---

You’ll never find your gold on a sandy beach
You’ll never drill for oil on a city street
I know you’re looking for a ruby in a mountain of rocks
But there ain’t no Coupe de Ville hiding at the bottom of a Cracker Jack box

I can’t lie
I can’t tell you I’m something I’m not
No matter how I try
I’ll never be able
To give you something
Something that I just haven’t got ….

…. I want you
I need you
But there ain’t no way I’m ever gonna love you
Now don’t be sad
‘Cause two out of three ain’t bad

“Two Out Of Three Ain’t Bad”, written by Jim Steinman, performed by Meat Loaf

PRISONER OF WAR CAMP
CHECHNYA

1 …. 2 …. 3 …. 4 ….

Sergei counted the reps under his breath as he performed one-armed push ups, ignoring the drizzle beginning to fall and the darkness surrounding him. He couldn’t sleep. He did close his eyes, trying to remember the sights and sounds of his youth – the grass under his bare feet, the chill of the Taiga as he waded along its banks, the fresh mountain air from his fruitless attempts to discover his father’s final resting place – instead of muddy ground his fingers were slipping in, the cage surrounding him and the uncertainty of his brother’s fate. Although he’d seen Daniel Mason loitering around the camp in the company of Colonel Vonikoff, the CIA agent hadn’t spoken to him since that morning. He just wished he knew whether the lack of news was good or bad. Was this how Harm had felt when news had first reached him that he had disappeared in Chechnya? To be honest, he barely knew his brother. But that didn’t stop the dull ache in his heart. They were a part of each other, the same blood. It had never been more apparent as now, when Harm was in trouble.

5 …. 6 …. 7 ….

“Zhukov,” a voice called out, Sergei’s eyes popping open as he swore softly. He recognized the voice. He could almost feel the air still around him as everyone in the cage – those who weren’t attempting to sleep, at any rate - stopped what they were doing, hoping to draw as little attention to themselves as possible. Sergeant Ranov wasn’t just doing his job …. he truly hated Russians. The rumor around the camp was that his entire family had been killed several years earlier during one of many bombing raids on Grozny. Whether it was true or not, Ranov seemed to take pleasure in devising new ways to torment those in his charge. Because of Sergei’s *special* circumstance, he was used to being ignored by Ranov. As much as the man hated Russians, he tended to stay away from Sergei rather than risk the wrath of his superiors by hurting him. In a way, it was worse than any amount of physical torture he could have subjected Sergei to, for Ranov’s lack of attention towards Sergei drew attention from the other prisoners. It just gave them one more reason to resent Sergei.

Sergei drew his knees up under him, pushing himself into a crouching position then slowly standing as he turned to face the direction of the voice. As he walked towards the fence, he wondered if what Daniel Mason had warned him about had come true, that the Chechens had somehow heard of his brother’s accident. But if they had found out, surely they had made the connection with Mason’s visit and realized that he had already been told.

He shivered inwardly when he drew close enough to make out the chilling smile on Ranov’s face, his eyes seeming to glitter like obsidian orbs in the darkness, standing out against his pale skin. Feeling the eyes of the other prisoners on him, he made his way along the fence to the gate, which Ranov was making a display of unlocking. “Out,” he said in heavily-accented English as he released the lock, pulling the gate open.

Sergei thought his use of English instead of Russian – Ranov was one of the few Chechens at the camp who spoke both languages in addition to his native Chechen dialect – rather telling. This had to be about Harm, he thought, clenching his hands into fists behind his back. If he hadn’t been wearing gloves – threadbare in places, but better than nothing in the chilly mountain air – his fingernails would have been digging into the palms of his hands, likely drawing blood. Silently, he walked through the gate, making note of the outlines of guards in the darkness, rifles at the ready, as the Chechen locked the gate.

Grabbing Sergei’s upper arm – he couldn’t have struggled even if he had been suicidal enough to try as the man had a grip like a vise – he pulled him towards the camp headquarters. Sergei stumbled over a small rock in his path, his arm feeling like it was being wrenched from its socket as Ranov yanked him back up after he hit the ground, his wrists and knees stinging from the impact with the ground.

“Come along,” Ranov said impatiently, as if Sergei had any choice in the matter. “The Colonel wishes to see you.”

Sergei was curious, but he wasn’t about to ask the reason why. He’d find out soon enough and if he was to find out that his brother was …. he couldn’t complete the thought. No, Harm was alive, he told himself. Surely he would have felt it if he wasn’t. But if he was wrong, he didn’t want his memory of finding out to be of the smile on Ranov’s face as he told Sergei the news.

Soon enough, Sergei was being shoved through the door of the headquarters, blinking rapidly as he adjusted to the sudden brightness, unusual for this time of night. The generators powering what little electrical equipment there was at the camp were usually powered down at night to conserve power. Stealing a glance at Colonel Vonikoff seated behind his desk, the omnipresent cigarette dangling from his fingertips, he had the feeling the man hadn’t even been to bed yet. He had the look of a man who was extremely busy.

Vonikoff said something in Chechen, obviously a dismissal from his tone. Ranov turned on his heel and strode out, but not before leaning over to whisper in Sergei’s ear, “Perhaps he let you out for funeral.”

Trying not to let the man’s taunt get to him, he forced his attention on the Colonel, studying his expression intently as he stood at attention in front of the desk. He could find nothing in the other man’s expression, which gave a hint as to what this was all about. A radio was playing in the background, but not loudly enough that Sergei could make out whether it was news or music.

Vonikoff let Sergei remain at attention for a long moment, studying the younger man impassively. This one prisoner had caused him nearly as many headaches as all the others combined. In a way, Vonikoff was happy to be rid of him. “You may go,” he said in Russian, waving his hand in a dismissive gesture. Sergei stared at him, confusion evident on his face. Surely, he hadn’t been dragged here simply to be immediately sent back to the cage. Then again, one never knew with the Chechens. Was this some new form of torture?

After another moment, Vonikoff clarified, “Your American …. brethren have purchased your freedom for quite a sum of money … and weapons. Mr. Mason will escort you out of here.”

Sergei turned as Mason entered the room, unable to dispel the growing feeling of dread gnawing at him. His freedom bought for dollars and bullets …. Harm would never have agreed to this. If he knew nothing else about his brother, he knew that. He opened his mouth to speak, but Mason cut him off. “We should get going,” he said, giving Sergei a hard look, as if warning him not to say anything, even in English, before stepping forward to shake Vonikoff’s hand. “We’re meeting Mr. Webb in Moscow.”

Unable to watch them shake hands over the deal that bought him his freedom, Sergei stepped outside into the crisp night air, staring up at the sky above him. There were no stars out tonight and the rain, barely a mist before, was falling harder now, quickly soaking him to the skin. After a moment, Mason joined him, hoisting an umbrella over their heads. “I’ve got a change of clothes for you in the car,” he said. “We should get going. We have to drive to Grozny to catch the military transport flight that will take us to Moscow.”

Sergei turned and stared at him, a multitude of questions racing through his mind. But one question was more important than the others. “My brother?” he asked, trying to keep his voice from trembling for fear of the answer. “Has there been word?”

“He was picked up yesterday morning, US time,” Mason replied. “The last time I spoke to Mr. Webb, he said that your brother was being transferred from the aircraft carrier to a hospital in Virginia as we speak.”

So Harm was alive. His relief was only momentary, however. If Harm was alive, why the sudden urge to get him released from the camp? “Then why ….?” he began, searching for the words to convey the outrage he was feeling over the manner of his release. “I am not worth the price paid for my freedom.”

Mason stared at him, incredulous. “You’ve just been freed after spending five months in a prison camp and you’re questioning the manner in which it was done?” he asked.

Sergei straightened and said firmly, “My father was a prisoner for eleven years. He would not have ….” He trailed off, trying to think of the correct word in English. Giving up after a moment, he rephrased. “He would not have wanted his freedom under such conditions.”

“Even if it meant going home to his wife and son?” Mason asked. Sergei just started at him. From everything his mother and brother had told him, he did not think Harmon Rabb, Sr. was a man who would have compromised his principles. He couldn’t know about his stepmother’s feelings on the matter, but he was reasonably sure that his brother would not have wanted his father to compromise those principles, either. “Well, you’re free now. Within a day, you should be in the US. And any other questions you have, I suggest you take them up with Mr. Webb.”

Without a word, Sergei got in the car, pulling the door closed behind him. He rested his head against the cool window, closing his eyes. Mason studied him as he got in behind the wheel and started the engine. He was surprised by Sergei’s naiveté, wondering how long he would last in the US with that attitude. A part of him wished he could be a fly on the wall when Sergei brought up his *concerns* to Clayton Webb.

I-95 SOUTH
JUST NORTH OF RICHMOND, VA

“There’s a gas station coming up at the next exit,” Mic said with a glance at the blue road sign advertising, which gas stations were available. “Did you want to stop and get some more coffee or a bite to eat?”

Renée shook her head, not even turning to look at him. Ever since AJ had called, she had been operating on autopilot. She wasn’t sure what she would have done if Mic hadn’t quickly jumped in with an offer to drive her to Portsmouth, even if it was likely the last place he wanted to be. Sure, she probably could have ridden with AJ and Harm’s family – assuming Harm’s family deigned to let her into their tight circle. At least with Mic, she had someone who knew what she was going through, who understood her fears beyond wondering if Harm was going to survive.

“Okay,” he acquiesced, falling silent as he stared out at the dark road stretching out in front of them.

“Look, Mic,” Renée began after a moment, finally turning to look at him. He was beyond tired, she could tell in the dim light inside the car. There was a weariness in his eyes that she knew had nothing to do with the amount of sleep he’d gotten – or hadn’t gotten, more accurately – in the last twenty-four hours. This was a man who was on the verge of losing everything he held dear, even if he wasn’t quite ready to admit that to himself or anyone else. He didn’t have to come with her to Portsmouth. God only knew how hard it was going to be for him, watching Mac worry over Harm. That was something else they knew – which AJ had told them when asked by Mic - that Mac was aware of the sudden change in Harm’s condition and was on the way to Portsmouth herself. If Mic was bothered by the fact that his fiancée had kept in touch with AJ, but hadn’t even felt the need to call him, he kept it mostly to himself. “I am gratefully that you’re doing this for me.”

“No worries,” he said, his tone tight. “I guess I should go down there myself …. since Sarah’s going to be there.”

“Yeah,” she replied wearily, staring down at her lap. Taking a deep breath to steel herself, she looked back up, only her glistening eyes giving a hint of the torment she was feeling. “Do you think, um, what do you think we’ll find down there?”

“I don’t know,” he admitted reluctantly. That was the question he’d asked himself more times than he could count since AJ’s call. Time didn’t make the answer come any easier …. or make it any easier to swallow. He wanted to know that when he arrived in Portsmouth and saw Mac that she would fall into his arms and let Renée take care of Rabb. Probably when hell freezes over, he thought scornfully. What is it about Rabb that has her on the verge of throwing away everything we have together? “I’m not sure I want to know right now.”

“I think we’re a little past the ‘don’t ask, don’t tell’ thing, don’t you?” she mused. “I mean, Mac’s been MIA ever since this whole thing began and …. I just wonder. When he wakes up, whose name will be coming from his lips? Especially if they did ….” She trailed off, unable to complete the thought. “That time, when he called me by her name, I remember the look in his eyes, just before he, um, said it. He’d never looked at me before like that. In a single, unguarded moment, I saw everything I’d ever wanted to see in his eyes, but it wasn’t for me.”

Mic silently digested this, then offered, “Remember when they went to Russia? Sarah didn’t call to let me know she’d arrived and I couldn’t get a hold of her. I asked the Admiral if he’d heard from her. He said that Rabb was missing, too. Then he asked me a question and I didn’t know how to respond.”

Any other time, Renée might have been furious to learn that Harm and Mac had disappeared into Chechnya together – for she had no doubts that was where Mic’s story was heading. Harm hadn’t talked much about that trip, beyond finding out about his brother, and certainly not about the fact that Mac had been with him in Chechnya, rather than in Moscow, where Mic had previously told her Mac had been sent by AJ. Now, as much as she was loath to admit it, she was merely resigned to the truth, whatever that was. When did I decide to just accept whatever is going on between Harm and Mac? She asked herself, her breath catching as she realized what she was thinking. To her own mind, she sounded so certain that there was something going on between them.

Had something been going on back as far as Russia? She shook her head, surprised at the thought. No, they’d been in Russia to work and she couldn’t imagine anything, even Mac, coming between Harm and what he saw as his duty. How many times had she been confronted with that issue herself? She knew Harm at least that well. At least she thought she did. Or thought she had. Now, she wasn’t sure if she really knew him at all. “What did he ask?” she asked.

“If I was upset that she was missing or that they might be missing together,” he replied, sighing heavily. “Then she came back and I couldn’t make myself ask her …. Oh, I know he was in Chechnya and she was in Chechnya. I did get that much out of her. But beyond that, I kept telling myself that I was better off not knowing.”

“So now what?” she demanded, digesting the fact that AJ apparently was aware of something going on between his senior attorneys. If AJ knew, or suspected, something, how many other people did? Were she and Mic going to turn out to be God’s greatest fools for hanging on like this? Did everyone know that there was something between Harm and Mac except for them? What kind of idiots did that make them? “I don’t think we can just ignore this, not anymore. If I didn’t know that Harm’s been lost in the middle of the ocean, then on an aircraft carrier for most of today, I’d think she’s been with him.” Sighing, she stared out the windshield into darkness, biting on her lower lip. “Mind if I ask you something?”

“I always thought you were one for saying what was on your mind,” he joked, although laugh that followed rang hollow.

She shrugged. “What if …. If they did ….” She couldn’t make herself say the words, even as it increasingly became apparent that there might be something to them. It was one thing to admit it to herself, in the depths of her mind. But to say the words out loud would put some kind of finality to them, as if etching them in stone. “What will you do? Can you live with her after that?”

Mic glanced away. He’d been wrestling with that same question himself. It was different when all he’d had to wonder was if there *had* been something there, in the past. Both he and Mac had their histories and it had been his contention all along that they needed to leave that stuff in the past. It had led to more than one argument between them – there were parts of her past, which she seemed not quite willing to let go of – but he believed they could overcome that. But this wasn’t in the past, if their supposition was correct. This alleged dalliance was very much a part of the present and was staring them right in the face – or it would be in a few hours. Maybe it would have been easier if he weren’t aware of certain facts of Mac’s past.

“Did Rabb ever tell you about the first case we were assigned to work together?” he asked. She shook her head, puzzled by the apparent change of topic. “Sarah had been married .... actually was still married when I met her. Her husband turned up dead and she and her ex-lover were charged with the crime. Rabb defended Sarah and I defended her ex-lover. He had been her CO at a previous duty station.”

Connecting the dots in her mind, Renée said, “I assume the point of this story is that she was still married when she was having an affair with her CO …. Wait a minute, I thought that kind of thing was frowned on in the military?”

“Statute of limitations had run out on the adultery by the time the story came out,” he explained, feeling slightly guilty about telling Renée something so personal. But the adultery was hardly a secret – her Article 32 hearing was a matter of public record and it had been mentioned there, even if it hadn’t been the focus of the hearing – so it wasn’t like Renée could use the information, he justified to himself. And that was assuming she would stoop to something so crass.

“So your point is what exactly?” she asked, attempting to keep a tight lid on her emotions. Mac had never really struck her as the sort to do something like that. She had seemed too squared away, too upstanding …. But if she had a history …. She tried to tell herself that Harm was too honorable, too noble to fall into that, but the voice inside her head didn’t sound entirely confident on that point. After all, Mic had just told her that Harm had defended Mac when she had been accused of killing her husband. If he really did love Mac, could anything have stopped them – even relationships with other people? This put an entirely different spin on everything. “If she’s done it once, she might do it again? Is that what you’re trying to tell me? And you want to marry her knowing this?”

“It’s in the past,” he insisted, his denial sounding weak to his own ears.

Renée opened her mouth to retort, but decided against it. It wasn’t fair to take out her frustration on Mic. He was in the same leaky boat that she was. But she was afraid of what would happen if Mic did decide to walk away. If he turned back, then Harm was as good as lost to her. Hadn’t she once told Harriet that she prayed that Mic wouldn’t get hit by a bus? She’d known for a while that it would be easier to hold onto Harm as long as Mac was taken. She’d just never expected everything to play out like this. “But you said you’ve known about this all along, right?” she continued in a more reasonable tone, trying to assure herself as much as him. “You obviously have never seen it as a problem before, so maybe you’re right and it isn’t. Maybe you’re reading too much into this. Maybe we both are. Past behavior isn’t necessarily an indicator of what may happen in the future.”

“Somehow, I doubt you really believe that,” he replied, his eyes steady on the road as he changed lanes in preparation for exiting onto the bypass around Richmond. “Let’s turn this around. Let’s say – hypothetically, of course – that they, uh, that they did have an affair. Can you just forget about that and go on with him as before?” He hated asking, but as much as she needed to know what he was going to do, he needed the same.

It burned him, the idea that he might lose Mac to Harm, but he wasn’t sure if he could really live with the alternative. Knowing that Mac had issues with fidelity in the past, and in the face of all the circumstantial evidence that Mac had strayed and only days before they were to be married, could he live with her day in and day out without wondering where she was when she wasn’t with him? Could he take her into his arms, make love to her, without wondering if she enjoyed Harm’s hands and mouth on her body, if she found more pleasure taking him inside of her. How could he not wonder if it was Harm’s face she saw when she closed her eyes? Had it been only luck that he hadn’t faced the same circumstance Renée had, that of being called the wrong name at an inopportune moment?

“You’re right,” Renée said shortly, “this is all hypothetical. We don’t know anything for sure.”

Despite her clipped tone, Mic caught the note of uncertainty in her voice. He reached over and awkwardly patted her shoulder, conveying the silent message that he understood. Before he could come up with any words of comfort, she continued in a quiet, faraway voice, “All I’ve ever wanted is what Mac has with you. I want Harm to love me like that, like I’m the center of his universe. But he can’t even say the words ….” She turned to him and in the dim light, he could see the tears glistening in her eyes. “He’s never even told me that he loves me. The most I’ve been able to get out of him is that he wants me in his life. But I don’t know if that is enough anymore.”

“The bastard doesn’t deserve you,” he said emphatically. It was so much easier to condemn him for what was going on instead of Mac. It was easier to blame outside forces than to look for the cracks in the foundation of his own house. “Stringing you along like that ….”

“To be fair, it’s not really like that.” Renée protested, not quite sure why she felt compelled to defend Harm. God knew Mic was probably right. “Maybe I’ve built this up into too much.”

“How so?” he asked. “You’ve been with him for almost a year and a half. That’s pretty long term, if you ask me, especially these days. It would seem to imply some kind of commitment.”

“Yeah, but at least you got that ring on Mac’s finger,” she pointed out. “I haven’t even gotten a hint that our relationship might possibly move in that direction, even if it’s at some point in the distant future.”

He was silent for a long moment, contemplating what Renée had just said. How many times had Mac said those words, told him that she loved him? He said them to her more times than he could count. He tried to remember some of the significant moments in their relationship. When he returned to Washington, she hadn’t said much of anything. He told himself at the time that it was because she was so surprised at his sudden appearance. She hadn’t really said much of anything the night she’d finally moved the ring over, either, had simply moved the ring over without a word. Or the day they set a wedding date – she’d seemed a bit distracted at their lunch, which she’d claimed to due to a heavy schedule at work since AJ was gone and Rabb was covering for him, meaning she was handling some of Rabb’s normal workload.

Then there was the engagement party. He had told Renée that it was best to let Harm and Mac have time to say their goodbyes. Goodbyes, which took the entire night? And after that she had been so distant. Was that when it began? He’d told Renée that he wasn’t worried that night, but he would give just about anything now to have been a fly on the wall that night. What had they said to each other that night that might have changed everything?

His ring was on Mac’s finger, but did he really have her? Could he ever, as long as Rabb was around?

I-95 SOUTH
NEAR RICHMOND, VIRGINIA

“Why don’t you try to get some sleep, Chloe?” Kyle suggested, making a display of glancing at his watch, even if he couldn’t really make out the time in the darkness. “It’s getting late.” He turned around from his position in the front passenger seat to look at her, worry in his eyes. He knew that she practically worshipped Harmon Rabb and he hated what this situation was doing to her. But he also knew there was no way to make it easier to bear. He’d learned that lesson all too well in the weeks and months after so many of his shipmates had died on the Stark. Even fourteen years later, he could still sometimes hear their screams when he closed his eyes. Sometimes, he would roll over in bed when he was home, expecting to find his wife lying next to him.

“I can’t sleep, Daddy,” she whispered, her voice trembling as her fingers worried the hem of the t-shirt she was wearing, a Baltimore Orioles shirt that Harm had sent her for her birthday, along with the tickets to the game they were to have been attending tomorrow.

Kyle thought about moving to the back and sitting with her. She could act so grown up, but right now, he was reminded that she was still very much a little girl – a very scared little girl. There had been so much of her life that he had missed out on and he only wanted to be there for her now. “Chloe ….” he began, trying to strike a note of reassurance with his tone.

“I close my eyes, but I still can’t stop thinking ….” She trailed off, glancing at little AJ, secured in his car seat in the seat in front of her, looking so peaceful in sleep, despite being on the road at a time when he normally would have already been in bed. She really envied him his peaceful refuge. Reaching over the back of the seat, she stroked his soft cheek with the backs of her fingers.

Harriet, who had given up the front seat to Kyle – Bud was driving so she could sit in the back with the kids in case AJ got fussy being out so late, gave Chloe a stern, motherly glance. “Chloe,” she said firmly, “seat belt.”

Chloe opened her mouth to protest that she was so far in the back that she didn’t think a seat belt really mattered when her father caught her eye and nodded. Grumbling to herself, she fastened the seatbelt, maneuvering so that the shoulder strap was behind her so she could sit sideways, stretching her legs out on the bench seat. Seeing that Kyle and Harriet were pretty much satisfied, she returned to her previous topic before her father had decided it was bedtime. “What else did the Admiral say?” she demanded. “I thought Harm was going to be okay. The Admiral didn’t act like he was in that much danger this morning. He’s not going to die, is he?” Her final words came out in such a rush that all the adults could make out was the word ‘die’.

Harriet and Kyle exchanged glances. So much for getting her to go to sleep or to change the subject. “He didn’t really say a lot,” Harriet said carefully, as she’d had the misfortune of once again answering the phone when AJ called with the bad news. “Pretty much all he told me is that Harm took a turn for the worse and is being flown to Portsmouth tonight for surgery.” That much was true. It had been more what he had not said that had frightened her. He had used what she had once read astronauts’ wives called ‘The Tone’. Generally, it conveyed the message, without saying the words, that the situation was going to hell in a handcart. Just hearing his voice had scared the hell out of her more than his words ever could, even more so than they had last night, when he’d called to first inform them of the accident.

Last night, they hadn’t known one way or the other, so it was easier to delude themselves into believe that everything would be okay. But now …. Harriet almost wished that she didn’t know just how dire the situation was. There was something to be said for blissful ignorance – at least until reality came crashing down on you, as it had for her and Bud months earlier. This wasn’t the quite the same, but the pain in her heart hurt just as much. She’d often wished for a sibling. That wasn’t meant to be, but in her heart, Harm – and Mac – were as close to her as any brother or sister her parents might have given her.

“But that’s bad, right?” Chloe persisted, interrupting her thoughts. “He wasn’t supposed to be transferred to the hospital until tomorrow, so if something happened that made them transfer him tonight, it must be bad.”

“Maybe something came up that is beyond the capabilities of the carrier’s sickbay to handle,” Bud suggested, exchanging a glance with Kyle, who nodded approvingly at the evasion, as both were well aware that a carrier sickbay was equipment to handle just about anything, including many surgical procedures, and that Harm’s condition must be grave for him to be transferred immediately. But if they could spare Chloe that knowledge, at least for a little while, what was a little white lie in the grand scheme of things? After all, everything could still turn out fine and she need never know just how close it really was.

“Right,” Kyle agreed, mentally crossing his fingers. “With all the cutbacks in the Navy, nothing is as fully staffed as it used to be, including sickbay on board a carrier. Anyway, from what you’ve told me, Commander Rabb is a fighter. I’m sure he’ll be fine.”

Bud and Harriet quickly uttered their agreement while Chloe studied the three of them with apprehensive eyes, trying to figure out if they were telling her the truth. As much as she used to lie herself, she thought she could spot one coming a mile off, but it was so hard to tell in the dim light. As long as she couldn’t see the truth in their eyes, maybe she could just pretend for a while longer that everything was going to be okay.

“Hey, I remember that Mac once told me,” Chloe said, trying to muster enthusiasm for the idea that Harm would be okay, “that during his first crash, Harm ejected over the deck of the carrier. That’s got to be much worse than ejecting into the ocean, right? I mean, wouldn’t it really hurt to hit the deck like that?”

“You’re probably right,” Harriet agreed, hoping she sounded convincing. Sometimes, for all that she had been through, Chloe could be such an innocent. Or maybe it was just an act, like so many other things in the young girl’s life. Either way, Harriet didn’t want to be the one to shatter her illusions. Her eyes met Kyle’s and he nodded his agreement at her approach. “Harm’s never talked much about his first crash, but scuttlebutt says he was on medical leave for several months afterwards. But to look at him now, you’d never know any of that.”

“Right,” Chloe said, trying to sound convinced. “He’s got two of those – what did Mac call them – Distinguished Flying Crosses. So he’s really strong and brave and that’s good, right? And he’s got Mac with him –” She stopped abruptly as she suddenly realized what she was saying.

“Oh, God,” she exclaimed. “Mac is with him. Why is this happening to them now? This was supposed to finally be their time. They were going to talk to Mic and Renée and then everything was going to work out ….”

Kyle gave Harriet a surprised glance and she realized that Chloe hadn’t told her father what was going on. Of course, she had spent the day at Bud and Harriet’s and hadn’t talked to her father since they left JAG except for a brief call mid-afternoon to see how she was holding up. More and more, the truth was coming out and Harriet suddenly realized that there was the very real possibility that everything could blow up in Portsmouth when Mic showed up, expecting to finally be able to comfort his fiancée only to find out that she wasn’t his anymore or when Renée arrived, expecting to take her place at Harm’s bedside. Not only that, but it appeared everyone else would find out before Mic and Renée did. ‘Later,’ she mouthed to Kyle. He nodded his understanding and turned his attention back to his worried daughter.

Harriet struggled to think of something to say. Everything had gotten so much more complicated and, although everything else seemed to pale in the face of Harm’s precarious condition, she didn’t think Mic would appreciate that. His first concern was likely to be the woman he thought he was supposed to be marrying. Renée obviously wasn’t going to appreciate another woman hovering over the man she still thought was her boyfriend.

She realized that Chloe was saying her name. “I’m sorry, Chloe,” she said, attempting a smile. “My mind was just wandering.”

Chloe leaned forward as far as she could. “Are you thinking what I am?” she asked softly. “Mic’s probably on his way to Portsmouth, expecting Mac to be there. What’s he going to do when he realizes that Mac only wants to be with Harm? It’s not like she’s going to even think about giving him the time of day under these circumstances.”

“There’s not a lot Mic can do,” Harriet pointed out, trying to sound optimistic. “Ideally, he and Mac should have been able to sit down and talk about this and I imagine they will eventually, once Harm is out of danger. I know Mic and Renée aren’t going to like that answer, but want they want is really secondary right now.”

“But are they going to understand that?” Chloe countered. “You heard Mac last night, talking about how Mic steamrollered her into accepting his proposal. She was emotionally vulnerable because she thought Harm was going to Chechnya. What’s he going to do to her now that she’s facing this?”

‘Emotionally vulnerable’? Sometimes Chloe surprised her, sounding so grown-up and mature. Then again, Harriet thought, maybe it was a mask covering up the little girl scared for a dear friend. God knew it was easier for Harriet to concentrate on trying to comfort Chloe than to be left alone with her own thoughts and fears.

“Essentially, Mic is a decent person,” Harriet tried to assure her. “He ….”

“Yeah, so decent that he was more worried about the status of the wedding than about Harm,” Chloe remarked snidely. “I wonder if he cared whether Harm lived or died outside of how it affected him and his plans?”

“Chloe, that’s a horrible thing to say,” Harriet admonished her, her voice rising enough that Bud and Kyle both glanced back at her, startled. Bud quickly diverted his eyes back to the road while Kyle gave Harriet a questioning glance. She shook her head, indicating it wasn’t necessary for him to intervene. He nodded acceptance and settled back into his seat, keeping watch on them out of the corner of his eye.

“Come on, Harriet,” she shot back. “If Mac had been with all of us last night and today, I wouldn’t be surprised if Mic had been pressing her to go through with the wedding, regardless. I can almost hear him spouting some crap about Harm not wanting her to put her life on hold or about letting Renée worry about Harm while Mac concentrated on the wedding and …. him.” Chloe nearly spit out the last word, growing frustrated about Mic Brumby upsetting the happy life that Harm and Mac were destined to have.

As much as she wanted to protest, Harriet wondered if there wasn’t something to what Chloe was saying. Mic had been very reluctant to start calling around to cancel the wedding arrangements. Was Chloe right? Would he have been pushing to go ahead with the wedding if Mac had been with them at JAG? He didn’t seem to understand why Mac was so upset that her best friend – as far as Mic knew, that’s all he was to her – was missing and might have been dead for all they knew. The only thing that had seemed to matter to him was that Mac was not with him.

But he was so nice to Renée, a voice inside her head countered. Maybe he just wanted to be there to comfort Mac. Isn’t that what any man should want to do for the woman he loves?

Yeah, but shouldn’t what Mac wants be just as important? Another voice countered. Suddenly, she remembered an incident several months past, the import of which had escaped her at the time. After Sarah’s funeral, AJ had organized a get together at his house, a chance for everyone to be together and to grieve. Although it had been hard to recognize the fact at the time, she knew that Harm and Mac had looked forward to having a goddaughter to spoil and after herself and Bud, Sarah’s death had probably hit them the hardest. Harm and Mac had been off in a corner talking while Mic offered words of comfort to her and Bud. Abruptly, Mic had turned away from them and headed towards Harm and Mac. She’d barely thought about it at the time, living in a haze ….

…. But with the distance of time, she was able to look back upon that day and remember more than the mind-numbing grief of having buried the child she’d just spent nine months carrying inside her body. Mac had been brushing away tears and after helping her wipe them away, Harm had pulled her into a hug. Now, she realized that Mic had headed over to them just as Harm had taken Mac in his arms. They had pulled apart as soon as they had noticed his approach and Mic had draped an arm around Mac, pulling her to his side. It was as if …. he was marking his territory, subtly declaring ‘She is mine and I’ll be the one to take care of her’.

As Mic had escorted Mac away from Harm, Harriet remembered catching a snippet of their conversation. ‘We were supposed to be her godparents’, Mac had said, keeping her voice deliberately low so as not to draw attention. ‘Why shouldn’t we comfort each other?’ Mic’s reply had been lost to Harriet as they moved past her, but she remembered that he did not look pleased that someone else was usurping what he perceived as his place as Mac’s comforter.

Would Mic make a scene at the hospital? She suddenly wasn’t so sure, now that she thought about it. Mac and Mic had argued publicly before. Bud had told her about their argument in the office over a case Mic had suddenly showed up in the office to work on. Something about an F-14 crash, she seemed to recall. Mic’s firm had represented some civilian contractors involved in the case. Then there was their shouting match after Mac’s televised trial and that People article. And she’d been back at work and had seen for herself when Mic had been ambushed with the news that Mic had started his own law firm. She’d seen, but she’d thought nothing of it. There was so much wrong that seemed so obvious now.

Why didn’t any of us see this before? She wondered. She had been Mac’s matron of honor. How could she have not seen the cracks in the foundation? Well, she hadn’t been around for the first two incidents. Bud had told her about both of those. The third – she had been there, but for some reason, she had been more concerned about finding a place to hold the engagement party rather than noticing that her best friend may have been on the verge of making a major mistake. Harm and Mac had seemed to notice so much about her and Bud’s relationship. What kind of friends were they that they could not say the same in reverse?

“You’re not sure, are you?” Chloe asked, startling her out of her reverie.

“Not sure about what?” she asked, shaking her head.

“You’re not sure that Mic will back off,” she said with an air of certainty. “Even if he knows that Mac wants to be with Harm, he may not back off.”

Harriet wished she could say that Chloe was reading too much into this, but she was afraid that Chloe might be right.

I-64 EAST
SOUTHEAST OF RICHMOND, VIRGINIA

Trish started to speak, but hesitated. “Somehow,” AJ remarked, noticing her pause. “I would have thought Harmon Rabb’s mother would not have a problem speaking her mind.”

“I’m just not sure I’ll get any answers to the questions I have, Adm – AJ,” she admitted. Under other circumstances, she might have laughed at the statement. Frank had always contended that although Harm looked like his father, he had to have gotten his forthrightness from her … along with her stubbornness. Her mother-in-law had concurred, insisting that Trish had developed the stubbornness to deal with the arrogant fighter jock she had married. “You are their commanding officer ….”

Normally, AJ would agree with her. As a CO, he was theoretically supposed to hold himself aloof from those he led, to not get too close. But many of the officers under his command had become like a family to him, especially after the way they had keep investigating until they found out that Gayle Osborne was after him. That had been the beginning. In many ways, he was closer to them than he was to his own daughter.

“Ask,” he said, a bit reluctantly. “I won’t promise to answer everything, but I’ll tell you what I can.”

Trish hesitated again, searching for the correct phrasing. She was still conscious of the Navy’s rank structure, even forty years removed from being the new wife of an Ensign. Maybe it came from being a corporate wife, working to portray the right image for Frank’s bosses, or from trying to schmooze investors for her gallery. Even in the civilian world, there was a hierarchy to everything. “I’m not sure where to begin,” she admitted. “How do you condense nearly five years of …. missed chances and lost opportunities …. into a few sentences? I mean, I know there’s so much that I don’t know. For all his outspokenness, Harm can be so close-mouthed when it comes to certain things. He never even mentioned to us that his best friend was getting married.”

“The boy was in denial,” Sarah said firmly.

“I have seen evidence that would support that contention,” AJ said. Maybe this wouldn’t be so bad after all. If he said the right things, not much, but just enough, they would probably be able to connect the dots on their own. The apple didn’t fall far from the tree and he could see so much of what had made Harm the man he was in his mother and grandmother, even in his stepfather.

“Okay, so he’s in denial, Mom,” Trish chided her gently. “I figured that out about two seconds after Renée introduced us to Mac’s fiancé. And I can imagine why he wouldn’t say anything, knowing my son. If he thought Mac wanted someone else, he would not interfere, even if it made them both miserable in the end.”

“So now the question becomes,” Frank interjected, “how did we go from Harm being in denial and Mac about to marry another man to her being out on a carrier in the middle of Atlantic with him the day she was supposed to marry this other man?”

AJ could feel everyone’s eyes on him, but he shook his head. “That one you’d have to ask Harm or Mac, I suppose,” he said. “All I know – and this is through secondhand information – is that Mac had decided last night to call off the wedding, but had not been able to get a hold of Mic before everything happened with Harm.”

Trish’s eyes narrowed. “Do you know if Harm was aware that she was calling off the wedding?” she asked.

AJ thought back to his conversation with Harriet when he had found out about the cancelled wedding. She had indicated that Mac had talked to someone, but no names had been mentioned. Had she talked to Harm? Had he been returning home knowing that he was going to have a chance with Mac? Or had Harriet been simply referring to herself? After all, since Harriet knew that the wedding had been cancelled, it could be assumed that she and Mac had talked about it.

“I don’t know,” he admitted. “The person who told me the wedding was off did not mention whether Harm knew or not.” Realizing what they all must be thinking, he hastened to add, “I cannot imagine any of this getting in the way of Harm’s flying. As you pointed out, Trish, if he thought it was what Mac wanted, he would not interfere and he probably would go out of his way to make sure it didn’t interfere with his life. If he had regrets, he would be the only one who knew.”

Trish sighed. He was right. AJ probably knew her son as well as anyone ever did. “I know,” she said. “He could be fatalistic that way. For a man so used to going after what he wants, that was one area …. Look, I’m trying not to think that this situation with Mac might have contributed to the crash, either directly or indirectly, but I’m worried about my son. If I have these questions, I would think that the people who end up investigating the crash would end up connecting the dots and start asking the same thing.”

Those very thoughts had been in the back of AJ’s mind all day and throughout the previous night. As of right now, all AJ knew was that the inquiry wouldn’t be handled by his office. That was a foregone conclusion. The thing he wasn’t sure of was how Harm and Mac’s relationship would play into it. It all depended on Mic and Renée and their reactions to the situation. If they wanted to, they could almost literally make life hell for Harm and Mac. He wasn’t sure about Renée – he didn’t really know her well enough to say what she might do. But after seeing how Mic had reacted to Mac’s absence, he could not say with absolute certainty that Mic would take the high road.

“Obviously,” he said, “outside investigators will be brought in on this. It will be better for Harm to avoid questions of a whitewash investigation from the beginning. Not that any of my officers would do any less than their duty, but none of them will be asked to investigate one of their own. But Harm will not be alone in this. Mac will likely be too close to the situation because of everything, but there are others in our office who would do anything to represent Harm’s interests.”

“Including you, AJ?” Sarah asked.

AJ sensed there was a subtext to the question, but wasn’t quite sure what it was. After a moment, he replied with conviction, “I will be the first in line to help him.”

“I’m glad to hear you say that,” Sarah said. “I got the feeling from Harm that he felt he had disappointed you when he returned to flying.”

If he hadn’t been driving, AJ would have turned around to face her. Sarah’s question now made sense. He carefully considered his reply – he honestly had tried not to think about this since Harm had returned to JAG, considering the subject moot – then said, “I understood why he wanted to leave. I’ve changed careers twice in the Navy, going from the Teams to Surface Warfare and then to law school and JAG. Both times, it was my choice. But leaving an active squadron wasn’t Harm’s choice and I could understand why he might have felt he had unfinished business.”

“But understanding and accepting are two different things,” Trish said in a knowing tone.

“I would have given anything to have an office full of lawyers with as much drive and determination as your son,” he said evasively. “He always gave 110 percent on all of his cases. But he was ready to throw it all away on something nearly everyone agreed would be career suicide. He disappointed a lot of people when he returned to flying.”

“Like Mac?” Trish asked.

“I assume she was upset,” AJ replied, “but she never talked about it. She simply threw herself into her work and ….” He trailed off, feeling himself on that slippery slope, in danger of getting too personal.

“This wouldn’t have been around the time that her relationship with Mr. Brumby began, would it?” Trish asked.

“I don’t know when the relationship began,” he answered honestly, his resolve to say as little as possible weakening. He liked Harm’s family and if he could do anything for them, even answer questions that he wasn’t entirely comfortable with, he would do it. “But they did become closer friends while Harm was gone.”

“Makes you wonder, doesn’t it,” Trish mused. “Choices have consequences and you have to wonder where we all would be tonight if Harm had made a different choice. Would all this have happened if Harm hadn’t returned to flying?”

“Trish, I don’t think anyone can answer that question,” Frank said gently, reaching over and clasping her hand in his. “Even Harm himself probably couldn’t. These quals occur on a regular basis, right?” AJ nodded. “It was time for his quals, even if Mac was getting married, not getting married or whatever.”

“Do you remember when Harm first called and told us he was reporting to Norfolk as part of an active squadron?” Trish asked him, brushing a tear from her cheek. Frank nodded, tightening his fingers around hers. “I don’t think I slept for at least a week. Like you, AJ, I thought he was hurting his career and I’d never seen any indication from him that he was anything but happy at JAG. But then I’d remember what happened to my husband and I was scared. It had almost happened once before, but thank God Harm survived. But what if it happened again? And now it has …. Frank, I don’t want the only thing I have left of my son to be a folded flag and a plot in Arlington.”

Trying not to listen as Frank murmured words of comfort to his wife, AJ thought back over the last two years. Frank was right in that Harm’s quals occurred every six months like clockwork, but were there other contributing factors to this? AJ didn’t want to believe it. He remembered the brief ceremony when he had presented Harm with his second DFC. Harm had not wanted a ceremony and AJ had wondered if he had been overcompensating, trying to convince everyone that he wanted to be back at JAG. Oh, AJ knew Harm’s work had been as good as it ever was, but …. it seemed as if his passion was somewhat lacking.

He considered a conversation he’d had earlier that afternoon with Captain Ingles when Harm’s family has ostensibly been getting some sleep. Except for a wave off on his first landing attempt, he had performed flawlessly. AJ couldn’t help but wonder if he was overcompensating again, throwing himself into his quals in an attempt to not have to deal with any pain he might be feeling. The day he had left for Norfolk, AJ had walked past Harm’s office and had seen the younger man buried in paperwork, signing off on reports and compiling documents with an efficiency AJ had seldom seen out of him, at least when it came to the more mundane tasks associated with his duties.

Suddenly, he caught a question from Trish, which drew him back to the present and the conversation that had continued around him. “Frank, what do you think he would have done?” she wondered, her eyes gazing upward. “If Harm had known two years ago what he knows now, if he could have foreseen all that returning to an active squadron would end up costing him, do you think he would have still done it?”

Pondering the question, AJ found he couldn’t come up with an answer. He loved flying and all indications were that he loved Sarah Mackenzie. If he’d known what would happen, would he have made a different choice? AJ shook his head, hoping that everything would work out for the two people who were closer to him than just about anyone. They both deserved it.

SOMEWHERE OVER THE ATLANTIC OCEAN
EN ROUTE TO PORTSMOUTH, VIRGINIA

Every time the helo shook – the atmosphere was still a bit unstable from the earlier storms, so it was a fairly regular occurrence – Mac couldn’t help but glance fearfully at the equipment monitoring Harm’s condition. The steady rise and fall of his chest was no reassurance, the ventilator pushing air in and out of his lungs. She found she couldn’t concentrate on figuring out what all the numbers and blips and beeps meant, but they were pretty much the same as every other time she had looked at them, so she kept telling herself that was a good sign. He didn’t appear to be getting any worse.

A corpsman was studying the monitors with a critical eye, jotting notes in the chart, which he then handed to Reed. Reed glanced over the chart and nodded, handing it back to the corpsman. His eyes met Mac and he gave her a half-smile. “He’s holding his own,” he reported. “His vitals are holding steady. We’re keeping his blood pressure depressed in an effort to keep the bleeding under control until he can be taken into surgery. And even though his breathing did restart on its own after the seizure, keeping him on the ventilator will ensure an uninterrupted oxygen supply.”

“In case of another seizure?” she asked, her eyes steady on his.

He felt slightly uncomfortable under the scrutiny, as if she was trying to read his mind. Maybe it came from her being a lawyer. “That is a possibility,” he said, careful to keep his tone level and worry-free. “But we’ve kept him on Valium since the episode to prevent that very thing.”

She nodded, accepting his assurances for the time being. Leaning over Harm, propped against the bulkhead, she covered one of her hands with his. “This is different, Sailor,” she said softly, trying to keep her voice light. “You’re usually the one looking out for me … the mountains, when Coster was stalking me, on the Watertown. I know I was there for you in Russia, but sometimes I couldn’t help but wonder if you really needed me. You’ve never been one to admit that you need anyone, have you? I can’t decide if I love that strength or despise that there’s always a part of yourself you keep closed off from everyone.”

She reached down and ran her fingers through his hair, her gaze falling on the bruise over his left eye, her thoughts automatically going to the larger bruise on the back of his head. “I thought your helmet was supposed to prevent something like this,” she murmured.

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Reed go very still and she lifted her gaze to his. “Doctor, how did this happen?” she asked. “How did he manage to sustain two separate blows to the head when he was wearing a helmet?”

Reed looked down at the chart in his hands, wishing that he didn’t have to be the one to tell her. He had just assumed that someone had already told her the conditions under which Harm had been found. “Doctor?” she repeated, realizing that he wasn’t telling her something.

He sighed, rubbing his forehead wearily. “The Coast Guard crew that found him reported that he wasn’t wearing his helmet,” he explained. “We’re not sure why. Obviously, no one has had a chance to question Commander Rabb about what happened. My understanding from the Captain is that if he was up to it, a preliminary interview would have been conducted by the on board JAG this evening.”

“I don’t understand,” she said, almost to herself, her eyes falling on Harm’s still form again. “He’s been an aviator for fifteen years. He’s even ejected before. He should know survival procedures like the back of his hand. Even I know that much.” It was something Harm had drilled into her before their first ride together in a Tomcat during that case at Fallon and something he had reviewed with her on the drive to the airfield in Russia, when everything Harm had told her ended up coming into play when they had been shot down.

Reed shook his head. “I wish I had an answer for you, Colonel,” he said. “But right now, my primary concern is making sure that he survives since we can’t go back and undo what’s happened.”

“Of course, you’re right,” she said in resignation. There would be plenty of time later for questions to be answered. Dr. Reed had just reminded her of something, which had completely slipped her mind. There would be an inquiry. Harm had faced one before and he would come out of this one as well. This time, he would have her at his side, standing up for him.

A few feet away, Gilly looked up from his Bible where he’d been studying the readings for next week’s service, contemplating what he should say, if anything. After the tension over the Anointing, he still wasn’t sure where he stood with her, although he realized it really had less to do with him than with Harm’s condition.

As a Marine, he imagined that she was used to taking action, to always advancing. Sitting around, waiting on others was probably anathema to her. Finally, he closed his Bible. Sitting around silently wasn’t in his nature. “Colonel …. Sarah?” he asked, hoping to put her at ease with the more familiar form of address.

She looked up, blinking. “Yes, Father?” she responded, her voice neutral.

“I have a degree in psychology,” he said, earning a puzzled look from her at the apparent non-sequitor, “So after I was ordained, the first place the Navy assigned me was to a VA hospital in San Diego. I thought I had all the answers. I was young with a masters in psychology and a priest’s collar. But I saw things at that hospital …. mostly Vietnam vets. Some of them I don’t think ever really recovered from the war.”

She started to speak, but he held up his hand to stop her, then continued, “I didn’t know how to help these people, so I spent a lot of time when I first got there simply observing. Quickly, I realized something. The ones who did the best are those who had someone there, whether talking to them or just holding their hand. Sometimes it was their spouse, sometimes it was an old war buddy, sometimes it was a complete stranger, one of the hospital volunteers. Some of these men were catatonic, some were in comas. I’d always heard that even unconscious, a patient could hear everything going on around them, but I’d never seen empirical evidence to support it until then. So I started sitting with the patients who didn’t have anyone. Sometimes, I talked about little more than the box score from the previous night’s Padres game. But I’d like to think it made a difference.”

“And your point?” she asked, mildly surprising him by the lack of harshness in her tone. Maybe he could do something to ease her mind.

“I just heard you telling Harm about how he’s been there for you,” he explained, “and how you’re not sure he really needs you. I know that you’re frustrated right now, but there is something you can do for him. Talk to him – talk about things you’ve shared in the past, talk about your hope for the future. Let him hear your voice. Give him something to hold on to.”

She hesitated as she pondered what he had just said, then looked down at Harm again, smiling gently as a memory floated to the forefront of her thoughts. “Do you remember the day AJ was born?” she asked, closing her eyes as the memories washed over her. She could see him standing on the steps with him, looking so strong and vital in his summer whites, so devastatingly handsome with a familiar grin gracing his features. “It was one of the most amazing experiences, watching that little boy come into this world. And talking about our child, what he or she would be like …. So many times since that day, I’ve thought about what a child of ours would be like. I kept going back and forth, unable to decide if I wanted a boy or a girl. I’d imagine a little boy, with your eyes and your smile, but then I’d wonder what it would be like to have a little girl. I can already see her as daddy’s little girl. I think deep inside you’re just a big marshmallow and any daughter of ours would have you wrapped around her little finger.” She managed a laugh, imagining Harmon Rabb with a daughter. She’d be her father’s princess.

Gilly smiled as he listened to her. “Sounds like you and Harm have thought about the future a good deal,” he commented. “How long have you been together?”

Mac tightened her fingers around Harm’s, the only visible sign that she was troubled by his question. She couldn’t exactly explain that they’d been *together* for little longer than they had been married. But for them, togetherness was a concept with so many connotations and she latched onto that for an explanation. “Sometimes it feels like forever,” she said wistfully. “We’ve worked together for nearly five years, except for the six months he was here on the Henry. We’ve been as close as two people can be in so many ways. I wouldn’t be surprised if we know more about each other than even our families or other people we’ve been involved with. It all blurs together, but I honestly think I’ve loved him almost from the moment I met him.”

“Then have faith in that love,” he advised, “and believe that will get Harm through this so that you can have that family you’ve talked about.”

Her eyes fell on her hand covering his, her wedding band sparkling on her finger even in the dim light inside the helo, She wished it could be that simple. She knew that in a few hours she would be in Portsmouth, waiting for Harm to come out of surgery as everyone else arrived. Mic would probably be there, expecting her to show up there and she had to be ready to give answers that she wasn’t sure she could and which she was sure that Mic would not want to hear.

PORTSMOUTH NAVAL MEDICAL CENTER

Later, when asked, Mac would have little memory of their arrival at the huge medical complex in Portsmouth. She was vaguely aware of Harm being swiftly offloaded from the SH-60B Seahawk helicopter into a waiting ambulance to take him across the parking lot to the main building of the hospital, the Charette Health Care Center, while she, Doctor Reed and Father Gilly all squeezed into the ambulance on one side of Harm’s gurney, an EMT on the other side monitoring Harm’s vitals as he studied the notes made by the corpsmen and Doctor Reed aboard the helo.

The thing that stood out in her mind was the same thing, which had stuck during the flight from the ship – Harm’s hand under hers, cold and limp and unmoving. For some reason, she had always associated him with warmth – his smile, his personality. He could light up a room just by walking into it. And as she had discovered just a few nights earlier, snuggling up next to him in bed was better than a warm blanket and flannel pajamas. Even as she’d still been torn between the man she loved and the man she had promised to marry, she had not been able to stop herself from thinking that one of the best feelings in the world had to be burrowing in Harm’s embrace, letting the heat radiating off of him envelope her.

Feeling Harm’s chilled fingers beneath hers wasn’t right. This was not Harm. When she’d commented on it shortly after takeoff from the Henry, Doctor Reed had rattled off a medical explanation of why Harm’s temperature, which had been slowly but steadily climbing upward throughout the day, had dropped slightly after his seizure. She didn’t care about technical reasons – she just wanted to feel the warmth of his touch again.

Time had ceased to exist for Mac the moment the alarms had first blared in sickbay back on the Henry. One moment seemed to stretch into the next and when she glanced at her watch at the helo set down on the pad across the parking lot from the hospital, she was surprised at how little time had passed since her world had come to a halt. All she could say with certainty was that it seemed an eternity had passed since the helo had lifted off the deck of the carrier, then between the time the ambulance departed the helipad and when it pulled up outside the emergency entrance.

The EMT’s efficiently removed Harm from the ambulance and escorted him inside, Reed following as Gilly put a hand on Mac’s arm to hold her out of the way of the people trying to do their jobs. Doctor Stafford was waiting inside the bay doors and huddled with Reed as soon as he walked through the door. Once the ambulance was clear, Gilly helped Mac down from the vehicle and led her inside, a guiding hand at her elbow. She instinctively moved to follow Harm, but stopped when Doctor Stafford called out, “Colonel Rabb?”

It took Mac a moment to recognize that it was her name being called. I guess that’s something else about married life to adjust to, she thought. It felt strange answering to a name that wasn’t the one she had used for the last thirty-three years. On second thought, it seemed to her to be such an inconsequential thing to be thinking about at a time such as this one. “Doctor Stafford?” she returned, recognizing the neurosurgeon from the satellite call earlier that evening.

“I’ve just been speaking to Doctor Reed,” he said, gesturing a woman forward who standing nearby carrying a clipboard. “Your husband seems to have held his own during the flight, not much change in his condition, so we are going to take the time to do another CT-scan to get an idea of the current size of the mass before we operate. After the scan, either Doctor Reed or myself will come brief you on the plans for surgery. Right now, Petty Officer Ryan from our administration department needs to get some information on your husband so he can be admitted.”

Mac turned and stared down the hallway Harm had been taken down, a look of longing on her face. She was barely aware of the hand Gilly placed on her shoulder or of his softly-spoken, “Sarah, it’s in the doctors’ hands now. The doctors’ and God’s. The best thing you can do for Harm right now is give the hospital all the information you can so that they can help him.”

It took a long moment for his words to sink in before she nodded slowly. “Okay,” she whispered, her voice trembling. “Okay.”

“Do you have your husband’s ID card, ma’am?” Ryan asked, her tone respectful as she made note of Mac’s insignia. “Having that will ease the admittance procedures.”

“Um …” Mac hesitated, at a loss. At some point, one of the corpsmen had given her a small bag with the few things Harm had on his person at the time he was fished out of the water and she could not remember if his wallet had been one of the items. She pulled forward one of the bags slung over her shoulder and quickly searched through it, pulling out the clear plastic bag. His Academy ring was there, as was his watch, amazingly still running she noticed, despite the trauma. His dog tags had been in the bag as well, but Mac had earlier taken them out and hung them around her neck, the cool metal nestled against her heart. No wallet obviously, but there was a rectangle of white in a plastic sleeve. A picture? She wondered. She pulled the item from the bag, drawing in a sharp breath when she turned it over to discover a wallet-sized version of the christening photo that Chloe had been so enamored of. How long had he carried this photo with him? She vaguely remembered Bud and Harriet mailing copies of all the photos that had been taken that day to Harm while he had been stationed on the Henry two years earlier. Had he carried this photo all this time?

“Ma’am?” Ryan asked, interrupting her thoughts. Clutching the photo in her hand, she dropped the baggie back into the travel bag and zipped it back up.

“No,” Mac said softly. “His wallet’s not here. It must have gone down ….”

“That’s okay, ma’am,” Ryan said. “We can work around that. If you’d like to accompany me to the admissions office, we’ll do what we can then someone will escort you to the waiting area outside of the OR.”

Mac nodded. As Ryan led them in the opposite direction from the one Harm had been taken, Mac had to remind herself how to walk, to put one foot in front of the other. She could feel the exhaustion and frustration starting to creep up on her, tendrils beginning to wrap around her, threatening to squeeze the breath out of her. But she refused to give in. So often, Harm had been the strong one in their relationship, except when it had come to his father. She had supported him then. She could do it again.

“Spell your last name, ma’am,” Ryan said, her fingers poised over the keyboard of her computer. Gilly was seated on the other side of the desk. Mac had set her and Harm’s travel bags in the seat offered to her and was standing at the window, her back to the others. There was nothing to see in the darkness, but it was easier than being forced to deal with her pain through the sympathetic looks from others.

“M – A – C,” she began, stopping herself as she realized that wasn’t what Ryan was asking for. “Sorry. R – A – B – B.”

“That’s okay, ma’am,” Ryan replied as she typed in the information. “Your husband’s social security number?”

“Five – oh – eight, um, nine, um ….” She trailed off, uncertain. She knew this. Harm had been in the hospital since she’d known him and she’d made it a point of memorizing his social, just as he had done hers. “I can’t remember. I know this but I can’t remember.” She rested her head against the cool glass pane of the window, her fingernails digging into her palm as she clenched one hand into a fist.

“Sarah?” She heard the voice, but it seemed so far away. Harm? She wondered. Then she heard the voice again, close this time. No, not Harm, she realized. Just wishful thinking. She saw Gilly’s reflection in the window, saw rather than felt his hand on her shoulder. She turned slowly, blinking back tears. He held a handkerchief out to her, which she took without comment, dabbing at her eyes. She started to hand it back, but he shook his head, motioning for her to keep it. “You have Harm’s dog tags, don’t you? I would have thought they would have been with the things sickbay gave you.”

A startled look on her face, she tugged at the chain around her neck and pulled out the tags, spreading them out on her palm. It was funny how the mind worked sometimes. Just a few minutes ago, she had been thinking about his tags. Come on, Mac, she admonished herself. Harm needs you to be strong. “Five – oh – eight – nine – five – nine – three – three – four,” she read the number off the tags.

Ryan frowned as Harm’s information came up in the DEERS database. “Ma’am, there aren’t any dependents listed for Commander Rabb,” she said. “Not that I don’t believe that you’re married, but for consent forms and such …”

“We just got married,” Mac interrupted. “But that shouldn’t matter. I’ve held Harm’s medical proxy for years. That should be a part of his records.”

“Hard copies of his records are being sent from Bethesda, but they haven’t arrived yet, ma’am,” she said. “And for some reason, the electronic copy doesn’t include the proxy.”

“What about the marriage certificate?” Gilly asked. “Or would the word of the priest who performed the ceremony be sufficient?”

Ryan lifted her eyebrow. She noted the Chaplains’ Corp insignia on his collar and assumed he was referring to himself. “Something in writing is required, sir,” she replied, “for legal reasons. I’m sure you can understand.”

Mac nodded as she turned and walked over, rifling through the bags until she found the folder she had placed the marriage certificate in for safekeeping. She held it out. “I assume this will be sufficient?” she asked.

“Yes, ma’am,” Ryan replied as she studied the certificate, surprise showing on her face when she read the date on it. Remembering that the patient’s wife was a Marine Lieutenant Colonel, she swallowed the obvious question and focused on her computer screen. “Date of birth?”

“25 October 1963,” Mac replied, more quickly this time, her voice steadier. The faster she got this done, the sooner she could go … well, she couldn’t be with Harm, but she could be nearby. She needed to be near him.

“Not the most comfortable place,” Gilly commented as he surveyed the waiting room down the hall from the operating room where the neurosurgeon would soon be working to save Harm’s life. “But the nurse at the desk did say something about blankets and pillows.” He opened a door on one side of the room and found a storage closet, pulling out bedding for both himself and Mac. “At least you can try to get some sleep after you talk to the doctor. Harm will probably be in surgery for hours.”

“I don’t think I can sleep,” she murmured as Gilly handed her a pillow and blanket, the exhaustion around her eyes betraying her.

“Why don’t you just lie down then?” he suggested, spreading a blanket out on one of the couches for himself. “It’s been what – about twenty-four hours – since you first got the call about Harm’s accident? You might surprise yourself.”

Reluctantly, she nodded. It was so easy to listen to him and do as he suggested. He had such a calm, soothing voice. She spread out her blanket on another couch and sat down on top of it, making no move to get beneath the covers. “Maybe I should get changed,” she said, almost to herself.

“I think I saw restrooms near the elevators,” Gilly told her.

“Okay,” she said, gathering up one of the bags she had with her. “I’ll be back in a few minutes.”

As he watched her go, he reflected on the pain he saw veiled in her eyes. She was upset – understandably so – about what had happened to Harm. She seemed to be handling that as well as could be expected at the moment. He was sure that, as a Marine, she was used to bottling up her emotions so that they did not interfere with her duty. That was true of most military. He knew that eventually those feelings would need to be given release, although he would lay odds that she would wait until she was alone. She struck him as a woman who wouldn’t let herself cry in front of others if she could help it.

But there was something else, something he couldn’t quite put his finger on. He had learned to be a pretty good judge of character and he sensed that there was something weighing on her mind besides her husband’s injuries. He wished he could get a sense of what it was so that he could figure out how to help. He knew, from the experience on the Henry, that Mac was not a woman to be pushed. If he tried too hard to get her to open up about what was bothering her, she would just shut down even further. Maybe it could be as simple as worrying about what all their friends and family would say about the hasty marriage. It was amazing what people would worry about when under extreme stress. Simple problems could be blown up in a person’s mind to seem like insurmountable peaks as a defense mechanism, something to worry about besides what was really wrong.

Mac returned a few moments later, looking vulnerable and lost in too-large clothes – obviously Harm’s. Sweatpants were rolled up several times at the bottom so they didn’t drag on the floor, a US Navy sweatshirt hung to mid-thigh. She noticed his scrutiny and gestured weakly to the clothes she was wearing. “I didn’t really pack anything suitable for me to sleep in,” she explained. Of course, she had expected to have privacy for sleeping – perhaps a cabin on the Henry tonight and a room at the VOQ until Harm was released to go home – where it wouldn’t matter if she wore the silk and lace confection she’d brought with her. But that had been before everything had turned upside down.

She settled onto the couch, slipping under the blanket and pulling it up under her chin. There was a bit of a chill – a cold front had descended in the aftermath of the storm, causing the temperature to drop well below seasonable levels. She stared at the far wall, not quite ready to close her eyes. “Father?” she asked after a long moment, during which the only sounds in the room was Gilly turning the pages of his Bible as he indulged in his usual ritual and his soft humming. Reading it was always the first thing he did in the morning and the last thing he did at night. It was his time to enjoy the words rather than studying them so he could figure out how to explain them in everyday language in his sermons.

“Yes, Sarah,” he said, lifting his head as he closed the Bible, marking his place with his finger.

She hesitated a moment, then said softly, “Thank you.”

Gilly was touched. Another sense he had was that this was a woman who did not utter those words easily. “You’re welcome,” he simply replied.

“It’s been … nice to have someone there for me,” she continued, surprising them both. “I haven’t had that a lot in my life …. I could probably count on one hand, Harm included in that, of course.”

“Family?” he asked, curious.

“I have a sister,” she replied, “but she just turned fourteen. My uncle’s in Leavenworth.” She could feel his look of surprise and lifted her head, craning her neck to look at him. “Remind me later to tell you how Harm and I met – it all ties in together. Harm was his defense attorney. Anyway, my father died two years ago and my mother …. well, I’ve only seen her once in the last nineteen years and that was when my father died.”

“But you do have a family,” he pointed out. “I understand from Doctor Reed that you spoke to your in-laws after Harm’s condition got worse. I’m sure they will be there for you.”

Mac almost laughed. It was one thing to admit to Trish that she was in love with Harm. It was another for everyone to find out the entire story. What kind of woman, on the same day she was to marry one man, would turn around and marry a different man? Plus, Renée was a known quantity to them – to Trish, anyway – and she couldn’t say for sure how they would feel about a woman about they’d never even met marrying Harm while his girlfriend wasn’t even aware that Harm was lost to her. To a lot of people, Renée would seem to be the more sympathetic character in this entire drama.

“What was that you were humming earlier?” she asked, dropping the previous subject like a hot potato. She couldn’t get into that now. She still had to prepare herself to deal with everything that would happen when everyone else arrived.

“‘On Eagle’s Wings’,” he replied. “Often while I’m working, I’ll hum – or even sing, if I’m in the mood – something, often a song that matches my mood. And not necessarily hymns. I’ve been known to sing John Lennon on occasion.”

“The name of the song sounds familiar,” she said, realizing that it was likely a hymn and that she must seem woefully ignorant for someone who had been preparing to get married in the Church.

Instead, he simply assumed that she was too distracted to recognize the hymn. “Actually,” he explained, “it’s based on the Psalm that was read at the service ….” He glanced at his watch. Was it still Saturday or had they passed into Sunday already? “…. this morning.” He started to sing in a prayerful tenor.

“You who dwell in the shelter of the Lord,
Who abide in his shadow for life,
Say to the Lord: ‘My refuge,
My rock in whom I trust!’

“And he will raise you up on eagle’s wings,
Bear you on the breath of dawn,
Make you to shine like the sun,
And hold you in the palm of his hand.”

Mac smiled as she finally closed her eyes, dropping her head back onto her pillow. “I remember now,” she said wistfully. “Father Genaro had someone sing that song at my father’s funeral. At the time, I thought it reminded me of Harm. He was the one who had talked me into going to see my father and he would have been at the funeral too if I hadn’t waited until after the fact to tell him.”

“Why did you wait to tell him?” he asked, curious.

“I’m not sure anymore,” she replied, stifling a yawn. “I guess I don’t like having to depend on people, even Harm. If you don’t depend on them, there’s less chance for them to hurt you.”

Gilly was saddened to think about what had to have happened in her life for her to develop that kind of attitude. She had given hints – only seeing her mother once in so many years, having to be talked into being at her father’s side when he died. This was a woman, he realized, who had been deeply hurt by the very people she should have been able to depend on the most. It made her heartfelt ‘thank you’ all the more touching.

“What the ….?” Mac threw her arms out to steady herself as the ground seemed to shift beneath her feet. She looked down, staring wide-eyed at the wooden planks beneath her sock-encased feet. Planks? She looked up, glancing around. She was wearing the same sweats she’d fallen asleep in, but that was the only thing that seemed familiar. She was outdoors, apparently on the deck of a wooden ship. Her hair was blowing in her face and she impatiently pushed it away, trying to tuck it behind her ears. Where was she? As far as she could remember, she’d never been on a ship like this before. And this wasn’t a ship tied up at dock. The shifting she had felt was the ship rolling with the waves. The ship was out at sea.

“Do you really think either of us will give up that easily?” he asked, his soft tone sending a shiver through her ….

“No!” she cried out, her entire body trembling. Gilly jumped up from his couch and knelt by her side, firmly shaking her shoulder.

“Sarah, wake up,” he said, his tone firm. “It’s just a dream.”

Her eyes snapped open, the trembling subsiding as she gradually became aware of her surroundings. She pushed herself up on one elbow, pushing sweat-matted hair back from her face as she gasped for breath. Lowering her hand, she glanced at her watch. Had she really been asleep that long? She tried to remember what time Doctor Reed had stopped by to inform them that Harm was being wheeled into surgery. It had been a few hours, at least. That meant everyone would probably start arriving from Washington soon.

“Do you want to talk about it?” he asked.

“Not really,” she whispered, sitting up and wrapping her arms around herself.

“You’re shivering,” he said. “Let me get you another blanket.” He went to the closet and got another blanket, draping it over her shoulders.

She grabbed the edges of the blanket and pulled them together in front of her, cocooning her. But she still felt so cold. “Harm told me that the chute lines had gotten tangled around his neck. I saw him being strangled in my dream. Then I saw the aftermath and it scared me ….” She trailed off, unable to talk about the rest of the dream. He wouldn’t understand.

“Sarah, you don’t know what’s going to happen,” he said, his hand gently squeezing her shoulder. “No one does. I’m sure Harm will have some recovery time ahead of him ….”

“No,” she protested, shaking her head firmly. “I’m sure that I know what’s going to happen.”

Gilly opened his mouth, about to ask what that meant when a nurse appeared in the doorway. “Is there news from surgery?” Mac asked shakily.

“Just that everything is going well so far,” the nurse reported. “Word from the OR is that they about at the halfway point. As long as there are no complications, they should be finished up in a few hours. After some time in recovery, Commander Rabb will be moved to ICU and then you’ll be able to see him.”

Mac looked away, still trying to steady herself after her disturbing dream. Realizing she wasn’t going to say anything, Gilly thanked the nurse for the information. “See, Sarah?” he asked after the nurse left the room. “Everything is okay so far. Harm’s a strong man and he’s got a strong woman supporting him. Why don’t you try to go back to sleep?”

“I don’t think I could,” she said in frustration. “If I close my eyes ….”

“Why don’t I get you something to eat?” he suggested, deciding not to push the issue. “There’s a cafeteria downstairs or vending machines all over the place. You probably haven’t really eaten since you heard the news, either.”

“Sure,” she replied dully. She just wanted to be alone right now and taking him up on his offer seemed to be the easiest way to ensure that. Otherwise, he might try to get her to talk about her dream and she couldn’t deal with that now. She wasn’t sure she could deal with it when it would eventually come to pass. “Something to eat would be nice.”

“Okay,” he said, mildly surprised at her easy acquiescence. He had expected her to protest that she wasn’t hungry. “Anything in particular you want?”

“It doesn’t matter,” she whispered dismissively, pulling her knees up to her chest, resting her head on top of them.

A single drop of water slid down the windowpane, barely illuminated by the lights from the parking lot outside. It started out at a fairly rapid clip, then slowed as it intersected with another drop making its own way down the glass. Then it continued on its way, slower this time, before splitting in two suddenly, perhaps due to an imperfection in the glass. One slide off at an improbable angle towards the corner of the window, disappearing from her field of vision. The other continued its downward journey, more or less in a straight line, finally splattering on the windowsill. At the top of the pane, another raindrop began its jagged journey down, following the path of the first about a third of the way down before suddenly veering off on a path of its own.

What had they called it in Jurassic Park? That’s right – chaos theory. Mac could relate. Just hours ago, hadn’t she and Harm said how everything was going to happen. Everything would be nice and neat and orderly – at least as much as possible given the admittedly unusual circumstances. But how could they have known about the circumstance lurking in the background, just beyond their sight, which would so dramatically alter the outcome. For a brief moment in time, everything seemed to be going as right as it ever had in her life. But appearances were deceiving and the reality of her orderly existence was fleeting.

The hospital staff seemed to think everything would be alright. Shortly after Father Gilly left on his cafeteria run, another nurse had poked her head through the door. An older woman with a motherly look about her – at least what Mac imagined someone’s mother should look like – had gently asked if she needed anything and sought to reassure her by talking about how good the surgical team was that was working just down the hall to save Harm’s life. She made non-committal noises, which must have sounded like agreement to the nurse, since she did leave Mac alone with her thoughts.

But if tonight had taught her anything, it was the futility in making plans and predictions. She thought she had her life planned out with Mic, had convinced herself that any feelings she might have had for Harm beyond friendship were something of the past. But then a stolen night in Norfolk – no, it had actually begun two weeks earlier, when a stolen kiss under the stars had broken open a lock to which she’d thrown away the key.

In the space of just over twenty-four hours, she’d moved from one certain truth – that she would become Mrs. Mic Brumby – to another – that she was now Mrs. Harmon Rabb, Jr. Then she’d moved from the reality of the new life she and Harm were going to build together once their other relationships were straightened out to not even knowing whether or not Harm was going to survive the next few hours. She wanted to believe it. She needed to believe that he would survive and they would have their happily ever after. She just wasn’t sure if she could afford to believe only to have it all shattered once again.

She felt their presence before she noticed their blurry reflections in the window, could feel their eyes upon her. How could they not stare? She gripped the edges of Harm’s jacket, pulled it tighter around her to ward off the chill. She and Harm had often joked about her someday meeting his family – the timing just never seemed to work out before. When they were in California on a case, Trish and Frank were traveling somewhere else. When Trish and Frank happened to pass through DC, it would be Harm and Mac who were traveling.

And Harm’s grandmother – that was another story. Harm had invited her on more than one occasion, but something always seemed to come up which allowed Mac to bow out without sounding like she was making excuses. She had been apprehensive about meeting the woman Harm held in such high esteem. Not because she thought the older woman might dislike her – although she did wonder how much Harm had really told his grandmother about her – but it seemed so intimate a gesture, even more so than meeting his parents. From talking to Harm, he seemed to be closer to his grandmother than to his parents – perhaps because she had for so long been his only blood link to his beloved father – and she sensed that it would be Sarah Rabb to whom he would look for approval of the woman he would marry.

Slowly, she exhaled the breath she had been holding since she first felt their presence, taking a few precious ticks of the clock to prepare herself to face them. As steady as she could force herself to be, she turned to face them, focusing her gaze on AJ. Even under the circumstances, it was force of habit to give her commanding officer her attention. Or was it something else, a concern about facing Harm’s family? She pushed the question aside and made herself open her mouth. “Hello, Admiral,” she said simply, her tone aching with fatigue. “Mr. and Mrs. Burnett, Mrs. Rabb.”

AJ was stunned at her appearance and not just because of the inexplicable bruise nearly darkened to a blackish purple under her eye. He’d seen Mac run the spectrum of emotions, but he couldn’t remember seeing her look so …. lost, so uncertain. Not after Dalton had died in her arms, not even after Harm had walked out of her life two years ago. Lines were etched around her eyes, born of lack of sleep and worry, while she looked small and vulnerable with Harm’s too-large jacket pulled around her, the cuffs falling down over her hands, her fingers barely peaking out, her knuckles white as they gripped the edge of the sleeves.

He noted the formality with which she addressed him, but he swallowed back his automatic response. She didn’t need Admiral Chegwidden, who would eventually have to deal with issues resulting from the turmoil of the past day. There would be time to confront all of that later. Maybe when he wasn’t so worried himself about the man fighting for his life. Right now, she needed AJ, who had to set aside regulation to be a friend when she needed one, especially with her former fiancé on his way, unaware that his place in her life was now a thing of the past. “Mac, why don’t we all sit down?” he suggested, gesturing towards the couches. “I’m sure the Commander … Harm’s family would like to hear any news that you have regarding his condition.”

She stared at him a moment, her brain slow to process what he was saying, before she nodded and returned to her place on the couch, folding her legs under her, wrapping her arms around herself. Concerned about her bearing, but chalking it up to the stress and strain she had been under, everyone else was silent as they took seats. AJ sat on the couch Father Gilly had previously occupied, at the end closest to Mac. Trish and Frank sat next to him, their hands tightly clasped in a large knot between them.

Sarah chose to sit next to Mac, keeping a respectful distance between them. From what Harm had told her, she figured that Mac was not one who easily let people get close. She hovered just outside Mac’s personal space, without appearing to do so, but ready with a comforting embrace should the situation warrant it.

Mac shivered involuntarily as she tried to make the words come out of her mouth. What was she supposed to say to these people? They had never even met, but now they were family. They shared a common bond in their love for the man clinging to life, but they couldn’t be more different. Trish and Frank, despite the thinly veiled pain etched in their features, exuded a calm that Mac could only hope to feel. But then they had been down this road before – another crash, another hospital, but the same story. The words had changed but the tune was still the same.

AJ, well he was as inscrutable as ever. He was hard to read, even outside their normal roles of commander and subordinate.

Sarah – now she was a bit of a surprise. Perhaps it was the way Harm had always talked about her, and what Mac had read between the lines, but she’d expected someone larger than life. Who else could command the ultimate respect of an arrogant flyboy? Physically, she was small. Next to her grandson, she probably didn’t even reach his shoulder and she looked like she might blow away in a strong wind. But there was a steel in her bearing, born of eighty-odd years of overcoming tragedy and heartache. Mac desperately wished for some of that strength for herself. The woman next to her had survived the loss of both husband and only child and had faced the possibility of losing both her grandsons at various times. She wondered how Sarah to persevere through all that when she couldn’t even figure out how she would go on without Harm if she had to.

“Would you like a blanket, dear?” Sarah asked, pulling free the one she was sitting on and holding it out. Mac nodded and let Sarah drape it over her and tuck it around her. For a moment, Mac flashed back on a rare childhood memory of her own grandmother. Her mother had spent a night in the hospital – courtesy of her father, as usual – and Joe had dropped her at her grandparents’ doorstep while he spent the night drinking himself into oblivion, full of remorse after the fact for what he’d done to his wife. She’d woken up in the middle of the night, violently shaking from dreams of what had transpired, and her grandmother had tenderly tucked her back into bed, hovering on the edge of the bed until she eventually drifted off.

“Thank you, Mrs. Rabb,” she heard herself say. So her vocal cords still did work. She could do this. Staring down at her lap as she gathered her thoughts, she began haltingly with the most recent news, “Not long ago, someone came here – a nurse, I guess – and said that the surgery appears to be going well and it’s about half over.”

“Thank God,” Trish breathed as Frank squeezed her hands, his eyes alight with thankfulness. Her gaze turned to Mac and she felt a wave of sympathy. She remember the waiting, the utter helplessness, the fear of not knowing. It was this common bond, which had her debating over asking the question foremost in her mind. But the driving need to know what had happened to her little boy won out. “What happened to my son, Mac? Everything seemed to be okay, then ….”

Her gaze was still downcast as she continued, “It was just before dinner. We had been talking about …. we were just talking and he just …. I thought he had fallen asleep. He’d been out in the water all night, unable to sleep, unable to rest and I thought he was just tired.” She looked up, her eyes wide as she remembered the horror of those few brief moments which had seemed to stretch into infinity. “I just thought he was just tired.”

“Did he slip into a coma?” Sarah asked softly, trying to draw her out. “Is that why they started to suspect ….?”

“Not yet,” she murmured. “I mean, the doctor didn’t say anything about a coma. I don’t know. He didn’t regain consciousness, but they were keeping him drugged because …. because of the seizure.”

AJ suddenly understood. “Is that how that happened?” he asked, gesturing towards her face.

She nodded. “I didn’t know what to do,” she said hoarsely. Tears threatened again and she took a few seconds to force them back before continuing. “He started shaking and I yelled for help. When Doctor Reed came in, I think he tried to tell me not to try to hold him down. Then he shook me free and I fell against a cabinet or something …. after it was over, the doctor was requesting a satellite hook up with a neurosurgeon and they said he had to come here ….”

As her voice trailed off, Sarah slowly reached over and, when Mac didn’t pull away, clasped one of Mac’s hands in hers. “I imagine it’s hard considering what you’ve seen today,” she said, her tone so gentle and comforting that Mac responded without consciously thinking about it, curling her fingers around Sarah’s, “but you’ve known Harm long enough to know that he is a survivor. He told me how you were there for him in Russia the first time, how he wasn’t sure what he would have done if you hadn’t been there to steady him. Did Harm ever tell you about his crash ten years ago?”

Mac shook her head. “Occasionally, he’d drop a comment here or there,” she replied, “but most of what I know is through …. scuttlebutt.”

“By the time we got to Germany,” Sarah remembered, “nearly a full day had passed since the accident. After being flown in from the carrier, he spent the better part of that day in surgery. He had internal injuries, had to have pins put in his hip and one ankle, and his collarbone was broken – and that’s just the major injuries. They told us that he had ejected out over the deck and wasn’t able to get enough height for his chute to open fully and slow his descent. They went out of their way not to tell us, but we all saw it in their eyes. They were surprised he had even survived.” She glanced at Trish, who nodded in understanding of the silent message and continued the story.

“As his mother, I’ve seen Harm sick,” Trish said, her barely detectable tremor in her voice the only sign of the lingering pain of that long ago day, “and I’ve seen him with various injuries you expect of an active boy growing up. But I’d never imagined …. You could barely tell he was there; he was wrapped in so many bandages and plaster and he had all these tubes and wires attached. I wanted to believe that my baby was going to survive, but looking at him lying there so bruised and broken, there was this tiny voice in the back of my mind that kept insisting there was no way. But eventually he opened his eyes. Then the tube in his throat was taken out. I think that’s when I knew he was going to make it, when he told me in a voice just barely above a whisper not to cry.”

Mac almost had to laugh at that. That one statement sounded so much like Harm. He would have been worried less about his own condition than with the pain he was causing those around him – until his mind cleared and his thoughts turned to the one who hadn’t survived the crash. Knowing Harm, she could understand why that simple request had convinced Trish that her son was going to make it.

“Harm’s always seemed ….” Mac trailed off, unable to think of the words to adequately describe it. How could such a complex and charismatic personality be distilled into a few syllables? “Larger than life, I guess. If I didn’t know him, I wouldn’t think a person like him could exist.”

“But then something reminds you that he’s human,” Frank concluded sadly.

“Yeah,” she replied a bit hesitantly. Had she really said that in front of Harm’s family and her commanding officer? She almost sounded like some kind of groupie. Maybe the lack of sleep and the worry over Harm was catching up with her. She didn’t normally talk like that. Covering her mouth with her free hand, she stifled a yawn, then pinched the bridge of her nose, rubbing at the corners of her eyes.

Trish and Frank were the first to see it, although neither of them realized the importance of what they were seeing. They knew Mac had been engaged and just assumed she hadn’t taken the ring off yet. It didn’t process in their minds that the ring she was wearing didn’t have the diamond typical of an engagement ring.

AJ was about to suggest that Mac try to get some sleep, since the surgery would last several more hours at least, when he saw it. Immediately, he clamped his mouth closed, unable to believe what he was seeing. He knew it wasn’t her engagement ring from Mic. He knew what that ring looked like. Hadn’t he been the first to notice it at the airport in Sydney? He squinted, trying to get a closer look without appearing to do so. It almost looked like …. as she dropped her hand, he focused on her eyes, but they were unfocused, staring ahead at some distant point. She didn’t even seem to be aware of his scrutiny.

“You’re tired, dear,” Sarah said gently, squeezing Mac’s hand. “Admiral, we should let Mac try to get some sleep. Any further questions can wait until later.” When AJ didn’t reply, Sarah glanced at him, following his gaze towards Mac, but she couldn’t see what he was staring at. “Admiral?”

AJ shook himself out of his reverie at her insistent tone. Now wasn’t the time for questions, especially ones that he wasn’t sure he really wanted the answers to. Anyway, maybe he was wrong. Maybe it didn’t mean anything. “Mac?” he said firmly, finally drawing her notice. She turned to him, blinking her eyes rapidly as if to clear them. “Why don’t you try to get some sleep?”

“I’m not sure I could ….” she began, trailing off when the door to the waiting room opened.

As Mic pulled into a parking spot across the driveway from the emergency entrance, the only one in the hospital open this late at night, he glanced around, his eyes searching for the familiar red Corvette. “Damn,” he swore under his breath when he didn’t see it, the only car he recognized being the Admiral’s SUV. He had wanted to talk to Mac as soon as he saw her, hopefully convince her to came home with him and let Renée worry about Harm’s condition.

His soft exclamation caught his companion’s attention. “Did you say something?” Renée asked, rubbing her eyes sleepily. Sometime after they had passed Richmond, she had managed to fall into a fitful sleep, tormented by dreams of a flag-draped coffin. She had woken up at one point, but one look at Mic, his jaw clenched and his knuckles white as his hands gripped the steering wheel, and she decided not to bother him. Although Mic wasn’t a heartless bastard, she also wasn’t under any illusions about how concerned he was about Harm’s condition, outside of how it concerned Mac. He had been so nice to her, probably nicer than he needed to be and she sensed that she needed all the allies she could get into her corner.

The JAG staff wasn’t about to fall all over themselves showing concern for her state of mind. She was tolerated, and just barely she sensed, only because she was Harm’s girlfriend. No, it was Mac they were going to rally around, forming a protective shield around her while Renée was left on the outside. She did get along with Trish, but she expected little from that quarter. Frank and Sarah had seemed standoffish with her and when it came down to it, Trish was going to stick with her family.

“Nothing important,” Mic replied, unbuckling his seat belt. It wasn’t important to Renée, he knew. “Let’s get inside. I’m sure you’re anxious to find out how Rabb is doing.”

“Mic,” Renée said, her hand on his arm, stopping him as he started to get out of the car. “I just wanted to say thank you.”

“No worries,” he said, shrugging. “I hope for your sake that Rabb will be okay.” He didn’t add, nor did he have to, that it was as much for his sake as for hers. It had been hard enough to compete with Harm. He wasn’t sure how he would fare against the specter of his memory.

They were silent as they walked into the hospital together, Renée’s apprehension growing as each step took her closer to Harm. She didn’t want to think about it, but she couldn’t stop the questions. What if he didn’t make it? AJ had not said much when he called to inform her that Harm was being transferred to Portsmouth that night instead of waiting until morning. She knew next to nothing about medical matters, but she couldn’t imagine any circumstances in which Harm being transported to Portsmouth ahead of schedule was good, especially when surgery was involved.

“Excuse me, Petty Officer,” Mic said to the man sitting behind the admittance desk in the emergency room, “can you tell us where we might find someone who’s been taken into surgery?”

“Yes, sir,” the Petty Officer replied. “The surgical unit is on the third floor. Go through those doors and take a right. Go down the hallway and take your first left. Go down that hallway and you’ll run into the main elevators. Take it up to the third floor and go left when you get off. OR is down the hallway that will be on your left.”

“Thank you, Petty Officer,” Mic said, leading Renée away. They found the elevators easily enough, but were now cooling their heels, waiting for one of the four elevators to descend from the upper floors.

Renée tapped one foot impatiently as one of the elevators started to descend from the fifth floor, seemingly taking forever. “Are there stairs around here?” she asked. “This is taking too long.”

Mic glanced around, not noticing anything that might indicate a stairwell within his line of vision. “The elevator will be here before we can find them,” he said, trying to placate her.

Renée bit back a retort as a man dressed in a Navy khaki uniform walked up beside them carrying a paper bag. He was about to hit the up button when he saw it was already lit. He smiled at Mic and Renée as he stepped back to await the arrival of the elevator.

“It’s about time,” Renée mutter when the elevator finally arrived and opened before them. After they stepped on, Mic pressed the ‘3’ button and turned to the other man. “What floor, Commander?” he asked, noting the man’s rank insignia.

“I’m going to the third floor as well,” he said. The doors closed and with a jerk, the elevator began its journey.

Renée stared down, studying her manicure, while Mic glanced up at the ceiling, wondering where Mac was. He wasn’t really surprised that AJ was the first to the hospital since he was transporting Harm’s family. But he would have expect Mac to have raced to her friend’s side, although he tried not to think of the obvious, what it said about Mac and Harm’s relationship that Harm would become her sole focus. They were supposed to be getting married, but while he’d spent most of his day – outside of comforting Renée – apologizing to caterers, florists and others putting the wedding together about the short notice cancellation, Mac had been God only knows where. Did he have to nearly get himself killed to receive that kind of devotion from his own fiancée? He sighed in frustration, running a hand through his hair.

The elevator arrived on the third floor and they all disembarked, Mic pausing as he tried to recall the Petty Officer’s instructions. “Renée, did the petty officer say right or left off the elevator?” he asked her. She shrugged helplessly. She hadn’t even paid attention to Mic’s conversation with the emergency room attendant, expecting him to remember the directions.

Their companion from the elevator had started on his way, then turned back when he heard Mic’s question. “Maybe I can help you,” he suggested. “Are you looking for ICU or the surgical ward?” They were the only places he knew someone would be visiting at the hospital in the middle of the night.

“Surgery,” Mic replied. “Her boyfriend was in an accident.”

“I’m sorry to hear that,” he replied. “I’m keeping a woman company whose husband is also in surgery. Father Patrick Gilly.” He moved the bag he was carrying to the other hand and held out his hand for Mic to shake.

“I’m Mic Brumby,” Mic introduced himself. He turned and gestured towards Renée, who was hovering behind him. “And this is Renée Peterson.”

“I’m sorry to meet you under such circumstances,” Gilly said, nodding towards Renée, who barely seemed to register the conversation. “I’ll include your boyfriend in my prayers.”

When Renée didn’t say anything, Mic replied for her, “I’m sure Renée appreciates that.”

Gilly motioned to them to follow him. “I’m on my way back to the waiting room in the surgical ward,” he said, “if you’d like to follow me.”

Chloe bounded through the door of the waiting room, seeming to possess more energy than anyone had a right to in the middle of the night, evading her father’s attempt to hold her back. She fell to her knees in front of Mac and threw her arms around her. “I’m so glad to see you,” she said in a rush. “We were all so worried about you. How’s Harm?”

Mac returned the hug, grateful to have someone she could talk to. It was so hard talking to the others – AJ was still somewhat bound by his role as her superior even under the circumstances and she barely knew Harm’s family. The closest she’d come to having someone to share her fears with was Skates and Robert and they were still on the Henry, due to fly to Portsmouth on the same morning helo which originally would have brought Harm to the hospital. “He’s still in surgery,” she replied, “but – but the reports seem promising.”

“Thank God,” Harriet said, looking for a place to put down her half-asleep son. Mac looked up at her as she released Chloe and gestured for Harriet to hand him over.

“Aun’ Mac,” AJ murmured sleepily as Mac cuddled him close to her, kissing the top of his head. “Where Unca Harm?”

She glanced up at Bud and Harriet, who shrugged helplessly. “He’s been asking after the Commander all day,” Bud explained. “I don’t know how, but he seems to know that something is going on with him.”

Chloe nodded. “Yeah, when we were all at JAG this morning,” she began, then glanced at her watch, “no, yesterday morning, he went into Harm’s office and asked where he was.”

Mac managed to smile down at her godson. “Uncle Harm had a boo-boo,” she said, trying to put it in terms a two-year-old might understand.

“Owie?” AJ asked, looking up at her with blue eyes, which were suddenly wide-awake.

“Yeah, owie,” she agreed, nodding. “Uncle Harm has an owie and he’s here to make it better.”

“Tiss make better,” AJ exclaimed. It took Mac a moment, then she blushed as she translated the toddler-speak. “Mommy tiss my owie.” He pointed to his arm at a scrape near his elbow.

The childish statement brought chuckles around the room, easing the tension slightly. “I wish it were that simple,” Mac murmured, unaware of the eyes suddenly focused on her again.

Trish leaned over to Frank, smiling for the first time in hours. “Harm has to get better,” she whispered firmly. “That is a woman in need of children.”

Frank smiled and draped an arm over her shoulders, pulling her against him. He recognized the statement for what it was, aside from the obvious desire for grandchildren to spoil. “He will,” he reassured her with certainty. For his wife’s sake, and his own, he refused to contemplate otherwise.

Little AJ lost interest in the topic of Harm’s injuries, distracted by the bright, shiny object in his field of vision. “Priddy,” he proclaimed, reaching for Mac’s hand.

Mac jumped, startled, as AJ pulled at her hand, trying to get a closer look at the band of gold which had captured his attention. As she realized what he was looking at and noticed the strange glances from the others out of the corners of her eyes, she berated herself for not remembering to remove the ring. It would have been easier to make up some reason for its absence for Father Gilly – she could have claimed it didn’t fit quite right – than to explain its presence to everyone else.

“That looks like a wedding ring,” Chloe stated the obvious. Mac started to wish a hole would open up in the ground and swallow her. Of all the things for Chloe to say ….

Mac was saved from having to come up with an immediate response when the door to the waiting room opened again, only to have her heart leap into her throat. Oh, God. This was the last thing she needed right now. Why couldn’t they have shown up just a few minutes later, after she found some way to deflect the questions?

The first through the door, Renée went immediately to Trish and Frank, seemingly unaware of the stillness in the room as everyone waited with baited breath for Mac’s explanation. “Frank, Trish,” she said, squeezing onto the couch between them and AJ, placing her hand on Trish’s arm.

Gilly crossed the room and handed Mac the bag he had brought up from the cafeteria. “They didn’t have much down there this time of night,” he said as she took the bag, her expression dazed, making no move to open it. He seemed to be unaware of the sudden increase in tension as he continued, “I got you a chicken salad sandwich, some chips and some orange juice.”

Mac blinked as she suddenly realized she was being spoken to and turned her gaze away from the door, which Mic had just walked through. “Thank you, Father,” she said, her response rote.

Mic, his eyes immediately drawn to Mac, started crossing the room to her, determined to take her out of there for a talk, but stopped in his tracks as Renée jumped up from the couch, her tone accusatory. “Wait a minute,” she demanded, her hands balling into fists at her side. This is not happening, she told herself. No! She pointed at Gilly. “He said he was here with a woman whose husband was in surgery after an accident.” She turned her heated gaze on Mac and took a step towards her, until Bud intercepted her, mindful that his son was sitting in Mac’s lap. Little AJ whimpered at the sound of the loud voice and buried his face against Harm’s jacket while the man he was named after contemplated the best way to diffuse this situation. “Who do you think you are, claiming to be Harm’s wife?”

Mac glanced at Mic, his expression a cross between disbelief and anger. Swallowing nervously, she lifted her chin and decided to confront the situation like a Marine. “I’m not claiming anything, Renée,” she said firmly, her voice infused with a calm she didn’t feel. “I *am* Harm’s wife.”

Renée opened her mouth, ready with a sharp retort, until Mac’s calmly spoken words registered in her mind. She closed her mouth, uncharacteristically stunned into silence. That had not been the answer she had been expecting. Chloe thought she looked like a fish gasping for breath and was forced to turn her head towards the wall, struggling to keep the giggles from erupting. Mac probably wouldn’t appreciate the humor of the situation right now, not with Harm still fighting for his life. She did allow herself a smile at the thought that Harm was now her brother-in-law.

Clamping down on her lower lip, she turned back around, surveying the scene. Most of the expressions were variations on a theme – shock, confusion. Mic and Renée, of course, were bristling with barely-concealed anger, in addition to everything else. She wondered how long it would be before Mic realized that all the time he’d been searching for *his* fiancée, she’d been on the carrier with Harm. Under other circumstances, she’d love to see the aftermath of that little revelation.

There were two exceptions – three if she counted the chaplain, who she assume had actually officiated at the wedding and who probably had no idea what he had just walked into the middle of. AJ was one. He was hard to read; she couldn’t tell what he was thinking. For all the emotion he showed on his face, someone may as well have just announced the sky was blue.

Sarah was the other exception. She exhibited absolutely no surprise, like AJ. But unlike him, she had a faint smile on her face, although Chloe couldn’t decide if it was because she was happy with the news or because she was trying to calm little AJ, who was clutching the edge of Harm’s leather jacket, half covering his face with it. She was leaning towards him, murmuring softly something Chloe couldn’t quite make out. After a moment, AJ released the edge of the jacket, leaning against Mac’s chest as Sarah reached out and rubbed his tummy.

Mac glanced down at the toddler in her lap, sharing a look with Sarah as AJ’s eyes started to drift closed. In just a few brief moments, she had seen what it was about his grandmother that Harm loved so much and she allowed herself a brief moment to imagine Sarah as great-grandmother to her child. A ghost of a smile tugged at her mouth at the thought of the family she’d always wanted, a family with Harm.

Renée finally found her voice, her tone low and trembling with anger. “There is no way you can be his wife,” she insisted. “That’s impossible.” She spun towards Mic, who had not spoke since he’d entered the room. “Come on. Say something.”

“Of course, it’s not true,” Mic said, his voice not quite calm. “It doesn’t make any sense. She probably just arrived at the hospital first and they assumed she was Harm’s wife or maybe she told them that because it was the only way the hospital would give her any information. Hospitals can be strict about giving out information on patients to non-family members.”

“So you’re saying that Mac is lying?” Chloe cut in. She couldn’t keep quiet, not with that kind of accusation. And this was coming from a man who claimed to love Mac and to want to marry her?

“No, of course not,” Mic quickly backpedaled, realizing how that sounded. “I understand she’s upset about her …. best friend nearly dying and she can’t stand not knowing what’s going on, so she probably did let the hospital believe that she is family. But look at this logically. When would this have happened? Rabb’s been on the carrier all day….” His voice trailed off as realization struck and his tone took on a hard edge. “When the Admiral came out and announced that Rabb had been pulled from the water, he said that you had already been told that Rabb was safe. But it wasn’t just a coincidence that you happened to ring up the Admiral right at the same time that he received word from the carrier?”

“No, it wasn’t,” Mac confirmed, uttering her first words since her stunning announcement. Her voice still gave no hint of the turmoil surrounding her. “As soon as Captain Ingles called me, I drove to Norfolk and took a COD to the carrier in the morning after the weather cleared. We got married on the carrier by the chaplain that afternoon.”

“I don’t know about Rabb,” Mic protested, going with instinct and fighting back against the sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach, the one that insisted that every word she said was true, “but you’re Catholic and you don’t just get married just like that. There’s planning and preparations and classes to go through.”

“I know that,” Mac countered, a bit of the frustration at the last five months of her life bubbling to the surface. “If there’s nothing else I’ve learned during the last five months, it’s that. You know what? It’s about time I did something that I wanted instead of just going along for the ride in my own life. I wanted a small wedding, not a huge production to rival Charles and Di.”

Mic was stunned into silence at hearing her discontent vocalized and thrown in his face. He had been doing it for her. Why couldn’t she see that?

Sarah, recognizing the storm brewing in Mic’s eyes, decided that it was time to step in before things got even further out of hand. Right in front of her was the perfect opportunity to deflect attention. “Mac, I think AJ here needs a diaper change,” she said quietly. “Why don’t you ask Harriet for his diaper bag? I assume you’ve changed a diaper before.”

Distracted, she hadn’t even realized that AJ did smell like he needed a fresh diaper. She flashed a grateful half-smile at Sarah, realizing what the other woman was trying to do. “Harriet, where’s AJ’s bag?” she asked, standing and settling her godson on her hip. “He needs a diaper change.”

Harriet was about to suggest that she take him, then thought better of it when she caught Sarah almost imperceptibly shaking her head out of the corner of her eye. Understanding the unspoken message, she bent down to pick up the diaper bag and handed it to Mac without comment. She knew that if things were allowed to continue much long, they would explode. Mic didn’t care about anything the fact that he had lost Mac and was exhibiting a clear unwillingness to let her go, while Mac was too tired to think about what she was saying – definitely a recipe for an explosion. And God only knew how Renée would figure into it, especially since Harm was in no condition for her to lash out at.

Mac nodded her thanks and slung the bag over her shoulder, nearly walking into the rest of the JAG crew as they arrived. Mac accepted quick hugs from Jackie and Carolyn, a comforting pat on the shoulder from Alan and a slightly stilted ‘Good to see you, Colonel’ from Loren before escaping the room.

Renée watched the scene at the door, silently fuming. The rest of them weren’t even aware, as far as she knew, of the latest developments, yet they were acting like Mac was the one they needed to comfort, not Harm’s long-time girlfriend. She remembered her conversation with Mic about being outsiders. She’d been around long enough that she shouldn’t have to shoulder her way into her boyfriend’s life.

Mic was fuming as well, but for a slightly different reason. He connected the dots between Mac’s sudden departure from the room and her whispered discussion with Harm’s grandmother immediately before that. Now, not only did he have to worry about Rabb’s interference in his relationship with Mac, but also with that of his grandmother. Making a decision to wrest back control of the situation, he turned to follow Mac out, only to discover his path blocked by a quick-moving AJ, who had anticipated Mic’s actions and gotten up to block him. Mic frown, his learned respect for superior officers forcing down his first thought of simply pushing past AJ.

AJ was counting on exactly that respect to avoid a physical confrontation, figuring that his years in the military would be the only thing holding Mic back. That gave AJ the upper hand. “Brumby,” he said, his voice low so that only Mic could hear, but with enough of an edge that Mic should realize this was not a request, “everyone is here because they are worried about Commander Rabb. That is the only thing that these people are thinking about and you will not distract them with issues, which can and will be dealt with later. If you have a problem with that, I have no problem with you leaving. You will not upset anyone further, *especially* the Commander’s family.”

Mic read between the lines. He was not to upset Mac. That was what AJ was telling him. His fiancée had just run off and married another man, on the day that they were supposed to get married, and he was supposed to just sit on his hands and accept the situation? He started to speak, but AJ crossed his arms over his chest, his expression hardening. Mic was a boxer and could stand up to just about anyone, but the look reminded him that AJ was a SEAL. If Mic really was an enemy, AJ could probably kill him without even blinking and before anyone realized what was happening.

Although his stance didn’t really change, Mic not being one who gave up easily, AJ recognized the temporary look of defeat in Mic’s eyes. He would back down for now, but AJ wasn’t foolish enough to believe it was anything but temporary. He hoped that by the time Mic decided to press the issue again, Mac would be in the frame of mind to deal with it on her own. “Find an empty spot and sit down,” AJ ordered. Reluctantly, Mic complied, although AJ was not happy with the spot he chose – on the floor next to the couch Mac had just vacated. He opted not to cause a scene, but would keep an eye on the situation.

That situation diffused for now, AJ decided it was time for a little reconnaissance. His gaze meeting Gilly’s, he nodded towards the door. He didn’t think anything would happen if he stepped out. There were several people, starting with Bud and Harriet, who would be like pit bulls to protect Mac. Mic and Renée wouldn’t be going anywhere – not without a guard, anyway. Gilly nodded and followed AJ out of the room, waiting until the door was closed behind them to speak. “Sir?” he began, recognizing in AJ the air of someone in command despite the lack of a uniform. “What is going on here?”

AJ chuckled ruefully. “That would be a very good question …. Father?” The final word was a question, the Chaplain’s Corps insignia on his collar only indicating that Gilly was a Christian minister.

Gilly nodded, holding out his hand. “Father Patrick Gilly, chaplain aboard the Henry,” he introduced