Title: The Power of Two
Author: StarTrails
Email: StarTrails@hotmail.com – I like feedback. Lots of it.
Rating: PG-13 (For one bad word.)
Disclaimer: I do not own JAG. I don’t even own a car. No copyright 
infringement intended.
Summary: Doing a favor for Sturgis, Harm and Mac meet two special 
children 
who will unwittingly bring them together.
Author’s Notes:  There is some MAJOR timeline juggling here: This takes 
place just after “Jagathon.” (So there’s no Coates, no Meredith, no 
Mattie, 
and no Varese. Most importantly, there was no Paraguay.)  Jagathon 
originally aired in November 2001, but for the purpose of this story, 
let’s 
say it took place in August. (I needed the weather to be warmer! 
Heehee.)  
Also, the biggest one, let’s just pretend the war in Iraq was going on 
at 
the time of the Jagathon, okay?  You’ll see why. I hope you can forgive 
me 
for this time jumble. I blame it all on the first person who ever 
employed 
creative license.

*I’m giving you fair warning: while this story has its strong moments, 
it 
could also be expanded in parts. This may not match the quality of my 
“usual” writing, but hey, I’m leaving for USAF basic training on 
Monday! I 
was a bit rushed and just wanted to get this finished before I leave.  
Please accept my apologies. Time permitting in the future, I will flesh 
out 
certain parts and make this story reach its full potential. I hope 
you’ll 
find it in your hearts to read it now, regardless.


*~*The Power of Two*~*


“Inside my empty bottle I was constructing a lighthouse while all the 
others 
were making ships.”
                                                                             
    ~Charles Simic


AUGUST 2001
JAG HQ -- OUTDOOR COURTYARD
FALLS CHURCH, VA
1321 EST


Harm and Mac had spent the last forty minutes at a table in the 
courtyard, 
having lunch and trying to negotiate a deal for one of Harm’s clients. 
Well, 
to be precise, only the first twenty-five minutes had been spent in the 
attempt to negotiate; the latter fifteen had been devoted to petty 
bickering. It was an almost neck-snapping 180-degree shift from just a 
week 
before, when they had come to a kind of agreement after the Jagathon 
race.

After a conveniently timed comment from Sturgis, Mac had learned that 
Harm 
and Renee had split up just a few weeks after Harm’s fight to survive 
in the 
cold, stormy Atlantic. Harm had accompanied Renee to her father’s 
funeral, 
but it was just a few days after that that Renee had ended it, and Harm 
had 
been too proud, or too afraid of humiliation, to tell Mac the truth.

It had taken a day or two for Mac’s hurt to dissipate. She was saddened 
that 
Harm hadn’t confided in her; she’d always thought they could tell each 
other 
anything. And, if she thought she’d been mistaken in that assumption, 
any 
doubt was eradicated by the almost world-altering conversation they’d 
had on 
the admiral’s porch the night of her engagement party.

However, it seemed Harm didn’t share that belief. He was afraid he’d 
appear 
foolish, and desperate, since it had actually been Renee who ended it. 
She 
had been the one to finally come to her senses and give in to the 
inevitable.

Now, almost three months later, Harm and Mac had spent the previous 
week 
pressing each other’s buttons, trying to intimidate each other 
regarding the 
charity race. Harm had always been a good runner, but little did he 
know 
that Mac had been training intensely for the event. She and the admiral 
had 
spent three mornings a week running together, and she’d managed to 
shave 
twenty seconds off an already impressive mile time.

Although Sturgis had claimed first place, Mac and Harm had run the last 
quarter-mile in synch, their feet hitting the pavement in unison, until 
both 
had one foot across the finish line at exactly the same time. Sensing 
that 
they were finally “in step” figuratively as well as literally, Mac had 
suggested that they start “back at the beginning.” Harm answered by way 
of a 
charmed, optimistic smile, and both sensed it would indeed be a new 
beginning for them.

But, of course, like so many times before, their egos had quickly 
gotten the 
better of them. Only a week had passed since the race, and they were 
already 
back at each other’s throat.

“Well, I guess that’s it then,” Harm said coldly. He snapped the lid 
shut on 
the plastic container that had previously held his lunch of leftover 
veggie 
lasagna. “I’ll see you in court.” He grabbed his briefcase and moved to 
walk 
back inside the building.

“Wait!” Mac said. “That’s it? I thought we were trying to make a deal!” 
Mac 
saw Harm’s back and shoulders slump in his summer whites as he let out 
a 
frustrated sigh.

He turned around. “We were. I offered you three different options, and 
you 
rejected them all. So, I’ll see you in court.”

“And I’ll see Chief Douglas in Leavenworth.”

“The chief is innocent, Mac. By refusing to settle this now, the only 
one 
who’s going to look bad is you.”

Mac flinched. “Boy, it’s one thing to walk away when it’s *your* future 
in 
the balance, but not when it’s your client’s.”

Harm raised an eyebrow. “Excuse me?”

“You’re walking away. I guess I was right, then.”

Harm grew even more impatient. The wretched humidity of summer in the 
Capital area had his uniform pasted to him with perspiration, and Mac 
adding 
more hot air to the atmosphere was the last thing he needed. “What’s 
that 
supposed to mean?”

“I once told you that was your M.O. – running away. I was just saying, 
I 
guess I was right.”

Harm felt a bead of sweat trickle down between his shoulder blades. 
“Then I 
guess *your* M.O. is…” He stopped himself before he said something he 
knew 
he’d regret. “Never mind. It’s not like it would make a difference if I 
told 
you.” He turned to go back inside again, muttering under his breath, 
“And at 
least *I* can be an adult.”

“What?” Mac balked. “Why don’t you come back here and say that to my 
face?”

Harm sighed. The heat and stickiness of the air got the best of him; he 
didn’t have the energy to hold back. “I said, at least *I* can be an 
adult, 
Mac.” He set his briefcase down on the concrete. “Look, I proposed 
three 
deals, and, as usual, you wouldn’t budge an inch to come anywhere close 
to 
accepting any of them. That’s *your* M.O., Colonel – insisting that 
everything be done precisely your way, and God help the person who 
doesn’t 
bend over backwards to meet your demands.”

“Well I’m sorry you don’t like my style, *Commander*,” she said, 
emphasizing 
his rank, mimicking the way he had done with hers. “Not every woman in 
your 
life wants to bend over backwards for *you*. I’m a lawyer, not an 
exotic 
dancer. Now that Renee’s gone, I guess there are just some ‘talents’ 
you’ll 
have to do without.”

Harm could hardly believe what he was hearing. He was half a second 
away 
from saying something truly cruel, but miraculously, he stopped 
himself. As 
insulting as Mac’s comment was, he realized he had very little right to 
argue. Mac’s words were stinging – even more so than usual – but he 
attributed them to her getting revenge for his very poorly timed 
comment 
about all her boyfriends either being dead, or feeling like they were. 
The 
look on Mac’s face when she’d heard it had cut right to Harm’s heart. 
He 
wished intensely, but futilely, that he could take it back, snatch it 
out of 
the air, and erase it from existence. The hurt in her eyes had told him 
he 
would pay a heavy price, and now, it seemed she was collecting.

Harm swallowed the insult that had come to mind. “Like I said, I’ll see 
you 
in court.” He picked up his briefcase and headed toward the building, 
desperate to be back inside the air-conditioned office. The weather had 
always been warm in Southern California, where he’d spent much of his 
youth, 
but it had never had the humidity of the mid-Atlantic coast. The 
heaviness 
of the air made everything – including childish arguments – more 
frustrating 
than usual.

Mac wiped her hands on a napkin and stuffed it into the paper bag that 
had 
held her meal from Beltway Burger. Crumpling the bag into a tight ball, 
she 
did her best imitation of a three-point-shot and tossed it toward the 
garbage can. It hit the rim and fell to the ground; lately it seemed 
her 
attempts at just about everything were missing their mark.

As she stood up and straightened her uniform skirt, she paused when a 
deep, 
booming voice called out from several feet away.

“Don’t move!”

Mac looked up and saw Sturgis hurrying toward her. Harm had one foot in 
the 
building, but he turned around at the sound of his friend’s voice.

“Come back, Harm,” Sturgis requested.

Harm came back to the table. “What is it, Sturgis? And why aren’t you 
sweating?”

Sturgis smiled. “Just got out of my car, big guy. I had the AC on so 
high, I 
think I actually managed to frost the windows.”

Mac bent down and picked up her bag, putting it in the trash can 
properly. 
“You should get a convertible,” she said. “The humidity’s not so bad 
when 
you’ve got the top down, and the breeze is blowing through your hair.”

Sturgis frowned, and patted a hand over his extremely short hair.

“What breeze?” Harm countered. “You’re lucky to go fifteen miles an 
hour on 
the Beltway during rush hour.”

Mac rolled her eyes at Harm. Having missed the bitterness of their 
earlier 
conversation, Sturgis chalked up the action to their usual teasing. “Do 
you 
guys have a minute?” he asked them.

“Sure,” Mac said, “what’s up?” Harm nodded, and all three took seats at 
the 
table.

“I have a special favor to ask of you. It’s a big commitment, but I 
think 
both of you are up to the challenge.”

Harm and Mac both instantly thought of saying something regarding the 
other’s willingness to accept “a challenge,” but both were also still 
slightly ashamed of the bickering Sturgis had witnessed in the office 
the 
week before. They held their tongues.

Feeling almost amazed that they were going to let him speak, Sturgis 
began 
to explain the situation. “You might have noticed that I’ve been gone 
during 
lunch every day this week.” Harm and Mac nodded. “Well, I’ve been 
spending 
time in Alexandria. There’s a local chapter of the IPC there – the 
International Paralympics Committee. They’re sponsoring a children’s 
Olympics, right here in Washington.”

“Is that like the Special Olympics?” Mac asked.

“No,” Sturgis said. “Special Olympics is for kids with developmental 
disabilities – Down’s syndrome, cerebral palsy, things like that. 
Paralympic 
athletes have all their mental faculties; they just have physical 
disabilities. Some are in wheelchairs, some use prostheses. Others are 
blind, or deaf. They’re great competitors; they just need a different 
kind 
of Games, to account for their abilities.”

Harm nodded. “So, where do we fit in?”

Sturgis offered a sheepish smile. “I was just getting to that. My 
father 
used to be heavily involved with this group, and after years of bugging 
me 
about it, he’s finally convinced me to do my part. I’m helping to 
coordinate 
the Games for our region. Part of my job is recruiting qualified 
coaches to 
help the kids with their training.” He paused and took a deep breath 
before 
jumping into the fire. “And, after the Jagathon last week, I was hoping 
you 
two were still in a sporting mood…”

Mac’s eyes narrowed. “Are you asking us what I think you’re asking?”

Sturgis nodded. “So, how about it? You two think you’re up to helping 
me 
out, here?”

Harm sucked in a slow breath. “I dunno, Sturgis. I don’t know about 
Mac, but 
I’m definitely not qualified to help a blind child train for something 
like 
this.”

“Me neither,” Mac confessed. “I mean, I’d love to, but I have no 
experience 
with – “

“You don’t need any,” Sturgis cut her off. “I have two perfect 
candidates 
for you.” Seeing both Harm and Mac with nervous expressions, Sturgis 
quickly 
added, “Look, just hear me out, and then you can take your time and 
think 
about it, okay?”

“All right,” Harm said, while Mac nodded.

“I have an eight-year-old boy, and a twelve-year-old girl. They’re both 
in 
wheelchairs, and they’ve signed up for the road race. I realize neither 
of 
you has any experience with kids like this, but you really don’t need 
much. 
They both have special racing chairs, and both are in excellent shape. 
They 
give all the kids pretty thorough physicals before they’re allowed to 
sign 
up, to make sure they’re healthy enough to compete.”

“Sturgis,” Harm interrupted, “I don’t know anything about wheelchairs. 
The 
poor kid who gets me for a coach is likely to wind up needing casts on 
his 
arms, too.”

Sturgis shook his head. “Would you mind if I finished?” he joked. “Have 
you 
always been like this?”

“Yes,” Mac answered.

“People who live in glass houses…” Harm intimated.

“Would you two listen to yourselves?” Sturgis observed. “You’re *both* 
living in glass houses, for heaven’s sake, and you’ve both got huge 
piles of 
stones, ready to hurl at the other. Here I am, trying to tell you about 
something important, something really special, and all you can do is 
get in 
each other’s face about the stupidest little things.”

After Harm and Mac exchanged embarrassed glances, Sturgis continued. 
“As I 
was saying, the IPC provides technicians who deal with the chairs, and 
do 
any modifications or repairs that might need to be done. They provide a 
nutritionist, to make sure the kids are eating the right foods to stay 
in 
top form, and they give each competitor a book that outlines a proven 
healthy and successful training timetable. As coaches to these kids, 
all 
you’d really have to do is ride a bicycle alongside them while they 
train, 
and also during the actual race, in case anything happens. And, of 
course, 
even more important than that, is the mental aspect of training. You’d 
be 
there to encourage them, and push them to do their best. You’d be an 
emotional support more than anything else.”

Harm shifted in his seat, and wiped the sweat from his forehead. “I 
don’t 
know, Sturg…”

“Honestly,” Sturgis insisted, “you don’t need any experience with 
wheelchairs. All you need is a positive attitude and a big heart. Both 
of 
which I know you two have in spades.”

“It *does* sound interesting,” Mac admitted.

“Interesting,” Harm said, “but, still…”

“Come on, Harm,” Mac said, “where’s your fighting spirit? Don’t tell me 
you’re not up to this; it won’t be any fun watching my kid cross the 
finish 
line unless she beats the one you’re coaching.”

What was her problem, Harm wondered; she just refused to let anything 
go 
lately. “Oh, I’m up to it, Mac, more than you know.” Taking a breath to 
calm 
down, he turned to Sturgis. “Would you excuse us for a second?” Sturgis 
nodded, and Harm and Mac walked a few feet away.

“Look, Mac,” Harm said quietly, so Sturgis wouldn’t hear, “I don’t know 
if 
this is such a good idea. I mean, lately it seems like we’ve been 
arguing 
more than usual.”

“Define ‘usual,’” Mac threw in.

Deciding to be the bigger person, Harm only sighed. “Mac, I’m just 
saying 
that I don’t think this would be wise. You and I seem to get into 
enough 
trouble one-upping each other, without adding a true competition to the 
mix.”

“But it sounds like these kids need us, Harm; think about them for a 
minute.”

“I *am* thinking about them, Mac. They deserve undivided attention from 
their coaches. They should be teamed with people whose only concern is 
their 
well-being and the good spirit of the Games, not with people whose only 
goal 
would be to beat the other to the finish line.”

“I thought the whole idea of athletic competition was to win,” Mac 
said.

Harm rolled his eyes. “Then you don’t know anything about the 
Olympics.”

“So your answer is no, then?”

Harm bit his lip. “Mac, I’d like to do this. I really would. But I 
refuse to 
use an innocent child as a shield in whatever fight we’d be having 
every 
week.”

“We don’t fight *every* week,” Mac pointed out, her tone surprisingly 
lighter. So much so, that Harm almost – almost – smiled.

“If you think we can get through this like adults,” Harm said, “then 
I’m all 
for it. But if there’s even the slightest chance that this is going to 
morph 
into some kind of battle of wills between you and me, then there’s no 
way. 
No child deserves that kind of experience.”

Mac nodded in total agreement. “So then, we agree to act like adults?” 
She 
extended her hand, and Harm shook it, sealing their deal. Both, 
however, 
were certain it was easier said than done.

They returned to the table, where Sturgis was waiting for them. “So, 
what’s 
the verdict?”

“We’ll do it,” Mac said.

“Great!” Sturgis’s face lit up. He reached into his briefcase and 
pulled out 
two brochures, handing one each to Harm and Mac. “Take a look at these 
tonight before you decide for certain. And you can go to the website to 
find 
out more, too. If you’re still interested tomorrow, after work I’ll 
take you 
to the office in Alexandria, and you can meet the program directors. 
The 
kids will be there too, so you can meet them and their parents, and 
then 
make your final decision.”

Mac and Harm nodded, but both suspected their minds were already made 
up. It 
seemed like such an interesting adventure; it would be silly to refuse.

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

2042 EST
NORTH OF UNION STATION
WASHINGTON, DC

After dinner, Harm spent a little while working on a case, and when he 
was 
finished, he stretched out on the couch to read the material Sturgis 
had 
given him. Reading about the incredible dedication of the athletes, he 
found 
himself truly moved. Some of the past competitors had been accomplished 
athletes who’d been disabled in accidents and wanted to continue in 
their 
sport; others had faced challenges since birth, and had simply decided 
to 
participate in athletic events, like anyone else.

But what Harm found most inspiring were the stories about the children 
who’d 
participated in the past. For some of them, being in the Games was 
their 
first real taste of glory and victory, even if they had come in last 
place. 
Some of them had never had so much positive attention paid to them. 
Surely 
it was a highlight in many of the youngsters’ lives. The booklet was 
filled 
with pictures taken during the events, and after, at the awards 
ceremonies. 
Harm noticed a commonality among all the pictures, regardless of the 
event: 
all the children were smiling. And, not just the standard smiles in 
posed 
pictures atop the medal winners’ podium. Even among the candid shots, 
there 
was not one in which all the participants weren’t positively beaming.

Harm still had doubts about his ability to be a proper coach for 
someone in 
a wheelchair, but after reading through the information, he was 
determined 
to give it his best shot. If Sturgis said he didn’t need to be an 
expert, 
then Harm believed him. The question now was whether Mac felt the same 
way.

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

2038 EST
MAC’S APARTMENT
GEORGETOWN, WASHINGTON, DC


Mac had spent the last hour reading the information Sturgis had 
provided on 
the Paralympic Games. More than once, she found herself wiping away 
tears 
after finishing some particularly inspiring stories about the children 
who 
had participated in the past. Some of them had faced great obstacles, 
yet 
they had achieved amazing successes, both in team and individual 
events. She 
was most moved by the quotes from the young athletes, most of whom 
didn’t 
see their disabilities as handicaps. In fact, one girl was quoted as 
saying 
she was a better basketball player because of her wheelchair: her arms 
were 
stronger than those of many adults, and it gave her a mean 
three-point-shot. 
One of the blind children, who’d come in first place in a 2-mile run, 
said 
he had an advantage over seeing-runners: because his hearing was so 
much 
more acute, he better able to sense when someone was gaining on him.

There were a few personal reflections from coaches and trainers, as 
well. 
After reading about the impact the experience had had in the adults’ 
lives, 
Mac was absolutely certain she wanted to give this a try. She was  
nervous 
about working with a child in a wheelchair, but she figured if she 
would be 
paired with the twelve-year-old girl Sturgis had mentioned, then her 
experience with Chloe was probably good practice. Pre-teen girls were a 
species unto themselves, and Mac was sure that being in a wheelchair 
didn’t 
change that. Like all the others, the girl probably wanted to wear too 
much 
makeup and date boys that were too old for her. The only difference was 
she 
did it all while sitting down.

Closing the brochure, Mac couldn’t remember the last time she’d felt so 
excited about starting something new. Then again, she couldn’t remember 
the 
last time she *had* started something new, and certainly not anything 
this 
interesting and important. Of course, she had proposed a “new 
beginning” for 
herself and Harm, just a week ago, but that hadn’t exactly come to 
fruition. 
In fact, it had reversed itself completely. She couldn’t seem to resist 
getting in the last word, or refrain from saying something hurtful to 
Harm 
when the opportunity presented itself. And lately, the opportunities 
had 
been everywhere.

She wanted to stop, she truly did. She just didn’t know how. She had 
been 
the one to extend the olive branch after they’d crossed the finish line 
at 
the Jagathon, but somehow, for reasons unknown to her, as soon as it 
looked 
like Harm would accept it, Mac had pulled it away.

She was a Marine. So then, what was she so afraid of?

Sighing, she stretched out on her sofa. She resolved to try this 
coaching 
thing, regardless of whether Harm would join her. Nevertheless, she 
found 
herself hoping he would; maybe this could be the new starting point 
that 
seemed to be eluding them: a shared experience, something new, 
something to 
talk about without fighting. If they could feel their way through it 
together, then maybe they could feel their way through other things.

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

2056 EST


Harm reached for his phone without even thinking about it. Even though 
they’d been arguing more and more lately, when something was on his 
mind, 
and he itched to talk about it, his first instinct was still to call 
Mac.

“Hello?” Mac answered.

“Hey, Mac, it’s me,” Harm said softly.

“Hey,” Mac said, somewhat surprised. She’d spent the past four minutes 
debating whether she should call him, and now, he had beaten her to it. 
She 
smiled to herself; her “con” list had been wrong – he would not have 
hung up 
if she called him. “What’s up?”

Harm thought he heard a sniffle in there somewhere. “Are you all 
right?” he 
asked suspiciously.

“Um, sure, why wouldn’t I be?”

“It…um…it sounds like you’re crying.”

“No,” Mac lied, “no, I’m fine.”

“You sure?”

Yet again, Mac smiled to herself. Even after all the ugly things she’d 
said 
to him during lunch that day, he still managed to muster concern for 
her. 
“Well,” she said, “okay, I was crying, but only a little. And it’s not 
because of something sad. I was actually just looking through what 
Sturgis 
gave us this afternoon.”

“Me too,” Harm told her.

“So…what did you think?” Please let him say he’ll do it, please let him 
say 
he’ll do it.

“I want to do it,” Harm said bluntly.

Mac’s heart skipped a beat, and she felt her body relax.  “Really?”

“Yeah,” Harm said. “Those were some amazing stories. After reading 
about 
those kids, I can’t *not* do it, you know what I mean?”

Mac smiled. “Yes, yes, I know exactly what you mean. I really want to 
give 
it a try. I seem to have a decent amount of free time these days, and I 
can’t think of a better way to spend it.”  She didn’t have to 
elaborate; 
Harm knew very well that her newly empty social calendar had quite a 
bit to 
do with the end of her engagement to Mic Brumby.

“I agree,” Harm said honestly. “Work seems kind of slow lately, and I’m 
not 
very busy at home.” Harm didn’t need to explain; Mac was quite familiar 
with 
why his evenings were now free.

Something about the tone of their conversation made Mac feel safe in 
asking 
her next question. “Are you…nervous?”

“About what?”

“About working with a boy in wheelchair.”

“Y’know, I was, at first. But I’ve given it some thought: Sturgis 
trusts us, 
and he wouldn’t do anything to damage the program, so I’m sure we’ll be 
okay.”

“You really believe that?”

“Of course I do. I mean, Mac, it’s just a wheelchair, not some 
infectious 
disease. Don’t let it scare you.”

“I’m not scared for me, Harm, I’m scared for the girl who gets me as 
her 
coach. After all, as you so insightfully pointed out last week, most 
people 
who come across my path wind up regretting it.”

Harm was alarmed at the sadness and dejection he heard in Mac’s voice. 
God, 
he’d do just about anything to take back that stupid, stupid comment. 
“Mac, 
you have to know that I…I didn’t…” His words dissolved into a helpless 
sigh. 
“I didn’t mean it, Mac. I said it without thinking.”

“The way you say most things,” Mac observed.

Harm pulled the cordless phone away from his ear and stared at it for a 
second, as if it were a relic from another planet. He was trying to put 
together an apology, and Mac had cut him off to insult him. Why did he 
even 
bother anymore?

Deciding that he had better things to do with his time than talk to a 
brick 
wall, Harm lied, “Mac, I’ve got another call. I’ll see you tomorrow, 
okay?”

“Harm, wait! I – “

“Bye, Mac.”

Hearing the click from Harm’s end, Mac hit the “off” button on her own 
phone 
and set it down on the coffee table. She was tempted to throw it across 
the 
room, but that wouldn’t accomplish anything except making herself more 
angry, when she’d have to clean up the remains of whatever it broke 
along 
the way.

Damn, Mac thought. Why, why, WHY had she said that?! God, it was like a 
disease with her, some kind of chronic condition that prevented her 
from 
closing her mouth when any sane person would. Maybe this joint venture 
with 
Harm wasn’t such a good idea, after all. Or maybe, she should go buy 
herself 
a sturdy shovel. She would need it for the hole she was digging 
herself, 
which seemed to get deeper with each word she spoke to him.

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

THE FOLLOWING DAY
1758 EST
IPC CAPITAL AREA HEADQUARTERS
ALEXANDRIA, VA


In separate cars, Harm and Mac arrived at the address Sturgis had given 
them. Once upon a time, they might have taken one car, gone to dinner 
after 
the meeting, and then the one whose car they had taken would drop the 
other 
off back at JAG headquarters. Those days now seemed very long ago and 
far 
away.

Sturgis had told them to go to the fourth floor. In the elevator, Harm 
and 
Mac reached to hit the button at the same time. In no mood to start an 
argument over something so ridiculous, Harm backed away quickly.
Mac noticed, and was mildly grateful. “Four right?” she asked Harm, in 
a 
feeble attempt to smooth things over. Harm nodded. Never had a 
four-storey 
ride seemed so interminable.

When the elevator doors opened, they followed the signs to the right 
room. 
They could have just as easily followed the muffled sounds of excited 
chatter and laughter; when they got there, Harm opened the door and he 
and 
Mac saw a large crowd of people talking and getting to know each other 
before the meeting started.

They weaved their way toward the back, where there was still some room 
to 
stand. They nodded and offered an occasional greeting to the strangers 
they 
passed, both of them feeling slightly conspicuous in their uniforms, 
until 
they scanned the crowd and noticed some other military personnel in 
attendance.

For the next hour, they listened to a series of presentations by IPC 
representatives, as well as heartfelt speeches from children and 
coaches 
who’d participated in the Games in the past. They watched a short video 
with 
clips and highlights from the last few years’ events.

In their hearts, Harm and Mac were both already committed to doing it, 
and 
with each passing minute, each testimonial, their sense of purpose only 
deepened. After a few particularly touching moments in the film, they 
found 
their gazes meeting, silently expressing their shared feelings.

When the presentations were over, and snacks and juice were being 
served, 
Harm and Mac saw Sturgis approaching. He was leading a small group 
over: a 
boy and a girl, both in wheelchairs, and two women who Harm and Mac 
assumed 
were their mothers.

Sturgis was smiling. “Hey, guys! I’m glad you made it!”

Mac smiled back. “We wouldn’t have missed it.”

Sturgis nodded. “Well, if you two have a few minutes to stick around, 
I’d 
like to introduce you to a few people.”

“Sure,” Harm said, while Mac nodded.

“This is Brian Harrison, and his mother, Denise,” Sturgis said, 
indicating 
the boy in the wheelchair, and the woman who was with him. “Brian, 
Denise, 
this is Harmon Rabb, and Sarah Mackenzie.”

“Harm,” Harm said, extending his hand first to Brian, and then to 
Denise.

“Mac,” Mac said, shaking their hands as well.

Sturgis turned to the girl in the wheelchair. “And this is Samantha 
Bradley, 
and her mother, Alice.”

“Hi,” Mac said, smiling warmly at the girl. She noted that Sam’s mother 
seemed quite a bit older than Denise.

“As I told you earlier,” Sturgis said to the two mothers, “Harm and Mac 
are 
thinking about coaching, and I thought Brian and Sam would be good 
matches 
for them.”

“Actually,” Harm interjected, “we’re done thinking, Sturgis. We want to 
do 
it.”

Mac nodded. “Definitely.”

Sturgis’s face brightened. “Great! In that case, you guys might have a 
few 
things to discuss, so I’ll leave you to it. If you have any questions, 
I’ll 
be at the info table at the front of the room.” When he was gone, the 
“teams” stepped a few feet away to chat.

“You’re in the Marines?” Sam asked Mac, her face bright with wonder.

Mac smiled. “Yep. I’m impressed, Samantha; a lot of young people just 
assume 
this is an Army uniform.”

Sam nodded, then gave a sheepish smile. “Well, I only know because of 
this 
TV show I watch on Fridays.”

“Nothing wrong with a little educational television,” Mac said.

Alice shook her head, smiling. “Don’t give Sam too much credit, Mac; 
she 
only watches that show because of the male lead.”

“Well, yeah!” Sam said. “He’s HOT!”

Mac smiled, shaking her head. “You prefer to be called Sam?” she asked.

Sam nodded. “Samantha is so…fancy, and flowery. I don’t think it suits 
me at 
all.” She pointed toward herself, indicating her jeans and plain 
T-shirt, 
and her long hair, which was up in a simple ponytail.

Mac nodded. “You know, Sam, I think you and I are gonna get along 
perfectly.”

“I’m sorry my husband’s not here to meet you,” Alice told Mac. “He’s 
away on 
business this week.”

Sam rolled her eyes. “What else is new?”

Alice sighed. “He travels a lot,” she explained to Mac.

“He lives in hotels more than he lives at home,” Sam griped.

“Samantha, enough,” Alice said firmly. Something about the short 
dialogue 
told Mac it was probably not the first such exchange between them. 
“Anyway,” 
Alice continued, he’ll be back next week. I’m sure he’d like to meet 
you, if 
you’d care to join us for dinner sometime.”

“I’d love to,” Mac said. If she was going to be working closely with 
Sam, it 
was probably a good idea to get to know the girl’s parents a little.

-- -- -- -- -- -- --

A few feet away, Harm was getting acquainted with Brian and Denise 
Harrison. 
From Brian’s position in his wheelchair, Harm towered over him. The 
young 
boy looked up, staring overtly at Harm’s tall frame. “Are you in the 
military?” he asked. “My dad’s uniform is different, I think.”

Smiling, Harm lowered himself to be closer to Brian’s level. “I’m in 
the 
Navy.”

“Oh,” Brian said. “My dad’s in the Army. But he’s not home now. I 
haven’t 
seen him in a long time.”

“He’s in Iraq,” Denise explained. “I was expecting to have him home in 
a few 
weeks, but they extended his tour.” Although her voice was strong, Harm 
thought he detected a hint of sadness underlying her tone.

“I’m sorry,” Harm said. “That’s got to be difficult.” Denise nodded. 
“If you 
don’t mind me asking, what does he – “

“He’s an Arabic linguist. So, I can certainly understand why they need 
to 
keep him there for a while longer, but…that doesn’t make it any 
easier.” Her 
eyes were downcast for a fleeting moment, and then the sullenness was 
gone 
as quickly as it had appeared. She looked at her son, and her tone was 
cheerful. “But we get letters from him all the time, right?”

“Uh-huh,” Brian nodded. “Last time, he put some sand in with the 
letter, so 
I could see it, just like him.”

“That’s awfully nice of him,” Harm replied. “I’ll bet you miss him,” he 
said. He didn’t know if Denise would be offended or not, but he was not 
about to dismiss the boy’s feelings. He could count on one hand the 
number 
of times any adult had treated him like he had his own thoughts on the 
situation when he was a little kid. If he was going to be working with 
Brian 
for the next eight weeks, he wanted the boy to know, right from the 
start, 
that his feelings mattered.

“Yeah,” Brian answered, “I do. I think he didn’t want to go, but he had 
to. 
He said he has to do whatever the president says, even if he doesn’t 
want 
to.”

Harm and Denise smiled at each other, both amused by the boy’s 
simplistic 
summary. “You’re right,” Harm said. “A lot of times, there are things 
we 
don’t want to do, and places we don’t want to go, but we don’t always 
have a 
choice. And, you know, Brian, your dad has one of the most important 
jobs 
where he is. You know what he does, right?”

“Yeah, he speaks different languages.”

“Right. He can speak to the people over there, so they’ll understand 
why 
we’re doing what we’re doing.”

“He gets the bad guys, too!” Brian insisted.

Harm chuckled. “Absolutely, buddy. Because he speaks the language over 
there, he can talk to people who have important information.”

“Like where the bad guys are hiding!”

Harm smiled. “Exactly.”

Denise blushed. “He’s been spending a lot of time with his G.I. Joes. 
All I 
hear all night is ‘getting the bad guys.’”

Harm nodded. He wasn’t sure what the procedure was beyond these 
introductions. Background checks would be conducted on him and Mac, but 
he 
didn’t know if he was also being “interviewed” by Denise. “Um,” he 
began, 
“how does this work? I mean, is it a given that Brian and I are a team 
now, 
or do we have to get approval from the administrators?”

“As far as I know, we’re good to go. There are probably some forms we 
need 
to sign, releases and liability clauses, and things like that. But 
beyond 
that, I’d say you’ve got yourself a trainee, Commander.”

*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*

SIX WEEKS LATER
SATURDAY
1702 EST


The afternoon’s practice was disappointing. Usually, Brian was eager, 
and 
he’d made progress each time, getting faster and more confident. But 
today, 
he’d seemed distracted from the get-go. Harm got the sense that the 
boy’s 
heart just wasn’t in it. He was tempted to chastise him, but really, 
the boy 
was only eight; the fact that he’d been so dedicated and working hard 
for as 
long as he had was impressive.

Harm reached into the cooler in the trunk of his SUV and pulled out two 
cold 
bottles of Gatorade, passing one to Brian.

“Thanks,” Brian said.

Harm nodded. He pulled off his bike helmet and passed a towel over his 
sweaty hair. “They should have these Games in the winter, huh?” he 
teased.

Brian gave a small smile, which disappeared a little too quickly for 
Harm’s 
liking. “Everything all right, buddy?” Harm asked. “You seem a little 
down 
today.”

Brian shrugged. “Sorry. I know I wasn’t any good this time. I didn’t 
mean to 
waste your time.”

“What? Brian, you did just fine. Being out here, in the sun and the 
fresh 
air, getting exercise, it’s not a waste at all – especially not being 
with 
you.”

“But…but I…” Brian looked away.

“Everyone has bad days,” Harm assured him. “You like hockey, right?” At 
Brian’s nod, Harm pointed out, “Well, you know, even Olaf Kolzig has 
games 
where lots of pucks get by him. And even Joe Sakic can go four or five 
games 
without scoring a single goal.”

Brian smiled. “Yeah, but that’s good, because he doesn’t play for the 
Capitals!”

Harm chuckled. “Well, you know what I mean.” He threw the towel back 
into 
the trunk. “Hey, are you hungry? How about I take you out for an early 
dinner?” Brian looked excited at the thought of spending more time with 
his 
new friend. “All right,” Harm said, “let me just call your mom and make 
sure 
it’s all right.”

“She’s probably working,” Brian said sadly. “She’s always working.”

Denise was an ER nurse. Harm knew her schedule couldn’t possibly be 
easy on 
either of them. “Who stays with you when she works at night?”

“Babysitters. I told her I don’t need any, but she won’t let me stay by 
myself.”

Harm nodded. He felt badly for Brian, but he knew it wasn’t Denise’s 
choice 
to be gone so much. The military may have come a long way in many 
respects, 
but it seemed that wives and mothers would always face difficult times.

He secured Denise’s permission to keep Brian for a little while longer, 
and 
then he asked Brian where he wanted to go. “Anyplace you want, buddy.”

“Beltway Burger!” the boy squealed.

Harm rolled his eyes. “Are you sure?” He tried to dissuade Brian 
through his 
tone.

“Beltway Burger!” he repeated.

Harm sighed, smiling. “Fine, big guy, but you’ll owe me one.”

*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*

Twenty minutes later, they were settled at a table in Brian’s favorite 
restaurant. Harm watched as Brian took a large bite of his 
cheeseburger. 
“What is it about this place, anyway?” he wondered aloud.

“Good food!” Brian said. Harm laughed as the words were muffled by the 
boy’s 
full mouth.

Harm picked up the miniature toy that had come with Brian’s kiddie 
meal. He 
chuckled to himself as he read the sheet of warnings that accompanied 
it: 
warnings about the small parts that could break off and become choking 
hazards, and even one about the tiny plastic bag the toy had come 
wrapped 
in. He could hardly believe how careful companies had to be these days; 
people seemed to be fishing for lawsuits anyplace they might be found. 
He 
smiled inwardly, remembering some of the toys he’d played with as a 
kid. The 
vast majority of them would no longer be allowed on the market. Not 
without 
some serious safety modifications, anyway.

“You’re not gonna swallow this thing, are you?” he teased Brian. The 
boy 
rolled his eyes. “Didn’t think so. Good man.” They ate in silence for a 
few 
minutes, and then Harm caught sight of Brian’s face. The same darkness 
he’d 
seen there earlier had descended again. If there was something wrong, 
he 
wanted to help, but he didn’t want to push, either. It was a thin line, 
Harm 
knew, and he wasn’t sure he could walk it without falling off.

Still, he had to try. “Are you okay, Brian?”

The boy looked away. “Sure, why?”

“You look like…like you’re maybe feeling bad about something.” Brian 
shrugged. “Do you want to talk about it?” Brian only shrugged again. 
“You 
can, you know,” Harm told him. “Talk about it, I mean. Whatever it is, 
I’m 
here, if you’d like me to listen.”

Brian nodded. He took a napkin and twisted it in his lap. When he 
finally 
spoke, his voice was soft. “Have…have you ever been in a war?”

The question caught Harm quite off-guard. When he thought about it, he 
didn’t know why he should be surprised – it was only natural for Brian 
to be 
thinking about his father. Harm thought carefully before he answered. 
He’d 
flown missions over Kosovo and Libya, but those had technically been 
peacekeeping missions. However, he didn’t see the need to confuse the 
young 
boy with official definitions. For all intent and purpose, yes, he had 
seen 
war.

“Yes, I have,” he answered. “A few times.”

“Was it scary?” Brian’s voice was a whisper.

Harm nodded slowly. There was no use in lying; he knew Brian would see 
right 
through him. On the other hand, he didn’t want to plant new fears in 
the 
boy’s mind. “Sometimes it was. But you know what, buddy? I had years of 
training, and all the people that were with me had their training, too. 
We 
practiced and practiced for a long time, so that when we got to the 
real 
thing, it wasn’t as scary as it could have been. We all knew just what 
to 
do, and we did it the best way we knew how. And that’s exactly what 
your 
dad’s doing.”

“Sometimes I worry about him. I see things on TV, and…”

Harm nodded. “I know. It’s scary for you too, huh?”

Brian nodded. “I try to be brave, so my mom doesn’t have to worry about 
me, 
but…”

Harm let out a sad sigh. Some things would never change.

“Sometimes I feel really scared,” Brian confessed.

Harm could see that he was fighting to hold back tears. He stood up and 
took 
the seat next to Brian’s wheelchair, wrapping his arm around the boy’s 
shoulders. “Of course you do, big guy, and that’s okay. That’s 
perfectly 
normal. Your dad’s far away, and it’s okay to be worried about him.” 
Brian 
leaned his head on Harm’s chest, and Harm was content to let him. He 
didn’t 
say anything for several seconds, until Brian pulled away.

“Don’t be afraid to tell your mom when you’re scared,” Harm said. “She 
loves 
you very much, and I think she would want to know if you need her. And, 
you 
know, it’s okay to need her, buddy. You miss your dad, and so does she. 
And 
I think it’ll be easier for both of you if you help each other when you 
can.”

Brian nodded. “I just wish he didn’t have to be there.”

“I know,” Harm said. “I know you do. And I know you know what he’s 
doing 
over there, and you know it’s a very important job. You should be 
really 
proud of your dad, Brian. Because of him, other soldiers know where 
it’s 
safe for them to go.”

“But why can’t someone else do it?”

Harm smiled. “Well, your dad has the right skills and training for the 
job. 
Other people there are doing other jobs, and everybody works together 
to get 
things done.”

“I know,” Brian admitted, “but it’s so stupid. Why can’t they fix their 
own 
country?”

Harm didn’t know whether he wanted to laugh or cry. The myriad answers 
he 
could have given all fell into one of two categories: we broke it, we 
bought 
it; or blind, flag-waving jingoism. In the end, all he could do was 
offer an 
explanation that was neither comforting nor clarifying. “I don’t know, 
Brian. I don’t know.”

*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*

Unknown to Harm and Brian, Mac and Sam occupied a table on the other 
side of 
the restaurant. Sam had had a great practice that afternoon, and when 
Mac 
said she’d treat her to her favorite restaurant, Sam had immediately 
requested Beltway Burger. A woman after her own heart, Mac had thought.

Mac had finished her double cheeseburger, but was still working on her 
large 
order of fries. “Hey,” she said, “I figure we burned a ton of calories 
today, right? We deserve this.”

“Definitely,” Sam agreed.

“And you set a personal best today – that deserved a celebration!”

Sam smiled brightly. “I never thought I could go that fast. You’re a 
great 
coach, Mac.”

Mac blushed. “Oh, come on, all I do is ride my bike alongside you, in 
case 
something happens to your chair. You do all the work. I’m not the one 
who 
was pumping my arms like crazy and moving that chair along like a 
Porsche.”

Sam smiled again. “Whatever. I only got up to that speed because you 
started 
yelling like a real Marine.”

“A real Marine?” Mac asked, her eyebrow quirked.

“You know what I mean. Like those guys at boot camp. Or, so I’ve seen 
on TV 
specials, anyway.”

“It’s worse in real life, trust me.”

Sam stared at her tray for a few seconds, and then looked curiously at 
Mac. 
“Can I ask you something, Mac?”

“Sure.”

“Why did you join the Marines?”

“Wow…um, no one’s ever asked me that before.”

“It’s okay if you don’t want to tell me. You don’t have to.”

“No, it’s fine, really. I’m just not sure where to begin.” She didn’t 
want 
to be less than honest with Sam – who would see from a mile away if she 
was 
lying – but neither was she sure how much she wanted to reveal of her 
“colorful” past.

“I guess I just wanted to clean up my act. I was kind of a bad seed 
when I 
was younger.”

“You?” Sam said, incredulous. “I don’t believe it!”

Mac nodded. “It’s true. I got into some very stupid and dangerous 
things at 
a young age.”

“Drugs?” Sam guessed.

Mac was surprised, but then she remembered that the girl was twelve 
years 
old. As sad and horrible as it was, there was a good chance she’d 
already 
encountered drugs in junior high school. In light of that, she went 
ahead 
and told the truth. “Alcohol,” she said plainly. “My mom left me and my 
father when I was thirteen. My father wasn’t exactly the nicest 
guy…well, to 
be honest, he had his own problems with alcohol. Anyway, I did a lot of 
things I’m not proud of. But I had an uncle in the Marines, and he knew 
that 
enlisting would be the surest way to get me to clean up my act.”

“Wow,” Sam marveled. “Do you regret it?”

“What, joining the Corps?” Sam nodded. “No,” Mac answered firmly.

“Never?” Sam asked.

Mac’s eyes were thoughtful. “There have been a few times, I guess. In 
fact, 
a few years ago, I left for a little while.”

“You did? I didn’t know you were allowed to do that.”

“Well, my commitment was up, and I had a very nice job offer from a 
private 
law firm.”

“But…you’re still in the Marines, so…”

Mac smiled. “The job didn’t work out. I was stuck in an office all day, 
shuffling papers around. It wasn’t me. I like to be in the courtroom, 
battling things out.”

Sam smiled. “Just like a Marine!”

“Yep! Anyway, my CO – that means ‘commanding officer,’ my boss, 
basically – 
was nice enough to take me back without a lot of hassle.”

Sam nodded, seemingly satisfied with the explanation.  “Is it hard, 
being a 
woman in the military?”

“Yeah, it is,” Mac answered honestly. “But it’s also extremely 
rewarding. 
There have been times when I’ve had to push myself harder than I’d ever 
thought possible. But I’ve always risen to the challenge, and I’ve 
always 
come out stronger for it.”

“I’ll bet all the men tease you, though.”

“Not if they know what’s good for them!” Mac insisted. “Seriously 
though, 
you’re right. There are a lot of jabs that go back and forth – some in 
joking, and some that are serious, because there are a few jerks out 
there 
who don’t think women can do as good a job as men.”

“When actually,” Sam interjected, “we do it better!”

Mac grinned. “Are you sure you’re only twelve?” She shook her head. 
“Anyway, 
it just means that sometimes, I have to work twice as hard to prove 
myself.”

Sam nodded. “It must get old sometimes, wearing the same thing every 
day.”

“Well, there are different uniforms, depending on the season, and 
depending 
where you are, or how formal it is. Sometimes I wish I could wear 
something 
more colorful, or more feminine, but then, other times, I feel glad to 
not 
have to spend fifteen minutes deciding what I’m going to wear every 
morning. 
And, really, I’ve never been very much into clothes. Shoes, definitely, 
but 
not clothes.”

Sam smiled. “Me too. Well, not shoes, either. I’m just not into any of 
it. 
Not even makeup.”

Mac detected a hint of embarrassment in Sam’s confession. “That’s not a 
bad 
thing, y’know,” she said, in a meager attempt to bolster the girl’s 
self-esteem. “All those things add up, and they can get pretty 
expensive.”

“Yeah, but…” Sam shrugged. “Sometimes I wonder if there’s something 
wrong 
with me.”

Mac’s face wrinkled. “Why? Just because you’re not interested in all 
that?”

Sam nodded. “Most of the girls at school wear makeup, and they make 
such a 
big deal about clothes and boys and stuff.”

Mac wasn’t sure how to respond. On one hand, people matured at 
different 
rates, and some girls were interested in those things sooner than 
others. 
And, on the other hand, there was certainly nothing wrong with having 
no 
interest in those things, regardless of age.

“Well, Sam, everybody goes at their own pace. Your friends like what 
they 
like, and you like what you like.”

Sam nodded, but Mac thought she could still see a wistfulness on the 
girl’s 
face. “Sometimes I worry, though…”

Mac’s brow furrowed. “About what?” She tried to keep her tone light. 
She 
didn’t want Sam to feel pressured to talk.

Sam shrugged. “You’ll think it’s stupid.”

“Do *you* think it’s stupid?” Mac asked.

“No, but…”

“Then why would I? Sam, whatever you’re feeling, it couldn’t possibly 
be 
stupid. If you don’t feel like talking, that’s fine. But, if you do, 
I’m 
here.”

Sam offered a half-smile. “I…I wonder about boys sometimes, that’s 
all.”

“What about them?”

“Well, I just…sometimes it seems like all they care about are the 
pretty 
girls. It’s like…I’m totally invisible.” She stared at the food on her 
tray.

“That’s what has you so down?” Mac could hardly believe that this 
beautiful, 
bright, vivacious girl was feeling inadequate.

“See?” Sam said. “I told you you’d think it was stupid.”

Mac shook her head. “No, Sam, I don’t think that at all. It’s just hard 
for 
me to believe that you think boys aren’t interested in you.”

“Well, they aren’t!” she insisted.

Mac smiled. “They will be, when they’re a little older. Believe me.”

“But what about *now*? They don’t even know I exist. And it’s pretty 
hard to 
ignore me, when you consider…” She spread out her hands, indicating her 
wheelchair.

“Oh, Sam. Of course they notice you, honey. I spoke to your mom a few 
days 
ago, and I happen to know that you are going to a party at a boy’s 
house 
this weekend.”

Sam rolled her eyes. “That’s just Daniel. He’s not a *real* boy. I’ve 
known 
him forever.”

“So? He’s your friend, right?”

“Yeah, but so what?”

“So everything, Sam. Honey, I know this doesn’t mean much to you right 
now, 
but, those boys whom you wish would notice you…you’re better than them. 
If 
they can’t see beyond their own fears and prejudices, than who needs 
them? 
Certainly not you, sweetheart. And that goes beyond your wheelchair, 
too. 
Boys who are only interested in girls with the prettiest clothes and 
the 
right haircuts are missing out on a lot of amazing girls, who have 
better 
things to do with their time than worry what those silly boys think, 
anyway.”

Sam nodded. “Some days I feel that way, and things don’t bother me so 
much. 
But other days, it really gets to me.”

Mac smiled. “Well, you know what, Sam? I feel that way sometimes, too. 
Not 
as much as I used to, when I was your age, but it never really goes 
away. 
Unfortunately, I think it’s just part of being a girl. I’ve done a lot 
of 
important things in my life, and sometimes, I still feel like I’m not 
good 
enough.”

“How do you make yourself feel better?” Sam asked.

“A bubble bath never hurts,” Mac joked. Sam laughed, and Mac grew 
serious 
again. “Seriously, though, I just try to focus on the good qualities I 
have, 
and all the things I’ve accomplished. And you know what? That might not 
be a 
bad strategy for you, either. After all, young lady, you’ve done some 
pretty 
amazing things.”

“Like what?”

“Like practically make me eat your dust on the trail today!” Mac 
smiled. 
“And how about that report card your mom told me about? I never got 
grades 
like that.”

“But you’re a lawyer!”

Mac smiled. “Yeah, but I was pretty lazy in school when I was younger. 
I 
didn’t kick my mind into high gear until the Marines kicked my butt 
into 
even higher gear.”

Sam giggled. “So, um…what kind of girl were you?” At Mac’s puzzled 
expression, Sam clarified, “I mean, were you all put-together, or were 
you…well, more like me?”

“I was very much a tomboy. I was always happier playing in the mud than 
playing with dolls. I don’t know if I ever had a pair of jeans that 
didn’t 
have grass stains on them.” She refrained from elaborating, and 
mentioning 
that those grass stains had been the subject of more than one argument 
between her parents, when her father would accuse her mother of being 
too 
lazy to do the laundry properly.

“Really?” Sam asked, a glimmer of hope on her voice.

“Absolutely,” Mac answered.

Sam smiled. “That’s good. I mean, if you were like that when you were 
little, and look how you are now.”

Mac returned the girl’s smile. “Your time will come, honey.”

*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*

After they were finished eating, Mac and Sam threw their trash away, 
and 
they were halfway to the door when Mac  heard a familiar voice call her 
name. Looking for the source of the sound, she was quite surprised to 
see 
Harm and Brian at a table a few feet away. Harm wouldn’t be caught dead 
in 
Beltway Burger, unless…the boy must’ve twisted his arm, she realized. 
The 
pleadings of a young boy were probably the only thing that could get 
him to 
walk through the door.

“Harm!” Mac said cheerfully. She and Sam headed to the table. 
“I’m…uh…surprised to see you here.”

Harm smiled. “Brian insisted. You remember Brian, right, Mac?”

Mac nodded. “Of course. How are you?” she asked the boy.

“I’m good, ma’am.”

Mac smiled at the unexpected greeting. “You don’t have to call me that, 
honey.”

Brian looked disappointed. “But, can I anyway?”

Mac chuckled. “Of course. Harm, you remember Sam?”

“Sure. How’s it going?”

“Better, now that I’m full on fries,” Sam answered.

Harm shook his head. “You two must get along great,” he said to Mac.

Mac smiled. “Famously.”

“Hey,” Harm said, “you guys want to join us? I was just about to treat 
Brian 
to an ice cream sundae.”

Brian’s face lit up. “You were?!”

“Sure. That is, if you’d like one.”

“Yes, sir!”

Mac smiled. “I see you’ve got him all squared away.”

Harm lifted his hands, disavowing himself of any responsibility. “Hey, 
he 
does that all on his own.” He winked at Mac. “Would you ladies care for 
dessert?”

“Did you really have to ask?” Mac winked back at him.

Harm smiled. “Sorry. Where was my head? How about you, Sam? Can I get 
you 
anything?”

“Yeah, I’ll have a sundae, too. With hot fudge.”

“And extra whipped cream!” Mac added, as Harm started to walk toward 
the 
counter.

*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*

The four of them shared pleasant conversation over their desserts. 
Brian and 
Sam traded tips for going faster in their special racing chairs, while 
Harm 
and Mac traded glowing progress reports on the training. Both were 
convinced 
their charges would take first place in their respective age groups. 
After 
the sundaes were finished, they went their separate ways, but not 
before 
Harm helped Mac fold up Sam’s chair and store it in the small trunk of 
her 
Corvette. At Harm’s insistence, he would play chauffer for their next 
practice. His SUV had much more room for the equipment, of which the 
wheelchairs were only one part.

In Mac’s car on the way to Sam’s house, Sam watched Mac’s face 
carefully as 
she drove. “You like him, don’t you,” she said by way of a conversation 
starter.

“Hmm?” Mac said, caught off guard.

“Harm,” Sam clarified. “You like him.”

“What makes you say that?” She tried to keep her eyes on the road.

“I saw the way you were looking at him. I think you *really* like him.”

“You could tell all that from sitting there, having ice cream?”

Sam nodded, with a self-satisfied smile. “So I’m right, then?”

Mac smiled, even as she was sighing. “You’re too smart for your own 
good, 
you know that?”

“I knew it!” Sam squealed. “Have you ever been on a date with him?”

“No,” Mac answered quickly. It was the truth, after all. Granted, she 
and 
Harm had eaten dinner together more times than she could count, but 
they 
were always working dinners. And, of course, they’d traveled together, 
and 
even slept together…at least, in the same room, as she’d pointed out to 
Harm 
a long time ago. They had definitely had their share of experiences 
which, 
between “normal” people, might have been construed as dates. But not 
for 
them.

“Does her like you, too?” Sam asked.

“Y’know, Sam, for a long time, I wasn’t sure. I didn’t know if he liked 
me 
or not. But I think he does. We’ve been doing some talking, and 
sometimes, 
one or both of us will say something that comes close to flirting.”

Sam giggled. “Only close? Why don’t you just come right out and say 
something to him?”

Out of the mouths of babes, Mac thought. “It’s complicated. Harm and I 
are 
both really stubborn. We both like to get our way all the time, and 
that 
just can’t work.”

“But if you really like him, and he likes you, don’t you think you 
could 
compromise on some things?”

Mac sighed. She was momentarily transported back to the day when she 
and 
Harm had tried to make a deal for one of his clients. She hadn’t been 
willing to bend even once centimeter. She felt bad, but Harm hadn’t 
suggested anything even remotely acceptable. And besides, he never did 
well 
with compromise, either.

“Maybe,” Mac admitted. “But there are other things in the way, too. 
Harm and 
I are such good friends, and we’re both a little afraid of messing up 
that 
friendship. I mean, if we went on a date, and it didn’t work out, 
things 
might be awkward between us after that.”

Sam didn’t even bother acknowledging Mac’s words. She recognized them 
for 
what they were: excuses. “Does he have a girlfriend?” she asked.

“No, not anymore,” Mac answered. “He was dating someone for a while, 
but 
they broke up.

“’Cause he likes you more,” Sam smiled slyly.

“Actually, it was the girlfriend who ended things with Harm.”

“Oh. Well, maybe she could tell he didn’t really like her.”

Mac could only stare blankly at the road ahead of her. Leave it to a 
twelve-year-old to see things so clearly, when it had taken two 
thirty-somethings close to two years.

*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*

FRIDAY - A FEW DAYS LATER
1913 EST
NORTH OF UNION STATION


Harm was in the middle of tuning his guitar when the phone rang.

“Rabb,” he answered.

“Harm? It’s Denise.”

“Oh, hey, Denise, how are you?”

“Um, not so good, actually.”

“Is everything all right?” Harm asked immediately. “Is it Brian?”

“Everything’s fine here, Harm. It’s the hospital – they need to me to 
come 
in. I wasn’t scheduled to work this evening, but there was a train 
derailment near Fairfax, and they’re sending patients our way.” She 
sounded 
troubled. “I was wondering if you could…do me a huge favor. I wouldn’t 
be 
asking if I wasn’t desperate. My regular babysitter has a chemistry 
test 
tomorrow, and she needs to stay home and study. I’ve called everyone 
else I 
could think of, and – “

“Denise,” Harm said, having mercy on the harried-sounding woman. “Do 
you 
need me to come and stay with Brian?”

“Would you?” The desperate hope in her voice was heartbreaking. “I know 
it’s 
short notice, but I was hoping…and truly, Harm, if anyone else was 
available, I wouldn’t be bothering you like this.”

“It’s no bother, Denise, really. I’d be glad to do it.”

“There’s one thing, though,” she warned him. “The accident was pretty 
bad. I 
could be there for a while, I have no idea how long. You’re welcome to 
sleep 
on the couch. Brian can show you where we have extra blankets and 
pillows.”

Denise was talking a mile a minute, trying to justify things. Harm 
found it 
difficult to get a word in edgewise. When he finally did, he said, 
“Don’t 
worry about a thing. I’ll be there in fifteen minutes, all right?”

Her sigh of relief was audible through the phone. “Oh, Harm, thank you! 
I 
really appreciate this!”

After hanging up, Harm put his guitar back in its case so he could take 
it 
with him. It might make for fun entertainment.

*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*

0212 EST
DENISE and PHIL HARRISON’S HOUSE
ARLINGTON, VA


A flash of lights caught Harm’s eyes as he drifted in and out of sleep 
on 
the couch. Sitting up, he saw Denise’s car pull into the driveway. 
Wiping 
the sleep from his eyes, he grabbed his water glass and went to the 
kitchen 
to place it in the dishwasher. Searching quickly, he found a spray 
cleaner 
in the cabinet under the sink. He tore off a few paper towels from the 
roll 
on the counter and proceeded to do a very cursory cleaning. Brian’s 
sandwich 
had been messier than Harm remembered; he swept the crumbs off the 
table and 
into his hands, dropping them in the garbage can under the sink. 
Gathering 
up two G.I. Joes  the boy had left in the room, Harm carried them out 
to the 
toy box in the living room. He was surprised to note that Denise hadn’t 
come 
into the house yet.

Stepping closer to the bay window, he saw she was still in her car, 
though 
she had turned off the engine and shut the lights. Through the 
darkness, 
Harm could see she had her face buried in her hands, and her shoulders 
were 
trembling.

He was torn. One the one hand, if she was crying, it was probably a 
private 
moment, and he didn’t want to intrude, or embarrass her. But on the 
other 
hand, it simply wasn’t in his nature to sit idly by while someone else 
was 
hurting. A quick debate played in his mind, and the gentleman in him 
won 
out. He stepped out the front door and approached Denise’s car slowly. 
He 
tapped on the window, and Denise jumped.

“Sorry,” Harm said immediately. “I didn’t mean to startle you.”

“No,” Denise said, wiping her eyes. “It’s okay. You didn’t.”

“You all right?” he asked, even though it was clear she wasn’t.

Denise sniffled and wiped her eyes one last time. “Yeah, sorry. I…I 
should 
have come in right away. It’s late, and you probably want to get home.”

“Don’t worry about that,” Harm assured her. “I’m more concerned about 
you at 
the moment.”

“Me?” Denise asked. “Don’t worry about me, Harm. I’m all right.”

“You…uh…forgive me for saying so, but you really don’t look all right.”

Denise grabbed her purse from the passenger seat and stepped out of the 
car, 
pressing the button on her keychain to lock the doors and engage the 
alarm. 
“I’m fine, Harm, honestly. I’m really sorry I’m so late. The accident 
was 
even worse than they thought, and people kept coming in, with no end in 
sight. If I had known…”

“Denise,” Harm said firmly, “forget about it, okay? When you called me 
tonight, you said you didn’t know how long you’d be gone, and I told 
you it 
was no problem.”

Denise nodded. She walked up the driveway, leading Harm back inside. 
“Was 
Brian any trouble?” she asked.

Harm chuckled. “Brian, trouble? I don’t think those two words could 
ever 
belong in the same sentence.”

Denise gave a half-smile. “Oh, you’d be surprised. He walks all over 
me.”

Harm shrugged. “Well, he behaved just fine tonight.”

Denise sighed. “Must be your command presence. Even if you’re not in 
uniform, he knows you’re in the military. Or maybe it’s just because 
you’re 
a man. Women like to pretend that doesn’t make a difference, but it 
does. 
You’re bigger, your voice is deeper. You’re just plain scarier.”

Harm nodded. Hadn’t Annie said something very similar when Harm had 
chastised Josh about something, years ago? “Well,” he said to Denise, 
“that 
may be true, but, for the record, I was terrified of my mother when I 
was 
little. When I got out of line, she put me right back in my place 
before I 
even knew what happened.”

Denise nodded. “What about your father? Or did he let your mother do 
all the 
disciplining?”

“Um, no,” Harm answered. “My dad was…he let my mom handle it, mostly.”

Denise gave a knowing nod. “Phil’s like that, too. It’s not fair that I 
have 
to play the dragon lady, but someone’s got to teach Brian right from 
wrong, 
and he’s not around to do it right now.”

Harm stood there, slightly uncomfortable, not knowing what to say next. 
Denise reached into her purse and pulled out some folded bills. She 
tried to 
pass them to Harm. “Harm, I can’t thank you enough for coming out here 
tonight.”

“What’s this?” he asked, eyeing the offering strangely.

“It’s the least I can do, Harm. I called you at the last minute, and 
you 
were so good to come here and stay with Brian.” She took Harm’s hand 
and 
tried to press the money into it.

Harm gently shoved her hand away. “Denise, don’t be ridiculous. I’m not 
taking your money.”

“Harm, please,” she insisted, “I don’t know what I would have done 
without 
you tonight.”

Harm stepped back, putting his hands up. “It was my pleasure, all 
right? 
Brian’s a great kid, and you certainly don’t need to pay me to come 
spend 
time with him.”

“But…I…I…” Denise’s words dissolved as she lost the fight to hold in 
tears.

“Hey,” Harm said softly. He took her arm and led her to the couch, 
taking a 
seat next to her. “What’s wrong?”

Denise shook her head. “It’s nothing, Harm, don’t worry. I’m sure you 
want 
to get home.”

Harm tried to present a light-hearted face. “I know you’ve taught Brian 
not 
to lie. I would hate to think you’re setting a bad example.”

At that, Denise almost – almost – smiled.

“Now, you want to tell me what’s going on?” Harm prodded gently.

“Are you sure?” Denise asked. “I’ll bet you have things to do tomorrow. 
You 
should go home and go to sleep. Besides, you probably have much better 
things to do than talking to some crazy woman at two in the morning.”

Harm offered a lopsided grin. “At the risk of embarrassing myself, no, 
I 
don’t have anything better to do. So why don’t you just tell me what 
this is 
all about?”

Denise sniffled. “It’s Phil. I haven’t…I haven’t heard from him in 
three 
weeks. I usually get a letter from him every week, and sometimes even 
email, 
if he’s on the base.”

Harm nodded, understanding instantly why she was so distraught. 
“Denise,” he 
said softly, “you know that doesn’t mean anything. He could be 
anywhere. 
Depending on what’s going on where he is, he might not be able to 
write.”

“Or, he could be…”

“Don’t say it,” Harm told her. He held her hand. “There’s no reason to 
think 
like that until you know more. Just because you haven’t heard from him 
in a 
little while doesn’t mean what you think. Things are like a hurricane 
over 
there; if the winds are blowing strong, it might be difficult for him 
to 
write. Hell, depending on what he’s doing right now, he might not even 
be 
near any paper and pens, let alone a computer. You’ll probably get a 
batch 
of four or five letters, all at once, in a few days.”

“I know,” Denise said. “But that doesn’t make me feel any better.”

Harm sighed. “I know it doesn’t. But, Denise, try to stay positive, 
okay? 
Thinking the worst never did anyone any good, and Brian needs to see 
his 
mother staying strong.”

“I know,” Denise said, her voice breaking, “but sometimes, I can’t. I 
can’t 
always be strong…” A sob escaped her, and Harm instinctively pulled her 
into 
his arms. Any inappropriateness he might have felt about comforting 
another 
man’s wife was overtaken by the knowledge that that man would be 
grateful to 
know someone was here for her, someone who knew exactly what she was 
going 
through.

He held her tightly, smoothing his hand along her back, while her sobs 
were 
muffled by his shirt. “That’s it, Denise, let it out.” Better with him 
than 
with Brian, Harm thought. As a little boy, he’d seen his own mother 
collapse 
into sobs more than once, and it had always terrified him. He reached 
over 
and pulled some tissues from the box on the end table. He passed them 
to 
Denise.

Taking the tissues from Harm, Denise pulled away slightly, just enough 
to 
wipe her eyes. “I’m sorry,” she said timidly. “I’m not usually like 
this. 
I’m usually better about…handling it.”

“It’s okay,” Harm said. “I know this isn’t easy for you.”

“No, it’s not, but that’s no excuse for me…losing it like this in front 
of 
you. In the middle of the night, no less. I’m sorry,” she repeated.

Harm cupped her face in his hand. “Stop apologizing,” he admonished 
softly. 
“You have every right to feel this way, you know. It’s okay to not 
‘handle 
it’ every now and then. And, for Brian’s sake, I’m glad you let it 
happen in 
front of me, and not him.”

Denise sniffled. “I know. I do my best for him. He has enough to deal 
with 
in his life, without watching me fall to pieces.” She squeezed the 
tissues 
into a tight ball. “Still, it’s not easy to keep it together all the 
time…”

Harm nodded. “Of course it isn’t, and no one expects you to, Denise. Do 
you…do you have someone you can talk to about it?”

She shrugged. “There’s a woman at work, in pediatrics. Her son’s a 
medic 
over there. But she’s having as hard a time as I am. There’s a support 
group 
for other wives, too, and it helps having people who know how I feel, 
but it 
doesn’t always do me good. Sometimes, we only make each other feel more 
miserable.”

Harm nodded sadly. He looked into her eyes earnestly. “Will you do me a 
favor, Denise?” She nodded. “Will you call me, if you need to talk? I 
mean 
it. Any time, day or night.”

Denise shook her head, in near disbelief. This man was so incredibly 
kind to 
her son, and now he was offering to be there for her, too? “Why are you 
being so nice to me, Harm?”

Harm tilted his head at the unexpected question. “I guess…I guess if I 
were 
over there, and my wife was back home, I’d want to know there was 
someone 
she could go to if she needed help, or just someone to talk to.” Denise 
eyed 
him strangely, making him instantly regret what he’d just said. “Of 
course, 
if that makes you uncomfortable, or you think I’m overstepping my 
bounds – “

“No,” Denise said quickly, “not at all. I think you’re right. I think 
Phil 
would be relieved. Like you said, he wouldn’t want me falling apart in 
front 
of Brian.”

Harm nodded. “You know, I didn’t mean to imply that you should shut 
Brian 
out completely. He may be young, but he’s a bright kid. He’s capable of 
understanding a lot more than you may realize. Phil’s his father, and 
he 
deserves to know the truth of what’s happening with him. And, if he has 
any 
questions, it’s better that he get his answers from you, and not from 
classmates, or sensationalist TV news magazines.”

Denise’s eyes narrowed. “Harm, I hope I’m not overstepping *my* bounds 
now, 
but…you sound like someone with…some experience here.”

Harm bit his lip. “I lost my father when I was six.”

She quickly did the math. “Vietnam?”

Harm nodded. “He flew F-4s. He was shot down Christmas Eve, ’69. After 
that, 
it was just me and my mother, until I was thirteen.”

“She remarried?”

Harm nodded. “She waited a long time. Longer than I realized at the 
time. 
When she started dating again, I…” He shook his head. “I guess I saw it 
as a 
betrayal. I thought she was giving up, and I couldn’t stomach that 
thought. 
Of course, looking back, I know she went through a terrible mourning 
for 
him. But she had me to raise, and I think she kept the worst of it to 
herself. She didn’t want to scare me.”

Denise nodded. “Every time the doorbell rings, I’m afraid to answer it. 
I 
keep thinking…I just keep thinking I’m going to pull the door open, and 
two 
men in Army uniforms will be standing there, waiting to tell me I’ll 
never 
see my husband again.” Her eyes filled anew with tears.

Harm took her hand again. “Denise, thinking like that only makes it 
harder 
to get through the day. Until you have firm reason to believe 
otherwise, you 
have to keep believing that your husband is just fine, and that he’s 
doing 
what he’s trained to do, and staying safe.”

Denise took a deep breath and let it out slowly. It felt good to talk 
about 
this with someone. Everyone at work and at Brian’s school was walking 
on 
eggshells around her. Some people didn’t know what to say, so they said 
nothing. And others insisted on talking about nothing else, nothing but 
how 
difficult it must be for her. That was the worst, because she would 
have 
welcomed the distraction of talking about everyday things: what was on 
sale 
at the grocery store that week, good movies people had seen lately, or 
just 
good old gossip.

Nevertheless, she hadn’t realized how desperate she was to talk about 
her 
fears until tonight. And, of course, talking to someone who could 
relate was 
an even greater comfort, even if Harm’s experience was slightly 
different.

“Would you…would you like to stay for some coffee?” she asked.

Harm’s brow creased. “Are you sure? You must be exhausted after 
tonight. I 
should let you get to sleep.”

Denise shook her head. “No, I don’t think I’d be able to sleep. I mean, 
you’re right, I am exhausted, but I…sleep hasn’t been coming so easily 
lately.”

Harm nodded, understanding. “Are you having nightmares?”

“Once in a while. Most days, though, I just lay there, hour after hour, 
thinking about everything…about Phil, all the way over there, doing God 
only 
knows what. And then, Brian. God, I don’t know what we’ll do if…”

“Hey,” Harm interrupted. “You’re done thinking that way, right? At 
least for 
tonight.”

She smiled. “If you say so. I’m not in the military, but I guess I can 
still 
say, ‘yes, sir,’ right?”

Harm smiled back at her. “Yes, you can. But technically, since you’re a 
civilian, I should be calling you ‘ma’am.’”

“Don’t you dare!” she teased, her smile brighter. “So, how ‘bout that 
coffee?”

“Sure. But you’d better make mine decaf.”

~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*

For the next forty minutes, Harm and Denise chatted over their coffee. 
Harm 
told her more about what he and his mother went through after Harm, 
Senior 
was declared missing in action. Denise told him more about her 
husband’s 
Army career. Colonel Phil Harrison had enlisted after college and had 
been 
accepted for OCS. He had a knack for languages, and was assigned as an 
Arabic specialist. He’d received linguistic training at the Defense 
Language 
Institute, and after doing intelligence work in several locations, he 
was 
fluent enough to be the personal interpreter for a series of generals 
and 
even some congressional representatives, when necessary. However, as 
news of 
the war in Iraq became increasingly grim, he requested assignments in 
country, where he believed he was needed most.

“I was less than thrilled when he told me he’d specifically put in to 
go 
over there.” Denise held her coffee mug tightly. “He had a perfectly 
safe 
job right here, at the Pentagon. He was always home by six, so even 
when I 
worked nights, someone was always here for Brian.” She rotated the mug 
in 
her hands. “But then, I know, if he didn’t go, he wouldn’t be the man I 
married.”

Harm nodded. “Your husband has one of the most important jobs over 
there. Or 
over here, for that matter. We’re desperate for linguists. It’s tough 
to 
find people with the capacity to learn languages from scratch, and 
there are 
even fewer who qualify for a top-secret security clearance.”

“I know,” Denise said. “I’m proud of him for being in such high-demand, 
but…he’s needed just as much right here in this house. If he gets back 
-- ”

“*When,* Denise. *When* he gets back.”

Denise smiled. “When he gets back, I’m going to try and convince him to 
retire. I can’t do this by myself, and he can serve just as well 
working as 
a civilian.”

Harm nodded. His conversation with Brian the other day had been 
weighing on 
his mind, and considering what he and Denise had been discussing, now 
seemed 
like a good time to bring it up. Still, he was nervous. He was about to 
ask 
her a question, when she beat him to it.

“Brian told me you talked to him the other day, when you went to 
dinner.”

Harm shifted in his chair. Denise’s face was unreadable. He couldn’t 
tell if 
she was angry or grateful. “Yeah, we…um…”

“He seemed to feel much better about things. He said you told him how 
important Phil’s job is over there, and how he’s gotten all the right 
training.”

“I wasn’t sure what to tell him,” Harm confessed. “I didn’t know how 
much he 
knew, or what you’ve told him. I tried to answer his questions, but 
that’s 
all. I didn’t want to say too much, or – “

Denise smiled warmly. “Relax, Harm. I just wanted to say thank you. He 
gets 
pretty scared now and then, and I don’t always know what to tell him, 
or 
even have the strength to say anything at all.” Harm nodded. “I really 
appreciate you explaining things to him. He probably feels much better 
hearing it from you, knowing you’re in the military, too. Heck, he 
probably 
trusts you more than he does me.”

Harm chuckled. “Well, I don’t think I’d go that far.”

“Either way, Harm, thank you. I wish there was something else I could 
say to 
make you understand how much what you’re doing means to him – and to 
me.  
And I don’t just mean explaining about the war. I mean the race, too. 
It’s 
been really good for him to have that goal. Plus, I think it keeps his 
mind 
off the worst of things.”

“Well, like I said, he’s a great kid. I’m glad to do it. My friend, 
Sturgis, 
was in charge of recruiting coaches. He told me that the coaches get 
just as 
much out of the program as the kids do. More and more, I’m seeing that 
he 
was right.”

Denise nodded. “They should tell parents that they’ll get a great 
return, 
too.” She smiled shyly. “I wonder what Phil would think if he knew I 
was 
having coffee with a handsome man in the middle of the night.”

Harm chuckled. “If he’s anything like me, he’d come all the way back 
here, 
just to kick my butt.”

Denise laughed. “As if he has anything to worry about. I’m sure your 
girlfriend is waiting up for you, wondering where you are right now.”

Harm turned his head. “I don’t have a girlfriend.”

“What? I find that extremely difficult to believe, Harm. I mean, look 
at 
you, and you’re not even in uniform at the moment.” Harm blushed. 
“Unless…oh, now I feel really stupid. You’re not…I mean…”

Harm laughed out loud. “Gay?! No, definitely not. Although, looking at 
my 
social calendar, I couldn’t blame anyone for thinking that.” He shook 
his 
head sullenly.

“Bleak prospects, then?” Denise said knowingly.

Harm fiddled with the handle of his coffee mug. “No, there’s a 
prospect; I 
just don’t know if it’s a good one or not.”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, if I invested money, I’d expect to see a decent return in five 
years’ 
time.”

“So?” Denise asked, confused.

“So, I’ve invested around five years of my life in a friendship with 
this 
person, and the return hasn’t exactly been breaking the bank.”

“I see. Five years is a long time, Harm.”

“Tell me about it. I mean, I’ve had other dates, and other girlfriends 
in 
that time, but…”

“But not the one you want?”

Harm smiled. “Yeah. Are you trained in psychology, too, or am I really 
that 
transparent?”

Denise chuckled. “I think it’s just the hour. Somehow, things always 
seem 
clearer at three in the morning.”

“Do they? Maybe me and Mac should start talking in the middle of the 
night, 
then.”

“Mac?”

“Sarah Mackenzie,” Harm explained. “She’s my partner at JAG.”

“The woman I met at the meeting, that first day? The Marine?”

Harm nodded. “That’s her.”

“And you call her Mac?”

“Hey, she insisted, from the moment I met her.”

“Well, I sometimes call myself fatso, but I don’t think I’d appreciate 
Phil 
calling me that.” Denise winked.

Harm smiled. “It’s not like that. That’s just her nickname; it’s not 
derogatory.”

“All right,” Denise said, “so tell me about Mac.”

Harm sighed. “What are you doing for the next eight hours? Because it 
just 
might take that long...”

*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~

An hour later, Denise felt like she had whiplash. Listening to the 
abridged 
version of Harm and Mac’s past had pulled her this way and that, 
whipping 
her head around and flipping her into tumblesaults. If she hadn’t 
trusted 
Harm to tell her the truth, she would have sworn he was reading her 
something from Soap Opera Digest.

“Damn, Harm,” she said simply.

“Agreed.”

“I wish I knew what to tell you. I feel like I should say something, 
but…it’s just too much. I think even Shakespeare himself couldn’t have 
written anything so convoluted and tragic.”

Harm chuckled. “Well, the truth is always stranger than fiction, 
right?”

Denise shrugged. “I suppose.” She reached for another slice of the 
pound 
cake she had set on the table during their conversation about Mac. 
“What are 
you going to do?”

“Same as always, I guess. Get up in the morning, do my thing all day, 
go to 
sleep, and start all over again.”

“No offense, Harm, but that’s pretty depressing.”

“Thanks.”

She smiled. “Why don’t you just go after her?”

“What?” Harm challenged good naturedly. “Weren’t you listening to 
anything I 
just said?”

“Of course I was. But, so what? That was all in the past. What’s 
stopping 
you from trying again, now?”

“Well, for starters, me and Mac are still fighting like cats and dogs. 
She’s 
coaching a girl for the race, and I’m afraid that if she and I try to 
start 
something now, it’s going to turn into a pissing contest between me and 
her.”

Denise laughed. “A pissing contest between a man and a woman? I’d like 
to 
see that. Wait, no, never mind. I definitely *don’t* want to see that.”

Harm chuckled. “You know what I mean. These kids deserve our full 
attention, 
and they deserve to have their coaches upbeat and positive. I don’t 
want to 
subject them to me and Mac constantly insulting each other.”

Denise nodded. “It makes much more sense when you explain it that way. 
But, 
still…”

“Still, what?”

“Well, I think maybe…maybe you should talk to her, and at least get the 
lines of communication open. You could tell her that you’d like to…I 
don’t 
know, have dinner with her. But explain to her that you want to wait 
until 
after the race, when it won’t affect the kids you’re coaching.”

Harm’s brow furrowed. “You think I should ask her out a month in 
advance?”

Denise nodded, smiling. “I don’t think Mac would mind. After five years 
of 
semi-courtship, what’s another four weeks?”

Harm tilted his head, considering her words. “You know, you might just 
be 
right.”

“Or, I might just be rambling insanely, since it’s almost five in the 
morning.”

Harm’s eyes widened. “It is?! Oh, Denise, I’m sorry. I should have left 
hours ago.”

“No, it’s fine. I asked you to stay. In fact, I’ll probably stay up and 
watch the sunrise. Not a bad way to start a day.”

“You should really get some sleep, though,” Harm advised.

“I know, and I will. I’ll catch a few hours after the sun comes up. 
Brian 
will probably be up at seven for Saturday morning cartoons, but he 
knows 
where the milk and cereal are.”

Harm nodded. “He’s a really special little guy.”

Denise smiled. “He’s no different from any other eight-year old boy. 
Well, 
no, actually, because of the chair, he can arm wrestle grown men into 
the 
ground.” Harm chuckled. “He gets around just fine, and he likes to do 
for 
himself whatever he can. Where he’s concerned, I only worry about the 
same 
things every other mother worries about. It’s a pretty sick world, 
these 
days.”

Harm nodded. “I watch the news, and sometimes I feel relieved that I 
don’t 
have children. I’ve never been good with uncertainty; I’d probably 
tether my 
poor kids to the house. Granted, it would be a long tether, but still, 
I’d 
be able to rein them in whenever I got worried.”

Denise nodded. “It gets better with time. You try to keep a tight 
leash, but 
little by little, you let out the slack.” She gathered the coffee cups 
and 
brought them to the sink.

Taking that as his cue to leave, Harm put the rest of the pound cake 
back 
into the fridge. “Get some sleep, okay?”

“I will. I just needed to unwind. That accident was…well, let’s just 
say I 
didn’t want those images in my mind just before I went to bed.” Harm 
nodded. 
“Harm, I really appreciate your help tonight – for Brian, and…for me.”

“You don’t have to thank me. I was happy to be here.” He followed 
Denise 
into the living room and took his jacket from the arm of the couch. 
“Promise 
me you’ll call if you need to talk, all right?”

“Harm, I’m not going to bother you with my problems again. It’s bad 
enough I 
did it once.”

“Denise,” Harm said firmly, “call me. I mean it. It’s no bother.”

Denise smiled. “Y’know, I think you and Phil would get along great.”

Harm matched her smile. “Well, if he’s anything like his son, I’m sure 
you’re right. And I hope to meet him when he gets back.”

Denise walked Harm to the door. “I know I keep saying it, but, thank 
you.”

“Anytime.”

*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*

“Good communication is as stimulating as black coffee, and just as hard 
to 
sleep after.”
~Anne Morrow Lindbergh

*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*

The roads were empty at that time of the night, and Harm made it home 
in 
record time. During the quick drive, he got an idea that wrapped itself 
tightly around his mind. Although he’d been up for almost 24 hours, he 
knew 
he wouldn’t be able to sleep unless he did something about it right 
away.

He didn’t bother glancing at his clock. He had a phone call to make, 
and he 
didn’t care if he disturbed the sleep of the person at the other end of 
the 
line. Lord knew Harm had saved the man’s skin more than once; waking 
him up 
at oh-dark-thirty would hardly be out of line.

Harm picked up the phone and dialed.

“Yes, Mr. Director?” Clayton Webb’s voice was crackly with sleep. He 
automatically assumed it was the director of counterintelligence; no 
one 
else would be calling at that hour.

“Webb, it’s Harm.”

“Rabb? Who died?” Webb’s voice was clearer now, but his tone was angry.

“No one died, Webb, wake the hell up.”

“Rule number one, Rabb: I don’t get up until the sun does, so call me 
back 
when you can’t see the moon, huh?”

“Webb, if you hang up, so help me, you can cross me off your emergency 
contact sheet.” He heard Webb sigh loudly.

“Fine,” Webb concurred. “But get to the point, would you? I’m sleeping 
off 
some serious jetlag from my last assignment.”

Harm spoke quickly. “Who do you know in Iraq?”

“What?”

“Who are your men over there? And don’t even try to tell me you don’t 
have 
guys in the field.”

Webb sighed. “Why? What’s this about? I can’t just go around giving you 
the 
names of operatives over there.”

“All right. Look, your people are involved in the interrogations there, 
right?”

“Um…”

“Yes or no, Webb? Yank my chain, and Momma Webb just might find out 
some…unseemly things about the source of all her parental pride and 
joy.”

“All right already, Rabb. Yes, I’ve got guys over there.”

“They work together with military intelligence officers, right?”

“They do.”

“And I assume they’ve got access to a secure phone?”

“Of course.”

Harm sighed in relief, throwing his fist in the air in victory. “Good. 
Listen, I need you to track someone down for me, and I need you to 
arrange a 
phone call…”

“Who do you think I am, Harm, AT&T?”

“Webb, I’m only going to say this once: If you think you might ever, 
*ever* 
want me or Mac helping you again, if you know what’s good for you, you 
will 
get your beauty-sleeping ass over to Langley right now, and tell me how 
I 
can contact a certain Army linguist…”

*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~

THE FOLLLWING WEEK
1535 EST
JAG HQ
FALLS CHURCH, VA


Mac’s face was buried in a file. She didn’t notice Harm’s presence in 
her 
doorway until he cleared his throat. She looked up to see him leaning 
against the doorway, his long, lean form cutting quite an impressive 
sight, 
no matter how hard she tried to ignore it.

“Hey, Harm. Sorry, I was just looking for something.”

“Like what?”

“Like anything that will save Petty Officer Michael Potter from brig 
time.”

“Anything I can help with?” Harm offered.

“No, thanks. I’ve been over this with a fine-tooth comb. The fact is, 
he’s 
guilty; I was just trying to lessen the sentence he’ll face.”

“You ever notice that the admiral seems to always give you losing 
cases?”

Mac cocked her head to one side. “Yes, as a matter of fact, I have.” 
She was 
slightly surprised by the way Harm had phrased that. He could just as 
easily 
have twisted it to say she always lost her cases. Maybe, just maybe, it 
was 
Harm’s awkward way of offering a compliment. There was one way to find 
out, 
she thought. “I’ve always wondered if he was trying to tell me 
something 
about my lawyering skills.”

“Nah,” Harm disagreed. “I think he sees you as the big, bad Marine you 
are, 
and he knows your ego can take it.”

Mac was pleasantly surprised. “Thanks, I think.”

Harm smiled. “Hey, can I ask you a question?”

“Sure.”

Surprising Mac even further, Harm pulled her office door shut and took 
a 
seat in the chair in front of her desk. “Do you have any plans for the 
night 
after the Olympics?”

Mac’s brow furrowed. That was over three weeks away. “Not as far as I 
know. 
Why?”

Just do it, Harm told himself. Maybe Denise was right, and whatever had 
happened in the past could stay there. Maybe he and Mac really could 
move 
forward.

“Well,” he said, “I was wondering if you’d have dinner with me.”

Mac failed to hide her surprise at the highly unexpected request. 
“Um…uh…wow.” Mac blushed, too flustered to give a proper answer.

“I’m not sure what ‘wow’ means,” Harm said, smiling. “Is it a yes, or a 
no?”

“It’s a yes. Yes, I’d love to have dinner with you. But…I thought we 
were 
going to wait.”

“We are. That’s why I asked you out for the night after the race. That 
way, 
whatever happens, it won’t affect Brian or Sam.”

Mac nodded, even as a slight darkness came over her thoughts. It seemed 
Harm 
was pessimistic enough to be worried that “whatever happened” might not 
be 
good. “You, um, sound convinced that something bad might happen.”

Harm shook his head. “No, not convinced, just…cautious, I guess. I 
mean, you 
can’t tell me you’d be surprised if things didn’t go well.”

Mac let out a breath. “No, you’re right, I can’t. But still, I’d like 
to 
think we could try and stay optimistic. I mean, we seem to be getting 
along 
better lately.”

Harm smiled. “You’ve noticed it, too?”

Mac nodded. “I’m not sure, but I think it may have something to do with 
working with Sam. She’s only twelve, but she’s…” Mac smiled as her 
words 
trailed off, failing in the search to find a word to describe just how 
special Sam had become to her over the course of a few short weeks.

Harm smiled, nodding. “Yeah, so is Brian.”

“So, we’re on, then? Dinner the following night?”

“Absolutely. I figure, even if Brian and Sam don’t wind up on the medal 
winner’s podium, it’s a pretty good achievement just to participate and 
finish the race. So I think, whatever the outcome, you and I will 
probably 
be feeling pretty good, and we’ll want to celebrate.”

Mac smiled. She was feeling pretty good *right now*. “Sounds good, 
flyboy.” 
Mac hadn’t called Harm by that special nickname in ages. Something 
about the 
prospect of a date in the future made her feel like she could say it 
without 
making herself, or Harm, feel awkward.

Upon hearing the endearment, Harm’s heart felt lighter than it had in 
quite 
a while. When he exited Mac’s office, he held on to the hope that they 
would 
have something to celebrate besides Brian and Sam crossing the finish 
line. 
Something about their own future together.

*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~

TWO DAYS LATER
1945 EST


Harm was almost giddy with excitement at the task ahead of him. He 
would 
have to calm down a little if he didn’t want Denise to suspect 
anything.  He 
decided to flip through the newspaper’s sports pages for fifteen 
minutes; he 
would make the call at twenty-hundred hours.

When the time arrived, he still had to take several slow, deep breaths 
to 
slow his racing heart. It was too perfect, he thought; he couldn’t 
believe 
it had actually worked out. Webb had managed to contact one of his 
people, 
who was working in country with Phil Harrison. Phil’s skills as an 
interpreter had been in demand non-stop for the past month. After 
several 
particularly intense interrogations, he’d been completely drained and 
exhausted. So much so, that he hadn’t even had the strength to write to 
his 
wife. However, when he was told he’d be able to call her at the end of 
the 
week, a new energy surged through him. He hadn’t heard her voice in 
ages. He 
spoke and listened for a living, but after all those months in the 
unforgiving desert, there was only one voice he wanted to hear, and 
finally, 
he would have that chance.

Harm hit the seventh speed dial button on his phone. He’d added 
Denise’s 
number a few days earlier, after realizing that they’d probably stay in 
touch, even after Brian’s race.

The line rang six times. Harm was about to hang up, but finally, Denise 
answered, sounding very harried.

“Hello?”

“Hey, Denise, it’s Harm. Is this a bad time?”

“Uh, no, no, sorry, I was unloading groceries from the car and had to 
rush 
in for the phone.”

“I can call back,” Harm told her. He didn’t want this to be a rush job.

“No, it’s all right. I brought the last bags in with me this time. 
What’s 
up?”

“Are you working this Friday morning?” He prayed she wasn’t. He knew 
her 
schedule changed from week to week; sometimes nights, sometimes days, 
sometimes both.

“No, I don’t think so. Why?”

Harm smiled to himself. “How would you and Brian like a guided tour of 
JAG 
headquarters?”

“Are you serious?”

“Of course I am. Why wouldn’t I be?”

“I don’t know, it just doesn’t seem like something that would be 
allowed – 
civilians, strolling through a military office like that. Especially an 
office where trials and investigations take place.”

Harm smiled. “It’s perfectly legal,” Harm assured her. “Most of the 
investigations take place in the field, and all the trials take place 
in the 
courtroom. It’s not like we leave classified material sitting out, 
unguarded. And, if someone does, well, let’s just say I’ve seen other 
people 
get careless now and then, and the results weren’t pretty.”

“Ah,” Denise said, a hint of humor in her voice, “a serious dressing 
down by 
the CO?”

“You got it. So, how about it? Are you free? If I remember right, 
there’s 
some kind of administrative day for the public schools, so I know Brian 
can 
come.”

“Yeah, he’s off that day. Are you sure, Harm? I wouldn’t want to get 
you in 
trouble with your CO.”

Harm had to resist the urge to tell her that, in fact, his CO was 
waiting on 
the edge of his seat, to hear whether she’d accepted the invitation. 
After 
all, the only secure phone was in the admiral’s office; Harm had to get 
his 
permission to use it, and the admiral had been most agreeable to the 
plan.

“I’ve already cleared it with him,” Harm told Denise. “Come on, what 
else do 
you have to do that day?”

“Oh, I don’t know, laundry, paying bills, picking up dry-cleaning, 
cleaning 
the house…” Boy, Denise thought, Harm had a lot to learn about being a 
mom.

“Oh,” Harm said, feeling defeated. He had to get her there, somehow. 
“But, 
can’t you do that on Saturday?”

“I have to work Saturday,” Denise replied.

Damn, Harm thought.  He *had* to get her there, and it had to be 
Friday.  He 
was loath to do it, but she was leaving him no choice. It was time to 
play 
the guilt card. “Don’t you think it would be good for Brian, though? I 
mean, 
it’s not every kid who gets access to something like this. It’s the 
chance 
of a lifetime.” There was a pause, and he could almost hear Denise’s 
resolve 
crumbling. “Come on,” he urged, “you know he would love it.”

Denise sighed. “You’re terrible, Harm. Fine, we’ll be there. What 
time?”

Harm did a quick calculation. Phil was going to call at 1100. If he 
wanted 
to actually show Denise and Brian around the office a little first, so 
as 
not to make them suspicious, they would have to be there a little 
earlier. 
“How about 10:00? We can spend a while there, and then I’ll take you 
both to 
lunch.”

“Harm, that’s not necessary.”

“Please, it’s the least I can do. After all, I’m making you postpone 
all 
those fun chores.”

Denise chuckled. “Is Mac going to be there?”

“Yes, why?”

“Because, I have half a mind to walk into her office and tell her what 
she’s 
missing out on.”

Harm smiled. “Actually, I almost forgot to tell you – I took your 
advice.”

“My advice?” Denise thought for a moment. She gasped when she realized 
what 
he meant. “You mean, Mac? You asked her out?!”

“I did.”

“And?”

“And we’re on – dinner at Carmen’s, the day after the race.”

Denise squealed with delight. “Harm! That’s great! Oh, I’m so happy for 
you!”

Harm laughed. “Thanks. I’m trying not to get ahead of myself, though. 
We’ve 
had so many false starts in the past; I refuse to assume anything at 
this 
point.”

“Right. Well, don’t be too pessimistic, either. You’ll probably be on a 
good 
high from the race, no matter how the kids do. I think you’ll be 
surprised 
by what you see that day; these kids all have a way of making you 
realize 
what’s really important in life. I know that sounds cheesy, but it’s 
true. 
After being a part of something like that, you and Mac might just be 
ready 
to take a step toward being happy together.”

*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*

FRIDAY
1054 EST
JAG HQ
FALLS CHURCH, VA


“You’re lucky,” Harm said to Denise and Brian, who had spent the 
morning 
touring JAG headquarters. “Most mornings, court is in session. Not too 
many 
people get to see the courtroom.” He pulled the door shut behind them. 
Nothing had been on the docket for that morning, so Brian and Denise 
were 
able to see “where it all happens,” as Harm had put it. He’d never seen 
Brian’s smile brighter than when he’d lifted him onto the judge’s 
bench. The 
boy had picked up the gavel and proceeded to preside over an imaginary 
trial. Denise took pictures, and promised Brian she would send them to 
his 
father, so he could see what a great day they’d had.

Glancing at his watch, Harm was stunned to see how late it was. The 
morning 
had flown by – an effect, apparently, of being hypnotized by Brian’s 
laughter and deep inquisitiveness. The boy had asked so many questions, 
that 
Harm felt like he’d given himself a crash review of JAG history and 
procedure.

Phil was going to call at 1100. Harm had only five minutes to get 
Denise and 
Brian downstairs to the admiral’s office. He hurried them toward the 
elevator.

“Come on, guys, the admiral’s probably waiting for us.”

“Is he going to yell at us if we’re late?” Brian asked.

Harm chuckled. He’d told them a story or two about being on the 
receiving 
end of his CO’s ire, and now it seemed Brian was fearing that he’d 
witness 
it first-hand.

“No, buddy,” Harm assured the boy. “But, he’s a very busy man, so when 
he 
says 1100, he means 1100. So let’s move our sixes, okay?”

“Sixes?” Brian asked.

Harm smiled. “Our…rear ends.  Pilots like to have their own language, 
sometimes.” At the unspoken question on Brian’s face, Harm explained, 
“You 
know how someone might say, ‘Pretty girl, at two o’clock?”

“Girl? Eeew,” Brian recoiled.

Harm smiled. “Well, anyway, when you take the face of a clock and lay 
it 
flat, you have twelve o’clock, which is directly in front of you. Three 
o’clock is to your right, nine o’clock is to your left, and that leaves 
you 
with six o’clock, right behind you. So, six.”

Three minutes later, Harm was leading his guests to the admiral’s 
office. 
Brian was impressed when Petty Officer Tiner jumped to his feet in 
Harm’s 
presence.

“Go right in, Commander, the admiral’s expecting you.”

“Actually, I’m coming out,” came the admiral’s voice from inside his 
office. 
He appeared a second later. “Mrs. Harrison?” He extended his hand to 
Denise. 
“A.J. Chegwidden.”

She shook the admiral’s hand firmly. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, 
sir.”

“Please, call me A.J.” He turned to the young boy in the wheelchair. 
“And 
you must be Brian.” He offered his hand again.

“Yes, sir!” He said it strongly, and saluted.

Denise smiled. “He’s been practicing all week.”

“Well, he’s already better than half the people in this office,” the 
admiral 
joked. “That kind of discipline is always welcome here, young man.” 
Everyone 
shared a laugh, and when the air was calm again, the admiral turned to 
Denise. “Mrs. Harrison, I believe there’s a phone call you for you in 
my 
office.”

Her face wrinkled in confusion. “What?”

The admiral nodded. “Maybe someone from work? Did you tell them you 
were 
coming here?”

“No…well, only my paging service, in case there was an emergency. 
Besides 
that, no one else knows we’re here.”

“Well, you’d better go see who it is,” Harm urged, nudging her toward 
the 
office. He got behind Brian’s chair and wheeled him in behind his 
mother.

Denise approached the phone slowly. She had a sinking feeling in the 
pit of 
her stomach; if her service was calling her, it had to be something 
really 
bad. Just as she picked up the receiver, Harm exited the office, 
closing the 
door behind him, to give her and Brian some privacy. But, as he pulled 
the 
door shut, he heard a gasp, and then a delighted squeal.

*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~

When Denise and Brian exited the office ten minutes later, they found 
the 
admiral waiting, leaning his long frame against Tiner’s desk. His arms 
were 
folded across his chest, and he wore an impish grin.

“Oh, Admiral!” Denise cried, still wiping away joyful tears. “I…I don’t 
know 
what to say! Thank you!” She knew it would be inappropriate, but she 
couldn’t stop herself from wrapping him in a tight hug.

A.J. smiled. “It was my pleasure, truly.”

“This was…wow…I never expect this! I don’t know how to thank you.”

“Don’t thank me at all. It was Commander Rabb’s doing. My only part was 
in 
having a secure phone.”

“In that case, I…I’d better…”

“Go,” A.J. told her. “I’m sure he’ll want to know how it went.”

As Denise and Brian hurried across the bullpen to Harm’s office, Denise 
marveled at the incredible turns her life had taken recently. Signing 
Brian 
up for the youth Paralympics was supposed to be all about him, but 
lately, 
it seemed to be having a much wider influence.

When they got to Harm’s office, the door was open. Looking up from a 
file on 
his desk, Harm tried his best to keep a perfect, enigmatic poker face. 
His 
determination quickly faded, though, when his eyes met Denise’s. Seeing 
her 
elation, he didn’t stand a chance at suppressing a huge grin. No sooner 
had 
he stood up than Denise had thrown herself into his arms, enveloping 
him in 
a powerful hug.

“Harm! You are INCREDIBLE!”

Her delighted cry rang through the office. Fearing that they’d get in 
trouble, Brian pulled the door closed, but it was not soon enough to 
prevent 
Mac’s curiosity from piquing next door.

“I cannot *believe* you did that! How…I mean…how did you…” Denise shook 
her 
head as she tried to form a coherent sentence.

Harm’s smile was still plastered firmly on his face. “I know someone, 
who 
knows someone…”

“Harm, this was…I…I just don’t know what to say.” She was unsuccessful 
at 
holding back tears. “When Brian and I came here this morning, we never 
expected anything like this. It must’ve taken a lot of work to set that 
up.”

Harm waved a hand dismissingly. “It’s a small price to pay,” he told 
her. 
“We’re all pretty lucky here, to be working in this nice, comfortable 
office. We owe it to the people who aren’t as lucky, to do whatever we 
can. 
I’m just sorry you couldn’t talk longer; those connections can be shaky 
sometimes.”

Denise nodded. She was overcome with the shock and relief of it all. 
She 
stepped closer to Harm again, and he wrapped his arms around her.

Growing increasingly curious about what was going on in the office next 
door 
to hers, Mac stepped out and looked through the partly-open blinds on 
Harm’s 
door. She arrived there just in time to see Denise place a kiss on 
Harm’s 
cheek, and Harm’s arms holding her tightly.

*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~

Harm took Denise and Brian to lunch, and when he returned to his office 
afterwards, he had three emails waiting for him. One was from Tiner, 
reminding him of a meeting with the admiral on Monday; one was from a 
commander in Norfolk, regarding an investigation; and one was from Mac. 
He 
was ready to read a happy message from her. After all, Mac’s office was 
right next to his, and the walls were pretty thin; she’d probably heard 
Denise and Brian thanking him for arranging the call. He clicked on the 
message.


To: rabb.harmon@jag.navy.mil
From: mackenzie.sarah@jag.navy.mil
Subj: Dinner
Message:

Our date is OFF.

<end message>


Four small words. That was all. He stared at them in disbelief. Just 
what in 
the hell had brought this on? A few days ago, Mac had seemed like her 
old 
self: joking, optimistic, and insightful. Hell, she had even called him 
“flyboy,” which was a far cry from the insults she’d hurled at him not 
long 
ago.

But now, there was…this. She hadn’t even signed her name. Harm was 
disgusted. It took a true coward to break a date through email; she 
didn’t 
even have the guts to say it to his face.

That was it, he told himself. He would get to the bottom of this, and 
he 
would do it now, even if that meant subjecting the whole office to 
watching 
a fight. What was the difference, he mused; he’d lost count of how many 
times it had already happened.

He knocked sharply on Mac’s closed door.

“Enter,” she called.

Harm stepped into her office and shut the door, careful not to slam it. 
No 
point in calling everyone’s attention to him and Mac prematurely. He 
wanted 
to ask her what the hell was going on, but he tried to remain calm.

“Harm, please,” Mac said, before Harm had a chance to compose his 
thoughts, 
“I’m busy this afternoon. So, if you’re just going to stand there --  “

“I got your email, Mac.”

Mac looked up from the file she was pretending to study. “And?”

“And, what are you talking about? Why are you canceling?”

Mac rolled her eyes. “If you have to ask me that question, I’m not sure 
you’re capable of understanding the answer.”

Harm’s brow furrowed. “If you’re so busy, Mac, this will go a lot 
quicker if 
you’d speak English.”

“You want English, Harm? All right, here it is. And, if you don’t 
understand 
it, then I suggest you get some tutoring, because I’m not sure how much 
clearer I can be. I was trying to get some work accomplished this 
morning, 
but I was disturbed by high-pitched squealing, coming from the office 
next 
to mine. When I stepped out to see what was going on, I saw the man I 
was 
once proud to call my partner, locked in a tight embrace with a married 
woman.”

“You have no idea what you’re talking about, Mac.”

“Don’t I? Are you denying what I saw?”

“No, of course not, but – “

“But nothing, Harm! What’s gotten into you?!”

“Me?!” Harm balked. “Take a look in the mirror sometime, Mac, and try 
to 
tell me what the hell’s gotten into *you*.”

“I know what I saw, and I didn’t like it.”

“Mac, you’re acting like a child and jumping to conclusions that you 
have no 
hope of backing up! Denise is a happily married woman!”

“And that didn’t stop you!”

Harm felt like a tornado was spinning through his stomach. “You know 
what, 
Mac? You’re right, our dinner *should* be off. Because, if you think 
I’m 
capable of what you’re accusing me of, then I don’t know what the hell 
I was 
thinking in asking you out in the first place. You don’t know me at 
all. And 
now, I’m wondering if you ever did.”

*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*

A FEW DAYS LATER
1935 EST
ALICE and TOM BRADLEY’S HOUSE
FAIRFAX, VA


Mac had been invited to dinner with the Bradley family. The evening was 
pleasant, for the most part. The food was delicious, and Mac enjoyed 
getting 
to know Alice and Tom. However, there had been the not so minor 
exception of 
Sam saying some rude things to her father, and her mother promptly 
sending 
her to her room.

Now, Mac was in the Bradley’s living room, talking with Sam’s parents 
over 
coffee and Italian pastries.

“We’re very glad you could join us tonight, Mac,” Alice said. “We 
wanted to 
do this much sooner, but Tom’s away so much, and when he’s finally home 
for 
a weekend, sometimes he’s just too tired to have guests.”

Tom wiped a speck of cannoli cream from his fingers. “I feel terrible 
about 
not being here more, but it’s just the nature of the job. The good news 
is, 
I’ve put in for a promotion that would have me traveling a lot less.”

Mac nodded. “I’m not sure I should be saying this, but…I think it’s too 
important to keep to myself. Tom, maybe you should tell Sam about that 
– the 
promotion, I mean. She gets…frustrated…at practice sometimes. I’m sure 
there 
are a lot of reasons, but I can’t dismiss the fact that she’d like to 
spend 
more time with you.”

Tom nodded guiltily. “I know,” he admitted. “I hate my being gone just 
as 
much as she does. Some days, I look at her, and I wonder who that 
beautiful 
young woman is, and what she did with the chubby, happy-go-lucky kid I 
used 
to know.”

Alice nodded. “She’s growing up so fast, I hardly believe it. I’m just 
glad 
she’s not very interested in
makeup yet. It seems like girls today all want to be adults, when most 
adults would give anything to be kids again.”

Mac offered a slight chuckle. Considering the events of her adolescent 
years, she was probably in the minority of adults who wouldn’t accept 
any 
amount of money to be younger again. Nevertheless, she understood what 
Alice 
was saying.

“It’s terrifying to be a parent these days,” Alice continued. “You 
watch the 
news, and it’s enough for you to never let your children out of the 
house.”

Tom nodded his agreement. “Yeah. In fact, that’s why…well, that’s why 
we 
wish we could have arranged this dinner sooner. Please understand, it’s 
not 
you. It’s just, there are some very sick people out there.”

“Absolutely,” Mac agreed. “I’m glad we had the chance to meet, even if 
it 
had to be a little while into the training.”

Alice reached for a jam-filled rainbow cookie. “I have to admit, I was 
pretty relieved when I met you that first day, and saw you were in the 
military. I know they do extensive background checks on all the 
coaches, but 
still…there’s just something about that uniform that makes me feel 
better.”

Mac smiled. “Thank you. Although, at the risk of undermining your 
confidence 
in me, you probably shouldn’t automatically associate the uniform with 
being 
an upstanding citizen. I’m a judge advocate, and I see plenty of people 
who 
are better suited to serving time than serving their country.”

Tom nodded. “Well, I think Alice and I know you’re clearly one of the 
good 
ones, Mac. I’ve only been home for three days, but still, all I’ve 
heard in 
that time is how great you are.”

Alice nodded. “Sam talks about you incessantly.”

Mac grinned sheepishly. “I’m sorry.”

“No,” Alice insisted, “please, don’t be. She worships you. You’ve 
become a 
real role model for her. In fact, I think she’d be looking at joining 
the 
Marines, if it weren’t for…you know.”

Mac nodded. “Um…if you don’t mind me asking, how…how did it happen?”

Alice looked surprised. “She hasn’t told you?”

“I haven’t asked,” Mac confessed. “I didn’t want her to think it 
mattered. I 
mean, for me, all that’s important is that she and I are a team, and 
our 
goal is getting her across that finish line.”

Tom smiled. “I can see why she likes you so much. She’s never let it 
stop 
her from anything. Trust us, you wouldn’t want to be on the receiving 
end of 
her lecture about why she’s just fine the way she is.”

Mac nodded. “She has an amazing attitude toward it. Toward just about 
everything, in fact. It’s pretty contagious. Sometimes I wonder who’s 
coaching whom.”

Alice beamed. It was a special person, indeed, who could maintain a 
positive, optimistic attitude like that after what had happened to her. 
Even 
though the conversation had drifted slightly away from the topic, Mac 
had 
asked the question, and Alice thought it was important that she hear 
the 
answer. “You asked how it happened,” she said. At Mac’s nod, she began 
to 
explain. “It was a car accident. She was seven. My son was driving.”

Mac was surprised to hear this. Sam talked quite a bit about her big 
brother, but she had never mentioned that he had played a part in her 
becoming disabled. Michael Bradley was ten years older than his sister, 
and 
he was away at graduate school in Boston.

“He was drunk,” Alice said, not keeping it from Mac.

Mac flinched. “Wow…she…um…she didn’t tell me anything about it.” She 
was 
dumbstruck. She’d had that conversation with Sam not long ago, where 
she had 
been completely honest, and told the girl about her alcoholism. And Sam 
hadn’t said a word. She hadn’t even seemed bothered by it in the least. 
Mac 
was at an absolute loss.

“This is going to sound crazy,” Alice said, “but he was still in high 
school 
at the time. He had gone to a party to celebrate a football victory, 
and…you’re not going to believe this…I swear, it’s like something out 
of a 
stereotypical teenager movie, but someone actually spiked the punch. 
Mike 
had never had a drink before; he didn’t even know what hit him.” 
Alice’s 
eyes began to fill with tears. Evidently, it was still a painful, 
difficult 
thing for her to talk about.

Tom continued for her. “Sam was at a slumber party that night, at a 
friend’s 
house. She was having nightmares, and she wanted to come home. Mike had 
taken one of our cars to the party, and the other was in the shop, so 
we had 
him pick her up. On the way home, Mike ran off the road.”

Mac felt like a lead weight was pressing against her chest. She could 
hardly 
breathe, much less speak.

“The impact was all on Sam’s side of the car,” Tom said, “and that was 
before the age of side-impact airbags.”

More composed now, Alice added a few words. “It was really a terrible 
kind 
of coincidence, all those things happening at once: Our car being in 
for 
repairs, Mike unknowingly drinking, and Sam wanting to come home.”

Tom nodded. “The parents who hosted the football party took a decent 
amount 
of heat for serving alcohol to minors, but nothing compared to what 
they 
should have faced, considering.”

“Mike was lucky he didn’t hit anyone else. He could have gotten someone 
killed. In the end, all they made him do was attend a rehab program, 
even 
though it was patently clear that he wasn’t an alcoholic. And after 
that, he 
changed all his plans, because of what happened to Sam.”

Alice elaborated, “He was preparing to go to Carnegie Mellon, to study 
architecture, but instead, he stayed here and studied biology at a 
local 
four-year college, just so he could be closer to Sam. Now, he’s at BU, 
getting his Master’s in biomechanical engineering. He wants to design 
better 
wheelchairs and prosthetics.”

Mac took a deep breath, trying to absorb it all. She had no idea what 
to 
say, but she felt inadequate just sitting there, silently. “That’s a 
noble 
mission, I’d say.”

Alice nodded. “I think, in Mike’s heart, he doesn’t think he has a 
choice. 
For obvious reasons, he feels responsible. He was inconsolable when it 
happened, and even now, he hasn’t forgiven himself.”

Listening to Alice, Mac remembered how Sam’s face lit up every time she 
mentioned her brother, or, “The Brain,” as she called him. “Well, it 
seems 
like Sam’s forgiven him. Until tonight, I’d only heard stellar things 
about 
him. So stellar, in fact, that I was beginning to wonder whether she 
was 
making them all up.”

Tom smiled. “No, he’s real. Real, and working his tail off to make up 
for 
what he did.”

Mac wiped her hands on a napkin. She listened somewhat absently as Tom 
and 
Alice went on a little more about the aftermath of the accident all 
those 
years ago. Their words seemed to meld into a low hum, 
indistinguishable, as 
Mac contemplated what she had learned. She just couldn’t get past one 
thing: 
why hadn’t Sam said anything that day in the restaurant?

*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*

ONE WEEK BEFORE THE RACE
SATURDAY
1202 EST


“YES!” Harm shouted as Brian crossed the makeshift finish line Harm had 
drawn on the asphalt with chalk. “This was your best time yet! You’re 
gonna 
nail this race, buddy!”

Brian slowed his wheelchair to a stop. He was dripping with sweat from 
his 
all-out effort, but his face was bright with a huge smile. “Awesome!” 
he 
cried.

Harm passed Brian a bottle of Gatorade. “You’ve come a long way, you 
know 
that? I mean, you were pretty fast at the beginning, but now, forget 
about 
it. Let’s just say I wouldn’t want to be in a race with you.” Brian 
beamed 
at the high praise. He removed his protective racing gloves and twisted 
off 
the bottle cap.

“Let me see those arms,” Harm said. Brian extended his arms and flexed 
his 
biceps. “Holy cow, now *those* are some muscles!”

“Do you really think I’ll do a good job next week?” Brian asked.

“Of course I do!” Harm assured him. “You’ve been getting better every 
practice. The other kids are gonna be eating your dust! They’ll be 
sorry 
they ever entered the race.”

“But…but what if I don’t win? Will you be mad at me?”

Harm’s smile faded quickly as concern flooded over him. He squatted 
down in 
front of Brian’s chair. “Of course not, buddy. You know me better than 
that, 
don’t you?”

Brian shrugged. “I guess. But I don’t want to let you down.”

Harm could hardly believe what he was hearing. “Oh, Brian, you couldn’t 
possibly let me down, no matter what happens. You could come in dead 
last 
and I’d be just as proud of you.”

“But that’s not what we trained for…”

Harm smiled. “I know, but winning’s not what these Games are all about. 
They’re about everybody having a fair chance. You’ll do great, no 
matter 
when you finish.” Brian looked doubtful. “Brian, hey, listen to me, all 
right? When I met you two months ago, you were so excited about this 
race. I 
wasn’t sure I wanted to be a coach, but then I met you, and I knew I 
had to 
give it a shot. You wanted to do this so badly, and it rubbed off on 
me, 
too. Some days when we’ve been training, it was so hot, all I wanted to 
do 
was stay in my apartment, in the nice, cool air conditioning. But then 
I 
would remember how hard you’ve been working, and how much this meant to 
you. 
And you know what, big guy? It started to mean a lot to me, too. We’ve 
come 
too far together to worry about what’ll happen next week. We’re just 
gonna 
go out there, do the best we can, and have fun. That’s the most 
important 
thing, y’know.”

Brian grinned mischievously. “Yeah, but winning would be nice, too!”

Harm smiled, clapping Brian on the shoulder. “I guess I can’t argue 
with you 
there, but still, just remember to have fun. When you cross that finish 
line, I’m going to be right there with you, and I’m going to be proud, 
no 
matter what time the clock is showing.”

Brian looked gratefully at Harm. “Thanks, Harm. You’re the best.”

Harm’s heart warmed at the earnest sentiment. “I’ve had a good 
teacher,” he 
said, winking at Brian.

They spent the next few minutes cleaning themselves up a little and 
toweling 
off. The weather was cooler now than it had been at the beginning of 
their 
training program, but working as hard as they had for so many miles 
seemed 
to negate the difference. Still, Harm thought it felt good to sweat and 
put 
in a solid effort. Working out had always been a good outlet for his 
frustrations, and lately, he seemed to need it more and more.

Brian, on the other hand, seemed to take things in stride. With the 
understandable exception of feeling afraid for his father, the boy had 
been 
upbeat and positive throughout the training. He never complained about 
pushing himself in the heat, and until today, he had never questioned 
how 
well he would do in the race. Time and time again, Harm found himself 
inspired by Brian’s attitude. Sturgis had been more right than he would 
ever 
know: Harm had learned from Brian just as much as Brian had learned 
from 
him, maybe more.

He wasn’t sure how to approach the subject, but there was something 
Harm had 
wanted to ask the boy for quite a while. Passing Brian half the 
energy/recovery bar he’d retrieved from his car, Harm decided to jump 
right 
in.

“Brian, can I ask you something?”

Brian shrugged. “Sure, go ahead.”

Even at that simple reply, Harm had to smile. Most adults would 
recognize 
‘can I ask you something’ as a very loaded question. But Brian trusted 
Harm 
enough to tell him to go right on and ask whatever he wanted.

“Do you…ever get down, about being in a wheelchair?”

Brian’s features shifted unreadably, and Harm immediately regretted 
asking 
such a horrible question. “I…I’m sorry, buddy. Never mind.”

“No, it’s okay,” Brian answered. “It’s just, I’m not sure what to say. 
Nobody’s ever asked me before.”

“You don’t have to answer. I shouldn’t have asked.”

“Stop worrying, Harm, it’s okay.” Brian smiled, and Harm was surprised 
at 
how reassured he was by the simple gesture. “I guess sometimes I feel 
bad. I 
look at all the other kids who can run and play baseball and stuff like 
that. But, I can do all that, too, it’s just a little different. I 
mean, I’m 
in this big race, right? And last summer I was on a special little 
league 
team with other kids like me.”

Harm nodded. Brian was really something, he couldn’t help thinking. So 
many 
young kids these days seemed more interested in video games and 
television 
than playing outside, and they would have had a much easier time of it 
than 
people like Brian. But Brian had never indicated any resentment toward 
them. 
Harm admired his mature attitude.

“Sometimes I wonder why this happened to me,” Brian continued. “But 
then I 
remember that there are people with bigger problems than being in a 
wheelchair, and I don’t feel so bad. I even think about my dad 
sometimes, 
and that makes me feel braver. He misses me and my mom, and his job’s 
really 
hard, but he never complains. So I try not to, either.”

Harm swallowed past the lump that had formed in his throat. “That’s a 
very 
grown up way to think.”

Brian shrugged. “I’m not trying to be grown up; that’s just the way I 
see 
it.”

“I know,” Harm said, “and that makes it even more grown up.”

Brian nodded. “I feel bad sometimes, but God made me this way, and I 
know He 
doesn’t make mistakes. So, I guess I’m like this for a reason. I don’t 
know 
what the reason is yet, but I think I’ll find out, someday, when He’s 
ready 
to tell me.” He shrugged, and bit off a piece of the energy bar, as if 
he 
had stated something no more profound than an observation about the 
weather.

“Can I give you a hug?” Harm asked.

“But I’m all sweaty,” Brian warned him.

“I don’t care about that, buddy.” Squatting in front of Brian’s chair, 
Harm 
wrapped the boy in a tight hug, as if osmosis could transfer some of 
the 
boy’s insight to his own torn heart. Brian was right, Harm realized: 
God 
usually had a way of steering people in the right direction, even if 
they 
don’t immediately recognize it. Of course, God also had a way of 
helping 
people who help themselves, and the boy was certainly one of those 
people. 
In light of that, he knew if he was to salvage things with Mac – that 
is, if 
there was anything *to* salvage – he would have to make a move.

*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*

SAME DAY
1312 EST


“All right, Sam!!” Mac cried as Sam rushed over the finish line, with 
Mac 
right behind her, on her bike. “A new record!”

“YEAH!” Sam cheered, pumping her arms in the air. “Gold medal, here I 
come!”

Mac pulled off her bike helmet and turned it over, letting a few drops 
of 
sweat drip to the ground. “Eeew,” she commented. “They ought to have 
this 
race in December.”

Sam smiled. “Yeah, but then, my chair would skid on the ice.”

Mac chuckled. With each week that had passed during the training, Mac 
found 
herself more and more amazed by Sam’s attitude. She’d only heard her 
lament 
once, when she’d talked about feeling invisible to boys. At the time, 
Mac 
had wanted to say more, but she didn’t want Sam to think she was 
getting a 
lecture. She wanted to explain that being “invisible” to boys at her 
age was 
not a bad thing, and how too much attention for superficial reasons 
could be 
dangerous later on.

Nevertheless, Sam hadn’t seemed too terribly bothered by it. Her 
feelings 
were really no different from any other girl’s; unless they were 
blessed 
with abnormal beauty, most young girls were disappointed at their place 
in 
the social hierarchy of junior high school. Hell, for that matter, so 
were 
most adult women, in the “real world.”

Mac passed Sam a bottle of water. Sam took a long gulp. After she had 
drained a quarter of the bottle, she asked, “So, how’s Harm?”

Mac narrowed her eyes. “Why do you ask?”

“Well, I’m guessing I’ll probably see him at the race next week, and I 
wanted to know if I should be nice to him or not.”

Mac chuckled. She had told Sam they’d had a fight, but she refrained 
from 
mentioning that it had been all her fault. “You can be nice to him, 
Sam. 
Your feelings toward him should have nothing to do with me.”

“But you’re my friend, and if he’s being mean to you, then I don’t want 
to 
be nice to him.”

“He’s not being mean. We’re just having…a failure to communicate.”

“What does that mean?” Sam prodded.

“I guess it means we’re not communicating.”

“At all? Like, you’re not even talking to him?”

“We talk at work every day, but only when we have to, for a case.”

“Jeez…what happened?” Sam demanded. “When we were all at Beltway Burger 
that 
time, you looked pretty good together.”

Mac sighed. “I’m afraid it’s all my fault.”

“How so?”

“I…said something really stupid, and it hurt him. It hurt him a lot 
more 
than I realized. I’ve always had the bad habit of not knowing when to 
keep 
my mouth shut around him.” Mac didn’t bother mentioning that Harm had 
the 
very same problem. His insult about all the men who’d ever been with 
her 
either being dead or feeling like they are, still stung.

“But if he really likes you, he’ll forgive you,” Sam said simply.

“I’m not so sure that’ll happen this time,” Mac replied. Both of them 
had 
put their foot in their mouth on more than one occasion, and they had 
always 
managed to get past it. But their luck was bound to run out sometime, 
right? 
Mac was desperately afraid that this might be that time.

Sam didn’t say anything. In the silence that followed, Mac remembered 
her 
conversation with the Bradleys. She wanted so much to ask Sam about it, 
but 
she was scared to risk the friendship they’d built since the day they 
had 
met. Taking a deep breath, she decided to just go ahead.

“Sam, do you mind if I ask you something?”

“Depends on what it is, I guess.”

Now, Mac was even more nervous. Still, Marines never let themselves be 
intimidated. “That day at Beltway Burger, when I told you about when I 
was a 
teenager…”

Sam nodded, already getting a good idea of where this was headed.

“You…you didn’t say anything about…you know.”

“I guess I didn’t want to make a big deal of it,” Sam said.

“Isn’t it, though? I mean, alcohol is the reason you’re in that chair.”

Sam was silent for a minute, a mix of emotions crossing her face. “I 
guess 
it is, but that doesn’t have anything to do with you.”

“Maybe not directly, but…”

“Mac, I love my brother. What happened was an accident. It wasn’t his 
fault. 
It’s not like he drank every day. He was at that party; he didn’t know 
what 
he was doing until it was too late.”

“But I did,” Mac confessed. “I drank all the time.”

“But you don’t anymore,” Sam said, “and that’s what’s important. If you 
were 
a risk, or whatever, they wouldn’t have let you be a coach.”

“But…you don’t…feel afraid of me, now?” Mac asked timidly.

“Should I?”

“No,” Mac answered.

“Then I don’t. You’ve been awesome to me, Mac. I couldn’t have done all 
this 
training without you. You made a bad mistake, but it was a long time 
ago, 
and I think people should get second chances.”

“But what if the mistake was really, really bad?”

“Like what my brother did?” Sam guessed. At Mac’s nod, she answered, 
“It was 
a one-time thing, one mistake. It was a really bad mistake, but still, 
he’s 
my brother, and I love him. I don’t think you should stay angry at 
someone 
forever over one mistake.”

“What about someone who makes a lot of mistakes?” Mac asked. “Would you 
stay 
angry at them?”

Sam contemplated quickly. “I guess it would depend on what those 
mistakes 
were, and how much I loved the person who made them.” She watched Mac 
carefully, trying to detect some kind of confirmation for what she was 
guessing. “Are you worried that Harm won’t forgive you?”

Mac smiled at the girl’s perceptiveness. “Yeah.”

Sam shifted in her wheelchair. She seemed to be taking her time, trying 
to 
find the words she was looking for. “If he really cares about you, he 
will.”

“What makes you so sure?”

“Well, people who love each other will give more than just a second 
chance. 
I think, if they have to, they can give someone else as many chances as 
it 
takes.”

As long as it takes…

Mac was momentarily replaying her conversation with Harm on the 
admiral’s 
porch. He had expected her to wait for him to come to his senses. Now, 
she 
could only pray that he would do the same for her.

“You’re very grown up, you know that?” Mac told Sam.

Sam only shrugged.

“At the risk of sounding like a stuffy adult, can I ask you one more 
thing?”

“Okay.”

“Don’t you think your dad deserves another chance, too?” Sam looked 
away. 
“Honey, I know he’s away a lot, and you think he doesn’t care about 
spending 
time with you, but you’re wrong.” Sam rolled her eyes. “Look, Sam, I 
don’t 
expect you to understand this entirely, but, a lot of what he’s doing, 
he 
does for you. He works as much as he does so you can have everything 
you 
want, like this fancy racing chair. He may not be around all the time 
to 
show it, but he really does love you.”

“Whatever,” Sam said flatly.

Mac placed her hand on Sam’s arm. “I know it’s hard for you to see it 
right 
now, but he cares about you very much. That doesn’t change just because 
he’s 
not always home. When he *is* home, he tries to spend as much time with 
you 
as he can, right?”

“I guess.”

“Well, do you think you can do me a favor, and just try to remember 
that, 
when you start to get angry with him? I think, if you really believe in 
second chances, who’s more deserving of one than your father?”

“I’ll try,” Sam promised, “but only because you asked me to.”

“That’s fine with me. All I ask is that you go easier on him.” She 
tossed 
her water bottle into a nearby garbage can. “And, now that that’s 
settled, 
where did you get so wise, anyway?”

Sam smiled. “I want to be a psychologist when I’m older.”

“Well, honey, I think you’re already on your way. In fact, I should 
probably 
pay you for this ‘session’ we just had.”

Sam smiled. “No, just buy me a pizza after the race!”

“You’ve got it!” Mac said. “As long as you’ll share it with me – and we 
get 
extra cheese!”

*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*

ONE WEEK LATER
RACE DAY


The Games happened amidst more fanfare than Harm or Mac had ever 
expected. 
Aside from the athletic competitions, the day was filled with events 
for 
family members of all ages. The Games were held on the campus of 
Georgetown 
University, with some events taking place indoors, at the athletic 
facilities, and others outdoors, like the wheelchair race.

The younger children went first, and the older the group second. Brian 
and 
Sam both put in incredible performances, and they both came in second 
place 
in their age categories. When it was time to award the medals, Harm and 
Mac 
happened to find themselves standing near each other.

Mac’s hair was tousled from the wind while she’d ridden her bike 
alongside 
Sam. Her T-shirt was dark with perspiration, yet Harm couldn’t take his 
eyes 
off her. Considering the circumstances, and the fact that she had just 
coached a very special girl to a silver medal, he thought she had 
seldom 
looked more beautiful.

Harm tipped his head toward her. “Congratulations, Colonel.”

Mac looked up, somewhat surprised that Harm had acknowledged her. “You 
too, 
Commander. Very nice job.”

Harm nodded. “I guess we didn’t have to worry about who would beat whom 
to 
the finish line, huh?”

Mac smiled. “No. And silver medals are just fine, anyway.”

“I was just saying that to Brian the other day. He was worried I’d be 
mad at 
him if he didn’t come in first place.”

“Well, I happen to know you *do* enjoy that victorious feeling.”

“Yes, I do, but not at the expense of an eight-year-old boy’s 
self-esteem.”

“Well, it looks like he’s pretty satisfied with how he did.”

Harm nodded. “Are you satisfied?”

“Of course I am. Sam worked really hard. Half the time, she was the one 
yelling at *me* to get moving.”

Harm chuckled. “These kids…they have something really special inside.”

“They sure do,” Mac agreed. “I’m not sure I’d manage as well as Sam 
does. I 
don’t think I have the kind of spirit she does.”

Harm looked surprised, and even a little disappointed in her 
self-assessment. “Of course you do, Mac.”

“You honestly believe that?”

“Have you ever known me to lie?”

Mac shook her head. “I’m just…surprised that you would say that.”

“Why?” Harm asked. “I mean, aside from the obvious.”

“Did you need another reason? ‘The obvious’ is enough, wouldn’t you 
say? 
Just when we were heading in a good direction, or, at least, I thought 
we 
were, I had to go and screw it up. As per the usual.”

Harm snorted. “Don’t even try to take all the blame for that, Mac. It 
seems 
to me that we both have a role in what our ‘usual’ is.”

Mac shook her head. “Maybe, but this time, I was really over the line. 
I saw 
something, and instead of waiting for an explanation, I made an 
extremely 
misguided assumption. I know you much better than that, Harm, and I was 
crazy to even think that of you.”

Harm nodded. “You and I, we both seem to have the bad habit of assuming 
things, without really getting the full story.”

“How do you mean?” Mac asked softly. She was guarded and nervous. The 
fact 
that Harm was even talking to her was a miracle.

“I guess…I guess I’ve assumed a lot of stupid things in the past, too.”

“Like what?”

“Well, for starters, I assumed you were telling me the truth five 
months 
ago, when you told me you loved Brumby.”

“What makes you so sure you were wrong?”

“Mac, please, can we not do that? We’re finally speaking again, and I…I 
just 
don’t want to lose sight of what an accomplishment that is.”

Mac nodded, feeling ashamed that she’d challenged him, when he was 
finally 
speaking to her again.

“If I was right, and you did love him, then you’d be married now. But 
you’re 
not. And, I won’t pretend to know just why that is, although I have my 
suspicions. But I refuse to assume anything, because look where that’s 
gotten us.”

“In that case,” Mac said, “I won’t try to assume anything about why 
you’re 
no longer with Renee.”

Harm smiled ruefully. “You don’t have to, Mac, because I’ll tell you 
outright: Renee was a wonderful woman. I see that even more now than 
when we 
were dating. I mean, she had to be, to tolerate even half the crap I 
put her 
through. She’s a fun, intelligent woman, despite what you may think of 
her, 
and we had some great times together. But we weren’t in love. She and I 
could never be forever. I think, somewhere in the back of our minds, we 
knew 
it all along. She was just the first to say it out loud.”

Harm and Mac’s conversation was interrupted by the medal ceremony. They 
both 
reached for the disposable cameras they’d purchased from a vendor, and 
they 
took picture after picture as the medals were awarded, and the children 
they 
had coached beamed with the high of their victory.

When the ceremony was finished, Brian and Sam both approached Harm and 
Mac.

“Hey, guys!” Sam gushed. “We’ll see you at the dinner tonight, right?” 
A few 
hours after the final event, there would be a dinner for all the 
participants at a nearby banquet hall.

Harm looked at Mac. “I’m planning to go, how about you?”

“I…uh, I’m not sure. I was thinking about it…”

“Come on, Mac,” Sam cried, “you have to! We have to celebrate!”

“Yeah,” Harm mimicked, “come on, Mac, you have to!”

Mac rolled her eyes, smiling. “All right. But I’ll have time to go home 
and 
get cleaned up, right?”

“Sure,” Harm said. “It’s not until 1800.”

“That’s six o’clock!” Brian hinted.

Harm and Mac smiled at each other. “Come on, Mac,” Harm said, “just 
come. 
I’ll swing by your place for you around 1740.”

“All right,” Mac gave in. “But only because you were so great today, 
Sam.”

“Me too!” Brian insisted.

Harm smiled at him. “Absolutely, buddy, you were the best.”

“No – only second best.”

“Not to me, Brian. Not to me.”

*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*

Brian’s mother and Sam’s parents came over and they all chatted for a 
few 
minutes, before disbanding and going their separate ways, to go home 
and 
prepare for the evening’s dinner.

Harm and Mac headed toward the parking lot.

“I know we just talked about how dangerous assumptions can be,” Mac 
said, 
“but…can I make one more?”

Harm bristled. “Depends on what it is, I guess.”

“Can I assume we’re going to be okay?”

Harm’s features softened. “I’d say that’s a very safe assumption, 
Marine.”

“In that case, how about one last one?”

Harm sighed, although he couldn’t suppress a smile. “Go ahead.”

“Can I assume it’s all right to kiss you?”

“Yes, I think you can.”

Smiling, Mac stood up on her tiptoes at the same time Harm lowered his 
head, 
joining their lips in a new kind of victory celebration. There was a 
new 
sparkle in both their eyes. It had taken almost five years, but they 
had 
finally crossed their own personal finish line.

Harm took Mac’s hand and escorted her to her car. Hand in hand, step by 
step, they made their way, together, all the while marveling at the 
power of 
two young people who had overcome obstacles, and helped them get past 
theirs.



*~~The end~~*