Title: What I'd Give Up

Author: Carrie D.

Rating: R

Spoilers: Anything up to and including "A Tangled Webb (1)"

Disclaimer: I don't own the characters in this. They are owned by DPB, Belisarius 
Productions, Paramount Pictures, and CBS Television. I'm just borrowing them for a little 
fun. Please don't sue. You wouldn't get much, just some shirts, some pants, and 
underwear, lots and lots of underwear. Starving college student here!

Summary: What is Harm willing to give up for Mac? Told from Harm's POV.

Feedback: Always welcome and appreciated!

Email Address: c.digges@verizon.net 

This story and others can be found at: 
http://www.angelfire.lycos.com/crazy2/crazyauntcd/home.html  

AN: This begins during fall of 2003. We will just assume that Harm, Mac and Webb (and 
Gunny) make it safely out of Paraguay. 

********

Unknown Time
Cave
Unknown location in Northern Iraq


	She once asked me what I'd be willing to give up to have her. This was a few 
years ago, back when she was TAD on the Guadalcanal, after her failed wedding to Mic 
Brumby. I can't say I hated the guy; I didn't like him, but hate is such a strong word. As 
long as he made her happy, I couldn't really hate him. Sure, at times, I wasn't sure she 
was really in love with him, like at her engagement party, but to my knowledge, he 
treated her well and she appeared happy. And because I was unsure of her happiness, I 
couldn't do anything. What if she really was happy and I ruined that for her? I couldn't 
live with myself then. So I let her go to him and lived my life. I didn't like Mic Brumby, 
that much is true. There are just certain people in life that you meet that just grate your 
nerves, and for me, Mic Brumby was one of those people. I'm really glad she didn't 
marry him. I don't know that I could have pretended to be friends with him when his 
company was required. I think I would have had to take another assignment and 
completely lose her. Thank goodness for small miracles.

	But I sure as hell was jealous of the guy!

	I smile at the memory. Any memory with Mac can make smile. Well, almost any 
memory, especially right now, here in this moment. All I can see in front of me is her 
beautiful face, complete with the smile that she has that lights up every room she walks 
into. I can hear the music that is her laughter. And if I think hard enough, I can forget 
where I am and make her my whole world.

	I can see her on the darkness of my eyelids, not the terrorists with their guns 
trained on me. I can hear her voice, not my captors' footsteps as they pace the room and 
their whispers as they discuss their next step. I can't even hear the raging of my heartbeat, 
only her. Thinking of her brings me peace, my only solace at the moment.

	My thoughts are broken as I am stabbed with the tip of a gun. I open my eyes and 
glare at the wielder of the weapon.

	Even under his heavy accent, I can understand him perfectly. "What are you 
smiling about?"

	"The end," I hiss back, smiling broadly. They may take my life, but they will 
never take my pride.

	The man laughs heartily as he points his weapon at me again. I don't even 
remember why they were holding her hostage. I think they were trying to make a point 
when they caught the group of Marines, dangled them in front of the United States like an 
abusive owner dangling steak in front of a beaten and starving dog. The rest of the group 
was killed. They took special pride with Mac, though. I never did catch the reason why, 
but I have the sneaking suspicion it was simply because of the fact that she is female. I 
was going nuts without her and I charged in. Somehow, I pleaded with them, my life for 
hers. I told them I'd tell them what they wanted to know, anything, just let her go and 
they did. She glared at me as she was taken away and I was chained to the chair. The 
terrorists assured me that she made it safely away, and for some inexplicable reason, I 
trusted them. Maybe it's because we were so connected that I knew in my heart that she 
was still alive, just like I always knew where she was.

	The laughter of the group increases as the man closest to me raises his weapon. 
What would I give up to have you, Mac? Is my life enough? My world goes black the 
moment I feel the impact of the weapon at the base of my skull.


-----


	I don't know how long I've been out when I regain consciousness. Mac would 
know, maybe. After that blow, her internal clock might be messed up. I slowly open my 
eyes and blink at the world around me. Everything is blurry and the room is spinning. As 
a former Tomcat pilot, I've never been one to get motion sickness, but even this is too 
much for me. I move my upper body as far as I can, leaning my head over, aiming for the 
ground, and vomit every last bit of food I've recently ingested. Fortunately, I've been 
here for a while and keeping me fed is not on the top of the to-do list of my captors. I 
think I got some on me, but I don't really care. I lean my head back and close my eyes 
again. My head is pounding. They just may have killed me with that blow. I hear their 
laughter far off in the distance as I slip back into unconsciousness.


-----


	I feel her fingertips on my forehead, brushing away the dirt and sweat. She kisses 
my forehead gently. "Harmon Rabb, you're a damn fool. You know that, don't you?"

	"Yeah," I smile to her. She is in her BDUs, hardly attractive, but she is still the 
most beautiful sight that I've ever seen. The stars and a mostly-full moon illuminate the 
dark sky behind her. We are in the desert somewhere and the night is cool. A nearby fire 
glows orange and only increases the beauty of her skin tone. I reach up to touch her face, 
caressing her cheek with my fingers. Her skin is soft, the softest thing I have felt in a long 
while.

	"Than you are every bit as arrogant as I always believed," she laughs softly at me. 
It is the most beautiful sound God ever created.

	"And does this surprise you?" I look up into her brown eyes and I am lost.

	She shakes her head. "No. I knew when I left that you were well aware of what 
you were doing. And I knew you wouldn't have it any other way. But you are still a damn 
fool."

	I grin at her. "At least it's over now."

	"No," she says grimly. "It isn't."

	"But you're here, and we're together, so things are better." My fingers trace the 
contour of her face. "And at least we aren't in some dark cave being held hostage by 
crazy terrorists with guns."

	Mac breaks the gaze we are holding.

	"We are out of it, aren't we?" I ask her, my stomach in my throat.

	"I am," she says, looking down at her fingers on my chest. She looks back at me 
with tears in her eyes. "But you're not."

	I wipe a tear as it gently falls from one eye. "But this feels so real, Mac."

	"It is, Harm. In your mind."

	"Then maybe I can stay here. With you."

	"NO!!" she yells at me.

	I am taken aback by her harsh refusal.

	"You can't stay here," she says, softer than before.

	"I don't want to go back to what is waiting for me, Mac. There is nothing there. 
They are going to kill me."

	"I know," she says softly, another tear sliding down her cheek, falling gently to 
the sand below. "But you have to go back."

	"If there is nothing there for me, I'd rather stay here, with you. Even if it isn't 
real, it doesn't hurt. I'd rather stay here until they take my life. At least I'm happy here."

	"Are you afraid to die?" she chuckles softly.

	"No. I'm not afraid of dying. I'm afraid of losing you. I'm afraid of living my life 
without you. I'd rather die than face that reality."

	Mac smiles softly through her tears, "That's why you have to go back."

	I gaze at her for another moment, slowly comprehending her words.

	"Go back, Harm. I'll be there. I'm not going to let you go. I'm coming to get you. 
You just have to hang on."

	I can see the determination in her eyes. She means it. That's my Marine. "Don't 
make a promise you can't keep."

	"I haven't yet," she smiles at me, thinking of our long ago conversation on the 
front steps of JAG Headquarters, when the roles had been reversed. I was the one making 
promises back then. Maybe, if I get out of this, I'll get to working on that promise. If? 
When did I get to be such a pessimist? When I get out of here, we'll get to work on that 
promise.

	"I'll see you there."

	She gazes softly at me. "Hang on, Harm. I'm coming."

	"Mac?"

	"Yeah?"

	"Be careful."

	"I will." She kisses me gently on the lips, so lightly I'm not even sure I felt it. She 
rises to her feet, salutes me, turns, and walks off across the desert. I watch her until she 
disappears from my sight. Only then, do I close my eyes and drift off.

 
-----


	When I come to, the pounding in my head has returned. What the hell was that? A 
dream? A vision? A hallucination? I slowly open my eyes. My vision is still blurry, but I 
am sure the terrorists that surround me in the back of this dark cave in the middle of the 
desert still have their guns aimed at me. I close my eyes again. Fucking Webb, he got us 
into this mess. No, this part wasn't his mission, but his mission brought us over to Iraq. 
His mission put us in touch with the current situation. And, Mac and I being the people 
we are, we couldn't walk away. But fuck Webb for even dragging us over here. I need to 
be angry with someone and Webb is it right now. Anger will keep me conscious. And I 
need to stay conscious so I'll be ready when Mac comes for me.

	I have faith in her. I know she is coming. She won't let me down.

	I reopen my eyes. The room is still spinning and I'm still feeling nauseous. I wish 
I could get off this merry-go-round, or that they'd at least slow it down because it's 
getting pretty annoying. I know I won't vomit again. There's nothing left in me to come 
out. Not that way, anyway. Unfortunately for me, my bladder is pretty full. These guys 
have been "kind" enough to give me water, just enough to keep me alive and my organs 
functioning. But they aren't nice enough to even let me get up and piss in a corner. Nope, 
I just have to let that go all over myself. At least it's warm, for a minute, and does fight 
off the chill. Then I'm just cold and wet. God, this is fucking humiliating. I close my eyes 
and decide to hold it. Maybe Mac will come soon and I can relieve myself in a corner. A 
man can hope, can't he?

	It's so tempting to slip back into darkness. My eyelids are heavy and begin to 
droop. No! I have to be ready for Mac. She's coming. I jerk my eyes open and look 
around the room. While my vision isn't a hundred percent, I can make out the figures 
around the room. As I suspected, they've still got their guns on me, not that it matters 
much. Even if I could move, I couldn't move very quickly or go very far. And even if I 
weren't bound to this stupid chair, I'm not sure I'd have the strength to move at all.

	The one closest to me approaches me, almost like he can read my mind. 
"Comfortable?" he asks.

	"Never been more comfortable in my life," I grin at him. Shit, that was a mistake. 
My head is hurting worse now, just from the slight movement and the sound of my own 
voice. They can take my life, but they'll never take my pride.

	He jabs me in the side, hard, with the butt of his gun. "Hope this helps," he smiles 
back smugly.

	He probably cracked a rib or two. Add that to the blows I've taken to my head, 
one on the back and one in jaw, and my broken arm. That doesn't even hurt anymore. In 
fact, my whole body, save my head, is numb, either from pain or the cold. "Much better," 
I nod. As smart as these guys were, they bought my lie about telling them what they 
wanted to know. Oh, I told them things all right, not what they wanted to know, but they 
thought it was. I suppose that's why I'm still alive. Or maybe I'm just a bargaining chip. I 
don't know anymore. I decide to let my bladder go and just maybe, he'll back off for a 
little while.

	It works. He glares at me and looks disgusted. I'm not so sure about the pride 
thing anymore. You spend enough time vomiting and pissing on yourself, you kind of 
lose that, too. But I could still act like I was proud. I didn't have to let them know how 
much they were hurting me. They can take my life, they can try to take my pride, but they 
will never take my spirit.

	And I'd much rather go through this than have them do this to Mac. Or worse. 
God help me, but I love her. I always have.

	I watch him back away. Okay, they're human enough to be disgusted by these 
things. I have to give them credit for that. They aren't complete monsters.

	I close my eyes again. I am so tired. All I want to do is lie down and go to sleep. 
I'll even settle for the dirt floor right now, anything, other than this fucking chair. But, I'd 
much prefer my bed, so soft, warm, and comfortable. I got a new one a while back. I 
don't know why, I just felt it was time for a change. A pillow-top. It's like sleeping in the 
clouds. Maybe that's why I fell in love with it when I gave it a try at the store in the mall 
that day. Sleeping in the clouds. If I can't fly all the time, then sleeping in a cloud is the 
next best thing. I wish I were there now, wrapped up in my thick comforter and smooth 
sheets. It would be so warm and soft and comfortable…


-----


	I'm surrounded by darkness.


-----


	I'm in the desert again, by the fire, looking up at the stars. I look for Mac, but she 
isn't here, but she was. I can almost smell her. I can definitely see her footprints in the 
sand, where she walked away from me. Was she coming back?

	I sit up and move close to the fire. It is so warm. I hadn't realized I was so cold. I 
shiver as I feel the heat radiating from the fire. It feels so good. I scan the horizon for any 
sign of Mac, but there is none. If she isn't here, then why am I? 

	I know I need to go back, back to the cold, the pain, and the humiliation. But it is 
so nice here; knowing Mac was here, here and safe. I look up at the moon, so far away 
and watching over me. Can it see Mac from up there, too?

	Please, God, wherever she is, keep her safe.

	I lie down by the fire, letting it warm me, and drift off to sleep.


-----


	Darkness again.


-----


	I come to and feel the wetness against my lips, more water, but still no food. How 
long can a person go on like this? What was it they said to us, a person could live for a 
week without food, but only two days without water? Something like that. How long 
have I been here? Only a day? A week? It seems like an eternity.

	Eternity. How long ago was it that Mac and I were on that ferry under the bridge? 
The stars were beautiful that night, but they couldn't hold a candle to Mac. She was 
radiant. I'll never understand why she confronted me, even if she sat me down and 
explained it to me in plain English. And I'll never understand my response to her, even if 
I lived that night over again. No, I wasn't in the best place at the time, but is there ever a 
"right time?" As I've grown older, I've begun to wonder if there is ever a "right time." 
Maybe we have to make it the right time. Maybe that's what she was trying to do that 
night. But could I say that to her? No. Truth was, I was scared. Still am. If I give in and 
go to Mac, live a life with her like I want, I'll have to give up JAG, because I couldn't 
ask her to. I'd probably quit flying, for the Navy anyway, since I couldn't bear the 
thought of making her a widow. And I'd risk losing her. Because if it didn't work, I don't 
think we could be friends. Not like we are now, at any rate. And I couldn't bear not to 
have her in my life. At least as a friend, she's there. But I think I could spend eternity 
with her.


-----


	Darkness.


-----


	Am I already dead? Is this hell? 


-----


	The next time I start to drift towards consciousness, I hear guns. In the distance, 
not in the room. I hear the voices of my captors, worried and excited. I swim toward 
consciousness, trying to reach it.

	I open my eyes and blink several times, trying to clear the fog that coats my 
vision. The men are scurrying about the room. I hear more gunfire, closer now than a 
moment ago. I hear a scream a little way off. I'm struggling to keep my eyes open, to 
keep conscious, focusing my eyes on the entryway. If something, or someone, is coming, 
I want to know it.

	Please, let it be Mac. Or somebody from my side. Let her be safe.

	And then, like an angel, there she is, running through the entryway, gun blazing, 
bullets raining down on the terrorists. I catch a flash of her eyes and they are on fire. 
Everything is moving in slow motion. The guards by the door are killed, taken swiftly by 
the intruder, followed by others nearby. The gun points to the back of the room, bullets 
are fired, and down go the group of men. She glances quickly in my direction, no eye 
contact, but enough to know I am there, alive. On my far side, three more men are taken 
down. I'm glad she's on my side.

	And only one is left, his gun raised, pointed at my head. He smiles at Mac. She 
looks at me and for the first time, she looks nervous. One slip, and I could be dead. I 
know it, she knows it, and my captor knows it. Looking at me, maintaining eye contact, I 
nod, ever so slightly. Let her do it. If I die, at least I got to see her one last time.

	Mac fires, hitting him, not in his head, but his shoulder, the one not attached to the 
hand with the finger on the trigger. He staggers, pulls the trigger, and for a moment, I am 
terrified of dying. It is so close; I swear I see the angel of death. But fortune smiles on 
me, and the bullet misses. My head, anyway, but it hits my knee. I scream in pain. Before 
the one remaining man can line up his aim to take me out, she fires again, hitting him in 
the head. He crumples to the ground, dead.

	Mac lowers her gun and rushes toward me, never letting it drop. "Harm!" she 
yells. She wraps her arms tightly around me. I can hear her heart racing, feel her 
breathing against me.

	"Mac! You came," I say weakly.

	"I had to. I needed you."

	I can see the tears in her eyes and my own eyes start to tear up.

	"What do you say we get out of here?" she asks, inspecting the bindings holding 
me to the chair.

	"I want nothing more, as long as you're coming with me."

	"Wouldn't dream of anything else." She finds what she's looking for, and 
drawing a pistol out of the back of her pants, she instructs me, "Hold still." She shoots at 
the chains, breaking them and freeing me. She returns the gun to her waistband, slings the 
automatic over her shoulder, and reaches down to help me. She pauses, thinking twice 
about helping me to my feet. She tears the sleeve off of her clothing, BDUs, and wraps 
my knee with it. "It won't do much, but every little bit helps." She reaches down again, 
bending at the waist and hooks herself under my good shoulder and helps me to my feet.

	It takes a lot of effort, but I make it. My body is numb from being in one position, 
but I can distinctly feel the pain in my head, my arm, my ribs, and my knee. I stumble, 
but Mac catches me, holding me close. "I got you. I'm not going to let you go."

	"I know," I smile at her. The world is spinning, faster now than before. I've made 
it this far; I've got to keep going, but not before I lose the contents of my stomach again. 
I lean over and vomit, mostly water. It burns as it comes up. I straighten as much as I can. 
"Sorry."

	Mac uses her other sleeve to wipe my chin. "No. I'm sorry I didn't get here 
sooner." She grips me tightly around the waist, my arm wrapped around her shoulder, my 
shot knee between us, my broken arm hanging limply at my side. Slowly, we half limp, 
half hop toward the entryway. I lean against the wall and catch my breath. Mac hands me 
a canteen and I drink slowly, not wanting to lose it. A few swallows are all I take before I 
nod gently.

	Somehow, I'm not sure how, we make it out of the cave. We stop countless times 
to let me rest. Never once does Mac ever let me sit down, afraid that she will lose me. I'm 
afraid I'll go back to the darkness too, and not come back this time. I am so weak. I can't 
even say anything to Mac, but she seems to know this. We pass bodies on the way, killed 
by Mac's shooting. After passing the third one, we pause again, and I look intently at her, 
questioning.

	"No back up," she says knowingly. "They called it a suicide mission." She didn't 
say anymore as my eyes close. "Stay with me, Harm." Her fingers caress my face. 
"We've come this far. It isn't much farther."

	I nod again. We set off, slowly. Mac wasn't being honest when she said it wasn't 
much further. It was a lot further, but she couldn't tell me that, and I know it. I admire her 
for it. We stop again and keep on going, passing more bodies as we go. I'm getting 
weaker by the minute and Mac knows it. Finally, there ahead of us, is the opening. I can 
smell the fresh air and it revives me, gives me the strength I need to get out.

	Out on the open sand, numerous Marines come running our way. Others stand 
back, their weapons still targeting the opening of the cave. A big guy runs up and relieves 
Mac of my weight. I am grateful, for her, but I liked being so close to her. "There is no 
one left alive in there," she tells them. Another radios for a helo. It was apparently close 
by because within moments I can hear the thumping of the blades.

	The helo lands and I am placed onto a gurney. I'm slipping again, back to the 
darkness, and I know it. Mac grabs my hand and squeezes it gently. "I'm here, I'm not 
going anywhere, Harm. I promise."

	We are lifted into the helo. I feel the rising sensation as it lifts off, carrying us 
somewhere. I swallow and look up at her. "Thanks, Mac," I manage weakly before 
succumbing to the darkness.


-----


	I wake up later in a bed, surrounded by white. My head is still pounding and I am 
distinctly aware of the pain in the rest of my body. I hurt so much that I know this isn't in 
my imagination. This is real. Was escaping real? Was Mac real? I turn my head and I can 
just slightly make out a figure nearby. Sitting. No weapon. My escape must have been 
real. I blink my eyes, trying to clear my vision. I want to know who it is.

	"Hey, Sailor," she says, rising and moving closer. I can see it is her. Mac.

	I try to smile, but I'm not sure if I'm successful. "Hey, Marine," I manage weakly.

	"Shh," she says as she picks up my hand. "Don't try to talk, Harm. You're in the 
hospital. They're stabilizing you so they can move you to Italy to operate on your knee."

	"What happened?" I ask her weakly. My throat is dry, scratchy.

	Mac senses this and pours a little bit of water into a cup. I try to lift up, but I am 
so weak. She smiles, perches on the side of the bed, gently uses her arm to raise my head 
and holds the cup to my lips. "Drink."

	I swallow carefully. The liquid feels so good as it slides down. I finish drinking. I 
am so tired. I want to go back to sleep.

	"I'll tell you everything later. You just rest. You need your strength before they 
transport you. Don't talk, just go to sleep." She caresses my forehead with her fingertips.

	I've never been good at following directions. "Will you stay?"

	"There's no place I'd rather be."

	I smile at her. I know I'm successful this time. I close my eyes and gently drift to 
sleep as her fingers tenderly stroke my face.


-----


	For two days I remain in the hospital, sleeping most of the time. Tests are run, I'm 
fed through IVs and my arm is properly set and wrapped in a cast. My head is still 
providing me with a great deal of pain, making me dizzy and nauseous. It's probably a 
good thing I can't stand anyway. I'd end up so disoriented I wouldn't know which way is 
up and which way is down. The doctors tell me I have a very severe concussion that will 
have to be closely monitored. I need to be in a better hospital to have my knee properly 
operated on, although the bullet and its fragments have been removed. And through it all, 
Mac is here with me. I don't think she has left the room in days. She is pale, has dark 
circles under her eyes, looks thin, but she keeps on smiling, even if they seem forced. I'm 
worried about her, but I know she won't leave me. I wouldn't leave her either. That's just 
who we are.

	I'm transported to Naples, Italy; where I spend another day getting stronger 
before I'm taken into surgery. For six hours, they operate on my knee, reconstructing the 
bones and cartilage, tendons and ligaments. A pin is inserted. And it probably won't be 
the last operation once the healing process begins. Once again, Mac is here when I wake 
up. I don't stay awake for long, giving into the sleepy state that has claimed most of my 
time these last few days.


-----


	Sometime later, I'm not sure when, I truly wake up for what seems like the first 
time in days. Mac would know. I turn my head; see her sitting in her familiar chair, 
gazing at me. "Mac," I call weakly.

	"Harm," she says. She pours me a cup of water. 

	I am able to raise my head and drink it without her help this time. My throat feels 
better. "How long have I been here?" I ask her.

	"In Italy for five days, fourteen hours, thirty-two minutes, and twenty-seven 
seconds."

	"Figured you would know."

	"Well…" she trails off, smiling softly.

	"What happened?"

	"To make a long story short, I got myself in trouble, you came and traded yourself 
for me, and I came back after you, against orders, against the pleadings of many people. 
Perhaps even against my better judgment."

	"Well, I'll never be able to thank you enough."

	"No, we're even. You saved me first. If anything, I still owe you one, for 
Paraguay."

	I shake my head slightly. "We've really got to stop doing this sort of thing. I'm 
getting too old for it," I joke.

	"Yeah, I said that once, too." She touches my face, softly. Her fingertips feel so 
good, so soothing. I wish she never had to leave my side. I close my eyes and just feel. 
"Go back to sleep. You need it."

	When did I get so tired? I just might go back to sleep. It sounds like a good idea. 
"Thanks, again, Mac," I say softly before I slip back to sleep.


-----


	I'm awake again. I don't know how long I've been awake. I can feel Mac asleep 
beside me, in her chair, her head burrowed up against my shoulder. Her breathing is slow 
and rhythmic, almost lulling me back to sleep. Almost. I can hear somebody else in the 
room. I open my eyes to see the Admiral sitting in a chair across the room, under the 
window. It is dark outside: another night. How long have I been asleep?

	"You're awake. Good. I wanted to see you before I left."

	I look at him. I didn't even know he was here on this side of the world. When did 
he arrive? I want to speak, but I don't want to wake Mac. Let her sleep. She needs it. My 
eyes drift down to her. She's beautiful as she sleeps, like an angel. My angel.

	"I think this is the first time she has really slept in days."

	"I know," I whisper, hoping she won't awaken.

	"I'm leaving her here with you. You'll be here for a while longer before you are 
sent to Bethesda."

	"Thanks," I whisper.

	Mac stirs, but doesn't awaken.

	"She was worried about you. Nearly got herself killed trying to get to you. Even if 
she came back with me, she wouldn't do me any good. She'd drive me nuts asking about 
you."

	I want to laugh, but I can't. I know how bad it would hurt my ribs. And it would 
wake Mac up. But I know that's how Mac would be. I would do the same for her.

	The Admiral rises to his feet. "I'll see you when you get back to the States. Take 
care, Commander." He grasps my hand for a moment and turns to leave.

	"Admiral?"

	He turns back.

	I look at Mac. He will never understand how grateful I am for her presence. If it 
were anybody else, the company would be nice, but with Mac, I think I need her here. 

	"Thanks. For everything."

	"You're welcome, Harm." He walks out the door.

	I lie quietly for a moment, examining the room around me. It isn't spinning 
anymore. I'd still be afraid to try and stand, even if my knee was okay.

	I kiss the top of Mac's head and go back to sleep. 


-----


	I awaken again in the morning, sunlight streaming through the window, 
illuminating Mac's face. God, she is beautiful. I lift my arm and move the hair off her 
cheek. She probably slept there all night and she'll be sore when she gets up. If I were in 
better shape, I'd happily massage her shoulders, but I won't be doing that for a while. I 
won't be doing much of anything for a while. I'll just have to pay her back when I can.

	"Hmm," she mumbles sleepily. She moves her head and looks at me, blinking in 
the bright light. "Harm," she breathes. Her voice is light, wispy. I think I could wake up 
to this every morning for the rest of my life.

	"Hey you," I smile. I'm feeling much better after my night of sleep. Maybe it's 
because Mac was there. I'm still playing with her hair. It is so soft and glides through my 
fingers like liquid gold.

	"Feeling better?" she asks.

	"Yeah. You?"

	"Yeah," she nods. "Except for my neck," she rubs the back of it absently. 

	"I would have scooted over and made room for you, but I don't think the bed is 
big enough for the both of us and well…" I trail off. I certainly wouldn't have minded 
having her sleep close up to me all night, but I think close body contact right now 
wouldn't be wise. A broken arm, cracked ribs, a shot knee, and a concussion wouldn't 
make for a good sleeping partner. 

	"You needed your sleep," she concedes.

	"So did you."

	She smiles.

	"Turn your chair around," I instruct her.

	"Why?"

	"'Cause I'm tired of looking at your beautiful face," I grin at her. I'm joking with 
her and she knows it.

	She continues to gaze at me, her eyebrows raised.

	"No, I want to see what I can do about working the kinks out of your neck." I 
raise my good arm. "I can still use this one."

	"You don't have to, Harm. I'll be okay." 

	"I know you will, but I want to do something to feel useful," I gaze at her.

	Mac looks sternly at me.

	"Please?" I ask.

	"Fine," she sighs, like she has to do a lot of work. She gets out of her chair as I 
raise my bed. The motion makes me dizzy, but once I stop, the dizziness stops. She has 
turned her chair around and she lowers herself into it. "This okay?"

	I use my good arm to start massaging her shoulder. "Perfect."

	For several moments we exist in this happy silence. I can work on one of her 
shoulders better than the other, but I try both anyway. "Where's the Admiral?" she asks.

	"He came by last night. He was leaving. I didn't even know he was here until 
then. But you were passed out here."
	"Was he mad?"

	"Why would he be?"

	"I kind of told him in no uncertain terms that I wasn't leaving you. I shouldn't 
have spoken to our CO like that."

	"Nah, he wasn't mad. I don't think you disappointed him, I think he expected you 
to react that way. In fact, I think he would have been disappointed if you hadn't insisted 
on staying," I reassure her. "And I would have been disappointed if you had left," I say, 
quieter.

	"You would?" she asks tentatively.

	"Yeah. I'm glad you're here."

	We were silent again, our moment of honesty content to lie between us.

	"That was a foolish thing you did, bargaining for my life, you know?" she asks.

	"I know. But so was rushing in there after me, guns blazing."

	"I had to."

	A nurse comes in and interrupts us. "Can I have a moment with him?" she asks in 
heavily accented English.

	Mac rises. "Yeah, I'm going to go use the restroom. I'll be right back," she smiles 
at me. Her eyes look wet, as if tears had been threatening.

	While Mac is gone, the nurse changes my IV and the bag collecting my urine 
(how humiliating is that? I can piss anytime I want to, but it goes into a bag, in plain view 
of Mac. At least it isn't all over me now, I should be grateful for that.), cleans various 
parts, inspects my wounds, and changes the packing on my knee. She makes some notes 
on my chart and informs me that breakfast and the doctor will be arriving soon. She 
leaves the room, saying nothing more.

	Mac returns a moment later, eyes clear and her skin looks fresher. She smiles at 
me again, "Everything okay?"

	"As can be expected."

	"Thanks, for the shoulder rub. It did help."

	"I'll give you a better one as soon as I can. It's the least I can do after you're 
willing to stay here with me."

	"I wouldn't think of going anywhere else. I couldn't leave you here by yourself."

	"Mac, you should go get something to eat from the cafeteria."

	"I'm not hungry."

	"Go. Bring it back. My breakfast will be here shortly. I want you to eat 
something. You need to. You'll be no good to me if you pass out from hunger."

	Mac sighs. "I'm not hungry."

	"I believe that like I believe that I'll ever fly Tomcats again."

	Mac looks stunned. "You think so?"

	I think for a moment. The thought had crossed my mind. The prognosis for my 
knee wasn't good. When they opened it up to remove the bullet, a large portion of the 
bullet had shattered, leaving shards throughout my knee. There was not much left even 
resembling a knee. When they removed the bullet, they did what they could, but it wasn't 
much. The second operation in Italy reconstructed my knee, but I will most likely receive 
more surgery when we get home. I will probably always walk with a limp. And I'll be 
handling a cane for a while before I can even get to that point. And with a busted knee, I 
can't fly for the Navy. "Yeah, I do," I say grimly. 

	"I'm sorry, Harm. I know how much flying means to you."

	"It was only a matter of time, Mac. I was lucky enough to get a second chance 
once, it won't happen again. But I learned last time that JAG was where I wanted to be. 
That's where I belong. I lost more by returning to flying than I gained."

	"Still, it kind of sucks."

	"Yeah, but I'm lucky to still be alive. I'd rather live and not fly than be dead."

	"I suppose that's one way of looking at it," Mac says, with a little more happiness 
in her voice.

	The doctor strides into the room to talk to me. "Go, Mac. Get some food," I insist, 
looking at Mac.

	Mac sighs and stands up. "I'll be right back," she promises.

	"And I'll be right here."

	She leaves the room as the doctor looks at the chart. "I've decided to have you try 
to eat real food today, Commander Rabb." That explains the breakfast. "The IV can give 
you all the necessary nutrients, but eating real food is still healthier. You may still feel 
nauseous, especially after eating and we're going to keep an eye on you." I've had 
concussions before and they aren't pleasant. The nausea and the dizziness can last for 
days and this will probably not be an exception. I wouldn't expect it to. Not to mention 
being awakened every few hours. I can't remember being awakened last night, or at any 
time during the last few days, but this isn't surprising, either.
	"How long will I be here?" I ask him.

	"Probably for another week, at least, depending. And once you make it back to 
the States, you will be staying in the hospital there for a while longer. Physical therapy 
will help your knee, though another operation may be necessary in the future."
It was as I suspected, but I can't wait to get home. Stuck at Bethesda, but still, that 
much closer to home.

	"We do want to take some more images of your brain later, check on the 
condition of your head. We're closely monitoring the swelling. I will be back before 
then," the doctor says before he leaves.

	I lean my head back and close my eyes. I'm still not sure it has all hit me yet, the 
loss of my ability to fly, the near loss of my life. The fact that I almost lost Mac in this 
whole ordeal is a thought that is never far from my mind, but I don't believe it has hit 
home, yet. If I was left alone here for long enough, I'd probably fall apart. That's why I 
need Mac. I just need her to be nearby, just so I know she is safe, that I'm safe. There's a 
lot more I want to do in this life before I leave it. The squeaking of some wheels causes 
me to raise my head and open my eyes. A nurse comes in bearing a tray of food. I wonder 
if the hospital food in Italy is any better than the hospital food in the States. Judging from 
the look of the food, probably not. I close my eyes again and wait for Mac. A few 
moments later, I hear her.

	She comes in carrying a tray of food. "I thought you weren't hungry," I mention.

	"I'm not," she states calmly. "Most of this can be eaten later. What did the doctor 
say?" She sets her food down on another small table.

	"I'll be here for at least another week, transported to Bethesda for a while longer, 
physical therapy, maybe another operation on my knee. He wants me to eat real food 
'cause it's better than tube feeding. And they want to take more pictures of my brain 
later." I know I sound grumpy by the end of it. I can't help it, I am grumpy; the whole 
thing is depressing.

	"Probably just want to make sure your head isn't any emptier than it used to be," 
she tries to cheer me up.

	I roll my eyes at her. I have to give her credit for trying.

	"Look, Harm, I know this situation isn't the best, but it could be worse. You could 
be dead."

	"Or you could be."

	"Yeah," she agrees.

	Her efforts are rewarded with a smile. I don't want to continue this depressing 
topic. It's making me lose what little appetite I have. "Let's eat," I say, trying to sound 
cheerful.

	She smiles back at me. "Sounds good." She turns my table over my bed so I can 
reach it with my good arm. My left arm. This is going to be difficult. I may need her help, 
but damn it, I'm going to try. 

	We make small talk over breakfast, trying to avoid the depressing topic at hand. I 
struggle, but I manage to eat successfully with my left hand. Mac eats more than she was 
planning to. I do, too. I'm feeling nauseated, so I lean my head back and close my eyes. 
Mac sits on the bed beside me and strokes my forehead. I love it when she does this. I 
sigh contentedly. Despite all of the pain, this is good.

	"You okay?" she asks.

	"As long as you're here, I'm fine."

	She says nothing and I fall asleep. 


-----


	I am awakened when the doctor comes to take me for more tests. Mac has to stay 
behind. I don't want to admit how much I want her to come with me, not even to myself. 
That thought scares me, and I don't know why I want her with me so bad right now. 
Maybe I don't want to be alone anymore, after those days in the cave. Maybe I want to 
make sure she's safe. Maybe, just maybe, I finally came close enough to death this time 
and I don't want to be away from the person that means the most to me in this world. I 
don't know, I just don't really want to leave her.

	Hours later, and exhausted, I'm returned to my room. Mac is in her chair, hair wet 
from a shower, reading a book. The nurses carefully arrange me into bed, trying to be 
careful with my arm and knee. The results of the tests won't be back for several hours. I 
try to smile through the pain, focusing on Mac. I don't care how much of me she sees, I 
just want her there.

	When I am settled and the nurses have backed off, Mac approaches me and picks 
up my hand. I smile weakly at her. God, my knee hurts. They can't give me any more 
pain medication because of my head. I just have to suffer with the pain. Mac uses her free 
hand to stroke my cheek. "It hurts, doesn't it?"

	I know I can't hide it. I've cried in front of her before, over my father, over Bud, 
but this is just pain. Pure, physical pain. And I feel weaker for giving in to it in front of 
her, but I can't hold it back anymore. I turn my head away from her and give into the 
tears. I think she senses this, as she removes her hand from my cheek. The hand clutching 
mine squeezes tighter and her thumb lightly traces figures on the back of my hand. She 
calmly whispers, "I know it hurts. Let it go."
	I cry quietly for a few minutes. When I turn back to Mac, I know she knows what 
I've been doing. If she hadn't been there, my face would have given it away. She wipes 
away the few tears on my cheeks, as I've done for her a few times before. "Sorry," I 
mumble, somewhat embarrassed by my display of emotion.

	"Don't be. You're in a lot of pain. I'm impressed with how well you've handled 
it. I probably would have already been kicked out for dishonoring the Corps. I don't 
know how I would have handled all you've been through."

	"Thanks," I smile weakly to her. "I just want to sleep."

	"I'll be here when you wake up."

	"Could you stay here, like this, just until I fall asleep? I want to know that I'm not 
alone." I hate asking her; I hate asking for anything.

	"Happily," she smiles. She leans close and brushes a kiss against my lips, so 
lightly I'm not even sure they touched mine. She resumes stroking my cheek as I close 
my eyes. I swear I hear her whisper, "You'll never have to be alone again, Harm. Not if 
you don't want to."


-----


	A few hours later, I wake up and find Mac's head, once again, leaning over my 
bed, tucked under my shoulder. Her hand is still clutching mine, and her other hand is 
splayed across my chest. I really could get used to this. I breathe deeply and catch her 
scent. She stirs in my arms and awakens. "I see you took a little nap yourself," I point out 
to her, softly.

	"Guess I did," she smiles. "You feeling any better?"

	"Yeah. Sleep always helps. At least if I'm asleep, I don't hurt so damn bad. What 
about you?"

	"Same. A little more rested. I'd give anything for a bed, though. I don't know 
how much more my neck can take from sleeping in this position."

	"You don't have to, you know?"

	"I know; I want to. I guess, well, I got pretty scared while you were out there. I 
didn't know if I would ever see you again. It's kind of comforting just to feel you here, 
know that you're with me. Does that make sense?" She looks at me pleadingly.

	She doesn't know just how much sense that makes to me. "Trust me, Mac, it 
makes perfect sense." I smile at her, raise my hand and stroke her face. 

	She leans into my palm as I caress her cheek, her eyes closed. She reaches her 
hands up and grabs my wrist, pulls her face away and kisses my palm. She opens her eyes 
again and her gaze falls on me as she says, "I'm just glad I've got you back."

	"And I'm glad I've got you back."

	An orderly chooses this moment to come in with dinner. She sets the tray down 
and leaves, our tender moment interrupted. Who knows what would have happened if she 
hadn't entered. Perhaps it's better that she did interrupt, knowing our history.

	Mac and I settle down and eat dinner, once again straying to lighter topics, 
avoiding the heavy one between us. I'm nauseated as I finish eating, pushing the remains 
away and leaning back. Mac gently moves the table away, trying not to disturb me. I lie 
still for several minutes, waiting for it to pass, like it always does. I swallow heavily, 
willing it to pass. It's not. I break out in a sweat, trying to fight what I know is coming. 
"Mac," I say hurriedly.

	She rushes to my side. "Harm."

	"The pan, quick!"

	She jumps back quickly and reaches to the shelf above my bed and grabs the pan.

	I lean to the side as she holds the pan beneath me. As sick as I am, my aim is 
impeccable. I hit it.

	Mac carefully lowers the pan to the floor and grabs a tissue and wipes my chin. 

	"You okay?"

	"Better. I don't think that was everything," I try to smile.

	Mac hits the button to call a nurse. "Just lie back and take it easy."

	"Sorry," I say as I follow her instructions.

	"It couldn't be helped," she reassures me as she grabs another tissue and wipes 
the sweat off my head. A nurse comes rushing in and Mac explains what happened.

	The nurse checks my temperature and empties the pan. The doctor comes in and 
the two converse in Italian for a moment. The doctor looks a few more things over and 
finally turns to speak to me. "This is why we wanted to keep our eye on you. I think this 
was only a reaction of the concussion. The results of the tests this afternoon don't 
indicate anything abnormal. We'll monitor you closely and if it happens again we'll run 
some additional tests. But I think you just ate too much, too quickly," he smiles at me.

	I can only nod. 

	The doctor turns and says something to Mac and she nods. I can't hear what 
they're saying. I'm not sure I want to; I just want to sleep.

	Mac sits down near me again. "And you worry about the way I eat," she jokes, 
trying to lighten the situation.

	I can only groan.

	"Sleep. You'll feel better," she sighs.

	God, I hate this. I turn my head away from her and stay still, silent, and try to fall 
asleep. It takes a long time.


-----


	I can hear something. Sniffling. Sobbing. I turn and open my eyes. Mac is in her 
chair, hunched over, her hands covering her face, sobbing into them. "Mac," I call.

	She looks up at me. Her eyes are completely red and blood-shot and her face is 
tear-stained. "Just go back to sleep, Harm. I'll be okay."

	"Mac," I say. For a moment, I forget about myself and I turn to get up. The pain 
that goes shooting through my leg and ribs quickly reminds me. "Mac, what is wrong?" I 
ask as I turn myself back into the bed.

	"Nothing, Harm! Nothing!" she starts crying harder.

	"Mac, I want to get up. I want to come over to you, wrap you in my arms, hold 
you close, and tell you that everything is going to be alright. But I can't. You have to get 
up and come to me. Tell me what's wrong."

	"I can't, Harm. You've got so much else to deal with, you don't need me."

	"Yeah, I do. I need you. Tell me what's wrong."

	Mac sobs quietly for another minute or two, but doesn't protest. Slowly, she rises 
to her feet and approaches me. She gently lowers herself into a sitting position on my 
bed. I fold my good arm around her, pulling her close. Within moments, my gown is 
soaked through with her tears.

	I just wait patiently for her to start; I know she will when she's ready. Finally, she 
is, but I'm not prepared for what she says.

	"You are an idiot, Harm!"

	"Why?"

	"You shouldn't have come after me. That's why we're here. You wouldn't be 
here if you had left me well enough alone. You'd still be able to fly; you wouldn't be 
hurting. It's all my fault!"

	I'm shocked at her words. I had no idea she was feeling like this. "Mac, it isn't 
your fault. I had to come after you. You didn't force me to."

	"Then why did you do it?" she looks up at me.

	I freeze. I know what I should say, what she needs to hear, but my tongue won't 
form the words and my lips won't set them free. Three little words. "Because," I take a 
deep breath, "I simply had to. I'd rather die than live without you… Sarah."

	Tears well in her eyes again as she gazes at me. "You mean that, don't you?"

	"I wouldn't have said it if I didn't mean it. But why did you come after me? You 
could have gotten yourself killed."

	She smiles softly at me, "Because I had to. I'd rather die than live without you, 
Harm."

	We stare at each other. Did that just happen? Did we basically say we loved each 
other, just in different words?

	"Well, then I guess it's a damn good thing you came after me so I could come 
after you," she smiles, probably the first real smile I've seen in days, certainly the first 
one to light up her eyes.

	"I guess it is."

	She breaks the gaze and pulls closer to me, snuggling down into my chest. I 
tighten my arm around her, her body pressed against mine. I can feel the hot tears running 
down her cheeks. I am crying those same tears. Carefully, she arranges herself across me, 
her body stretching down the length of mine, not touching my left leg or my right arm. 
She is slightly on my ribs, which can't be good, but I don't care. The little bit of pain is 
worth the closeness. It is like this, together, that we fall asleep. 


-----


	When I wake up in the morning, she is gone.

	I have no way of knowing when she left; all I do know is that I miss her. I pick up 
a book that I've been reading and continue it. When my breakfast arrives, Mac still isn't 
back. The doctor strides in as I am about ready to eat.

	"Just checking up on you this morning," he smiles at me. "Try not to eat so much. 
And eat it slowly, we don't need a repeat of last night."

	"No, we don't," I smile my agreement.

	"So where's your girlfriend?"

	"She's not my girlfriend," I deny automatically, as I've been doing for years. 
"She's just a friend."

	He smiles at me, disbelieving. "I get it. I'm former military myself. The whole 
chain-of-command thing."

	"No, really. She's just my best friend," I insist.

	He is looking over my chart. "So, tell me, Commander Rabb, what on earth 
caused the little display of affection I heard the nurses giggling about this morning?"

	"Oh, yeah, that," I begin, my mind racing as I feel the flush creep up to my face. 
"Well, umm, Mac was uncomfortable in her chair, couldn't sleep, so I, uh, offered to 
share my bed," I stammer.

	The doctor smiles at me again. I can tell he doesn't believe me about any of this. 
"Well, I'm sure it wasn't good for your ribs. Do they hurt?"

	"They did a little last night, while we were sleeping. But they feel no worse than 
they did yesterday."

	"Good." He closes the chart. "Just don't let it happen again. At least, not until you 
get the okay for those sorts of activities." He smiles as he replaces the chart at the foot of 
my bed.

	"I won't," I smile back. He doesn't know the half of it. I could only wish for 
something like that with Mac. 

	"I'll see what I can do about getting a cot in here for your girlfriend," the doctor 
says as he exits the room and leaves me to my thoughts.

	I pick at my food. It isn't the same without Mac. I wish she were here. I push my 
plate away, the food mostly untouched, and lean back, closing my eyes. It is kind of hard 
to eat too much too fast if you don't eat at all. Where would she have gone? And how did 
she get off of me without waking me up? I'll have to ask her about that. And I wonder, 
what the hell did those guys do to me? Sure, I used to think about Mac a lot, she's my 
best friend, but this is ridiculous. She is all I think about now. Almost like if I quit 
thinking about her, I'll die. Or worse, she will. I can feel the tears stinging the back of my 
eyelids. I will not give in to them. 

	God damn it, I almost lost her in that whole ordeal! I would have, if I hadn't gone 
after her. And my life would have ended with hers. This has shaken my faith in 
everything: the government, the bravery of others in the military, myself. I am not the 
same man that I was when I went in after Mac. I'm weaker, I suppose, crying at the near 
loss, as opposed to thanking the heavens for the life that we have both been given back. A 
tear escapes, burning a trail down my cheek and I just let it go. This isn't about the lack 
of action by others, though, or even what I went through. There is something more at the 
core of this. This is about who I have become from this and what I am going to do. Am I 
going to go back to who I was or am I going to move forward with who I've become? 
But mostly, this is about her, about Mac, and whatever there may be between us. Another 
tear makes it's way down.

	I almost lost her.

	What would I have done without her? Probably gone back to JAG as just a shell 
of a human being, only a sliver of who I was. Lived my life alone, never having the kids 
that I so desperately want, never being able to pass on my love of flying and the search 
for the truth. I may have moved up in the ranks, but the gains would have been empty. 
Without Mac by my side, the titles would have meant nothing. She is my partner, my 
colleague, my best friend, and my equal. My everything. A life without her would have 
been no life at all. And I almost lost that.

	My thoughts are interrupted by her voice, "Doesn't look like you're eating much."

	"I'm not," I grumble, my eyes still closed. I don't want her to see the tears in 
them. She hasn't entered the room. I haven't heard her footsteps, only her voice. I open 
my eyes and look at her. She is leaning against the doorframe, picking at a muffin in her 
hand, holding a cup of coffee, a weak smile on her face. "Where'd you go?" I ask.

	"I just needed to get away. I needed to process everything. So I took a walk in the 
courtyard and watched the sunrise. I cried at the beauty of it and the fact that you weren't 
there to see it. I went to the chapel and prayed, for you, for me, for the others out there 
fighting for our country, for everyone. I called the Admiral, gave him an update, poor 
man was getting ready to go to bed. I consoled myself in my first cup of coffee, bought 
this muffin and my second cup, and here I am."

	I smile at her. I could see the tears welling up in her eyes throughout her speech. 
It seems we are both trying to deal with reality this morning. "Well, I'm glad you're 
back. Why don't you come on in here?"

	Mac smiles gratefully and enters the room, taking a seat in her chair. "The 
Admiral sends his regards."

	"How is everybody back at JAG?"

	"Worried about you. As they should be."

	"I'm really okay, Mac. I'll be fine."

	"That's not what I was talking about, Harm," she grins. "I know you'll be fine, as 
does everybody else. Physically, anyway." I know there is a joke coming. "I'm sure I'm 
not the only one, but I think you could use a psych evaluation based on your behaviors."

	"And what about you? You did almost the same thing."

	"Not quite. I was packing heat," she laughs softly. "Besides, we've all known for 
years that I'm crazy. You've always been questionable."

	I let the comment about herself go. "And when did this happen?"

	"For me, I guess it started about the time I saw you hanging off a helicopter 
hundreds of feet above the desert floor, asking for permission to board, as opposed to just 
climbing in. I think everybody else got an inkling of your possible insanity when you shot 
a hole in the courtroom ceiling," she smirks.

	I can't help it and a small laugh escapes, the first one in days. "Point taken, 
Counselor."

	"So, are you going to finish eating?" she asks, gesturing to my tray of food.

	"Do you want it?"

	"No, but I would like the company."

	"I was hoping you'd say that." The two of us eat breakfast, happy for the other's 
company, at peace with each other, even though the topic of the previous night never 
comes up.


-----


	A week later, I was preparing to leave for the States in two days. My transport had 
been arranged and I finally got people to quit saying I was getting "shipped" home. I was 
starting to feel like a UPS parcel. Mac has kept me company the whole time. She has 
spent her nights sleeping on the cot beside my bed. She has made me smile and she has 
made me laugh. And everyday I have thanked God for getting both of us out of there 
alive. She has brought me reading material to keep me occupied. She has even ventured 
out to buy some non-hospital food for me. She is by my side almost constantly, only 
leaving to shower and run errands. Many of these she does while they are taking care of 
me, taking more images of my brain, cleaning my knee, or cleaning the rest of me. And 
we have not discussed what happened that one night. I am hesitant to bring it up, for fear 
of pushing her away, even though she has accused me in the past of only showing interest 
when she can't return it. I'm also afraid that she has forgotten it.

	Mac comes bounding into the room, returning from the cafeteria with a little 
snack for the two of us. I have found that snacking is better than eating full meals because 
not eating as much decreases the chances of my getting rid of it the same way it came in. 
"Look, Harm," she squeals. "You got mail!" It's been a long time since I've seen her 
smile that broadly. She puts the bag with our food down on the table next to my bed and 
hands me an envelope.

	Sure enough, the envelope is addressed to me at the hospital. I can't help but stare 
at it for a moment in disbelief. I wasn't expecting anything. The return address is JAG 
Headquarters.

	"Well, are you going to open it?" Mac asks excitedly.

	I smile smugly up at her. "Umm, I don't know. I think I just might eat first." I set 
the card down on the table next to the food.

	Mac's mouth falls open. "If you don't open it, I will."

	"And then you'll be committing a federal crime, Colonel." I can't keep the grin 
off of my face. Truth is, I want to open it as badly as she does, but it is so much fun to 
play with her.

	"And like you'd charge me with that! Come on, Harm, open it!"

	"Well…" I draw the word out. "Okay." I pick the envelope back up and tear it 
open. I feel almost like a kid on Christmas morning.

	It was card, which was no surprise. Inside, everybody at JAG had signed it. Bud, 
Harriet, little AJ tried his best, a tiny writing for two-month old David, the Admiral, 
Meredith, Sturgis along with a message that his father was praying for me, Tiner, Coates, 
Imes, Mattoni, and even the judges. A Lieutenant Commander Willis signed it, with a 
note saying, "I'm just here until you get back. I thought I would send along my wishes 
for your speedy recovery." I couldn't help but to be touched by the gesture. And I 
suddenly miss home a lot more than I had before now.

	"What does it say?" Mac asks. I pass her the card and she reads it and I can see 
her eyes glaze over with tears. Since we've been here and been spending so much time 
together, she has at times become more free about expressing her emotions regarding this 
whole situation, as I suppose I have, too. She looks back up and smiles at me. "That is so 
sweet."

	"Yeah. I guess I really am missed back home."

	"You'll be there soon enough," she says, patting my good shoulder.

	For the first time, I truly can't wait to get home. 


-----


	The next day, my last full day in Italy, dawns bright and sunny. Mac is still 
asleep, the sweetest smile on her face. I wonder what she's dreaming of? With a smile 
like that, it must be good. I fall asleep again, gazing at her beautiful face and the 
happiness gracing her features.

	I hear her shift off of her cot. She is trying to be quiet, but I am already awake 
again. She slips into the bathroom to freshen up. I hear her leave the bathroom a few 
minutes later and approach my bed. I open my eyes and look up at her. She still has a 
smile on her face.

	"You looking forward to going home tomorrow?"

	"Yeah. Are you?"

	"Very much."

	"You know, Mac, when we get home, you don't have to stay with me all the 
time."

	She looks almost saddened by my words.

	"I mean," I start quickly. I don't want her to get the wrong idea. "I'm happy to 
have you around. I enjoy your company. I can't think of anyone else I'd rather have spent 
all this time with." She smiles sadly with that comment. "But Mac, you can go home. Get 
your mail, fresh clothes, and shower at your own place. And, most importantly, sleep in 
your own bed."

	She lets out a small laugh. "My own bed does sound nice."

	"And, I need somebody to drop by my place, check my messages and get my 
mail."

	"I'll do it, don't worry."

	"I wasn't worried."

	"Yeah, yeah, I know. Harmon Rabb is never worried."

	"Now, I wouldn't go that far."

	Mac just rolls her eyes in response. "Well, how about hungry? Are you?"

	"I believe I could eat."

	"I'll go get us some breakfast. Be back in a few."

	I watch her retreating back. She was eating more like her old self, though she was 
thinner. She had lost some weight somewhere along the way with this whole ordeal. 
Perhaps it was while she was held captive, perhaps while I was, or perhaps since I've 
gotten out, I don't know. I've lost weight myself, though it didn't hurt me. I could afford 
to lose a few pounds, but Mac couldn't. We've both gotten better in the last week, 
though, physically, mentally, and emotionally.

	After breakfast and some reading, Mac suddenly looks at me and rises to her feet. 
"I'll be back," she says, with no information as to where she is going. I just watch her go, 
wondering what she's up to. A few minutes later, I get my answer as she and a nurse 
come into my room, pushing a wheelchair. I can only look at them, puzzled.

	"What's that for?" I ask.

	"Umm, let's see, of the three of us in this room, which of us can't walk? It's for 
you, silly!" Mac grins.

	"Where am I going?"

	"Out."

	"Out where?"

	"It's a secret," Mac is still grinning her cat-that-ate-the-canary grin.

	The nurse unhooks the monitors and tubes connected to me. Mac and the nurse 
help me out of the bed and into the wheelchair, where I am covered with a blanket.

	"You got him?" the nurse asks.

	"Yep!" Mac says enthusiastically. "Thank you so much for this. I'm sure he'll 
appreciate it."

	"And so will we, just to have this big baby off our hands for a little while," she 
says, grinning, as she pats my shoulder affectionately.

	I try my best to glare, but I smile more than glare. I have been hard on them at 
times, but I hate being so confined and feeling so dependent.

	Mac wheels me out of the room, my left leg sticking out straight in front of me. 

	"So, Mac," I try again, "where are we going?"

	"Out."

	"You used that one already. Try again."

	"You'll see. Be patient, Harm."

	"You know I'm no good at that."

	"Well, maybe it's time you learned." We have reached the elevator and Mac 
pushes the down button. The wait isn't long. She wheels me inside. This is the first time I 
have been outside of my room for something other than tests in more than a week. As it 
has happened every time I've been in an elevator recently, I get dizzy. Hell, the motion of 
the wheelchair was making me dizzy, but not too bad, the elevator is worse. We ride 
down in silence and get off on the ground floor. Mac continues to push me forward; she 
obviously knows where she is going. We reach a set of doors that open automatically and 
once outside, we are in a beautiful garden.

	"What is this, Mac?"

	"It's the hospital's garden. It is huge and completely gorgeous. Further back is a 
butterfly garden. There are birds everywhere, feeding in this garden. And a lot of people 
can be found out here doing all sorts of things. I watched the sun rise here one morning. I 
wanted to share it with you then, but I couldn't. And this is the best I could do. I managed 
to talk the doctor and the nurses into letting you go for about an hour."

	I can feel the sun as it hits me. It is early fall and it is a very comfortable 
temperature outside. I can smell the flowers, the freshness of the very earth. I missed this, 
being cooped up indoors for so long. I lean my head back and let my face soak up the 
sun. The flowers Mac brought me were nice, they smelled good, and brought a little of 
the outdoors inside, but this was magical. Mac was amazing for thinking of this. "Thank 
you, Mac."

	She just continues pushing me, saying nothing. I don't think she wants to interrupt 
my pure enjoyment of the moment. For many minutes, Mac just meanders her way 
through the garden, letting me soak up the sun and the fresh air. Finally, she approaches 
some empty benches. Nearby there seems to be hundreds of flowers and dozens of 
butterflies. "This is my favorite part of the garden," she explains as she takes a seat on the 
bench.

	I smile at her. "It is beautiful. Thank you, for this. For everything, Mac. You've 
been the best friend through all of this that anybody could have asked for."

	"You're welcome, Harm. I guess I owe you a thank you as well. Thanks for 
coming after me and saving my life. For giving me this," she indicates the beauty of the 
garden surrounding us. "And thanks for giving me the opportunity to be here for you. 
'Cause you've been the best friend I've ever had, Harm, and the best friend I could have 
ever asked for."

	We smile at each other, content to let the tender moment between us linger. And 
for a long time, we sit in the garden, enjoying the outdoors while we could.

	Mac finally rises and says, "Time to go in."

	I feel sad at the thought. It has been so nice out here and I wish I could stay 
longer. But Mac is right, it is time to go. She wheels me slowly back towards the 
entrance. As I look at the passing scenery, I notice something. "Mac, wait. Look over 
there," I gesture with my hand. Her gaze follows and she pushes me in the proper 
direction.

	There, amongst all the other flowers, is a single, perfect, late blooming rose.

	We approach it, together, and I am reminded of the day we met in the White 
House Rose Garden. You could smell the roses in the air that day. I want to smell this one 
now, thousands of miles away and eight years later. I finger the red flower gingerly, bring 
it to my nose, and inhale. Perfect. I lean back and Mac repeats my actions. I know she is 
thinking what I am thinking; we can both remember that day, and we both realize how far 
we've come since then.

	"That was a long time ago, wasn't it?" she asks.

	"Yeah, it was. It seems like another lifetime, too."

	Mac rests her hands on my shoulders. I reach up and grab her right hand with my 
left. "So much has changed since then," she says.

	"Yeah," I agree. "But I wouldn't change any of it if it meant I couldn't be here 
with you right now."

	"Neither would I, Harm. Neither would I."

	With that, we go back inside, each of us lost in our own thoughts. 


-----


	The next morning, when Mac gets dressed at the hospital, she puts her uniform 
on, which she hadn't worn since this whole ordeal got started. I knew then that we'd be 
getting a military greeting upon landing; similar to the one we gave Bud when he was 
injured. Only difference this time is it's me and I still have my leg. 

	The plane ride home is long and uncomfortable. A lot of care was taken to 
provide my knee with support, but the support was only so effective with the amount of 
turbulence we experienced. My arm and ribs are doing better, though they are far from 
healed. The bulk of my pain resides in my knee. 

	So, here we are now, the runway in sight. And as anxious as I am to get home, 
I'm nervous, too. I haven't seen the people I'm about to in almost two months, not since 
we left for Webb's mission. It isn't that I'm nervous about seeing them, I'm nervous 
about what they'll think of me. I'm not the same person I was when I left. I can't describe 
how I'm different, other than physically, but something inside me has changed. Will they 
see it? Will they think less of me because of it? This is what is making me nervous.

	As the plane taxis down the runway, I glance at Mac and she smiles knowingly at 
me. Is she nervous, too? I think we've both changed because of this. Good or bad, we 
aren't the same people. I don't know how somebody could not change after what we've 
been through. "Nervous?" I ask her.

	She nods. "A little. Kind of strange to think that we're back home again."

	"Speak for yourself. It'll still be a while before I get to see my place. I'm not 
home yet."

	"You're closer, though."

	"Yeah." Being this close to home only brings me closer to having to deal with 
reality. As nice as it is to think about seeing everyone else, being able to understand the 
language, and being so close to everything, I also know that I truly have to face the 
reality of my situation now. Perhaps for the first time.

	Mac rises from her seat to push my wheelchair as we are allowed to disembark 
the plane. I see the welcoming committee standing, waiting for us. The Admiral, Bud, 
Harriet, little AJ and David, and Sturgis. I take a deep breath as the wheels of my chair 
hit the pavement of the runway. Back on American soil. Home. As we reach the group, 
Mac stops my chair, moves next to me, and we both salute. 

	The Admiral returns the salute.

	"I apologize, Sir, for not rising to my feet, but I am physically unable to. For the 
moment."

	The Admiral looks at me for a moment before breaking out into a grin. "Damn 
glad to have you home, Commander." He steps forward and shakes my hand.

	Sturgis quickly grasps my hand as soon as the Admiral releases it. "Glad to have 
you back, Harm." He is grinning widely at me.

	Bud steps forward and says, "Welcome home, Sir. Glad to see you in one piece."

	I can't help but to smile at Bud's choice of words. "I'm just glad to be back alive, 
whole or not."

	"Absolutely, Sir," Bud smiles broadly, nodding his head in agreement.

	Harriet is holding David. He has grown so much since I left, although, he wasn't 
even a week old then. "It is good to have you back, Sir. I know this little one will be glad 
to have the opportunity to get to know you." She smiles happily, fingering David's tiny 
hand.

	Little AJ looks at me. "Did you loose your leg like Daddy?" he asks.

	The innocence of his childhood is marred by one event. "No, buddy, I still got 
mine. But I won't be able to give you pony rides for a while."

	AJ frowns at that thought. "But someday you give me a ride 'gain?"

	"You bet," I say, touching his nose. This makes him smile and giggle. I look up at 
Mac. She has stood silently by this whole time. Nobody has said a word to her, but she 
doesn't seem to mind. Amazingly, it is little AJ that first speaks to her.

	"Mac!" he squeals, running toward her. 

	She bends down and welcomes him into her arms. She scoops him up off the ground 
and gives him an Eskimo kiss. "Hey, little guy! How are ya?"

	"Good. I got new shoes!" he points down excitedly.

	"Spider-Man?" Mac asks incredulously.

	"Uh-huh," AJ smiles proudly.

	"I love Spider-Man! I want some shoes just like yours!"

	"They wouldn't fit you!" AJ giggles at the thought. Mac laughs with him. I can 
only imagine her with her own kid. She'd make an excellent mother. I hope she gets that 
chance one day.

	"Welcome back, Ma'am," Harriet says as Mac deposits AJ back down on the 
ground.

	"Yeah, it's good to see you, too," Bud says, taking her hand.

	"Yes, it is," Sturgis echoes, grinning broadly at her as well and takes her hand.

	"You took good care of him, Colonel," the Admiral says. He, too, shakes her hand 
and passes her a grateful smile.

	Again, I look up at Mac. I feel better now that she isn't being left out. I know 
everybody was worried about me, but Mac was out there, too, she just made it out in 
better shape than I did. She looks down at me and places her hand on my shoulder and I 
take it with my good arm.

	"Actually, Sir," she begins, looking at the Admiral for a moment before returning 
her gaze to me, "I think we took good care of each other."

	Silence reigns over the group for a moment, broken only by the sound of plane 
taking off on another runway.

	"Come on, people," the Admiral says, ending the moment. "The Commander 
needs to get to Bethesda and the rest of us have jobs to do. We are still shorthanded."

	A round of "Aye, aye, Sir," follows.

	Mac pushes my wheelchair along with the group and for a moment, we fall 
behind. "You okay?" she asks.

	"Yeah. Are you?"

	"Yeah. Just kind of strange, being home, seeing everyone."

	"I know what you mean," I say. I think I understand what she means.

	"Makes this all seem more real."

	"I was thinking on the flight that I guess I'll really have to deal with it now. As 
long as I was in Italy, I could kind of convince myself that it wasn't real, it was all part of 
a bad dream and I might wake up at any moment, safe in bed, never having left for Iraq 
with Webb."

	"Was it all bad?" she asks, chewing nervously on her lower lip.

	"No, not all of it. Being held captive by terrorists, being afraid that I'd lose you, 
being stuck in the hospital for days on end, the injuries, losing my wings, all of that was 
bad."

	"So, what was good?"

	"The garden, getting out of that cave, you."

	Mac smiles tenderly at me.

	Bud falls back from the group for a moment, his hand wrapped around AJ's. 

	"Will you be having to go through physical therapy?"

	"Hours and hours of it."

	Bud winces at the memory. "Hopefully it won't be as bad as mine was. Just stick 
with it. It really does help."

	"I have no doubt that it does." I pause for a moment, at a loss for words. "So, how 
are things, Bud?" I ask, searching for a change of topics.

	"How's David treating you?" Mac asks. I suspect that she is as eager for a new 
topic as I am.

	"He's great! He's sleeping through the night most nights now. And AJ likes 
having his mommy around a lot more often. I only wish I could be around more than I 
am. Even with Commander Willis, we're still shorthanded."

	Unsure of what to say, I say nothing.

	"I didn't mean that in a bad way, Sir, Ma'am. It's just that, ever since Lieutenant 
Singer left, we've been shorthanded and then the two of you were gone with Webb. 
Scuttlebutt even suggests that the Commander has been offered the opportunity to stay 
here, seeing as Lieutenant Singer won't be returning," he smiles slightly, grimly.

	"It'll be a while longer before I'm back, Bud. You guys might as well have 
somebody else to help out." Our procession continues across the tarmac. Eventually, we 
are done with Andrews Air Force Base and the Admiral leads us to a van, a handicapped 
van. "Sir, you shouldn't have!" I joke.

	"You're right. I probably shouldn't have," he jokes right back, offering up one of 
his rare smiles. "Okay, Commander Turner, you and Lieutenant Roberts head back to 
JAG. Lieutenant Sims, go on home with the boys."

	"Aye, aye, Sir," the three say together. The three of them quickly say their good-
byes to Mac and I.

	"Sir, I-" Mac begins but the Admiral cuts her off.

	"Colonel, you'll be accompanying the Commander and I to Bethesda."

	"Aye, Sir," she responds, smiling.

	The two of them get me loaded into the van. I'm very happy to have seen 
everyone, but this total loss of control and inability to help brings me down. On the way 
to Bethesda, the three of us keep up a light chatter, the Admiral telling us about the recent 
happenings at JAG and Mac and I tell him about our stay in the hospital. None of us 
bring up the events that landed us in the current situation.

	At the hospital, the paperwork is filled out, x-rays and test results handed over, 
and I am checked into my new room, my home for the next few weeks. The doctor, 
Captain Locke, looks over the records from Italy. He informs me that the therapy will not 
start until my ribs and arm are better healed and that could be a few more weeks away. 
He also informs me that they will be running their own tests and taking their own x-rays 
tomorrow, but I am to spend the rest of the day getting settled. Mac and the Admiral stay 
with me for a while. I'm tired and want to sleep, but I don't think I can in front of the 
Admiral, not knowingly, anyway. Mac, too, looks tired. She yawns, which consequently, 
makes me yawn.

	"Mac," the Admiral asks. "I need to get the van back. Can I give you a ride 
home?"

	She looks at me and I nod. All I plan on doing is sleeping anyway.

	"I'd appreciate that, Sir."

	"Commander, I'll stop by tomorrow. Have a good night." He turns to leave the 
room. "I'll meet you outside," he says to Mac, giving us privacy.

	For the first time in more than a week, Mac and I are going our separate ways. All 
her errands in Italy don't quite count. She is really leaving this time. Welcome home, 
Harm, and welcome back to real life, where Mac is not your twenty-four hour babysitter.

	She seems to be thinking the same thing. "I'll be back tonight."

	"You don't have to come back, Mac."

	"I know. I want to," she smiles. She leans over and softly kisses my forehead. 

	"Take it easy, Harm. Get some sleep. I'll see you later." She walks away without looking 
back.

	"See you later, Mac," I call after her. I don't know if she heard me or not. And 
that was it, our good-bye, no drama, and no emotion. So why does it hurt so badly? Why 
do I suddenly feel empty? Why do I suddenly feel so damn alone, like I'm out in this big, 
bad world without a raft to float on?

	Not wanting to think about the answers to those questions, I close my eyes to try 
and sleep. It doesn't take me long to get there.


-----


	I'm awakened for dinner and Mac still isn't back. I eat it and wait for the usual 
nausea to pass. When it does, I sit up and turn the television on. I flip through the 
channels for a while and finally stop on the Discovery channel. They are doing a 
documentary about giraffes. Giraffes are strange looking creatures, so tall and spindly, 
that they have to spread their front legs wide just to drink water. And they look rather 
goofy while they do it. I can't help but think that the video would be funnier if Mac was 
here with me. She makes almost everything funnier. I think it just has something to do 
with having someone to laugh with.

	When the documentary goes off, Mac still isn't here. I turn the TV off and pick up 
my book to read. A nurse comes in to check on me. Visiting hours end at 2100 and Mac 
hasn't come back. She hasn't called and I'm a little worried about her, but I know, deep 
down, she's okay. I'm more hurt than anything. Sitting in this hospital room for a few 
hours, alone, has made me appreciate all the time she has spent with me lately. I guess I'd 
better get used to it, though, since now that we are back home, Mac will probably be 
heading back to JAG. I think that maybe I should have visited Bud a little more often 
when he was here. He may have welcomed the company as much as I would right about 
now. Of course, Bud had a roommate, who turned out to be a pretty cool guy. I've got a 
room to myself. Lucky me.

	I pass the rest of the evening in my own world, reading and flipping channels. I 
can feel my eyes getting tired, so I put my book down, turn the light off, and close my 
eyes, hoping for sleep. I keep thinking about Mac. Where is she? Is she all right? Is she 
sick of my company? Did I drive her crazy? Am I really so bad that she didn't want to 
come back for me? She'll risk her life for me, but won't drive to the hospital for me. I 
can't help it, I am hurt. At least she could have called. I feel like a worthless human being 
because I've chased her away again. 

	It's a long time before I get to sleep. 


-----


	The doctor awakens me in the morning. He comes in and tells me that they'll be 
taking me in for x-rays in about two hours, followed by brain scans. Later in the 
afternoon, they want to unwrap my knee, take a look, and maybe do an ultrasound to see 
how it looks inside. But that will be my day, stuck here, in Bethesda, alone.

	I start in on my book again, waiting for breakfast. Suddenly, next to me, the 
phone rings. I startle, not expecting the sudden noise. By the clock on the wall, it is only 
0713. "Hello?"

	"Harm!" It's Mac. "I am so sorry. I meant to come back, I really did. I just…" she 
trails off, laughing softly.

	"Mac?" I ask.

	"Sorry. You won't believe this, but I walked in to my place, set my stuff down, 
and my bed looked so comfortable, I lied down to take a nap. That nap turned into a 
seventeen hour and 16 minute nap."

	I start laughing. "I don't think that can be classified as a nap anymore."

	"Guess not. But I really am sorry, Harm. I really wanted to come back."

	"I don't know what you would have done, besides watch the Discovery channel 
with me because that's about all I did."

	"But still, I said I'd be back and then I wasn't. I let you down and I'm sorry."

	"Don't worry about it, Mac. Consider yourself forgiven, not that there is really 
anything for me to forgive. You needed to sleep. It was probably the best sleep you've 
had in weeks."

	"Well, yeah. Pretty much. That one night with-" she stops herself short. "I 
mean…" she drags on, as if unsure how to continue.

	"I know. Best sleep I've had in awhile, too. That night, not last night."

	Mac laughs.

	"I just can't wait to get back into my own bed again," I sigh heavily.

	"You want some company?" Mac asks, suddenly changing the subject.

	"Only if it's you."

	"Well, I think the Admiral will be by later, Harriet will stop by with the boys, and 
I wouldn't be surprised to see a few other people."

	"And I'll be happy to see them. But right now, it's you I want to see. Breakfast 
wouldn't be the same without you."

	"It hasn't been served yet?"

	"Nope."

	"I'm on my way!" she says excitedly.

	"It's a date," I say to dead air. She is already gone. Half an hour later, she strides 
into my room. "What did you do, take a Tomcat here?" I ask.

	"Only if they make them to stay on the ground and they happen to look like 
cherry red Corvettes."

	"You missed it, didn't you?"

	"I did. That car is my baby."

	I smile. "You ready to eat?" My breakfast had arrived while I was waiting for 
Mac.

	"Always," she grins, pulling a bag out from behind her back. Beltway Burgers. I 
should have known.

	"You missed those, too, I see."

	"You would, too, if you'd ever eat one. You don't know what you're missing."

	"Grease and fat."

	"You keep telling yourself that, Harm. If you don't eat it, that leaves more for 
me," she says, smiling happily.

	"And I'll gladly leave you to them."

	"You're no fun," she pouts. "Besides, it isn't even a burger. Think breakfast."

	"An egg smeared on a dry biscuit?" I ask.

	"You make it sound so appealing."

	"As long as you like it, you shouldn't care what I say about it."

	"I don't," she shrugs. "Are we going to eat anytime soon?"

	"Sure," I smile at her. "Plop yourself down in that chair."

	She does just that. Plops, no graceful sitting, nothing ladylike, just a plop.  We 
start on breakfast. I was right; she has eggs smeared on biscuits, topped with bacon. I 
think I'd rather eat hospital food over anything that comes from Beltway Burgers.

	"So," I ask her, "when does the Admiral expect you back at JAG?"

	"He didn't exactly say. He said he would leave it up to me, for the time being. 
Give me some time off; come to terms with what I, what we, went through. Spend some 
time with you. I might start back part time, ease the load from Bud and Sturgis a little. 
And Commander Willis."

	"That's nice of him."

	"I told him that. He just said he was glad to get us both back and he plans on 
keeping us around for a while, so he wants us healthy when we come back."

	"You don't have to be here with me, Mac. If you want to go back to JAG, go. I'll 
be fine here."

	"I know you will. I like being here, being with you. This has, despite everything, 
been nice, just spending time with you. We've been so busy this summer that I feel like 
we haven't had the chance to just get together, hang out, you know, be us."

	"Yeah, I know. Maybe that's why this hasn't been so bad. Something good has 
come out of it. I feel like we've gotten our friendship back." I completely agree with Mac 
and perhaps that's why I've handled this so well. Maybe that's why I need her so much, 
because without her, I'd be forced to deal with what happened instead of reconnecting 
with her.

	The doctor enters my room. "Are you ready, Commander?"

	I nod, not entirely happy about it. The x-rays probably mean more pain.

	"We're getting the machines warmed up," he states matter-of-factly.

	"Harm, what's going on?" Mac asks.

	"X-rays. And more brain images, just to make sure I haven't completely lost my 
mind." I can see Mac sigh with relief. A nurse comes into the room with a wheelchair. 
"Will you be here when I get back?" I ask.

	"Yeah," she nods and I smile. "I'll go out into the waiting room," she says, 
nodding at the doctor. Probably tired of seeing them try to drag me from the bed. And my 
ass that hangs out every time. Stupid gowns with their back ties, they could have at least 
made them close all the way.

	"See you later," I call after her.

	"You bet," she says as she exits my room.

	I'm taken downstairs where x-rays are taken of my arm and my ribs. Then it's 
back upstairs for the CAT scans. I'm back in my room for lunch. As soon as the nurses 
leave me, Mac is in the room with me. "They seem to think I still have a brain," I say, 
wanting a smile from her.

	"There may be a brain in there, but I don't think it's connected anymore," she 
says, giving me the smile I want to see. "You hungry?"

	"A little."

	"I'll go out, get you some non-hospital, non-Beltway Burger food. That okay?"

	"I'd like that."

	She places her hand on my shoulder. "I'll be back."

	"I'll be here."

	She leaves me to myself. I lean my head back and close my eyes. I might take a 
nap while she's gone. I'm not alone for long as the Admiral comes in to pay a visit.

	"How are you, Commander?"

	"Good as can be expected. Tired of being poked and prodded."

	He nods, "I thought the Colonel would be here."

	"She was. She's on a lunch run."

	"I see. That's just as well. I wanted to talk to you for a few minutes." 

	"About what, Sir?"

	"I'm giving the Colonel time off. I want her to have a chance to work through 
whatever she needs to so she can come back with a clear mind. I'm making you the same 
offer, after you're cleared for duty. I don't want either of you back until you are ready, 
because if you aren't ready, you won't be of any use to me or the Navy."

	"I understand, Sir, and I'm sure Mac… Colonel MacKenzie does as well."

	"Honestly, is she okay, Commander?"

	"I think so. I mean, she seems like she's doing fine." I pause and think about 
things. "She's had her moments, both of us have, but we are just taking it one day at a 
time. Even though she wasn't as physically beaten as I was, something happened. That 
experience, being held hostage like that, it changes something on the inside. I guess we're 
both getting used to those changes within ourselves. But you'd have to ask her if you 
really want to know how she is."

	"She would say she was fine. You know that. But you guys have spent a lot of 
time together lately and I wanted your opinion. And what about you? How are you 
holding up?"

	"I'm okay. I'm not going to fly again, Sir. I'm not real happy about that. But other 
than that, I'm fine."

	"You said it yourself, Commander, that being through that changes something 
inside. Are you really okay with everything?"

	I think about this for a moment. I really don't know. I guess only time will tell, 
but for the moment, I'm happy with what I have, what I have been given. And in the end, 
I think I'll be fine, no matter what happens. So, yeah, I think I'm really okay with 
everything. "I think so."

	"Have you guys talked about it? What happened?"

	"A little."

	"Maybe you should."

	"I don't know. She hasn't brought it up and I don't think I really want to relive 
that. At least not yet."

	"Think about it. It may help things in the future."

	"I will, Sir."

	Mac returns with lunch: a fresh salad, no over-ripe tomatoes and wilted lettuce. 
The three of us talk over lunch. When the Admiral leaves, Mac and I are left alone and it 
is like we never left Italy. The doctor comes and takes me away again. They look at my 
knee, poke and prod it, and I am in agony. They drug me up again and everything is 
fuzzy. 

	Harriet and the boys stop by; Bud and Sturgis come in after work. Tiner and 
Coates come to visit. Those two are closer than I remember. Mac leaves when visiting 
hours end, promising to return tomorrow and I go to sleep.


-----


	A few days later I meet Commander Willis. Mac is out and she comes in to meet 
me. She knocks on my door, holding a basket of fruit in front of her, and asks, 
"Commander Rabb?"

	"That's me," I respond, puzzled.

	She walks in, shifting the basket to one hand, and holds out the other one for me 
to shake. I raise my right hand in its cast and she withdraws hers, smiling sheepishly. 
"Sorry. I'm Lieutenant Commander Willis. I just wanted to come by and introduce 
myself and see how you are doing."

	"Nice to meet you, Commander," I smile at her. She is nothing like I expected.

	She approaches the table and puts the basket down. "I heard that you were kind of 
a health nut, so I thought you'd enjoy the fruit, Commander."

	"Call me Harm."

	"Okay, Harm. I'm Kaya."

	"That's an interesting name."

	"Yeah. It's my great-grandmother's name. She was from Scandinavia. Growing 
up, I never had to share my name with anyone."

	"Well, I appreciate the fruit, Kaya." She is taller than Harriet, but shorter than 
Mac. Her skin is golden and her hair is blond, and even though it is pulled back into the 
required bun, I can see a few tiny ringlets that have escaped. Her green eyes are blazing 
and her smile is radiant. I can see her as a typical California surfer-kid growing up.

	We talk for a while. It turns out that she grew up in Northern Virginia and joined 
the Navy to follow in her grandfather's footsteps. She decided to become a lawyer like 
her father. She doesn't stay long because she is expected back at work. She's a very 
bright young woman and I'm willing to bet that she is well liked at JAG and fits into our 
family rather well. I hate to think it, but I am not sorry to have Singer gone if Kaya is her 
replacement. I am sorry for what happened to her, and her daughter, because that 
shouldn't happen to anybody. I am glad to have met Kaya, though. A visit from anybody 
adds an extra ray of sunshine to my day. 


-----


	The weeks pass slowly in the hospital. Two weeks after my arrival, they operate 
on my knee again, fine-tuning the reconstruction. I start physical therapy about two 
weeks after the operation. About two months after my arrival, I'm allowed to go home. 
Mac has been great this whole time. She has gone by my apartment and brought me mail, 
she has driven my cars so they don't just sit on the street, she has brought me new books 
as I have read through them, and she has bought me food from outside the hospital. She 
has gone back to JAG part time, working in the mornings up through the early afternoon. 
After leaving, she'll drive up to the hospital to stay with me. Many times, I'd find her in 
my room after my physical therapy sessions, waiting for me, reading over a case file, 
looking up and smiling at me.

	She offers to drive me home from the hospital. She brings me clothes to change 
into, shorts, even though it is early November, but shorts are easier on my knee. I'm 
allowed to go home, but somebody has to stay with me for the next week. Mac graciously 
accepts that responsibility. She drives me home in my SUV, even though I'd have loved 
to have been driven home in a Corvette, either hers or mine, but the Lexus offers more 
legroom, which I need right now.

	Mac stays with me for two weeks, during which she only works in the morning 
before lunch. We cook dinner together, we do laundry together, she drives me to physical 
therapy every day, she lets me look at a few of her cases, with the Admiral's permission, 
and she is my companion in everything. For the first few days, she stays on my couch, 
but after the third night, I catch her rubbing her shoulders the next morning. Over a 
shoulder massage, I tell her to take my bed. She laughs at the thought of my taking the 
couch with my shot knee. I tell her I never said I'd take the couch; we are both adults, we 
can share a bed for a few nights. We've certainly slept closer in odder places, like the 
desert floor in Afghanistan, but then, not a lot of sleeping went on that night. She relents, 
and it works out fine. After the required first week, she stays another week.

	We stop by JAG one afternoon. It is great to see everyone. And everyone is very 
glad to see me. It is kind of strange to be back there. I haven't been inside my office since 
July. Where I once strode easily across the bullpen, I now take my time on my crutches. I 
hate them, but I can't move onto a cane yet. I have missed this place though, and I'm 
eager to get back.

	Bud and Harriet invite us over for Thanksgiving dinner and of course we go. I'm 
never one to pass up Harriet's cooking. It is the kids and the four of us. Bud and I spend 
some time talking about things. If anyone can understand what I'm going through, it is 
Bud. I'm probably better off than he was; I've still got my leg. But as he and I talk, I 
realize that he has everything. He has a loving wife, two kids, a great career, and 
wonderful friends. He may be missing a leg, but he still has damn near everything. And I 
want that, more than I ever have at any other point during my life.

	Just after Thanksgiving, I am allowed to return to work for a few hours each day. 
Mac comes by every morning and drives me in. Some days she drives me home at lunch 
and on other days, she drives me back to Bethesda for physical therapy. It is great to be 
back at JAG, but it isn't everything it once was. Something is missing.

	I've made some inquiries into the whereabouts of Webb. Nobody has seen or 
heard from him since just after they notified him that Mac and I were safely out. The 
Agency won't tell us anything and there is no answer at his office or on his cell phone. 
He may as well have dropped off the face of the planet.

	Sometime, over the course of weeks, I'm informed that I will be talking to a 
psychiatrist. This not because they think I need it, but because they want to make sure 
that everything is okay mentally. This occurs before I go back to work and I have to get 
the doctor's approval before I can return to JAG. It isn't so bad. The first session, the 
doctor, a Commander Nyland, and I talk about past experiences in my life: where I came 
from, my dad, flying, joining JAG, mostly. Mac is mentioned and the issue of the 
terrorists is just glossed over. She doesn't seem too interested in returning to the topic.

	Commander Nyland and I meet twice a week for an hour. After three sessions, she 
clears me to return to work, but we continue to talk. And after five sessions, she and I 
only meet once a week. As much as I disliked the idea of talking to a shrink, I have to 
admit that it isn't bad. Mac drives me to these sessions, too, and leaves me, returning 
after it is done. She never wants to know what we talked about; respecting my privacy, 
but she always asks if the session went well. I do talk about her to Commander Nyland, 
but that is only because she is a part of my life. I don't go anymore into detail than that. I 
don't devote any extra time to talk about her. I don't even know if the doctor has any idea 
of how much Mac means to me.

	Just after Thanksgiving, the topic of the terrorists comes up. "Tell me about what 
happened in Iraq."

	"I don't remember much of it, to be honest." That's not quite true, I just don't 
really want to talk about it.

	"Tell me how you ended up there." She's not buying my excuses. Good doctor.

	I think I can talk about this part. I'm not sure how well it will come out, or what 
comes after it, but this part I can do. "Well, Mac and I were there on a mission with 
Webb. I can't tell you about that, to use one of Webb's favorite phrases, it's classified, 
but it was successful. Unlike Webb's last mission."
 
	"Who is Webb?"

	"CIA Agent Clayton Webb. We've known him and worked with him for years. 
Sometimes it's nice to have a friend inside the Agency, but when he wants his favors 
returned, they usually backfire."

	"Have you been on many of these backfiring missions?"

	"Oh, yeah. The last one, before this, was Paraguay. Only it was him and Mac and 
the two of them were lucky to escape with their lives."

	"But this one to Iraq was successful," she says, returning to the topic at hand. I'd 
have been much happier if we kept talking about the crazy stunts Webb has pulled in the 
past.

	"Yeah."

	"So what happened next?"

	"Well, we were in Iraq, having finished the mission and we heard about these 
terrorists that were running around, destroying the camps and temporary homes of the 
Marines who are there to help the people of Iraq. Orders were sent down to attempt to 
capture them to stop the attacks. Mac and I wanted to do what we could. We signed off 
on the rules of engagement and joined the troop of Marines."

	"So, you guys volunteered for this?"

	"Yeah."

	"And how did that go?"

	"Well, everything was going smoothly. We were tracking the group, waiting for 
the next strike. Apparently, they became aware of our plans and looped around and 
caught us. A large part of the troop made it away without being captured. I was one, Mac 
wasn't. I tried as hard as I could, but I couldn't save Mac."

	"And this was important to you? Saving Mac?"

	I think about it for a moment. Hell yeah it was, the most important thing. If she's 
in trouble, I want to help her, whether it is because she's in a sticky situation, like she 
was with Chris, or she's being stalked like she was by Coster, or stuck on a mission with 
Webb. She always does the same thing for me, following me to Russia and Chechnya. 
But this time, it wasn't only Mac; others were involved. I wanted to help them, but it was 
Mac I was most worried about. "Yeah. I mean, I cared about the others, but I needed to 
get Mac back."

	"So, what happened?" she asks, leaving the subject of Mac, which is probably a 
good thing.

	"Well, those of us that weren't captured had to regroup. Many people were 
injured. Intel tried tracking the terrorists, but for several days, we had no idea where they 
were. They eventually presented the United States with a few demands, ones they knew 
we wouldn't comply with. The United States does not negotiate with terrorists. Then they 
started killing Marines. I kept count; I knew how many they had. They kept killing them, 
leaving their bodies in the desert for us to find. When Mac was the only one left, they 
moved into their base, a cave. They knew they had something with her, the only female 
in the group, an officer, and a lawyer. They kept her."

	"How did this make you feel?" she prods.

	Terrified. Anxious. Like shit because I had left her. "Pretty bad. I was worried 
about her."

	"And why wasn't anybody sent in after her?"

	"They said they'd get slaughtered trying to get inside. These guys knew what they 
were doing."

	"And how did you get in?"

	I think about it for a moment. I defied orders to stay away. I walked out on the 
command post, right out into the desert, hands raised and let the guards take me. I talked 
to the ones that spoke English and they led me to the leader. I bargained with him, my life 
for Mac's. She glared at me as we traded places. Her eyes spoke the words we didn't, the 
words we couldn't say. They said, damn it Harm! Why? And I tried to answer her with 
my own eyes. Because, Mac, I have to. I don't tell Commander Nyland about this. I 
merely say, "I walked into the terrorists' camp. I traded my life for hers."

	"And what happened when you traded?"

	"I was where she was and she was set free."

	"And what happened?"

	"I don't really remember." Not the whole truth. I do remember some of it. I 
remember the breaking of my arm just after Mac left. As they chained me to the chair, 
they twisted it and snapped it, rendering it completely useless. I remember the blow to 
my jaw, after I smart-mouthed them. The ribs, the back of my head I remember. I 
remember thinking about Mac, praying that she was okay, that my rescue wasn't in vain, 
remembering all the time we had spent together. But other than that, I don't remember 
much. I only vaguely remember Mac's rescue and leaving the cave. The first week out is 
still fuzzy.

	"Have you and Mac talked about what happened?"

	I am reminded of the Admiral's question a few months back. "No, not really."

	"Hmm…" she ponders this for a moment. "I want you to. I think it would be good 
for you and her both."

	I'm not sure. We've been fine without it for all these months. I believe what I've 
always heard; if it ain't broke, don't fix it. But I agree to comply, and here the session 
ends. 


-----


	A week later I'm back in Commander Nyland's office. She asks if Mac and I 
discussed the event that landed us where we are. "No, we haven't."

	"And why is that?"

	"The time was never right. I didn't want to drag her down with it."

	"And what makes you think it would drag her down?"

	"It isn't the best topic in the world. We've been fine all this time without 
discussing it. I don't see why I should bring it up now."

	She sighs, "What does Mac mean to you?"

	"She's my best friend."

	"Is that all?"

	"She's my colleague and partner at work."

	"And?"

	"And what?"

	"And how do you feel about her?"

	"I care about her and I don't want to see her hurt."

	"And what will you do to keep her from being hurt?"

	"Anything?" It comes out more as a question than as a statement.

	"Risk your own life?"

	"I have before and I'd do it again."

	"But she's only a friend and a co-worker?"

	"Yeah," I nod. The Commander is really digging now.

	"Would you do the same for anybody at work?"

	"Probably."

	"And would it feel the same?"

	I have to think about this. She is pushing me and I know what she wants, but I 
can't say it. I just can't. So, I just don't answer.

	She smiles, "You love her, don't you?"

	"Of course I do," I pause. "I've known her for eight years. She's like family."

	"That's not what I meant and you know it."

	I refuse to answer her again.

	She sighs, but smiles. "I'll let it go, for now. But we will return to this subject. 
And I do want you to talk to Mac about what happened in Iraq. And I want to talk to her 
next week."

	"Why?"

	"I want to see how she is handling the situation. I want to meet her. I've heard a 
lot about her, but I have yet to even see her."

	I sigh. "I'll let her know."

	The rest of the session passes while we discuss JAG and the progress of my 
physical therapy. The tough stuff seems to be over. She reminds me at the end of the 
session to have Mac come in next time. 


-----


	Three days later, Thursday, Mac is at my place and we're cooking dinner. We've 
been doing this a lot lately. I have found that despite Mac's diet at home made up of 
mostly TV dinners, she does know how to cook. I like spending our evenings together 
like this. There is a knock on the door.

	"Will you get that?" I ask her. 

	"Yeah," she says. She wipes her hands on a dishtowel and crosses the room. We 
are cooking vegetarian lasagna. She has cooked a little meat to put in her side, not content 
to settle for my veggie-only meal. The lasagna is already in the oven and we were cutting 
some vegetables for a salad. I turn to see who is visiting us tonight, as having drop-in 
visitors these days isn't unusual. "Clay!" Mac squeals. She embraces him in a hug and 
gives him a quick kiss.

	I put the knife down and wipe my hands on the towel. We haven't heard from him 
since I was hurt. I approach him, slowly, on my crutches and extend my hand. I am 
allowed to put a little weight on my knee these days and I will probably be only using a 
single crutch soon. "How are you?" We shake hands. I don't know how to respond to 
him. We were fine in Iraq, although, we didn't spend much time together. But after this, 
seeing Mac's open display of affection for him, I can't help but feel hurt.

	"I'm good," he says. "I'm sorry I haven't been by sooner. I've been away."

	"Where?" I ask.

	"That's classified." I turn away from him. I didn't think I'd be this angry with 
him. I'm trying hard to not let it show. I walk back towards the kitchen, still watching the 
two of them from the corner of my eye. "I wanted to see how you were," he calls. "I 
heard that you made it out alive. Both of you." He turns to look at Mac, she meets his 
gaze and they hold it. I might be sick. "So how are you, Rabb?" he asks, looking back at 
me.

	"I'll never be able to fly again, how's that for you?" I return angrily.

	Both Mac and Webb look startled. I return to the meal.

	"I'm sorry to hear that." He looks as if he doesn't know what to say. Good. Let 
him feel as uneasy as I do right now.

	"Hey, Clay, we were getting ready to eat. Do you want to stay?" Mac asks, still 
holding onto his arm.

	I can't see what they are doing; I'm slicing tomatoes again.

	"I don't think I should." Good. I turn and look at them. She drags them away to 
the couch. I keep cutting the tomatoes. The two of them sit on the couch for a few 
minutes, talking. I can't hear what they are saying over the music coming from the stereo. 
A few minutes later, Webb rises to leave. "I'll call you, Sarah, and we'll see about that 
dinner we never got the chance to go to."

	"I'd like that," she says, smiling flirtatiously at him.

	I wouldn't like it.

	"Well, I'll call you, then," he says also grinning. "Hey, Rabb, it's good to see you 
up and about."

	"Yeah, thanks for dropping by," I say, hoping he'll take the hint and leave.

	"I'll walk you out," Mac offers. The two leave and I crutch over to the window to 
watch. The two of them are outside, standing by Webb's car. He says something that 
makes Mac smile and laugh. He smiles back at her. She leans in to hug him and he kisses 
her cheek. They freeze, looking at each other and I can see it before it happens. They 
kiss. More passionate than the one I saw in Paraguay, both very much alive, eyes closed, 
arms wrapped tightly around each other. I don't think they knew I was there. I don't think 
they cared. When they break apart, I step away from the window. Suddenly, dinner seems 
a lot less appealing. I stare at the salad bowl, contemplating it, half full of lettuce and 
tomatoes.

	Mac comes back in with a smile on her face a few moments later. "That was nice 
of him, wasn't it?" Mac asks me.

	"I suppose," I grumble.

	"Harm, what's wrong?"

	I turn and look at her. What is wrong? Mac is a free woman; she can do whatever 
she wants with whomever she wants. Even Clayton Webb. And Webb wasn't responsible 
for getting Mac and I involved with the Marines in Iraq. The only role he had in that was 
getting us to Iraq. So what is wrong? I thought we were headed somewhere after things. I 
thought we were working towards a future together, however slowly it might have been. 
But then she goes and moves much quicker with Webb, a man who isn't even around half 
the time and can't tell her where he's going. And she has to ask what is wrong? 
"Nothing."

	"I believe that like I believe I'm not in the Marine Corps any more."

	"Well, then, welcome to civilian life," I reply testily.
 
	Mac approaches me and touches my arm. "Talk to me, Harm."

	I continue working on the salad, angrily slicing the cucumber I had begun to work 
on, ignoring her. Juvenile, I know.

	"It's about Clay, isn't it?" she asks.

	"What is it between the two of you?"

	"What do you mean?"

	"You kissed him in Paraguay."

	"I had to. He was my husband."

	"After that. Then nothing. Not even in Iraq."

	"That wasn't the right time."

	"And tonight was?"

	"Harm…"

	"No, Mac, what is it with the two of you?"

	"He's a nice guy. He treats me well, he pays attention to me…" she trails off, 
smiling softly. I'm not even sure she is with me right now.

	"And you go running because he showed you attention. Same thing you always 
do."

	Mac is quiet for a moment. She turns away, looking hurt.

	"Mac, I didn't mean-"

	She cuts me off as she reaches for her coat. "Do you ever mean anything? Do you 
think about what you do? I agree to go to Paraguay and you say don't go. You come after 
me, clean things up down there, and bring me home. And back off. We agree to go to 
Iraq, get into trouble, you come after me and I, in turn, come after you. We have this 
amazing heart to heart conversation, I really think we're getting somewhere, and you 
back away. I'm here, helping you, doing whatever I can, and all you say is thank you. 
Nothing. After everything we went through, for each other, nothing! If I want to go to 
Clay, I can! And I will! He is here, he isn't afraid to say what he feels, he's willing to be 
here for me when I need him, give me the family I want before it is too late! He's a good 
guy, Harm, and I'm tired of waiting for you!" By the end of this tirade, she has her coat 
on and the door is open, tears streaming down her face. She slams it behind her as she 
leaves.

	"Mac!" I call, crutching my way to the door. I leave and push the button for the 
elevator. She probably took the stairs, which are faster. Not an option for me and I wait 
anxiously for the elevator's arrival. It comes and I jump in, pounding the down button. 
"Hurry up! Damn you, fucking slow elevator!" I yell at it, as if I can make it move faster. 
I get off on the ground floor and race to the door. I get there just in time to see Mac 
squealing her tires as she drives away in her 'Vette. I stand out in the cold and watch her 
go. "Damn it, Mac! I didn't know!" I yell after her. "I didn't know," I repeat, quieter. I 
turn and go back inside, heartbroken. I take the lasagna out of the oven. It's done now, 
but I won't be eating it.

	I grab a beer from the fridge and drink half of it at once. I've really fucked it up 
now. History really does repeat itself. I've driven her right into the arms of another man. 
Again. I swallow the rest of my beer and reach for another one. I never even bothered to 
sit down. I might as well get drunk. It's not like I have anything else to do. Look at cases 
and think of Mac? Neither of those options sounds appealing. Getting drunk is much 
more appealing. Getting drunk to forget.

	I try to call Mac. No answer. She is either avoiding me or not there. I don't leave 
a message. I'm just hoping she is there, not with Webb. I don't want to think about that. 
My third beer finds me hanging up the phone again. I'm not sure what I'd say to her if 
she answered. My fourth beer finds me sitting on the couch, thinking of her. Had I 
misconstrued everything? My fifth beer finds me thinking about Webb. That man has 
more lives than a cat. My sixth beer finds me wondering how I got the six-pack in the 
first place. I don't remember buying it. It must have been before Iraq. I'm lucky the stuff 
isn't bad. Or maybe it is and I just don't care. I polish it off and wander into my bedroom. 
I drop my crutches and plop onto the bed. My knee hurts, but not as much as my heart. I 
fall off into an alcohol-induced sleep.

	I get up in the middle of the night to piss. I struggle to find my crutches. Jeez, I 
don't remember the last time I got so drunk. And I have to work in the morning. I 
stumble back into bed, lucky to hit it before I fall asleep again. 


-----


	I wake up in the morning, my head throbbing. I knew those six beers weren't a 
good idea. I work my way to the shower and try to go as quick as I can. Showers are 
tough for me. Fortunately, when I built the shower, I built a seat into it. I had some good 
mornings with Renee in here, and some other ones where I imagined good mornings with 
Mac, sometimes while I was with Renee. I get out of the shower and dress for work. I 
don't want to eat. The thought of food, even coffee turns my stomach. I hobble into the 
kitchen. I left the lasagna out; it's no good at all anymore. The large, half-full salad bowl 
is on the counter, the vegetables bad from a night out in the air. There are a few bottles on 
the counter, more on the table by my couch. Ugh. I don't feel like cleaning, I'll do it later.

	I pick up the keys for my Lexus. I don't expect Mac to be coming by to give me a 
ride this morning. I'm getting ready to climb into the vehicle when Mac pulls up. 

	"What do you think you are doing?" she asks.

	"Going to work," I say, wincing at the tone in her voice.

	"Give me the keys."

	"I can drive."

	"I'm sure you can. But from the looks of it, you shouldn't be."

	I sigh and hand her the keys. "I didn't think I'd be seeing you this morning."

	Mac climbs in the driver's seat and I crutch around to the passenger's side. As 
soon as I'm in, Mac pulls out of the spot. "Why would you think that?"

	"Well, last night didn't go very well."

	"That was last night. I'm still your friend, Harm, regardless of what happens 
between Clay and me. I said I'd give you a ride, so I will."

	"So there is something between the two of you?"

	"I didn't say that," she smiles.

	"So, there is nothing?"

	She looks sadder. "I didn't say that, either."

	"So, what is it, then?"

	"Can we please not talk about this? Right now, anyway? I think that for now, we 
should just go to work like nothing happened. Anything that would come out of this 
conversation should not be brought into the office."

	I sigh heavily. She has a point. We hurt each other enough last night and we 
didn't need to twist the knife this morning. We continue the commute into Falls Church 
and thirty-five minutes later, we arrive. Most mornings I haven't minded the congestion, 
just spending time with Mac was nice, even if we are trapped in a car, but this morning, I 
would have liked a shorter commute.

	Mac gives me a ride to physical therapy that afternoon. She drives me home 
afterwards and we still don't approach the subject of the previous night. She walks me up 
to my place, knowing how tired I am after these sessions. She walks into the apartment 
and spies the beer bottles and the left-out salad and lasagna in the normally clean 
apartment. She starts to clean it up.

	"Mac, you don't have to do that. I'll get it."

	"Like you cleaned it up last night and this morning? I've got it. Go lay down and 
go to sleep like you usually do."

	"Just leave it."

	"Do you want me to leave, Harm? 'Cause I will if you want me to."

	"No."

	"And if you keep on behaving like this I will leave you anyway. I have other 
things to do then spend my evening with a grown man acting like a two-year old."

	"In that case, maybe it is better if you go." She has scraped all of the lasagna into 
the trashcan and now has poured some soap and hot water into the pan to let it soak. She 
sets the pan down and turns to go.

	"Let me know if you feel like growing up." Her hand is on the door, her back to 
me.

	"Hey, Mac?"

	She turns around, her eyes blazing. They are full of pain, regret, and something 
else. Her face says that she doesn't want to get into it. I don't feel like it either.

	"Are you coming on Monday?"

	"I'll be here, like I always am," she says, her voice touched with sadness, and 
perhaps, resentment, or regret.

	"And will you be coming to the psychiatrist with me?"

	She nods. "Who knows, maybe we could use the therapy," she smiles sadly. 
"Maybe it could help us." She's right. "I'll call you. Have a nice night."

	"Yeah, you too." She turns and leaves and I'm alone. I return to the kitchen, rinse 
the beer bottles out and set them aside to be recycled. I dump the salad into the trash and 
wash the bowl. I return to the lasagna pan and finish what Mac started. After cleaning, I 
dig through the fridge and pull some things out to make a small dinner. This thing with 
Mac has left me with a sour taste in my mouth and butterflies in my stomach. I just may 
have thrown the best thing I've ever had away. After eating, I settle down to read. Mac's 
right, maybe I should get a TV. It'd make it a lot easier to zone out and forget things. A 
lot less annoying than dealing with a hangover, too.


-----


	The weekend passes slowly. Before this, Mac had been over every weekend, both 
days. I hear nothing from her on Saturday. I think about calling her that night, but 
halfway through dialing her familiar phone number, I freeze. What would I say? What 
would we do? This thing is between us and it is slowly killing us. If there ever was an us.

	She calls Sunday evening. She seems down about something. I ask her if she's 
okay and she says she is, though she says it sadly. A few weeks ago, I am sure she would 
have told me. But now, I am met with silence. Our conversation is short and perhaps it is 
for the best. If we don't have a long conversation, we are less likely to hurt each other. 
When we hang up, I am more depressed than I was when she called. I almost wish she 
hadn't called. Almost. 


-----


	Monday morning dawns cold. I think we are in for another long winter, like the 
last one, when the DC area got coated with eight inches of snow what seemed like every 
week. I spent more mornings digging my car out than I ever want to again. Mac arrives at 
my door right on time. We smile nervously at each other. She's hiding something, I know 
that look, but she won't tell me. I know that, too.

	"So what did you do this weekend?" I ask, trying to sound casual.

	"Watched some TV, cleaned my place out a bit. You should get a TV you know. 
It passes time well."

	"I was thinking about that. If I get one, will you help me pick it out?"

	She smiles. "I'd like that." Maybe there is a chance for us to return to normal. 
Normal for us, anyway. "So, what'd you do?"

	"Read, mostly. No TV. Can't really clean. Although, I did do all my dishes."

	She laughs softly. Yeah, there is hope for us.

	We spend the morning at work and head home for the afternoon. Mac goes to her 
place and returns to mine to head up to Bethesda. When we arrive, I introduce her to 
Commander Nyland. The three of us spend a few minutes talking before I am kicked out. 
I wander out to the waiting room and pick up a magazine. I flip through it absently, 
wondering what the two of them are talking about. Me, probably, and what a fucked up 
person I am. I don't deserve Mac, but I don't think Webb does either. It turns out that I'm 
flipping through a "Parenting" magazine. Mac's words echo through my head. Webb is 
willing to give her the family she wants before it is too late. I think about that. I want a 
family and I want it with Mac. I'm just afraid. Afraid of losing her, of having kids and 
screwing them up, hurting both them and her. But she's right, if she waits too much 
longer, she'll never be able to have her own kids. I always will, but the older I get, the 
less likely it is to happen. My biological clock is ticking and I am starting to hear it 
loudly.

	Suddenly, the door opens and Commander Nyland asks me back into the room. I 
am unprepared for what I see. Mac has tearstains on her cheeks. I don't know what could 
have been said in such a short time, but it apparently hit home with Mac. I'm probably 
right, it probably was about me. I am the one who went and hurt her. Again.

	Commander Nyland sighs. "Well, I brought you in here to talk about what 
happened in Iraq. Since both of you went through it, I thought that talking to both of you 
would be helpful. Especially because neither of you seems willing to approach this 
outside of here on your own. Harm, you gave me a pretty good idea of what happened 
last time. Why don't you tell Mac what happened that led you into going after her."

	I tell Mac of what we did, and didn't, do after she was captured. I told her that I 
was concerned for the other Marines, but mostly for her. I told her that I disobeyed orders 
to go in after her.

	"And what did they do to you?" Mac asks.

	"The broke my arm tying me down, punched me in the jaw. My ribs were cracked 
when one of them hit me with the gun. And the last blow to the head I remember getting, 
but I don't remember much after that."

	Mac was pale. "Did they feed you?"

	"No. They gave me water, but that was it."

	She was visibly upset over what I was telling her. I wanted to take her hand in 
mine, hold her in my arms, but the three feet between our chairs felt like three miles.

	"Now, Mac," Commander Nyland addresses her. "Pick up where Harm left off."

	"They took me out of the cave. I remembered every twist, every turn, burned it 
into my memory. I knew then, that if I lived I'd be back to get you. They set me loose in 
the desert. I just walked straight away from the cave. Once I was out of sight of the cave, 
I was picked up by Marines. They hesitated at first, afraid it was a trap. They didn't want 
to get close to me only to have me shot. I slept some, ate little, just enough to gain some 
strength. I stayed at the command post. They said they couldn't go after you, called it a 
suicide mission. The Admiral wanted to send me home, but I refused. And I snapped one 
night. I just couldn't take it anymore. That was five days after we traded places. I grabbed 
some guns and left. The Admiral tried to stop me, but I went anyway. I shot my way in 
there. I was going to make it or die trying."

	This was the first time I had heard Mac's side. It tore at my heart.

	"Harm, is there anything you want to ask Mac?"

	"When you were with them," I pause, unsure of how to finish.

	She knew. "They fed me. I was kept with the others. We all knew when someone 
had been killed. We were just waiting our turn. But they fed us all. Some of the guys 
were beaten, for several reasons, but I was left alone. They eventually pulled me out and I 
thought it was my time, but I left with another group of men, alone. They took me to 
where you found me. The rest eventually joined up. I was the last one left."

	"So, they didn't…" I swallow. I was most afraid of what I was about to ask. I 
knew Mac could take some physical abuse, but there is only so much that a soul can 
handle. "They didn't touch you?"

	"They didn't rape me. Touched me, yes. I think it has been a while since any of 
them have been with a woman. And I won't say it wouldn't have gone that far, if you 
hadn't come. It might have."

	I sigh with relief. She smiles. The first one since we got here.

	"Now," Commander Nyland interrupts us, "both of you, why did you feel like you 
had to go in there after the other?"

	I begin, "I didn't want her to die. I couldn't imagine my life without her. I was 
willing to give my life so that she may live."

	Mac continues, "He's right. I didn't want him to die. Especially because of me. I 
can't think of what my life would be like without him. I, too, was willing to give my life 
so he could live."

	Commander Nyland smiles.

	I turn to Mac. "I meant what I said that night in the hospital, Mac. I'd rather die 
than live without you."

	Her smile lights up her eyes. "So did I. I'd rather die than live without you."

	I smile back at her.

	"But, if you meant it, Harm, how come you didn't say anything about it again?"

	"I didn't know if you would remember. Hell, I thought I dreamed the whole thing. 
Why didn't you?"

	"The last time I pushed, I got rejected."

	Sydney Harbor. "You remember that night you left for Paraguay?" I ask her.

	"Yeah."

	"Why'd you leave so quickly?"

	"I was pushing again. Or you were. All I know is that I had to get out of there, 
fast, before I got hurt again. I couldn't take it anymore. I'm tired of waiting, Harm. I 
needed you to know that. And walking away that night was one of the hardest things I 
have ever done. Walking away from you, leaving you behind, in the dark, without 
hearing what you had to say."

	"Do you know that the whole time you were down there, I had nightmares about 
what would happen to you? I couldn't sleep at all. I was short with people at work and I 
must have drunk a gallon of coffee a day. I called Webb's mom, other people at the 
Agency to try and find you. I even went through a fake marriage to Katherine Gayle, the 
woman who worked with us on the Angelshark, in front of her mom to get inside. When 
you went missing, I flipped. The Admiral wouldn't give me leave or give me permission 
to go after you, so I quit. I typed up my letter of resignation and left."

	"You never told me that. How'd you get back in?"

	"The Admiral conveniently forgot to process my paperwork. That's why I was in 
the doghouse with him for a few weeks and why I lost leave time."

	"Why didn't you tell me this?"

	"Would it have mattered?"

	"It might have."

	"Webb." At the mention of his name, she turns away. This whole time we had 
been maintaining eye contact. "I saw you kiss him in the pickup truck that day. I tried to 
rationalize it, but then you were so worried about him that I just thought that maybe you 
took your cover as husband and wife a little bit further than just a cover."

	Mac is quiet for a moment. "No. I was just worried about him. We went through a 
lot down there. We got closer, yes, but we had to. He was willing to kill for me. He was 
willing to die for me. He told me, early in the trip, that he was worried. He wished that he 
hadn't gotten me involved, that perhaps that time he had taken too many risks."

	"His mother asked me if he was in love with you. She said you'd be fine if he was 
because he protects the ones he loves. When I said he wasn't, she said that was 
unfortunate."

	Mac looks back at me. "He is in love with me, Harm. That's why he'd die for me. 
That's why when he was dying, when we were still so far away from a hospital and help 
for him, I had to kiss him. If he died and I had walked away from that, not given him 
anything, something in me would have died with him. It would have been cruel not to do 
it, not to give him some sort of comfort, something that would help him to hang on."

	"So, there's nothing between you? That kiss didn't mean anything?" I'm thinking 
about the kiss I saw the other night before Webb left. I don't think she even knows I saw 
it.

	Quietly, she says, "There doesn't have to be anything between us."

	I sit with that for a moment, letting it all settle in. Before I can ask about Thursday 
night, Commander Nyland interrupts.

	"There has been a lot to come out tonight. A lot of heavy stuff. I think we'll end it 
here, although, I do want to see both of you here again next week."

	The two of us nod meekly. I think Mac was right on Friday when she said maybe 
this would help both of us. We rise and leave the office without saying a word. Once we 
are back in my SUV, Mac asks, "You want to go get some coffee?"

	I have a feeling there is more that she wants to say. "Yeah."

	She drives us back to DC and we stop at a Starbucks. Inside, we each cradle cups 
of steaming liquid, our fingers seeking the warmth. Finally, I ask her what has been 
bothering me since we left the Commander's office. "Is there something currently going 
on between you and Webb? Because," I pause, "I saw you and him last week. Kiss."

	Mac looks sadly down at her cup. "Brumby was the last. The last man I went out 
with, the last man I kissed, the last…" she stops herself short before going on, "anything, 
other than you. We've gone out for dinner, never dates, and we shared that one kiss a few 
years ago under the mistletoe. Clay was there. He offered it and it has been so long, I 
took it. And I won't deny the fact that I enjoyed it. Kissing is a pleasurable activity. 
Especially with the right person." She looks up at me and meets my gaze.

	She's right, as usual. Kissing is a pleasurable experience, especially with the right 
person. At her engagement party, that kiss has been burned into my soul and I will never 
forget it, the heat and passion we shared in those few stolen moments. "Would it go 
further than just kissing?"

	Mac looks away again, tears in her eyes. "He called me on Saturday. We went out 
to dinner, returned to his place for a movie. We talked for a while before we started the 
movie. Part of the way through, we started kissing. Like teenagers, you know, making out 
at the movies. We didn't see the end of the movie because…" she stops and takes a 
tentative breath. My heart is racing and I'm angry, angry with her and Webb, but I have 
to hear the end of this. For Mac, I have to. "It went further than kissing."

	"Mac-" I begin.

	"Wait, Harm. Let me finish. He went to unbutton my pants and I know it would 
have felt good. I wanted it. Just the physicality of it. I'm so tired of being alone. But I 
couldn't, not with him." She pauses for a moment, looking at me, her teary eyes meeting 
mine. "For one simple reason."

	"What?" I ask, calmer, knowing she didn't sleep with him.

	"He wasn't you. I care about him, and maybe one day it could go beyond that, but 
right now, I can't do it with him. Clay isn't who I want. You are." She is still looking at 
me, our gazes connected. Through the tears in her eyes, I can see the truth. "I told Clay 
that I couldn't and he knew why. He accepted it. He gave me a shoulder to cry on and I 
talked to him about a lot of things, but mostly you. He's a good guy, Harm. He brought 
me blankets and pillows and set up a bed for me on his couch. He didn't want me to drive 
home in that condition. I spent the night, we ate breakfast in the morning, and then I went 
home."

	I remove my hand from my cup and offer it to her. She takes it. I give her a light 
smile. "I guess I can't blame you for going to him. I understand the whole not being 
alone thing anymore. It has been a while here, too," I grin awkwardly. Talking about our 
sex lives has never really been something Mac and I have done.

	Mac bites her lip and squeezes my hand. "Then let's do it, Harm. Let's go in this 
together. Let's not be alone anymore. That's why I had to come rescue you out there. I 
couldn't let you die and never let you know how much you mean to me. I wouldn't have 
lived if you had died."

	"I wouldn't have either, Mac. That's why I went in after you."

	She smiles at me. "I need to hear you say it, Harm. Actions are nice, but words 
are supposed to be the easier way."

	"You want to hear that I love you?" I ask. She nods. "I do."

	A tear escapes her eyes. "I'll take that for the time being."

	"Your turn."

	"I love you, Harm."

	We look at each other for a few moments longer, finish our drinks, and leave the 
coffee shop in silence.

	Back at my place, Mac walks up with me. Once in my apartment, Mac looks 
around. "At least you've been doing your dishes."

	"Yeah," I grin sheepishly.

	"Have you been drinking anymore?"

	"No. I ran out."

	"Alcohol isn't the answer."

	"It was better than any of the answers in my head that night. Unfortunately, the 
rest of my body didn't agree with my solution the next day."

	"You did look pretty bad. The Admiral asked me if you were okay. I said you 
were just a little under the weather."

	"Thanks," I say. We look nervously at each other, unsure of what to do.

	"Well, it's been a long night. I'll just go home and I'll be back in the morning."

	I walk her to the door. "Thanks, Mac, for everything over the last few months. For 
being here when I've been an ass, for being here when I've just needed someone, for 
saving my life, for everything."

	Mac smiles. "You're more than welcome. The same goes for you, too. Thanks for 
everything, for saving my life, for being here when I've needed someone, and for being 
here when I've been a bitch." She pauses for a moment, contemplating. "But there is one 
more thing I want tonight."

	"I'll see what I can do."

	"I think you'll be fine. It may have been a while, but last I knew, you were pretty 
good at it."

	"Okay," I smile. I think I know where this is going.

	"Kiss me."

	"I'd love to." We move slowly together, my arms wrap around her waist and her 
arms wrap around my shoulders. Our lips touch, lightly at first, tentatively, unsure. We 
grow stronger, more sure, more passionate. I pull her body closer to mine, touching 
lightly, as we kiss. My tongue slips out and I trace the seal around her lips. She parts hers 
and lets me in. Our tongues dance, becoming familiar with each other. I slide my hands 
up and run my fingers through her hair. She grips my neck, pulling me down, closer to 
her, pressing her body further against mine. To say that in this moment that fireworks 
exploded would have been a vast understatement. For the first time in a long time, 
perhaps in forever, all the pieces of my life fit. If the world were to end right now, I know 
I wouldn't care. I probably wouldn't even notice. I get the feeling that Mac would feel the 
same. Only when my lungs burn from the lack of oxygen and the need to breathe 
becomes unbearable, do I pull away.

	"I told you you'd be fine," Mac says, grinning ear to ear, glowing. Her face is 
flushed and her hair is tousled. She has never looked more beautiful, or seductive.

	I'm probably glowing as well. "And," I add, "if you don't want to take this any 
further right now, you had better go."

	"As much as I'd like to, I think it would only complicate things," Mac agrees, still 
smiling. "I'll see you in the morning."

	"Yeah," I agree. I pull her close for a quick kiss before she goes. I watch her leave 
down the stairwell. I could get used to this really easily. 


-----


	The next week finds us in Commander Nyland's office. We had spent the 
previous week testing our new relationship. In some aspects, Mac and I are like an old 
married couple still very much in love. In other ways, we are like two teenagers just 
discovering their sexuality. We haven't gone that far yet, both of us content to wait it out 
a little longer. Well, content may not be the word, but we are willing to wait. And I still 
haven't said those three little words, and she hasn't said them again, but we both know. 
I'm only using one crutch now and I can't wait to get to the cane. This one crutch deal is 
annoying, and difficult. But I am able to keep more weight off of my knee than a cane 
would allow.

	We spend the session recapping the last week, including the conversation in 
Starbucks. Commander Nyland smiles knowingly. I think she knew all along what I 
needed. We talk a little more about Iraq, but I think Mac and I are both ready to put it 
behind us now. The Commander wishes us a Merry Christmas and lets us go. We go for 
coffee afterward and just enjoy each other's company.

	Harriet is holding her annual Christmas party on Christmas Eve. Mac and I 
promised to cook dessert for the event. The party isn't for another week, but I can't wait. 
I'm really grateful for a lot this year. I think we all are.


-----


	Harriet's party goes off without a hitch. When Bud and I catch a moment alone, 
he mentions my newfound happiness. Is it that obvious? I just smile at him and he nods, 
looking at Mac. I catch her eye across the room and she smiles back. Harriet looks our 
way and nods. Bud and Harriet know, even though we haven't told anyone. Mac and I 
catch a private moment under the mistletoe and kiss. Little AJ catches us. We tell him not 
to tell, it'll be our little secret. He grins and runs off excitedly. I take Mac up to the Wall 
after the party and we visit with my dad. I wish he could have met her.

	Mac spends Christmas Eve with me. We sleep together, with no sex. We are just 
happy to lie in each other's arms, basking in the warmth that is us. On Christmas morning 
she gives me the gifts she has bought, including a fuel line for my biplane. "For the next 
time we fly," she says, grinning. Only Mac. Most of what I have for her I had Harriet run 
out and buy as I'm still not driving. But the best present I have for her, the most 
important one, I've had for years. 

	Mac picks up the tiny box, opens it, and inside is an engagement ring, with a lone 
diamond, on a gold chain. "Harm!" she gasps.

	"So you know that wherever you go, a part of me is with you, I'm thinking about 
you, praying for you, and that if you need me, I'll be there."

	"It's beautiful," she says, pulling it out gingerly.

	I take the chain from her and wrap it around her neck and fasten it. "It was my 
grandmother's engagement ring. She gave it to me eight years ago, when I told her about 
you and our first case," I smile, gazing into her eyes.

	"Grandmothers can be smart like that."

	"Sometimes smarter than their grandsons."

	"You said it, not me," she says, laughing.

	She spends Christmas night, too.

	We welcome in the New Year at my apartment, watching the ball drop in New 
York on my new TV, toasting the arrival of 2004 with sparkling apple cider. "To the first 
year," I begin.

	"Of our life," Mac finishes. The diamond on her ring sparkles in the candlelight.
 
	We kiss after we toast. We set our glasses down and cuddle up together. This will be a 
good year.


-----


	After New Years, we have our last session with Commander Nyland. We go out 
for coffee afterwards, and sitting in the coffee shop, I bring it up. "When I was in Iraq, I 
thought of you. A lot. I saw you, in a vision, and I knew you were coming. I also thought 
about that time on the Guadalcanal, when you asked me what I was willing to give up to 
have you. Specifically, was I willing to give up Renee. You never heard my answer. Back 
then, the answer was yes, I'd give up Renee. She's long gone; she gave me up. When you 
went to Paraguay, the answer was my career, but I didn't have to. And in Iraq, I was 
willing to give up my life, but it didn't happen. So now, I want you to hear my answer. 
What am I willing to give up to have you, Mac? Everything."

	Mac has tears in her eyes. "I'd give up my career if I had to. I'd give up my life; I 
almost did, to have you. I'd give up anything and everything. But love means that you 
should be willing to give up everything, but not have to."

	Truer words were never spoken. "I am willing, Mac."

	"And so am I."

	"So, did I answer your question?"

	"You shouldn't have had to. I had no right to ask it."

	"But you had every right to have an answer."

	Mac smiles at me. "I'd never ask you to give up JAG, you know that, right?"

	"And I won't ask you to. I'll give it up when the time is right."

	"And if the time isn't right?"

	"I'll make it right."

	Mac grips my hand. "You ready to go home?" she asks.

	Home. Home is where the heart is. And my heart is with Mac. "As long as you're 
with me, I'm already there." We rise and exit the store, our fingers intertwined. 


-----


Six Months Later (June)
Harm's Apartment
1537 Hours (local)


	Mac is lying beside me. We have spent this rainy early-summer Sunday afternoon 
making love in my bed. I can hear the pitter-patter of rain on the window outside. Maybe 
one day we'll hear the pitter-patter of little feet on the hardwood floor of the house the 
two of us see in our heads. We've been trying for that, for the family that we both want, 
but it hasn't happened yet. I only hope we haven't waited too long. Although, I feel 
confident that we haven't.

	We told the Admiral in January of our relationship. With some Tylenol and 
Pepto-Bismol, he was okay. Being officers of equal rank, the only thing we cannot do is 
get married. At least not marry and work in the same chain-of-command. But we are 
content with that for the moment. I have not felt ready to leave JAG, not yet. And as long 
as we kept things out of the office, he was fine with it.

	Around Valentine's Day I was taken completely off of my crutches and relied 
upon a cane. I still use it, but only for longer walks, like from my office to my car. But 
around the apartment, the bullpen, and in court, I walk without it. The doctors tell me that 
in another six months, they will probably want to operate again, insert another pin in my 
knee. I'm driving again. And shorter trips in my 'Vette are fine, but anything longer than 
about half an hour starts to wear on my knee, as the leg room isn't very good. And I 
haven't taken Sarah up for a fly yet, either of them, and it will still be a while longer, but 
I will fly again. I don't miss flying for the Navy as much as I thought I would. I guess 
I've finally outgrown my forty million dollar toys.

	Mac and Commander Willis have become great friends. As I suspected, she has 
fit right in with our JAG family. Kaya is a part of the group when we go out after work 
with Sturgis, Bud, Harriet, and even the Admiral and Meredith. Mac and Kaya have gone 
out a few times, just the two of them. They went one night to a hockey game to cheer on 
the Capitals with a pair of free tickets Kaya won from a radio station. I watched the game 
with Sturgis on TV at my place. Mac came home that night from the Caps victory, 
smiling and laughing. She said she had not done anything like that in a long time and 
Kaya was so much fun to hang out with. I think that Mac looks after Kaya like a little 
sister, someone younger to watch over and help guide through this life. And I think that 
Kaya looks up to Mac in the same manner.

	Mac is moving in with me. When the lease on her apartment is up in two months, 
she is not going to renew it. She spends every night here anyway. I still haven't been able 
to say that I love her. Those three little words are just so damn hard to say. She has said 
them and she knows I love her. Just knowing is enough for her.

	Webb and I have regained something that resembles a friendship. As much as we 
can be friends with him running off to places all over the world all the time. He told me 
one night that he knew he could never have Mac. She was mine to begin with. One day 
I'll have to thank him for getting the two of us together on that first case.

	She stirs in my arms. We have both been dozing after our latest romp. I awakened 
before her and decided to watch her sleep, something I love doing. She does it to me, I 
know. I smile down at her and I'm met by a smile from her.

	"Hey, Mac, you remember that night after our last session with Commander 
Nyland?"

	"Yeah," she nods sleepily.

	"And I told you that I would never ask you to leave JAG and you said you would 
never ask me to leave?"

	"Yeah," she says, looking concerned.

	"Well, I seem to remember telling you that I'd leave when the time was right. 
And if it never became right, I'd make it right."

	She nods again.

	"Bobbi Latham called me on Friday. They want somebody to work as a military 
liaison when Congress is in session. She wanted to offer me the position, knowing I was 
looking for something good to come along. If I take it, I'll be working at JAG when 
Congress isn't in session and on Capitol Hill when it is. I won't be in the same chain-of-
command. If you want me to take it. I don't want to do anything you'd be uncomfortable 
with."

	Mac's smile lights up the room. "If you want it, take it."

	I reach behind Mac and unclasp the chain that held her ring around her neck. She 
hasn't taken it off since the day I gave it to her. "In that case," I say as I slide the ring off 
of the chain. "Will you make an honest man out of me and marry me?"

	Mac holds out her hand. "Of course I will. All you ever had to do was ask." I slip 
the ring on her finger and pull her close to me. I set the chain on the table beside my bed. 
I'm sure we'll find a use for it later. For now, I have the most precious thing in the world 
next to me and I want both hands free to hold her.

	"I love you, Sarah."

	She looks at me with tears in her eyes. "And I love you, Harm."


-----


	I know things won't always be perfect with Mac and me. The road won't always 
be smooth and straight, but as long as we travel it together, I know we'll be okay. I mean, 
we've made it this far, haven't we? 


********


THE END