.  Maybe what he said 
about Brodeur was right - there was only so much a person could take.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

By the time the arrived in D.C., it was the following morning.  A driver met 
them at Andrews AFB to take them back to JAG headquarters.  Mac wanted to 
brief the Admiral on the Brodeur case and then ask for the rest of the day 
off to clear her head and readjust to the time zone.  She and Harm hadn't 
said a word to each other since the episode at the airport.  Mac didn't want 
to push too soon. She would be the friend she knew he needed, but he had to 
calm down first.  When Mac asked the driver to take them to Falls Church, 
Harm had no objection.  Or, if he did, she couldn't know, because he 
continued to simmer in silence.


1130 LOCAL
JAG HQ
THURSDAY


Harm held the door open for Mac, his first polite move in 24 hours.  As he 
followed her into the office, Harriet ran past, tears streaming down her 
face, and she shoved him out of her way.

"What's wrong with Harriet?" Harm asked no one in particular.

"Uh, Elvis has left the building, Sir," Gunny hinted.

Harm understood at once.  He looked at Lt. Singer, who was smiling 
cheerfully.  "Is this *your* doing, Lieutenant?"

"Sir, Lt. Simms' skin is just too thin.  She'll never survive this if she 
can't learn to suck it up."

Harm's eyes went wide. He walked around to her desk, and put his face about 
an inch away from hers. "Lieutenant, my office, NOW!  No, you know what?  
Forget it.  We'll do this right here."  Everyone in the bullpen stopped in 
their tracks, their eyes fixed on the two officers.

"Do you need a heart transplant, Lieutenant? Because I would be glad to 
perform one for you with my bare hands. I hope you never in your life have 
to experience anything like what Harriet is going through.  Oh, but wait.  
Of course you won't even go through anything like that. You'll never have 
the kind of love Bud and Harriet share."

By now, the commotion had brought the Admiral out of his office.

"Harriet Simms is twice the Naval officer you are and fifty times the human 
being you could ever hope to be! And you know what else, Lieutenant?! If you 
*ever* weasel your way into becoming the JAG, I will resign my commission, 
run my law degree through a shredder, and put a bullet in my brain!!"

"That is QUITE enough, Commander!" the Admiral bellowed.  "You are hereby 
relieved of your duties for the rest of the week, and I don't want to see 
your face in this building again until you can conduct yourself like a 
proper officer!  Is that understood?!"

Harm jumped to attention, his reaction automatic.  "Yes Sir!"

"Tiner, take the Commander home."

"Aye, Sir!"

"I'd drive him myself, after a few good right hooks and uppercuts to the 
head, but I have a meeting with Secnav later, and I don't want blood on my 
uniform!"

The office staff was still frozen as they watched the events unfold.

"Show's over, people. Get back to work!" The Admiral started back toward his 
office.  "Except you, Colonel. My office, now."

Mac followed him quickly and shut the door behind her and stood at 
attention.

"Now what the hell was that?!" AJ demanded.

"Sir, I'm not sure, Sir."

"Is Rabb out of his mind? Did he take a blow to the skull recently?!"

"Sir, I..."

"Don't cover for him, Colonel.  If he's going down I'd hate for him to take 
you with him."

"Yes Sir."

"At ease. Sit down."

Mac took a seat and AJ removed his glasses and rubbed his temples.  "What's 
going on with him, Mac?"

"He just needs a little time, Sir."

"Time for what?"

"With all due respect, Sir, it's very personal." At her own risk, Mac tried 
her hardest to keep the truth from him. After all, the day she had come back 
to the office *drunk*, Harm had been very discreet.  If not for him, she 
might not have had a military or legal career anymore.

"It stopped being personal the minute he disrupted the operation of this 
entire office." He took a few breaths before continuing, his tone more 
concerned.  "Is he all right?"

"I don't think so, Sir, but he will be, if you were serious about giving him 
that time off."

"Dead serious.  I may agree with everything he said about Singer, but that 
doesn't mean I can condone it.  I can't have anything like this happen ever 
again.  It'd be one hell of a stain on his record."

"Yes Sir."

"What is it with him anyway? If he's not firing a gun in court, he's trying 
to resign his commission to go to Russia, or giving one of the strongest ass 
chewings I've ever seen, and I've been in the Navy since the time Rabb was 
sucking his thumb and wetting his diapers. Granted, Singer's probably the 
most reprehensible character I've ever come across, and that's coming from a 
SEAL who's seen a lot of things no one should ever have to see..."

Mac couldn't suppress a smile.

"Mac, really, is it something I should know about?"

"Sir, like I said, it's a very private matter, and I think Harm would prefer 
it to stay that way."

"I'll let you do that, for now.  But if something is seriously wrong, I need 
to know immediately."

"Yes Sir, and you will, should it become necessary."

"And I meant what I said - I don't want him back here until he's the same 
poster-boy sailor he was in that recruiting video."

"Understood Sir."

"I tell ya, that civilian judge job looks better and better every day. I 
swear Rabb's going to put me into an early grave. Either that or a straight 
jacket. Dismissed."

"Yes Sir, thank you again, Sir."

As Mac had her hand on the door handle to leave, AJ called to her. "Colonel, 
please tell me I shouldn't expect a call from the emperor of Japan asking 
for aid in the wake of Hurricane Rabb."

Mac laughed, eternally grateful for the Admiral's attitude. "No sir."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Mac took the rest of the day off. She gave Harm some time to wind down 
before trying to open communication with him.  Around 19:00, she called his 
apartment and his cell phone, but got the machine and voicemail. She stopped 
by his apartment, thinking that maybe he was screening his calls there, and 
no doubt he wouldn't answer the cell if he saw her number.  There was no 
answer at the apartment, so she drove to the one place she knew she would 
find him.


20:00 LOCAL
VIETNAM VETERAN'S MEMORIAL
WASHINGTON, DC


It was a nice evening, if a little cool, with the first chill of autumn in 
the air.  There weren't many people visiting the wall, just a few scattered 
here and there, and no one within several yards of Harm.  Mac stayed back a 
small distance, just watching.

Harm had his left hand on his hip, and the fingers of his right traced the 
engraved letters of his father's name. His fingers moved slowly, as if 
trying to commit the shape of the grooves to memory.  After a few minutes, 
Mac moved closer.  Harm turned his head, looking at her over his shoulder.  
A lonely tear slowly drifted its way down his cheek.

"Do you think he's ashamed?" Harm asked, his voice crackly with exhaustion.

"What?"

"My father. Do you think he's ashamed of how weak his son is?"

"Oh, Harm," she whispered. She placed her hands gently on either side of his 
face.  "I never knew your father, so I can't say for sure, but I would *bet* 
that he's looking down at you, at everything you've made of your life, and 
he is so, so proud.  And he's only sorry he isn't here right now to tell you 
so himself."  Mac's own eyes began tearing with the strength of her belief. 
"Now you've got me crying." She smiled and rubbed her eyes.

Harm studied her for a moment. "How'd you know I was here?"

"You and me, we've always had kind of a sixth sense when it comes to that."

"Why do you suppose that is?" Harm put his hands in the pockets of his 
leather jacket.

"I don't know. That day in the rose garden. Maybe the planets were all 
aligned or something. I never gave it much thought."

"You know what I think?  I think maybe we have a guardian angel. Maybe my 
father, maybe even Diane. One thing's for sure, though." He took her hand in 
his. "Whoever it is, they're doing a great job."

"We always do seem to come out of things okay, don't we."

Harm drew in a deep breath.  "You tell me."

Mac looked at him, confused.

"Mac, I didn't mean...I shouldn't have..."

Mac put her index finger to his lips to silence him.  "Shhh.  You don't have 
to say anything."

"But I never should've..."

"Harm, I know. It's all right."

"But-"

"Whatever you were going to say, it's okay."

Harm looked left and then right, quickly scanning the area.  "Did I enter 
the twilight zone, or is Sarah Mackenzie telling me *not* to talk about my 
feelings?"

"Well, what kind of Marine would I be if I couldn't take a nasty comment now 
and then?"

"Doesn't matter what kind of Marine. You'd be a very pissed off best friend, 
and with good reason."

I was pissed off, at first. Now, I'm scared. You need help, Harm."

"I know."

"You're admitting it? Now I think *I'm* in the twilight zone."

"I'm flying to LaJolla tomorrow. It'll do me good to get away from 
everything here."

"Do you think that's a good idea? Whatever it is you're running from will 
still be here when you get back."

Harm shook his head. "This is the best way.  The sun, the sand, the fresh 
air. Best therapy there is, besides flying. I'll be out there all week, or 
however long it takes me to get right in the head again."

"Just as long as you don't go to one of those high-priced rehab centers in 
L.A."

"Why? You afraid I might hit it off with some Hollywood starlet?"

"No, just covering my six. I wouldn't want to have to snap one of their 
anorexic bodies in two after she breaks your heart."

"I'm done with Hollywood types, remember?"

"Yeah?"

"Yeah. I like a woman with an appetite."

"Even one who lives on Beltway Burgers?"

"Especially one who lives on Beltway Burgers."

They stood together in silence for a few minutes, then Harm spoke again. "I 
don't even want to think about facing the Admiral, Mac."

"No, you don't."

"That bad, huh?"

"Actually, he was more worried than angry. He asked me what was wrong."

"What did you tell him?"

"Nothing. I said it was very personal and it would be best to keep it that 
way."

"And he bought it?"

"For now. But if the Pacific coast fails to work its magic, I'd take my 
chances going UA if I were you."

"I owe you, Mac. Big time."

"I'll add it to the list."

"Add this to your list." He lowered his lips to hers in a quick but gentle 
kiss, just slightly beyond friendship.  "I don't deserve you, Sarah," he 
whispered, as he gathered her in a strong, warm embrace, which she returned 
eagerly.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

12:30 LOCAL
A FEW DAYS LATER
JAG HQ
FALLS CHURCH, VA


Mac's nightmares had not subsided since her return from Japan.  The dreams 
weren't any worse than they had been at the beginning, and she was even 
getting used to them.  Dealing with the feelings afterward, however, was 
another matter.  Normally, no matter how bad the dreams were, she would see 
Harm in the office a few hours later and her nerves would settle down.  But 
now, her partner was on the other side of the country, away from the demands 
of his job, away from Bud's injury, away from the rigidness of protocol.  
Mac was disappointed that he didn't want her help to break his dependence, 
but she understood he needed to do it in his own way.

Her desk was buried under stacks of files.  Everyone had picked up extra 
work to cover for Bud, and with Harm out too, Mac was beginning to drown in 
cases.  Too bad I don't have Singer's blind ambition, she thought.  I'd 
probably be glad for the chance to prove myself.

She tried to concentrate on the file in front of her, but her eyes wouldn't 
cooperate, and she kept reading the same sentence over and over again.  She 
took a deep breath and buried her face in her hands, rubbing her eyes as she 
did.

"You all right, Colonel?" a deep voice called from the doorway.

"Sturgis, hey, long time no see."  Sturgis had taken a few days leave the 
week before and hadn't witnessed Harm's explosion in the office.  He looked 
well rested.  "Looks like vacation really agreed with you."

"Well, that's what a few days of golf and fishing will do for a guy.  How 
'bout you?  You holding down the fort okay?"

"I wish.  Better call in some reinforcements." She stopped for a moment.  
"What is that wonderful smell?"

"Lunch."  Sturgis shut Mac's door behind him and cleared some papers off a 
chair before sitting down.  "That is, if you don't mind eating with someone 
who skipped town for a few days and left you with a triple caseload."

"Yeah, I wasn't exactly thrilled about that, but depending on what's in the 
bag, I might not hold it against you."

Sturgis pulled a large aluminum foil wrapped package out of the paper bag.  
"Philly cheesesteak, with the works - onions, green peppers-"

Mac's face lit up.  "Sturgis Turner, you are my new hero!"

He passed her a thick stack of napkins.  "Just be careful.  The grease drips 
out everywhere."

"Finally, someone who appreciates fine food around here."

Sturgis chuckled.  "Well, I wouldn't go that far, but I'll tell you one 
thing - living on a submarine makes grilled cheese look like a gourmet meal, 
as long as the bread's fresh."

Mac bit into her sandwich anxiously.  "Mmmm...God, this is divine.  Where'd 
you get it?"

"All the way from Capitol Hill for your dining pleasure.  There's a guy with 
a cart.  He's Indian, but you'd swear he was born and raised in Philly with 
how good these are."

"Capitol Hill, huh?" Mac said through a full mouth.  "Visiting someone?"

Sturgis blushed.  "Come on.  I was gone four days.  If I didn't at least 
stop by and say hello...well, you know how touchy Bobbi can be."

"No, Sturgis," she teased, "you would know better than me about Bobbi and 
touching."

"Okay, okay, I plead the Fifth.  New topic."

They ate in silence for a while, both enjoying the quiet time and delicious 
hot sandwiches.  Finally, Sturgis spoke again.  "So, any word from Harm 
yet?"

Mac was a little surprised.  Sturgis had missed the incident and she didn't 
know anyone had told him about it.  "So you know?"

"Do I know?  Who do you think drove his sorry six to Dulles?"

"How much do you know?"

"Everything, Mac."

"Sturgis, he wouldn't tell me.  Do you know what he was taking?"

"Yeah, it was those over the counter caffeine and ephedrine mixes.  You can 
get them at any supermarket these days, even though they should really be 
regulated."

"How long have you known?"

"I'm ashamed to say it, but I've probably known longer than anyone."

"Yeah?"

"We workout together sometimes, and about a month ago, I saw him take them 
before we hit the gym...he wasn't getting a lot of sleep...I didn't think 
much of it at the time.  I don't know how I could've missed it."

"Sturgis, don't.  There was no way you could have known."

"Well, maybe not then, but another day we were just lifting some weights and 
he was breathing and sweating like we were out sprinting."  He shook his 
head and looked down at the desk.  "Mac, if I had known what he was up to, I 
never would've let him go to Japan.  You shouldn't have had to deal with him 
by yourself."

"Well, we had a little fight, but we'll survive.  And as for dealing with 
him, my Marine training served me well."

"Keeping that man in line is a two person job, Mac, even if one of them is a 
Marine."

Mac laughed.  She had to admit, he was right.

"Really sorry I missed him ripping into Singer, though.  I'd give up all the 
sleeping late I did and all the fish I caught to see that."

"Yeah, he did come up with some, um, colorful remarks."

"Colorful - is that what they call it these days?"

Mac hesitated before bringing some seriousness back to the conversation.  
"How did he look, Sturgis?  I mean, when you saw him off, did he seem okay?"

"Define okay," he replied.  "He was fidgety as hell, couldn't sit still, and 
you could trip over the bags under his eyes.  But you know what?  The 
biggest bruises he has are on the inside, from beating himself up."

Mac sighed heavily.  "Why does he do that?"

"Why does Harriet smile all the time?  Why does Singer act like there's 
icewater running through her veins?  That's just the way people are.  And 
you know Harm.  He's so used to being perfect that when he's not, he thinks 
it's a crime."

"I wish he hadn't run away.  He needs his friends now."

"He may act like a little kid sometimes, but he's a grown man, Mac, and he 
probably knows what's best for himself."

Mac gathered up the foil and napkins from her lunch, squeezed them into a 
ball and prepared to launch it into the wastebasket.

"If it makes you feel any better, he mentioned you before he got on the 
plane."

Sturgis' revelation took Mac by surprise and her throw bounced off the rim 
of the trash can and landed on the floor.  "He did?" she asked.

"Yes, he did."

"And?  Come on, Commander.  You can't drop a bombshell like that and then 
clam up."

"He felt really bad.  Said he really did a number on you, and you didn't 
even get mad."

"I was upset, but not mad.  Just hurt and scared."

"Yeah, he knows.  He said that was the worst part. He told me he was so 
afraid of what would come out of his mouth that he just kept it shut 
instead, which is why he didn't say a word the entire way back from Japan.  
He didn't say it in as many words as you did a while back, but he cares 
about you a lot, Mac."

"Boy, you two really covered everything, didn't you?"

Sturgis laughed.  "Yeah, I guess we did.  But it was Harm's doing.  I asked 
one question and he let loose with a stream of consciousness."

Mac got serious again.  "You're a good friend, Sturgis.  Harm's lucky to 
have you."

"Ditto.  Like I said, it's a cooperative effort.  All three of us are pretty 
lucky.  Good friends aren't so easy to come by."

Mac was touched.  "You consider me a good friend?"

"Of course I do.  I mean, we're more than coworkers, and for sure, anyone 
who can put up with Harm for the better part of a decade without killing him 
or themselves, is tops in my book."

"I...I don't know what to say."

"Just say you'll keep it up, Mac, because he's gonna need us when he gets 
back."

"Definitely.  Have you heard from him at all?"

"No.  And I figured I'd give it a few days  before I called him out there."

"Good idea." Mac knew Sturgis was right - that Harm needed some time 
completely away from everything, and everyone, in Washington.  Still, she 
wanted to know how he was.  Maybe she'd try him tomorrow.

"Well," Sturgis announced, "I've gotta get going.  Interviews with character 
witnesses all afternoon."

"Sounds like fun."

Sturgis rolled his eyes. "Yeah, right. Anyway, if you happen to hear from 
him, you'll give him my best?"

"Will do.  And Sturgis, thanks for lunch, and...for everything."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

1935 LOCAL
THE NEXT DAY
JAG HQ


Mac was working late, as she had done every day since Harm was away.  There 
were so many cases to handle, and she was overwhelmed, but what did it 
matter?  It wasn't as if she had an exciting life to rush home to every day 
at 1700, she admitted.  Just a microwave dinner and some TV.  Still, a warm 
bath, some candles, and soft music sounded like heaven.

Her mind wandered a bit, even going as far as imagining Harm in the tub with 
her. When she snapped out of it, her eyes caught the Marine Corps poster on 
the wall.  First to Fight, it said in big black letters.  Knowing Harm, that 
could just as easily be the Navy's motto.  The two of them were always first 
to fight, she thought.  First to misinterpret something the other said, 
first to carry a grudge.  First to sabotage things when they got along well. 
  She was tired of it.  Tired of the pushing and pulling.  Of the hope and 
disappointment.  She missed her friend, and was ready to accept that that's 
all he might ever be.  It hurt, but she'd sooner have him stay her best 
friend than lose him altogether.  She was at a point where even she didn't 
want to risk undoing all the progress they had made over the past few months 
for something that might never be.

Her concentration had waned thoroughly, and she headed home.  She took care 
of a few things around the apartment and then did treat herself to a bath, 
complete with vanilla-scented bubble bath, a gift from Chloe.  Mac was ready 
for bed by 2300, and since it was only 2000 on the west coast, she figured 
she'd try Harm at his mother's house.

"Hello?"

"Hi, Mrs. Burnett, it's Sarah Mackenzie."

"Oh, Mac!  How nice to hear from you, dear.  And please, it's Trish."  She 
sounded very cheerful.

"How are you?" Mac asked.

"Oh, you know, same-old same-old.  How about you?  Must be getting colder 
out there now."

"It's been pretty mild lately, but yeah, I think it's supposed to start 
cooling off next week."

"And my other question?  How are you doing?"

"Keeping on.  Work is a bit crazy without Harm around, but we're all 
managing."

"Are you eating well, getting enough sleep?"

Mac smiled.  She couldn't help but appreciate the mothering tone.  "Yes, on 
both counts," she lied, not wanting to get into a long conversation about 
her dreams and general exhaustion.  "And before I forget, Sturgis Turner 
sends his regards."

"Oh, my!  I haven't seen that boy in years!  He and Harm were partners in 
crime at the Academy.  The stunts the two of them pulled...but that's 
something for another time.  Now for the real reason you called."

"Am I that obvious?"

"Well, I didn't think you called to ask for my meatloaf recipe."

"No. Not this time, anyway.  So...how is he?"

"Up and down. Sometimes he seems fine, and then a minute later he's shaking 
all over the place."

"Can I talk to him?"

"He went for a walk on the beach. But even so, I'm afraid he's not fit for 
human conversation just yet."

"Is it that bad?"

"I'm afraid so. He's very agitated and in a lot of pain. You should've heard 
some of the things he said to Frank. But that was a few days ago. He's doing 
better now, but you still don't want to cross his path."

"No, I guess not.  Mrs. Bur--Trish, there's something you should know. Harm 
wasn't sleeping very well the past few weeks.  I'm not sure why, but I think 
that's mostly what led to all this."

"I know, dear. No matter how old a child is, or where he lives, a mother 
always knows."

"Is he doing okay now?"

"Not really. He catches naps now and then during the day, but they're 
fitful, and he hasn't slept through the night at all." She stopped for a 
second. "Boy, sounds like I'm talking about an infant, huh?"

"Yeah," Mac replied. "But with Harm-"

"I might as well be!" The women shared a laugh that conveyed how much they 
agreed on that point. Trish sighed and became serious again. "He misses you, 
Mac."

"He said that?"

"Like I said, a mother knows these things."

"Are you sure you're not just saying that because you *wish* it were true?"

"Mac, if I were making things up, I would've said he was out buying you a 
diamond ring instead of walking on the beach. I can tell he thinks about 
you, and he's doing his best to get better so he can get back to you."

"How much longer do you think he needs?"

"I don't know. I'm no expert, but he's much better than he was. Probably a 
few more days. I think maybe he'll be back in Washington this weekend, and 
back to work on Monday."

"Well, whenever it is, Sturgis and I will be here for him."

"I know dear, and thank you. Harm probably never says it to you, so I'll say 
it for him. He's blessed to have you. He's had so many things go wrong in 
his life, so good things mean that much more."

Mac felt a tear form in her eye. "Thank you. That means so much to me."

"Well, you mean a lot to him, and to me."

Mac didn't want Trish to hear her crying, so she tried to end the phone 
call. "Same here. I don't want to keep you. You'll tell Harm I called?"

"I sure will. And Mac, you know if you ever need anything. Or if you ever 
want to take a few days and lounge in the sun, the door's always open."

"Mrs. Burnett, you're too kind." Mac's tears would fall any minute. "Just 
give Harm my love."

"I will, sweetie. Take care."

Mac hung up before realizing what she had said.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

SAME TIME
LA JOLLA, CA

Harm walked along the shore, breathing deeply of the ocean air.  The cuffs 
of his blue jeans were rolled up and the cool waves lapped against his 
ankles.  He had been out there for over an hour and watched the sky change 
from orange-pink to purple, to cobalt blue and finally to dark sapphire.  
Sunrises on the east coast were nice, he thought, but they were nothing 
compared to a sunset in the west.  It was one of the few things he would 
miss about being here, aside from his mother's caring for him.  But then, it 
was probably for the best that he was returning to Washington soon.  He had 
said some terrible things to both her and Frank. Even though he wasn't 
exactly in control of himself at the time, his words had been scathing and 
uncalled for. Trish and Frank knew he didn't mean any of it, but it would be 
difficult, if not impossible, to forget the verbal attack.

It was on the third or fourth day after he had arrived. Harm was still 
plagued by the horrible images of Mac and the land mine.  He was sleep 
deprived, which would've been hard enough by itself, but compounded with the 
irritability, tremors, and other physical symptoms of his withdrawal, it all 
became a violent combination, leaving Harm at its volatile mercy.

He stared out at the horizon. If you thought about it, you could see the 
curvature of the Earth.  The waves crashed onto the sand and receded. These 
things always gave Harm a sense for how enormous the world was, and how 
small he was.  It was hard to comprehend how one tiny, insignificant man 
could cause such hurt to someone else.  Though he hadn't been aware of what 
he was saying at the time, he relived the incident in his mind, recalling 
every stinging detail with frightening and painful accuracy.

He and Frank had been sitting in the living room, chatting about this and 
that when they finally got around to Harm's problems.  Harm shook his head, 
focusing down on the expensive oriental rug.  "It all started so simply. I 
was having trouble sleeping and I was so tired at work. I took a few just to 
keep me going through the days. And they'd wear off and I'd be too tired to 
work out. I could barely walk to my car, much less run or lift weights." He 
picked up his glass of water from the endtable. His hands shook drastically 
and some water spilled over onto his hand and onto the rug. He maneuvered 
the glass back onto the table and set it down heavily.

"Harm," Frank said, "y'know, if you want, several of my clients are doctors. 
  I'm sure I could get someone to help you."

"Help me?!" Harm exploded suddenly. "I don't want their help, and I don't 
want help from YOU!"

"Harm, please, calm down." Frank's tone was reserved.

"I don't want to calm down!" he shouted. "I'm sick of calming down! Sick of 
being in control. Sick of listening to the voice of reason! I'm sick of 
acting like a robot just because I've got some bars on my shoulders and 
stripes on my cuff!"

"Harm, come on," Frank tried again, putting a hand on his stepson's 
shoulder. "Keep it down. Your mother's upset enough by all this."

Harm pushed Frank's hand away sharply. "What do you know about my mother? 
Stop telling us what's best for me and her! You're not my father!" He swept 
his arm around the room, indicating the rug, the oak bookshelves filled with 
rare editions, and other expensive decorations.  "You think this stuff means 
anything to us? All the money in the world couldn't make you my father!!"

"HARMON! That is ENOUGH!" Trish was standing in the doorway.

He ignored her and continued his tirade. "And YOU! You're even worse! You 
didn't exactly spend a lifetime mourning him before you had another man in 
your bed!"

Trish's eyes went wide.  "I don't care how old you are, Harmon, but I am 
your mother and you will *not* speak to me that way."

"How long did you wait, Mom?  Huh?! How long before some other man bedded 
Harmon Rabb's wife? Was the ink even dry on the telegram?!"

Trish walked briskly across the room and slapped her son across the cheek, 
the force of her fury causing him to stumble back a few steps and land on 
the sofa.  "My heart aches for that man every day! How DARE you come into my 
home and accuse me of betraying him! I waited *years* for him to come home 
to us. Years! The odds that he was still alive...Forget it! I don't have to 
defend myself, or Frank, to you. The two of us made a very comfortable life 
for you. You never wanted for anything! You think Georgetown Law was 
cheap?!”

Harm made a motion to stand up.

"Don't move! You sit there and listen hard, because you need to hear this. 
Do you know why your father's dress whites are still hanging in my closet?  
When I was ready to get rid of his uniforms, to leave all that pain in the 
past, it was Frank who made me keep them. He knew how important your father 
was to you and me, even when I started to forget! And who do you think kept 
me from flinging myself into the ocean when you told me about that Russian 
farmwoman, and Sergei?!  You have GOT to get your father off of this 
pedestal you keep him on. Contrary to what you believe, Harmon Rabb Senior 
was not perfect!  The truth is he loved flying just as much as he loved you 
and me, and sometimes more! Frank may not have given you any genes, but he 
treated you like his own and all you ever gave him was an attitude!  Now I 
don't care WHAT kinds of drugs are in or out of your system, you will NEVER 
speak like this to me or to Frank ever again! Do you understand?!"

Harm shut down instantly.  Just like the incident with Mac, hurting someone 
he loved, possibly beyond repair, was enough to counter his symptoms and 
bring focus to the present.  He was mortified.  Without a word, he ran from 
the room and out of the house.

The day after that, Harm was terrified of facing his mother and stepfather. 
However, he underestimated their tolerance, and Frank and Trish assured him 
that they understood he hadn't been himself.  Things were strained and tense 
for the entire day, but by the next, the shouting match had been largely 
forgotten.  Well, maybe not forgotten, just not spoken of anymore. Harm 
would never let himself forget.

Tonight, as he watched ships pass in the distance, Harm considered how 
blessed he was to have such forgiveness in his life.  His mother and Frank 
both had good reason to never speak to him again, but when he had entered 
the kitchen the morning after the fight, there was a glass of freshly 
squeezed orange juice and a veggie omelet waiting for him.

And Mac...Harm tasted the salty air. Mac had given him more forgiveness and 
second chances than he could count.  On the ferry in Sydney, at her 
engagement party, at the Jagathon. Even at the Wall, the night before he 
left, she wasn't angry. She was every bit the friend and partner he had come 
to love and need in so many ways.

He was a rare talent, he thought. Mac could give him a thousand 
opportunities, and he had no doubt he could screw up each one worse than the 
one before it.  Rare talent indeed.

Poor Mac. With both he and Bud out, she was probably swamped with cases.  He 
knew she also wasn't sleeping very much, so she obviously had problems of 
her own. Still, he was disappointed she hadn't tried to call him.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

1400 LOCAL
Friday (A Few Days Later)
Bud and Harriet Roberts Residence
Rosslyn, VA


Harm parked his SUV in Bud's driveway.  It was his first day back in the 
D.C. area and he wanted to see how his friend was doing.  Sturgis had picked 
him up at the airport early that morning, but Harm preferred to take one 
more day for himself and dive back into work head first on Monday.  He rang 
the doorbell.

"Uh, just a minute!" he heard Bud call.

"Bud, it's Harm! Take your time!"  After a few minutes, Harm could hear Bud 
fumbling with the lock.  When he got the door open, he extended his hand 
awkwardly, while trying to maintain his balance on his crutches.  He had 
gotten quite adept with them, but some things were still difficult.

Harm moved Bud's hand back to the crutch and placed a comforting hand on his 
shoulder. "Don't worry about it."

"It's good to see you, Sir. Come on in."

Harm shut the door behind him. "Drop the Sir, Bud, we're out of uniform.  
And besides, I haven't spoken to the Admiral yet. There's a good chance I 
don't have a commission anymore."

Bud sat down in an overstuffed chair.  "Yeah, I heard about that. Can't 
believe I missed it. Harriet said she was never so happy at work before. 
After what you said to Singer, she told me she wanted to throw her arms 
around you and kiss you."

Harm grinned. "She should have! I could think of worse consequences than a 
kiss from a beautiful woman."

Bud picked up a magazine from the coffeetable and threw it at him.

"Hey! I was just kidding!"

"Can I get you anything? A soda? Beer?"

"No, I'm fine Bud, but thanks."

"Umm...Harm?"

"Yeah?"

"Harriet told me what else was going on.  Are...are you all right now?"

"I hope so, Bud, I hope so.  I think the time away really did me some good."

"Must've been nice out there."

"Oh, it was incredible. Warm days, mild nights.  Not to mention being waited 
on almost hand and foot."

"How's your mom?"

"She's great.  Couldn't be happier." He shook his head.  "You should've 
heard some of the things I said to her. I'm lucky she didn't wash my mouth 
out with a bar of soap."

"Come on, it couldn't have been that bad."

"It was worse.  Of course, I wasn't completely sane at the time, but that's 
no excuse. And Frank." Harm looked out the window, not knowing how to 
describe it. "I'm a grown man, but let me tell you, he would've had every 
right to put me over his knee and smack me into the next decade."

Bud couldn't believe him. "I can't imagine you losing your temper like that, 
Si--Harm. I mean, you do tend to get...carried away now and then, but you 
usually keep it in check pretty well."

"Yeah, well I'm not usually withdrawing from chemical dependency."

Bud nodded slowly.  With the death of his baby girl, and now, the loss of 
his leg, he was no stranger to hardships.  "I guess we all get thrown a 
curveball now and then, huh?"

"Yeah," Harm agreed. "I just...I feel so stupid. I can't believe I let that 
happen to myself."

"Sir, it's not stupid," Bud insisted. "We've all been through a lot the past 
few months."

"Oh man," Harm said, "I came to cheer you up, and here you are, trying to 
make *me* feel better."

"Look, we all cope differently. You chose to pop pills.  Now and then I feel 
like choosing a bullet to the chest."

Harm's eyes widened. "Bud...please tell me you're kidding around."

"Now, yes, I am. But at first, I considered it very seriously.  Half a leg. 
What kind of husband could I be like that?"

Harm leaned closer to Bud. "The husband Harriet loves. The husband she's 
built a life with."

Bud smiled. "Relax. I know. It was just hard at the beginning, that's all.  
I mean, at first, we didn't even know if I'd be able to...to…"

Harm nodded in understanding.

"You know she makes me put on that Purple Heart when she comes home every 
day?"

"She should! In fact, you should wear it all the time!"

"Harm, it's a joke. A combat wound? Please. I was doing an impression of a 
clown, lost my balance, and fell on a land mine.  I'm one of the Three 
Stooges, not a war hero."

Harm couldn't believe what he was hearing.  "Bud, you were injured in a 
combat zone, while trying to save the life of a civilian child. That medal 
is *not* a joke. It's an *honor*. Harriet's right. You should wear it 
proudly."

Bud sighed. "Maybe I will, someday. Right now, I'm not feeling very proud. I 
still have some trouble getting around."

"Well, how's it coming with the prosthesis?"

"It hurts like hell. The wound area is still really sore and tender and it 
just grates against it like a sonofabitch."

"I'm sure that'll go away in time. I mean, it's still only been a few weeks. 
It's not exactly the kind of injury that heals itself overnight."

"No, definitely not. And my leg, well, it sort of...itches."

"Phantom pains?"

"Yeah. It's weird. I don't know how I can feel something that's not even 
there."

Harm thought for a minute. "I wonder if Singer has phantom pains, you know, 
near the left side of her chest."  He winked at Bud.  "The mind is a 
mysterious thing, Bud. Your brain probably hasn't figured out that the leg's 
gone yet."

"Then it's in for one helluva surprise, huh?"

Harm laughed. Finally hearing the voices downstairs, little AJ came down 
from his room.

"Uncle Harm!" he shouted, a big smile on his face.

"Hey! There's my favorite little rugrat!" AJ ran to him and Harm swept him 
up onto his lap.  "Got any cool new toys, kiddo?"

"Boat," AJ replied quickly.

"A boat? Wow!" Harm said, in his best fake-excitement voice.

"Yeah," Bud said. "We're putting together a model of a submarine."

"Sub," AJ announced proudly.

"Well, it's for me, really. It keeps my mind off of...you know.  AJ likes to 
help, but mostly he just glues things to himself."

Harm laughed. "Speaking of subs, Sturgis says hi."

Bud nodded. "Commander Turner's been great.  He and Colonel Mackenzie have 
come by a lot. They keep AJ occupied so I can do my leg exercises. The 
Colonel's even made dinner a few times when Harriet had to work late."

"Mac? Cook?"

Bud laughed. "She *is* capable of it, Sir. Spaghetti counts."

Harm rolled his eyes. "Not in my book it doesn't."  AJ wriggled out of 
Harm's arms and walked across the room to play with a big rubber ball in the 
corner.

"She'll be so glad you're back. She was worried sick about you. And plenty 
scared, too."

"She was?"

"Yeah. It's not easy watching probably the strongest person you know lose 
control."

"I haven't spoken to her yet."

"She doesn't know you're home?"

"Nope. Truthfully, I'm a little scared to call her."

"Why, Sir?"

"Well, we got along fine the night before I left, but I really said some 
terrible things to her. She'd be justified to hate me for a long time."

"Well, that's definitely not the case, Sir."

"What makes you so sure?"

"Because you're all she's talked about since the day you left."

Harm's curiosity was piqued.  "And? What did she have to say?"

"Oh, you know. That you were long overdue to flip out. That the California 
sun would work wonders. That Singer deserved everything you threw at her. 
That...that she hoped you wouldn't try to be a hero and refuse her help if 
you needed it."

"Anything else?"

"Bud smiled. "I'm sure the Colonel can tell you the rest herself."

Just then, AJ threw the ball to Bud. He was unprepared, and missed it.  The 
ball bounced to the floor and rolled away. Bud was in no position to chase 
after it.  He sighed in frustration. "See? This is ridiculous. I'm useless!  
My son has half a father! What kind of father can't play catch with his son 
for God's sake?!"

"Bud! Bud, come on now." Harm got up and kneeled down in front of him. "The 
kind of father who can look into his son's eyes and tell him how much he 
loves him. How proud he is of him. The kind of father who can watch him grow 
into a man. The kind that can tell him what the hell to do with a girl." 
Harm continued, softly but passionately. "Bud, I would gladly take my father 
with *no* legs, and no *arms* for that matter, if it meant I could hear his 
voice just one more time."  Tears were forming in Harm's eyes.

"I'm sorry, Sir," Bud whispered. "I wasn't thinking."

Harm shook his head. "Bud, it's all right. All this is new territory for 
both of us. We'll make our way, together, one step at a time. Literally and 
figuratively."

"Sir? I don't think he will, but if the Admiral does issue you some kind of 
punishment, permission to dictate this conversation to him so he'll go easy 
on you?"

Harm smiled. "Bud, the last thing I want is you worrying about me for even 
one second. You've got your own work cut out for you."

After talking a little while longer, Bud started getting tired. His morning 
rehab took a lot of his energy and he usually felt wiped out by the late 
afternoon.

Harm said goodbye to AJ and offered Bud the services Sturgis and Mac had 
evidently been performing around the house. "Of course, my cooking will be 
much better, if that's okay with you."

"Yes Sir, but no tofu."

"Hey now. Tofu happens to be very--never mind." Harm assumed his commanding 
voice as he headed for the door. "Next time I stop by, I better see that 
Purple Heart on you, Lieutenant, and that is an order!"

"Yes Sir!" Bud responded.

It was only about 15:00 when Harm left so he had beaten most of the rush 
hour traffic on the Beltway.  It was his first night back in the city.  
Aside from unpacking, he wasn't sure what he would do with the evening.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

23:00 LOCAL
Same Night (Friday)
McMurphy's Pub
Falls Church, VA


Mac was disappointed.  She and Harriet were going to have dinner and see a 
movie tonight, but AJ had come down with a fever.  Bud was finally mobile 
enough to handle the boy without Harriet for an evening, and now something 
had come along to throw a wrench in the works.  Not that Mac could blame 
them.  She would gladly choose spending time with her husband and son over 
"hanging out," if she'd had the choice.  But she didn't have that choice, 
and was beginning to doubt she ever would.

She made her way to the bar.  Having recognized her as she came through the 
door, Jim, the bartender, had a tonic with a twist of lime waiting for her 
before she even took off her jacket.

"Mac, long time no see."

"Hey Jim," she said.  She pointed to the drink. "Thanks."

"Haven't seen you in a while.  Where ya been?"

"Oh, you know, here and there. Japan, San Francisco, the recesses of my 
mind."

He laughed. "Oh, that's here and there all right. Most people just say 
they've been busy."

"Well, yeah, that too.  Been swamped at the office. Most days I go home and 
collapse on the couch. Tonight I had the energy to come out, and anyway, God 
help me if I spend another Friday night watching weepy specials on 
Lifetime."

"Sounds like you've come to the right place, then."

Mac studied the scene: the bar was pretty empty for a Friday, but a few guys 
were playing darts and some other people were racking up the balls for pool. 
  The TVs perched high in the corners were all tuned to sports highlights.  
"Yeah, definitely not a Lifetime kind of crowd here."

"Jim smiled. "Nope. Just good beer, good wings, and good sports." He looked 
up at one of the televisions.  "Well look at that! Four-nothing Capitals. I 
knew Kolzig could do it if they'd just have a little confidence in him.  
Man, four-nothing, and three of 'em from Jagr.  I've got a friend in 
Pittsburgh who hasn't spoken to me since we got him from the Pens."

The words were lost on Mac. "I don't follow hockey."

"No? Y'know, hockey has more women fans than most other sports."

"It does?"

"Sure. My wife says it's a sin that they have to hide their gorgeous faces 
under helmets all the time.  Says she doesn't know how the ice keeps from 
melting with all the hot guys skating across it."

Mac laughed. "In that case, maybe I'll check out a game sometime."

"You should. But try to catch one in person. It's not the same on TV."

Two men approached the bar and sat down a few seats away from Mac. "Excuse 
me," Jim said, and he went over to the new customers. He poured two glasses 
of beer from something on tap, handed them to the men, and went to check on 
some other patrons.

Mac drank her tonic slowly.  Her thoughts drifted everywhere - her 
nightmares, her conversation with Sturgis, Harm out in California.  If she 
closed her eyes, she was back on the Guadalcanal, Harm holding her hand to 
his heart.  She could feel its strong, steady beat, a contrast to the tears 
he could no longer hold back.  God, how she had wished at that moment that 
they were civilians, or at least not under the scrutiny of ship personnel 
who kept walking by. She wanted so badly to take him in her arms and let him 
finally let go.

Unfortunately, their situation was difficult, and sick bay on the 
Guadalcanal was not the place for a breakdown, or even for a display of 
anything but professional concern for a fallen officer.  Harm hadn't been 
able to express his true emotions, and they had caught up with him in the 
worst way.

She missed him, more than she cared to admit.  So much that it scared her.  
If they would never find their way to anything more than friendship, then 
she had to start trying to let certain things go.  To distance herself.  
Although, distance had always been a funny thing for them.  There had been 
times, too many times, she recalled, when they had been in the same room 
together, but might as well have been a thousand miles apart.

Sometimes, Mac thought it was all part of an elaborate game - first her 
mother leaving, then life with her father, then Dalton's death.  She hadn't 
been interested in him anymore, but she never, ever would've wished upon him 
the fate he got.  And then Bud. And then Harm.  Harm had been one huge mind 
game since the moment they were introduced.  It seemed like he was bound and 
determined to heed the Admiral's advice not to get too close.  It was as if 
God, or whoever, was testing her, to see just how much she could take.

She hadn't realized it, but as her mind wandered, her head faced forward and 
it seemed like she was staring at the large assortment of liquor bottles 
behind the counter.

She hadn't noticed Jim watching her.  "Don't even think about it, Colonel."

Mac broke out of the daze she was in. "Huh?"

"I said, don't even think about it."

"Oh, no, I wasn't looking at--"

"Come on. It's all right, just pretend you're at a museum - you can look, 
but don't touch."

"No, really, that's not what I was doing," she insisted. "But, out of 
curiosity, why wouldn't you serve me a drink if I ordered one? Isn't that 
bad for business?"

"Bad for business, yes. But good for my conscience.  And looking out for my 
customers is the best way to run a business."

"So, let me get this straight. If I ordered a vodka on the rocks right now, 
you'd refuse?"

"Damn straight." Jim leaned forward to Mac, his elbows resting on the bar. 
He spoke very sincerely. "You and your friends are good, steady customers.  
You don't cause problems, and I trust all of you. Owning a place like this, 
you come across a lot of lowlifes and shady characters.  I like knowing if I 
ever had any trouble in here, I've got the Marine Corps and Navy on my side, 
not to mention their lawyers, too," he added, winking at Mac. "You watch my 
tail, I watch yours."

"Six," Mac said. "We call it a six."

"Well, whatever you people call it, as long as *yours* stays *on* the wagon, 
where it belongs, then business is fine as far as I'm concerned."

Mac was speechless.  Sometimes the little things that make such a difference 
came from the most unexpected places.  "I...I don't know what to say."

"Say you'll have another one, with me," Jim said, and he poured them both a 
tonic with a twist.  They shared their drinks in silence for a while, just 
listening to the low hum of other conversations, the clack of billiard 
balls, and sounds from the TVs.

"So, what's the Commander up to these days? He hasn't been around for a 
while."

"He, uh, took some leave. Went home for a little while."

"Yeah? Where's home for him?"

"Southern California."

"Mmm...warm beaches, blonde beauties."

Mac rolled her eyes. Harm had better be focusing on his recovery, and not on 
all the walking Barbie dolls.

"I'm sorry. I'm sure there are plenty of brunette beauties out there too."

"He just needed some time off. With what happened to Bud, he took it pretty 
hard."

"Oh, yeah. My goodness, I saw that on the news a while back. How is the 
Lieutenant doing?"

"He's getting there, slowly but surely.  They were able to save his knee, so 
that helps a lot. He's going to have a prosthesis, but so far, he's having a 
lot of trouble with it."

"Well, he's lucky it happened now, with all the technology we have.  I mean, 
my uncle took a hit from a grenade in World War II, and he wound up with a 
hook for a left arm.  Those new limbs are a much better substitute."

"I guess that does make him lucky, but to tell you the truth, he's lucky to 
be alive at all.  He was in horrible shape when they got him out of the 
desert, and he actually died on the table, but they were able to revive 
him."

"Boy, really makes you think, huh? I mean, a land mine.  Seems 
so...old-fashioned.  Nowadays, you watch wars on ZNN, and all these bombs 
and missiles pretty much run by computers. Press a few buttons and level a 
city.  Land mines just seem so out of place."

"Yeah, they do, but they're very real and very deadly.  And, Jim, TV may be 
good for hockey scores, but take it from someone who knows - tabloid TV is 
not the best source for war coverage.  It may look that way, but if all it 
took to fight a war was a few computers, there'd be a lot fewer people in 
uniform."

Jim snapped to attention and saluted. "Yes Ma'am!" he joked.  He took 
another sip from his tonic.  "So, the Commander then, you think he'll be 
okay?"

Mac nodded. "I think so. He really does need the time away, provided he's 
not shacking up with some beach blanket bimbo, which would only give him 
*more* problems."  Like my knee to his groin, she thought.

"Well well, speak of the devil," Jim said, tipping his head toward the door.

Mac turned to look, and was rewarded with a full view of Harm coming into 
the bar. He wore dark blue jeans and a black sweater underneath his leather 
jacket.  Fall was coming on with full force and the nights were chilly.  As 
Harm approached the bar, a few women turned to catch a glimpse.  Mac had to 
admit, he was a striking figure. No one quite filled out a pair of jeans 
like her partner.

Harm spotted Mac at the bar and came over. "Hey Mac! This is a nice 
surprise," he said, clapping her on the back a few times. He draped his 
jacket over the back of his chair and nodded to the two men a few seats 
away. "Jim, how's it going?" he asked.

"Don't they teach you Navy boys any manners?" Jim said. "Where I come from, 
a gentleman kisses a lady friend on the cheek when he says hello."

Harm raised his eyebrows and turned to Mac. "You want a kiss on the cheek?"

YES! her mind screamed, but she heard her voice reply with her typical 
razor-sharp wit. "I'll survive without.  But, a gentleman also picks up the 
check."

"And what if this gentleman doesn't have any money?"

"Then he goes in back and does the dishes," Jim answered, laughing.  "What 
can I get ya, Commander?"

"Just a Diet Coke, thanks."

"Harm, it's all right, y'know. You can have a drink if you want."

"I am.  Last time I checked, Diet Coke was a drink."

Mac ignored his reply. "I...I didn't know you were back."

Harm nodded. "Yeah. Got in this morning."

"I wish you would've called me. I could've picked you up at the airport."

He shook his head. "I made Sturgis do it. I like to spread the burden of 
being my friend around evenly." He flashed Mac his priceless grin.

"Share the wealth, huh?"

"More like minimize the damage."

"And? How is the damage?"

"Under control." Harm took a deep breath. "It wasn't easy."

"I know. If I know anything, I know that. But, you're okay?"

"Yeah. It took two weeks of my heart racing, me shaking, snapping at 
everybody, and an enormous ass chewing by my mother of all people, but I 
think I'm okay.  Until it happens again, anyway."

"No chance in hell, Flyboy. Butch and Sundance, remember? If one of us goes 
down, then we go down together, and I, for one, am not going down ever 
again."

"Never going down?" Harm asked playfully.

"Whoa...red light, Harm. State police pulling you over, in fact."

Harm laughed. Pressing Mac's buttons was one of his favorite activities.  
They ordered more drinks and chatted for a while. Mac brought Harm up to 
speed on events at JAG, and Harm told Mac a little bit about his time away. 
He didn't want to go into too much detail; he felt thoroughly stupid and 
humiliated about the whole thing and didn't want to think about one second 
of it if he could avoid it.

Harm excused himself to use the men's room, and after a few minutes, the two 
men from the other end of the bar scooted over a few seats.  Both were on 
their fourth beer.

"Don't give in!" one of them said to Mac.

"He doesn't deserve you, lady!" the other slobbered.

"What's that he's drinkin'? A soda?!" said the first one.

"A soda? If he was a real man, he'd be tankin' a beer!"

"If he was a real man, he'd have you in the backseat of his car by now!"

Harm was on his way back to the bar, and was close enough to hear the last 
two lines.  "The lady's spoken for," he called.

"She is?" the first one said. He studied Mac up and down. "I don't see your 
name anywhere."

"Yeah," the second man added. "She's not your property."

"No, but *your teeth* will be my property if you don't leave her alone.

"Harm, it's all right," Mac said.

"Guys, I think you've had enough," Jim told the men. "Why don't you sober up 
and then get outta here."  They gave Harm a nasty look and went back to 
their seats, but not before one of them told Mac, "If you change your mind, 
there's plenty of room in our car!"

Harm rolled up his sleeves, preparing for a fight, but Mac put a hand on his 
arm. "Harm, please, it's okay. They're harmless."

"Mac, they're sleaze."

"Harm, not every guy is sleazy just because he flirts with me."

"Hello?! Earth to Mac? They weren't flirting.  They were...sleazing."

"Well, whatever they were doing, you don't always have to treat me like some 
damsel in distress. I'm a Marine. I can handle guys like that."

"I know you can. But that doesn't mean you should have to. You're a Marine, 
but you happen to be a very beautiful and sexy Marine, and you attract a lot 
of jerks sometimes."

Mac didn't know what part of that to respond to first.  "So you've taken it 
upon yourself to be my personal bodyguard?"

"Hey, it's a job I happen to enjoy. Is there something wrong with that?"

"Not at all," Mac said, smiling. "Just wanted to make sure we're on the same 
page."

"We're always on the same page, Mac. Just most of the time, they're in 
completely different books!"

"Do you always have to have a witty comeback?"

"Do you always have to be bothered by it?"

"You think that's the only thing about you that bothers me?"

Harm raised his eyebrows. "I should hope not. I've spent the better part of 
seven years learning how to press your buttons in every possible way. I'd 
hate to think it's all been a waste of time." He flashed his million-dollar 
grin at her.

"Oh, no. No waste there. You've turned pressing my buttons into an art 
form."

"An art form?" Harm teased. "Careful, Mac, you don't want to go giving me a 
big head."

"Harm, I'm sure your head is quite--" Mac halted.

"Yessss?" he said, his head down, but his eyes looking up at her.

"No fair. You let me walk right into that one."

"I didn't *let* you do anything, Mac. It's not my fault if your mind is in 
the gutter."

Mac grumbled loudly in frustration. "Damn you and those comebacks! You 
always win!" Harm was so good with words when it suited him, she thought. 
Funny how he was never able to say the only three she cared about hearing 
from him.

"Yep. I came, I saw, I conquered."

Mac looked at him in disbelief. "Hold it right there, Flyboy. You have come, 
and you may have seen, but you have definitely *not* conquered."

"Oh no?" Harm replied. He pointed to a pouty-lipped, busty blonde playing 
pool. "A month's worth of uniform dry-cleaning says I could conquer."

Mac sighed in disgust. "Of course you could. What is she, Renee's twin? One 
smile from you and those types fall naked into your bed, don't they?"

"Mac, I was kidding. I can't believe you think I would even suggest 
something like that."

Mac looked away from him, trying to hide her discomfort with that part of 
his life. She gripped her glass tightly.  Harm put his hand over hers and 
felt it relax a little.

"Come on, Mac," he said. "It was just a joke. The only woman I want to spend 
time with tonight is you."

She looked at him silently for a minute. "Yeah?"

"Yeah. And, to show you what a good sport I am, I'll handle your 
dry-cleaning anyway."

She smiled. "You don't have to. You would've won the bet, y'know."

"I know. But I have a free coupon." He winked.

"Watch out, big spender."

Jim, the bartender, had been busy with other customers for a while, but 
returned to Harm and Mac. "Colonel, Commander, it's been great having you 
back, but it's 1:30. Can I get you anything else before I close up?"

Harm looked to Mac to see if she would stay for another. She nodded. "Okay," 
Harm said. "Two Sarah Mackenzie specials."

"Two tonics with lime, coming up," Jim said.

"No Harmon Rabb double bourbons?" Mac asked. "What happened to your sense of 
adventure?"

"Being that it's last call, I'm more worried about a DUI than my sense of 
adventure." Harm paused. "Besides, considering what I've just left behind, I 
don't think that's the best thing for my system right now."

"Yeah, you're right. I...I shouldn't have said that."

"No, it's okay, Mac. You shouldn't feel like you have to walk on eggshells 
around me. We've always been able to be honest with each other, for better 
or worse. It's one of the things I cherish about us."

There really is no "us," Mac thought. Still, she loved the sound of the word 
coming from him.  But as for honesty, they had been dishonest more times 
than she could count, both in and out of court. However, they seemed to be 
getting along much better the past few months, with the exception of the 
last two or three weeks. Probably because whether Harm was aware of it or 
not, they avoided conversations involving the only things they really did 
need to talk about.

They finished their drinks and Harm picked up the check, leaving a generous 
tip on the bar for Jim.  "Thanks, Jim," Harm said as they left.

"G'night, guys. Drive safely!"

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Harm walked Mac to her car. She got her keys out.

"Well, I guess this goodnight, huh?" Mac asked.

"Are you tired?"

"Unfortunately, no. And even if I was..."

"Still not sleeping?"

Mac shook her head.

"Me neither." Harm put his hand on the car door, preventing Mac from opening 
it. "So, if I'm not sleeping, and you're not sleeping, what do you say to 
not sleeping together?"

Mac smiled. "Excuse me?"

"Look, there's no point in you going home to be bored and alone all night, 
and I sure as hell don't want to do that. It's a nice night, so why don't we 
stay out?"

"Stay out. And just where would we stay?"

"Get in your car and follow me. I know the perfect place."

Mac was suspicious. "And how do I know you won't take me to some dark alley 
and take advantage of me?"

Harm narrowed his eyes at her. "Where do I begin with that one? First, 
aren't you the one who's always telling me you're a big, bad Marine? And 
second, if I was going to take advantage of you, I'd do it right - roses, 
candles, a soft bed. Maybe even a gourmet dinner first. Maybe even filet 
mignon."

"You? Cook a steak?"

"I said *maybe*. But yeah. And there aren't a lot of people I'd touch raw 
meat for." Mac smiled and was about to say something when Harm cut her off. 
"Scratch that last part. Don't even go there, Mac."

"Tsk tsk. Just when it was getting interesting."

"Come on. Are you game?" Harm asked, his hand still on the car door.

"For the candles--"

"For tonight - for staying out with me," he answered. "Geez, Mac, your mind 
really *is* in the gutter tonight."

"Okay, well, gutter or not, yeah, I'm game."

"I didn't say it was a bad thing, your mind being in the gutter."

Mac rolled her eyes. "Just get your six in your car and lead the way before 
I take my dirty mind home and torture it with infomercials at 0200."

"Yes Ma'am," Harm replied, winking. Mac got into her car and Harm closed the 
door for her.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Traffic was extremely light at that hour, and a little while later, they 
reached their destination. Of course, they didn't get there without a little 
fun mischief on the road, in the form of Harm slowing down to 10 miles per 
hour now and then just to annoy Mac, and Mac responding by flashing her 
brights at him.

They parked near the Lincoln Memorial. It was just a hop, skip, and jump to 
the Vietnam Veterans' Memorial.  "Are we here to talk to your father?" Mac 
asked.

Harm shook his head. "No. He's probably angry about some of the things I 
said to Mom and Frank. Besides, Thanksgiving isn't too far away. I don't 
want to wear out my welcome."

Mac only nodded, uncertain of what to say. Harm took her by the hand and led 
her up the stone steps of the Lincoln Memorial. Her small hand fit easily 
into his. "I thought this might be a nice spot."

Mac looked out at the area. The landmarks - the Washington Monument, the 
Capitol Building, and others, were illuminated by soft colored lights. They 
gave the skyline a romantic beauty it lacked during the day. At night, the 
bureaucracy, red tape, and partisan games could be forgotten long enough to 
appreciate the architecture of the city and everything it represented.  
"You're right. It's beautiful."

You're beautiful, Harm wanted to say. Mac's skin glowed softly in the 
lights, and he was very happy she agreed to spend the night with him. Well, 
in one way, anyway.  They walked up a few more steps and sat down, the 
noble, larger-than-life Abraham Lincoln looming behind them.

Mac tipped her head to the Wall. "It never ceases to amaze me that there are 
always people there, no matter what time of day, or if it's pouring, or 
snowing..."

"Every day is somebody's birthday, or anniversary...or the day they went 
down. Weather can't change that."

Mac squeezed Harm's hand.  She didn't know what to say. Harm turned to face 
her. "Mac, let's not talk about sad things tonight. It's my first night back 
in town, and I want to have a good time with my best friend."

"You sure you still want me as your best friend? I wasn't exactly easy on 
you about...you know."

"I know, but sometimes that's what a person needs most. Looking back, it was 
certainly what *I* needed."

Mac shook her head. She wasn't so sure. "Maybe, but I could've been more 
understanding."

"No, no, you understood only too well. Who knows where I would've been 
headed if you hadn't cut me off at the pass. The brig? The hospital? Hell, 
maybe a cemetery."

"Harm! Don't say that!"

"Why not? It could've happened. God, I can't believe it even went as far as 
it did."

"Well, if not me, then Sturgis, or someone else would've figured out what 
was going on."

"Maybe it would've been too late."

"That is a moot point, since we did catch it in time, and you're okay now."

"Yeah, I'm okay. But that doesn't negate what I said to you - at the 
restaurant in Japan, and in the airport."

"You weren't yourself, Harm. You didn't know what you were saying."

"Maybe not, but that doesn't excuse the fact that I *did* say them."

"Harm, it's okay."

"No, Mac, it's not okay. When you were talking about drugs and I said that 
you would know about them, I didn't mean-"

"Look, Harm, forget it. Let's not go through this."

He shook his head. "I need to do this. I may have been a little...out of my 
mind, but I will *never* forget the look on your face. And the pain of 
knowing that I'm the one who put it there." He paused for a minute, looking 
down at the steps. "God, you're the last person in the world I ever wanted 
to hurt. You're my best friend."

"Harm," Mac began, "it would take a lot more than that to ruin our 
friendship. Remember when Dalton died? I said some terrible things to you, 
and you were still there for me when I needed you. Words alone, no matter 
how hurtful, could never destroy what we have."

"Well, I wasn't so sure. That's why I didn't say a word on the way home. I 
was so afraid of what would come out of my mouth that, for once, I kept it 
shut."

"And it worked like a charm. You should try that more often, Flyboy." Mac 
smiled at him.

"Don't get sarcastic on me, Mac. Aren't we finally having one of your 
precious Hallmark moments?"

Mac smiled. "Yeah, I guess we are, but..."

"I don't like that 'but'."

Mac sighed. "I do have one question."

"Uh-oh."

"It's about what you said - that I would know. It's just that...well, it's 
been a long time since I ended that part of my life. But in so many ways, it 
still defines me, and I hate that."

Harm listened patiently.

"I guess what I need to know is...does it define me for *you*? Is that who 
you see me as? The drunk? The screwed-up teenager?"

Harm's expression went from shock, to anger, to hurt. He took her right hand 
in his left and caressed her cheek with his right. "Oh my God, Mac...Sarah." 
He took a deep breath, not knowing where to start. "Absolutely not. Never. 
You have to understand that. I think you are an extremely intelligent, 
talented, courageous woman. You're a brilliant attorney, and one of the 
finest officers I have ever had the privilege of serving with."

Mac looked a little uncertain. "Listen to me, Sarah. You make me proud to be 
an officer. You make me a better lawyer and a better person every day. You 
might think the Marine Corps saved you, or turned you around, or whatever 
you want to call it, but you know what? No matter what they say, not 
everyone can be a good officer. You know the old line - they break you down 
so they can build you back up? Well, a lot of people stay down. You have to 
pretty damn strong to pull yourself up. There was a Marine in you long 
before you took that oath."

Tears were beginning to form in Mac's eyes, and one started to fall.

"Hey," Harm said softly. "Don't cry. These are good things. You're supposed 
to be happy."

She sniffled. "I am happy. Those are probably the nicest things anyone's 
ever said to me."

"Then I'll say them a lot more often, but only if you won't cry when I do. I 
can't stand to see you cry."

"Because I'm a Marine?" she teased.

"Because you're my best friend and I care about you. And happy or sad, tears 
are tears, and it's hard to figure out which kind. The only thing I like 
seeing on your face is that thousand-watt smile."

That very smile quickly replaced Mac's tears. "Yeah, that's the one!" Harm 
said happily.  They sat together quietly, watching a few other night-owls 
walking here and there.

Mac studied the government and museum buildings nearby.  "Do you ever think 
about living someplace else?" she asked Harm. "Moving outside of 
Washington?"

"Sure."

"You do?"

"You sound surprised."

"I am. What other city could possibly capture Harmon Rabb's legal and Navy 
heart?" Seems like everything you want is right here."

Harm took hold of her hand. "It is," he said, looking into her eyes. Mac 
looked back silently. He was a master at throwing lines like that at her and 
not saying another word unless she pushed. Like all those months ago when he 
said that Mac had been right, about some people being in love with her. She 
had long ago learned not to expect any verbal miracles from him.

"But sometimes I do think what it would be like living somewhere else. 
Sometimes all this - JAG, the city, the politics - is so complicated and 
disillusioning. Sometimes I think it'd be nice to live out in the country 
somewhere and take things slowly."

"You? Take things slowly?"

He rolled his eyes and smiled. "Yeah, why not? I would make a good country 
lawyer - handle marriage licenses, estates, farm sales. Heck, I could even 
have a farm and grow my own food!"

"You? A farmer? Would this be before or after they're eating snowcones in 
hell?"

"You don't think I could do it? I'm insulted, Mac."

"I didn't say you couldn't do it. I just think you have about as good a 
chance of leaving the Navy to grow corn and carrots as I have of being on 
the cover of Maxim."

"You *should* be on the cover of Maxim. You've got an incredible body, Mac."

Mac just stared at him, speechless.

"I don't know where you put all those Beltway Burgers. Certainly not on your 
waistline. You can't hide much under the uniform."

Mac reached her hand up and placed it against Harm's forehead. "Are you 
feeling all right, Harm? That's the third compliment you've paid me tonight. 
Maybe Jim spiked your soda."

"Come on, Mac, cut it out," Harm said, moving her hand away. "I was away for 
a while and I missed you, that's all."

Mac waited a few seconds for the rest of the remark, for the sarcastic joke 
that was bound to follow. But it never came.

"I missed you too."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah. JAG just wasn't the same without you." She looked away. "It never 
was."

He got her meaning right away. "I wasn't the only one who left JAG, y'know. 
You left too, more than once."

Mac had to admit, he was right. Once to test out a civilian law career, and 
once to get away - from her broken engagement, from the humiliation...from 
Harm and Renee.  "You're right. I did. But we both found our way back, huh?"

"Yeah. Good thing, too. *Somebody's* gotta keep you in line."

"Me?!" Mac objected. "What about *you*? Somebody's gotta be a buffer between 
you and the Admiral."

"Okay," Harm grinned. "You have a point."

"Can I get that in writing, Harm? That's a line for the record books."

"Now who's got the witty comebacks?"

Mac rolled her eyes and ignored the comment. "Harm, do you think we would've 
stayed friends if one of us stayed away? I mean, if you were still flying, 
or if I had stuck with a civilian law firm?"

Harm hesitated before answering. "I don't know, Mac, and I'm glad we didn't 
have to find out."

"You don't think we would have," she realized aloud softly.

"Truthfully? No. We had a hard enough time getting an even footing when I 
came back from flying. Can you imagine if I was still there?"

"No, I can't," she answered. She hated to think what would be if that were 
the case. She'd probably have a gold band on her left hand to match one on 
Mic's, and for sure, she wouldn't be sitting out here right now next to her 
favorite person in the whole world.

"Y'know, Mac, I never imagined me leaving would hurt you as much as it did."

"Would knowing have made any difference?"

Harm chuckled. "You're good, counselor. Remind me never to do anything to 
get myself cross examined by you. Your questions are tough."

"Answer anyway."

He took a deep breath and let it out slowly. "Probably not. I kind of have a 
one-track mind when it comes to flying. It's a part of me, and for better or 
worse, it always will be. I can't change that. But, we could have talked 
about it. I could've tried to make you understand better."

"I do understand. I understood then too, but I had a lot going on in my own 
life too, and the one person I needed most, my best friend, was leaving me."

Harm shook his head. "I wasn't leaving you. Y'know, Jordan thought the same 
thing - that she lost me to an F-14."

"Well, didn't she?"

Harm laughed. "Yeah, I guess she did, but it was all in her head. I wasn't 
dumping her for a Tomcat. An aircraft can't kiss you goodnight. You can't 
snuggle up to glass and steel."

"Well, it's the one thing Jordan and I agreed on. We both thought flying was 
more important to you than her. Than JAG. Than..."

"Than you?" he finished for her.

"Yeah," she whispered. The temperature had been dropping since they arrived 
at the Memorial, and Mac shivered slightly in the chilly air. Harm noticed 
and slipped out of his leather jacket. His eyes were locked on Mac's as he 
draped it over her shoulders. She wrapped herself up in it and Harm briskly 
rubbed his hands up and down her arms.

"Better?" he asked.

Mac smiled and nodded. "Thanks, but won't you be cold?"

He shook his head. "I'll be all right."

Mac relished the feel of the jacket around her. It even smelled like him.

After a few minutes, Harm spoke again. "Mac, flying *is* important to me, 
you know that. But it's not, and never was, more important than you. 
Airplanes don't help me win cases. They don't keep me on the straight and 
narrow. And they sure as hell don't accompany me to Russia to help me find 
my father." He took her hands in his. "Mac, nothing, *nothing*, could take 
your place in my life. Jordan didn't. Renee didn't even come close. And 
flying doesn't stand a chance."

Mac was speechless. Harm had never said anything like this. She could hardly 
believe she was hearing it.

"So when you ask me if we'd still be friends if I was flying, I don't know. 
It wouldn't have been easy. I was hundreds of miles away. Bugme was right 
here. Hell, he was in *my* office. But Mac, if I had to choose, right now, 
between our friendship and flying, I'd kiss my wings goodbye."

Harm's rare, touching words offered as much comfort as his warm jacket. He 
didn't say things like this often, but when he did, he went all out.

Harm grinned. "How's that for an answer?"

Mac's emotions overwhelmed her and tears were once again starting to fall.

"Hey now. What'd I tell you about crying?" He winked at her. "Besides, you 
don't want to cry in front of Abe Lincoln, do you?"

Mac couldn't help buy laugh at that.

"Much better," Harm said. They sat together quietly for a while. Now and 
then a guard would walk by and they nodded to him. After a little while, 
Harm stood up and moved to the step behind Mac. He stretched his legs out in 
front of her and massaged her shoulders.

"I could get used to this," Mac said. She moaned softly as Harm kneaded the 
tension out of her muscles.

Listening to the sounds she made, he thought, me too.

"Harm?" Mac asked after a few minutes. "I've been wondering...why are you 
having such a hard time sleeping?"

His hands froze in place on her back. He was silent.

"I'm sorry. You don't have to tell me. I didn't mean to pry."

"No, it's okay Mac.  I...I've been having nightmares...about Afghanistan."

She turned around to face him. "You wanna talk about it?"

"They're about the landmine."

"And Bud?"

He shook his head. "No. You." He paused. "God, they're horrible, Mac. I keep 
seeing *you* fall on it, and there's nothing I can do. There's blood and 
debris, and..."

"Harm, Harm it's okay. Look at me, I'm right here, I'm fine."

He sighed. "I know you are. But every time I close my eyes, I hear that 
blast and I see you and there's all this shrapnel. It's torture. That's why 
I've been so tired."

"And why you started taking--"

"Yeah. The dreams happen almost every night. At this point, I'd just as soon 
not sleep ever again."

"Well, that's not a viable solution. We'll think of something."

"I don't know what's going to make then go away, Mac." His voice was 
breaking up with emotion. "But I also don't know how many more times I can 
watch you...I don't know what I'd do if I lost you."

Mac held his hands. "You won't lose me, Harm. Not to a landmine or anything 
else. Besides, someone seems to be looking out for us. We've risked our 
lives so many times, and here we still are. Poachers, stalkers, crashes at 
sea. It's gonna take more than nightmares to keep us down."

"Us?"

"Yeah," Mac said. "I have a confession to make."

"What is it, Mac?"

"I've been having nightmares too. Really similar ones, in fact, only it's 
*you* on the landmine."

Harm thought back to when they were in Yokosuka. "Is that what happened that 
night in Japan, when I heard you screaming?"

Mac nodded.

"Why didn't you tell me?"

She shrugged. "Why didn't *you* tell *me*?"

"Touché."

"I guess I was afraid you might think it was silly. Or selfish. I mean, look 
at what happened to Bud, and all I can think about is what would've happened 
if it was you."

"Whoa, whoa, whoa. First of all, that is *not* silly. I've seen enough over 
the past few years that I never question your dreams anymore. And second, I 
don't think it's selfish. We almost lost Bud. It was harrowing on the 
Guadalcanal. I think it's only natural for the mind to play out other 
endings."

"It may be natural, but that doesn't make it any easier to take."

I know it doesn't."

Mac looked up at the sky. The city lights obscured a lot of them, but she 
could make out a few of the brighter stars. "Maybe we can wish them away. 
But we have to do it soon. The sun'll be up in a little while."

Harm was surprised. "You wish on stars?"

"You don't?"

He shook his head. "After we got word that my father was shot down, my 
mother and I used to go out on the back porch every night and wish for him 
to come home. After a few years, she gave up. I guess you can only wish so 
many times before you realize they really are just giant balls of gas 
millions of lightyears away."

"But that's so fatalistic," Mac complained. "If you can't believe in 
wishing, then there's no hope for anything, and that is too depressing to 
even consider."

Harm looked skyward. "You want to see stars? This is nothing. Out on my 
grandmother's farm, you can see the Milky Way. So many stars it doesn't even 
look real."

"Yeah, Red Rock Mesa was like that. Incredible. Especially when I was 
following the dinosaur tracks. All those millions of years ago, and they 
looked at the same starts we do."

"Kinda puts things in perspective, huh?"

Mac nodded.

"Hey! I almost forgot! Bud gave me his tickets to a show at the planetarium 
tomorrow. He was going to bring AJ, but they had a change of plans. You 
interested, stargirl?"

"Yeah, that sounds great. But...I liked ninjagirl better."

Harm smiled. "Okay, here's what we'll do. We'll stick around and watch the 
sunrise, then maybe find a place that's open for breakfast. After that, we 
can go our separate ways to shower and change, and then I'll pick you up."

"But we're right here." Mac pointed to the Smithsonian buildings just across 
the Mall.

"Yeah, but we smell from the bar, and showering will make us look less like 
we were up all night."

"Okay, deal." Mac thought for a second. "Wait a minute...isn't the 
planetarium in the Air and Space Museum? You're not gonna drool over planes 
for three hours before we see the show, are you?"

"What'd I say before, Mac? You make me drool more than a plane ever could. 
And I'll go one better - if you want, we can check out the dinosaurs at the 
Natural History Museum and then head for the show."

"Wow. You must've *really* missed me, Harm."

He grinned. "Isn't that what I said?"

Mac smiled and nodded. "Back to the stars for a minute. I still believe in 
wishing, and even if you don't, let's both wish these horrible nightmares 
away. It's gotta mean more with two people doing it, dontcha think?"

Harm rolled his eyes. "I don't know, but it's just about the only thing I 
haven't tried yet." They picked out a star, closed their eyes, and both sent 
a silent request heavenward.  They sat together quietly for a while, both 
enjoying the rare peace and serenity of the city at that hour. As the sun 
came up, they watched the colors of the surrounding buildings change in the 
Reflecting Pool. The grass and trees nearby took on a fairy-tale-like 
sparkle from the morning dew.

The air was crisp with the unique smoky smell of autumn. Mac inhaled deeply. 
"If you close your eyes, you could almost forget you're in Washington."

"Yeah," Harm responded. "Hard to believe it could ever be this peaceful 
here."

"Too bad there's a war going on in my stomach. Come on, Pa, whaddya say we 
go milk the cows and then get us some fresh eggs?"

Harm gave her a look. "You're never gonna let me live down that farmer 
thing, are you?"

"Not in a million years. Maybe next time you want to make fun of me for 
something, you'll remember I have that little tidbit in my arsenal."

"Whatever. Let's take my car and get some breakfast. I'll drive you back 
here for your car after."

After driving a few minutes, they found an all-night diner near George 
Washington University. It was mostly empty, but a few young people were here 
and there, all with coffee cups to go with whatever they were eating. No 
doubt college students who'd been up all night for any number of reasons.

The hostess showed them to a booth near the window and left two menus on the 
table.  Their waitress came by a few seconds later.

"Mornin' folks. What can I get y'all to drink?"

"Coffee please," Mac said.

"Same," Harm answered, "and an orange juice, too."

They studied the menus for a few minutes. It was typical breakfast fare - 
omelets, home fries, bacon, sausage, grits. Harm did spot a fruit salad 
option, but it was probably out of a can, saturated with sugar syrup.  
"Guess they don't call it a greasy-spoon for nothing, huh?"

"Yeah," Mac said happily. "My kind of place!"

Harm rolled his eyes.  "I hope they have a defibrillator in the back," he 
joked.

"Harm, I'm not going to criticize how you live your life, but what good is 
eating the way you do if you're gonna drop dead from all those cigars 
anyway?"

"I have a cigar maybe once a month. You eat like this every day."

"Okay, so we'll both drop dead early then."

"Of course we will. That's the plan, isn't it, Sundance?"

Before Mac could respond, the waitress returned with their drinks. "Have 
y'all decided on anything yet?" Harm looked to Mac, inviting her to go 
first.

"I'll have the western omelet."

"Bacon or sausage with that, hon?"

"Bacon."

"Toast or potatoes?"

"Potatoes."

She turned to Harm. "And for you, sir?"

"I'm going to go with the Belgian waffle."

"Good choice. Will you take that with blueberry, peach, or strawberry?"

"Peach."

"Okay, thanks. I'll get this order in for ya right away."

Mac watched suspiciously as Harm put milk and sugar into his coffee. Usually 
he took it black, just like she did. He took a few sips while it was still 
hot, then moved on to his orange juice. He thought better of it and went 
back to the coffee, so he'd be drinking the same thing as Mac.

"I'd like to propose a toast," he said.

"Okay, what are we drinking to?"

"To the Declaration of Independence."

"What? Why?"

"Because, if it didn't exist, then your uncle wouldn't have stolen it, and 
we never would've met."

"Harm, if the Declaration of Independence didn't exist, this entire city, 
no, this *country*, wouldn't exist."

"All the more reason then." They raised their coffee cups and clinked them 
together.

Mac observed the college students around them. "Look at these poor kids," 
she said. "You couldn't pay me enough to go back to school. All that work, 
all the sleepless nights." She thought for a second. "Not that it's all that 
different..."

"Yeah," Harm said softly. "But who knows - maybe our wish worked. Only time 
will tell."

"Let's at least make it interesting. If it works, what do I get?"

"I don't know. I'm already doing your dry cleaning, aren't I?"

"You could cook me a T-bone steak."

Harm rolled his eyes. "Or, I could just buy you lunch at the museum and 
we'll call it even."

"Copout," Mac pouted.

"Hey now. If it *doesn't* work, what do *I* get?"

"Uh-oh."

"You're right. This *could* get interesting." He eyed her from over his 
coffee cup, his lips curving into a devilish grin.

A few minutes later, the waitress came back with their food. Mac's plate was 
full with the omelet, bacon, and fried potatoes. Harm's waffle was big and 
fluffy. Gooey peaches covered it and syrup dripped down the sides onto the 
plate. A generous dusting of powdered sugar crowned everything.

Mac was surprised. "That's a little departure for you, isn't it?"

"Yes, but that's okay. It's a special occasion."

"It is?"

"Sure. You and I have gone eight hours without fighting." He grinned.

"Seven hours, forty-two minutes."

Harm shook his head, and they both dug into their breakfasts. Harm watched 
Mac eat some of the bacon and potatoes. "I swear, Mac, I don't know where 
you put it all."

"I never gain weight. It's God's way of rewarding me for putting up with 
you."

Harm kicked her lightly under the table. "Very funny."

Behind the counter, just out of earshot, the waitresses were talking about 
how in love the two customers must me. They seemed to be mocking each other 
at times, but the look in their eyes proved it was always done with respect 
and mutual attraction. These ladies had seen their share of college crushes, 
and certainly an eyeful of Washington scandals, but this was different. 
There were definite, permanent sparks between these two.

After they finished eating, the waitress brought the check and Mac grabbed 
it. "My treat."

"Mac, don't be ridiculous."

"No, I owe it to you. I had a really nice time last night, and it was your 
idea to stay out. If we hadn't, I would've been alone all night, and right 
now I'd be home, eating stale cereal straight from the box."

"Mac, it was my pleasure. You don't have to pick up the check."

"Consider it a welcome home present, then."

"You sure?"

"Yes. But our wish is going to work, so you can get lunch at the museum in 
advance."

"Don't count your chickens before they hatch, Ninjagirl."

"*You're* the farmer."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A short while later, they were both headed for Mac's apartment. They had 
decided to stop there so she could shower and change clothes, and then 
they'd take Harm's car to his place so he could do the same, and they'd 
leave for the museum from there.

They entered her apartment and Mac tossed her keys onto a small table near 
the door. "Make yourself at home. The remote's on the couch," she said, and 
headed for the bathroom.

"Thanks," Harm said, but he wasn't interested in watching TV. In all the 
times he'd been to Mac's, he had never really looked around that much. He 
took advantage of the opportunity now. All the furniture and colors were 
very tasteful. Nothing overly frilly or girly, like some women he had known. 
Renee's bathroom alone was enough to make him shudder. So many bottles and 
jars and a ton of makeup he had no hope of identifying. Mac's place was 
different. You could tell a woman lived here, but definitely an intelligent, 
interesting one.

He studied the bookshelf. Lots of Tom Clancy and Robert Ludlum. Books like 
that weren't easy to get through, but Harm knew Mac had never been a good 
sleeper. He was pleasantly surprised to see some romance, oh heck, smutty, 
novels. Even after all these years, she still had a few things up her 
sleeve.

He heard her turn on the water for her shower. He continued looking around, 
but his mind kept wandering back to the bathroom. He imagined the warm water 
sliding over her soft curves. Her soapy hands lathering her soft skin. What 
he wouldn't give to trade in his nightmares for dreams of that.

"Harm?" Mac called from the hallway.

He turned around and had to catch his breath. She was wrapped in a towel, 
just big enough to cover the essentials. "You okay?" she asked. "You know 
where the glasses are if you want a drink or anything."

Harm only nodded, not quite trusting his voice at that moment.

"All right, I'll be ready in a few minutes."

Harm sat on the sofa patiently, and soon Mac emerged from the bedroom 
wearing a pair of black slacks and a form-fitting red turtleneck sweater.

"You clean up real good, Marine," he said, wanting to say more.

"How romantic," she joked. "Let's see how you do, Squid."

A little while later, they were at Harm's, their roles reversed. Harm went 
into the shower, while Mac looked around. She had to admit, he had done an 
incredible job with the place. When he first moved in, it looked like an old 
basement, but he'd really outdone himself. He had impressive, albeit 
unquestionably male, taste, complete with black leather couches. The kitchen 
and high quality supplies would've been wasted on her, but she knew they 
were perfect for Harm.

The unique setup of the apartment allowed her to see into the bedroom from 
the living room. She stared at the bed. So that's where he and Renee...or 
maybe they did it on the couches...or the floor. No place was safe.

That aside, she had always loved being here, surrounded by Harm's things. 
For some reason, she felt at home here. However, there had really only been 
one time when she wished with all her heart that she could be here. And she 
had been, but only long enough for him to turn her away...again.

Before she could dwell on that painful memory, she heard Harm turn on the 
water. She closed her eyes and could see the hot water rolling off the 
chiseled muscles on his tall, broad frame. God, why did he have to be do 
damn good looking? For a few minutes, she imagined what he might do if she 
joined him in there.

"Mac?" Harm said, and Mac practically jumped a mile off the couch.

"Huh?"

"You need anything out here?"

"Um, no, I'm fine."

"Okay then, I'll get dressed and we'll get going. We'll get there just as it 
opens, so maybe we can beat some of the crowds." Harm went into his bedroom 
and Mac let out the breath she'd been holding. He had just a towel wrapped 
around his waist. Nothing but a little terrycloth between me and seeing if 
all his Flyboy arrogance is justified, she lamented.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A little while later, they were walking through the dinosaur exhibits at the 
Natural History museum. Harm was only somewhat interested, but Mac was 
enthralled, and he loved seeing her so happy.  They walked past several 
displays and read the explanations of what they were looking at. After 
walking the perimeter of the room, they focused their attention to the 
center, where whole dinosaur skeletons were on display - brontosaurs, 
T-rexes, stegosaurs. Harm and Mac read the descriptions of what they ate, 
how they congregated, etc. Mac was a wealth of knowledge, and added a lot to 
the museum's information for Harm.  He was particularly fond of the 
brontosaurus, a plant eater.

Mac pointed to a dinosaur that was suspended from the ceiling, as if to 
simulate flight. "You would love the pterodactyl."

"Why?"

"Isn't it obvious? He had wings."

Harm smiled brightly. He put his arm around her and they continued on to 
some of the other exhibits before leaving the building to head to the Air 
and Space museum across the way. The view was very different in daylight 
than it had been the night before. Several tour groups were listening to 
guides go on about history and government, and lots of people were taking 
pictures. The leaves had started to change color and Mac pointed out the 
foliage. "This is my favorite time of year."

"It is?" Harm asked.

"Yeah. Look how beautiful everything is. In a couple of weeks, it'll be 
Thanksgiving and all these leaves will be gone."

"Yeah, but we both have a lot to be thankful for this year." Harm brought 
her hand to his lips and placed a gentle kiss there.

She smiled. "Definitely."

"We better get moving.  Show starts soon." They got through the line quickly 
and headed for the domed planetarium. As she had predicted, Mac had to drag 
Harm away from an aviation exhibit so they could get there in time. "We can 
stop back after, Flyboy."

"Promise?" he pouted.

"Promise."

The planetarium was crowded, but they found two seats together. "So what's 
this supposed to be about, anyway?" Mac asked.

"The Hubble Telescope, I think."

As a few stragglers found seats, a museum employee explained about turning 
off cell phones and not taking pictures during the show. Only half paying 
attention to the standard speech, Harm looked at Mac and smiled. He put his 
arm around her, and reached across himself to take her hand with his other.

If he was going to make himself comfortable, Mac thought, then so would she. 
  She snuggled down in her seat and nestled her head against his chest.

"Comfy, ninjagirl?" Harm whispered.

"Very."

Soon, the house lights went dark, and the dome all around them was covered 
in a simulated night sky. And before they knew it, Harm and Mac's wish came 
true. In each other's arms, under the stars, they fell into a deep, peaceful 
sleep.


~The End.~

(Look for the sequel! Under the Stars II: Family Ties)