Once More Into The Breach

A JAG Fan-Fic By

Sheri Mitchell

sheri@mountainport.ca

http://mountainport.ca/JAG/JHIntro.htm

JAG HQ – 08:00

In a unison borne of practice and honed by their unique awareness of each other, Harm and Mac stepped briskly up to the admiral’s desk and halted. Harm’s spine straightened just a bit more. “Good morning, Admiral.”

The admiral looked up from his work. “Good morning, Commander. Colonel. At ease.”

As she assumed the at-ease position, Mac noted the admiral hadn’t offered them a seat, as he normally did before their morning briefing. Suddenly, she was on alert. She knew her C.O. well. He only kept his officers on their feet when delivering news he didn’t think they’d like.

“Commander, I have an assignment for you. Early last week, a Marine strike force took control of the Afghan prison you were confined to. During the process, they took into custody several men who are now claiming to be citizens who were incarcerated there. We need a visual identification in order to sort out the Afghan rebels from anyone they may truly have been holding. You leave for Afghanistan in one hour.”

Barely able to believe what she was hearing, Mac fired a worried glance at Harm. The color had drained from his face and she saw him swallow hard as he came to attention. “Aye, aye, sir.”

“I’m sure you’ll need time to prepare. Dismissed, Commander.”

Mac swore she saw Harm sway slightly as he executed an about-face and strode from the room. The instant he was gone, she turned back to the desk. “Admiral...sir, with all due respect, you can’t send him back there! It’s too soon. He’s only been back on full duty for a month!”

Admiral Chegwidden rose very slowly to his feet, his expression dark and foreboding. “Colonel, I don’t recall giving you permission to speak freely.”

Mac snapped to. “Sir, no sir. I’m sorry, Admiral.”

The rigidity in the admiral’s shoulders eased slightly. “So am I, Colonel, sorry Commander Rabb is being asked to do this, but active duty is active duty. The Marine forces in Afghanistan need what he’s got.”

“I understand, sir, but surely—”

“However,” the admiral cut right across her words, “I’m not insensitive to how difficult this is going to be for the commander, so you’re going to go with him. Ostensibly you will be there to ensure the fair treatment of the prisoners, but in addition to that – and to offering what moral support you can – I have another assignment for you, one you will not reveal to the commander.”

The hair on the back of Mac’s neck prickled sharply. “Yes, sir?”

The admiral hesitated a moment, then waved to a chair. “Have a seat, Colonel.”

Coming now, the offer was nothing but ominous. She took a seat as he rounded the desk and reclaimed his own chair. “Colonel, it’s come to the attention of the C.O. of the Marine strike force that some of the men who were in control of the prison at the time Commander Rabb was being held may, in fact, be US Marines.”

*********

Mac couldn’t breathe. She stared at the admiral, knowing her mouth was hanging open, but she couldn’t do anything about that either. Some of the men who’d done those horrible, unspeakable things to Harm – who’d almost destroyed him – were Americans? Marines? It was ludicrous. It was inconceivable. It was treason!

Admiral AJ Chegwidden watched the range of emotion play over the colonel’s face, wondering which one was going to win out. It was the utter, complete indignation that finally stuck. He took a deep breath and continued with the story.

“For several months, the CIA has been keeping a dossier on a group of Marines who deserted and apparently joined the Talaban forces. The Marine Corps was aware of the desertions, of course, but they weren’t aware the these Marines had gone over to the Talaban. Shortly after Cmdr. Rabb was released, the dossier came to light. I have no doubt Clayton Webb played a hand in that.”

“Sir, if these men are Marines, can’t they be identified by comparing them to the photos on their service record?”

“Not to everyone’s satisfaction, I’m afraid. Many of them have been gone for months. They’ve lost weight, grown or lost facial hair, and in some cases even acquired scars that hamper visual identification.”

“Then why send Harm?”

“His mission is exactly as I told him, ID his captors so we can sort them out from the prisoners. Once he’s done that, it will be your job to secure blood samples for DNA comparison. You will not inform him of the possibility some of these men are Marines. That order comes directly from the top, Colonel, and I concur. This is a very delicate situation. If the press should get wind of a band of ex-Marines running a Talaban prison camp.... We do not need a loose canon out there. Is that understood?”
“Yes, sir.”

“Besides, Colonel, I think the commander has been through enough. Adding insult to injury like this won’t serve any purpose except to make it worse.”

Mac had to agree with that. Harm was back on his feet, but he was still recovering. Of course, he tried to make everyone think things were back to normal, that he’d put it all behind him, but Mac knew better. They all did. He was still healing, and now, the commitment to duty he’d worked so hard to regain was asking him to reopen all the old wounds.

When she came out of the admiral’s office a few minutes later, she went straight to Harm’s office, but the door was closed, the blinds lowered. Mac stood at the door, not sure if she should go in or not. He probably needed time to wrap his brain around this, but she didn’t want him to think he had to go through it alone. In the end, she walked away sadly. The closed door and blinds demanded – begged for – privacy.

Sitting at his desk, Harm took several slow, deep breaths, willing his hands to stop shaking. He couldn’t do this. He couldn’t go back there. But he had to. He’d fought a long and hard battle to win back the right to wear the uniform. After months of questioning himself and rummaging around in his own soul to find the commitment that went with the clothes, he wasn’t about to shirk his duty the first time it asked something difficult of him.

He would get through this the same way he always had, with guts and determination...and the unwavering support of the woman in the office next door. Before he could too closely examine the sudden need that gripped him, Harm pushed to his feet and strode from the office.

*********

A soft knock made Mac look up. Harm stood in the open doorway, leaning against the frame in pose that was almost casual – almost. The expression on his face destroyed the image. He looked at her with a silent desperation that had her up and moving around the desk before she was conscious of it.

Snared by an overwhelming desire to take him in her arms, she had to settle for putting a hand on his back, encouraging him to come inside.

She had no idea what to say to him. Before she could come up with something, he gripped her hand in a brief, tight squeeze. “I’m okay. I’ll be fine.”

“Uh-huh,” she said softly.

“I’ll...call you when I get there.”

“Uh-uh.”

She saw his frown and gave him a gentle smile. “You won’t need to. I’ll be right beside you.” His frown transformed into confusion. “The admiral is sending me to ensure the prisoners are treated fairly.”

His face clouded instantly. “You mean like they treated me?”

“No,” she said slowly, “like our way of life demands we treat anyone accused of a crime.”

He let out an explosive breath, and with it, some of the tension that was coming off him in waves. “I know, Mac. I’m sorry. This isn’t going to be easy, but I’ll get through it.”

Mac couldn’t help it. Office protocol be damned, she put her arms around him and held him tightly. “We’ll get through it – together.”

*********

The closer they got to Afghanistan, the quieter Harm got. By the time they touched down on the Seahawk, it was becoming hard to get more than two words in a row out of him.

They were scheduled to fly out to the prison site the following morning, and once they reported to the skipper, they were off-duty till then. It didn’t surprise Mac one bit when Harm disappeared.

She knew right where he’d be, but gave him some time alone before going up to the weather deck. He stood, leaning against the rail, the wind whipping his hair as he watched the steady comings and goings of the aircraft on the deck below. With a monstrous roar, a Tomcat launched, rising steeply into the sky the instant it cleared the carrier. Harm watched it go and she could see the sudden tension in his frame. She knew with total certainty that, in his mind, he was in that cockpit.

She slid quietly into place beside him at the rail. “Wish you were out there?”

He didn’t answer for a moment. “Now more than ever,” he said finally. Shoving off the rail, he straightened. “Mac, I appreciate what you’re trying to do, but to be honest, I’d really like some time alone right now.”

“Are you sure?”

The smile she was sure was supposed to be persuasive came across sad instead. “Yeah, I am. Just for a while.”

She put a hand on his back, whispering softly, “All right, but if you want to talk, you know where I’ll be.”

He nodded, turning back to the rail. Mac stood a moment longer, then slowly made her way back inside.

*********

Sitting on the helo the next morning, Mac could literally feel the tension radiating from Harm. He sat gazing stoically straight ahead, making no effort to look out at the monotonous brown of the desert skimming by below them.

She was used to him chatting or discussing their current assignment during transport, ignoring even the roughest ride. He was so comfortable in anything that flew, he was oblivious to even extreme turbulence that would have her guts tied in knots. But today, in the ultra-smooth helo, he didn’t say a word.

From her seat, Mac watched as a small walled encampment grew steadily larger. It looked a lot like the prison she had gone to in search of Kabhir, only smaller. And unlike that prison, this one was under the control of the US Marine Corps.

The helo set down outside the front gates. Mac popped off her seatbelt and grabbed her gear. Harm was a little slower to respond. When he finally rose and picked up his own kit, she saw him hesitate slightly before stepping out onto Afghan soil.

They were escorted through the gates into the central compound. Like the other Afghan prison she had seen, this one was constructed in the shape of a hollow square. A low covered walkway lined all four sides, shading the entrances to rooms laid out in a row, similar to a roadside motel. Their escort led them to the far left corner of the compound, to a room that had become the office of the strike force C.O., Col. Mason Storey.

A squat, thick-necked bulldog of a man, Storey had to look up at Harm. “Commander, I hope this place looks a little friendlier than the last time you were here.”

“Friendlier, yes,” Harm replied, his tone empty and formal, “but no more inviting, sir. I’d like to get this over with ASAP, Colonel.”

“I understand your discomfort, Commander, but there’s really no rush. There’s not enough light left to get you two back to the carrier today and I’m not willing to risk a helo and pilot on a night run. You’re here till morning.”

Mac saw a little more of the color drain from Harm’s face, and wondered briefly how her own must look. She wasn’t too thrilled about spending the night in a place like this and she could only imagine how Harm felt.

“Cool your heels out in the compound for a few minutes,” the colonel told them, “and I’ll have each of the suspected guards brought out one at a time.”

“Yes, sir,” Harm replied, his lack of enthusiasm plain.

When Mac turned to go out with him, the colonel stopped her. “Lt. Col. MacKenzie, if you’ll remain for a moment.”

Reluctantly, Mac turned back as Harm went out.

His guts on fire, Harm stepped out of the colonel’s office. Although low in the sky, the sun still blazed. Sweat gathered and trickled down his spine. Oh, he knew that feeling well!

He also knew that in a few hours, it would be bitterly cold, dark and quiet out here. After the sun went down, everyone who had been out in the daylight would scurry inside. And everything that had been hidden from the strong light of day would come out.

He resisted the urge to brush away the remembered skittering of tiny creatures on his skin.

A Marine corporal came up to him, offering a sharp salute and dragging him thankfully back to the present. “Sir, I’ve been ordered to show you to your quarters. If you’ll follow me, you can stow your gear.”

The young man started across the compound but when Harm saw the direction he was heading, his steps slowed. An overwhelming anxiety gripped him by the lungs and wouldn’t let go. He was not going anywhere near that corner of the compound, and absolutely nothing on earth would change that.

“Corporal!” The kid stopped, looking back questioningly. “Uh, where are the heads around here?”

“Right over there, sir,” the corporal replied, pointing where Harm knew he would, to a corner on the side of the compound they’d just come from.

He stepped a little closer to the young Marine and lowered his voice. “Any chance of getting a room on this side?” He put a hand to his stomach. “I’m fighting a bit of a stomach bug, if you know what I mean.”

Understanding dawned on the corporal’s face. “Ah, yes sir. I think we can work something out. We put Col. MacKenzie over here for privacy, since we don’t exactly have a lot of women present, but there’s one other empty room. I can move a cot in for you if you’d like, sir, but the room’s a little small.”

That’s fine, Corporal. I don’t mind small.” It wasn’t quite the truth, but as long as it was above ground, he’d manage.

*********

After meeting with the colonel regarding the suspected Marine deserters, Storey asked a freckle-faced young corporal to escort Mac to the wing on far side of the compound where the prisoners were being held. She wanted a chance to interview them alone, before Harm made his identification.

As she followed the corporal across the compound, a strange, almost morbid curiosity gripped her as she tried to see the place as Harm would see it. She couldn’t do it.

Something must have registered on her face, however, because the corporal stopped suddenly, looking around the compound as if he’d never seen it before. “It sure is a different world here, isn’t it, ma’am? If some of the criminals in the US had to live like this, maybe our crime rate would be lower.”

“Maybe so, Corporal, but this facility didn’t house criminals lawfully convicted of a crime,” she reminded him.

“That’s true, ma’am. In fact, I heard that before we took the place, a captured US navy officer was held here. Kept him in that hole right over there.” He pointed to a dark iron grate set into the ground only a few feet away. “I can’t imagine what that must have been like. Can you, ma’am?”

Oh, she could imagine all right, but she knew full well her imagination could not possibly come close to the reality she had seen in the haunted look in Harm’s eyes.

Her gaze fixed on the grate as a fresh wave of horror rose within her. She wanted to turn away, but she was drawn to it by a powerful force she couldn’t quite name. As she approached, she realized the grate was lying on solid ground. Beside it, a dark hole yawned wide, like an entrance to hell.

Mac swallowed against a dryness in her throat that had nothing to do with the desert heat. This was the pit Harm had spent three and a half months in, brought out only for interrogation and torture. Now that she was closer, she could see the remnants of a wooden framework on the ground. This was probably what they used to hoist him out. He’d described to her how they left him hanging above the hole in the brutal heat.

Unable to stop herself, Mac leaned over to look down into the pit. The darkness tried to swallow her whole.

For one brief moment of horrifying clarity, Mac was there. She saw it all, felt it all. The pain, the hunger and thirst, the overwhelming despair and humiliation. In the time it took to draw a single breath, she lived it all, right beside him.

Abruptly, her stomach recoiled. She turned away an instant before its contents boiled up. Gagging and coughing, she braced her hands on her knees, fighting to get herself under control.

The corporal was at her side in an instant. He reached out to help her, then hesitated, clearly uncertain what to do.

Swallowing against the vile taste in her mouth, Mac forced herself to straighten up. “I’m all right,” she mumbled.

“Yes, ma’am,” the young man answered, flushed a bright red against his freckles. “It’s...it’s probably the heat.”

“I’m sure you’re right,” she lied. “Let’s skip the interviews for now. I’ll just go to my quarters and clean up.”

“Yes, ma’am. Right this way.”

As she followed him back across the compound, she spotted Harm coming out of a room near the far end of the wing. When she saw him start in their direction, she prayed she looked better than she felt.

Apparently, she didn’t. He got to within a few feet of them, then his pace suddenly increased. He was at her side in an instant. “Hey, you okay? You’re as white as a sheet.”

“I’m fine,” she mumbled.

“The colonel’s finding the heat a little...difficult,” the corporal supplied. Mac didn’t know whether to slug the kid or kiss him. It offered a good explanation, but it also caused the worried frown on Harm’s face to darken further.

“Are you sure you’re all right?” he asked quickly.

“I’m fine,” she repeated. “I’m just going to go clean up a bit.” As she strode away, she caught a glimpse of the change in Harm’s expression. He didn’t believe her for a minute.

*********

Harm watched Mac go, knowing darn well it wasn’t the heat bothering her. She took the heat better than he did. He thought about questioning the young corporal still hovering beside him, but decided against it. He would keep an eye on her, though. Something wasn’t right.

Standing in the middle of the compound, Harm realized he had a choice to make. He could stand out here and bake or he could escape to the shade. The prisoners would be coming out soon, and he would have to go down to that wing to see them. It made sense to wait for Mac in front of that wing.

He still couldn’t go anywhere near the far corner, where the gaping mouth of a demon waited, ready to swallow him, but if he kept to the opposite side of the compound....

His mouth dry enough to spit sand, Harm made it to the prison wing. Waiting near the corner, he strategically positioned himself so his back was to the pit. Mac joined him a moment later, briefly touching his back as she stepped up beside him. To anyone else, it would have appeared she was merely alerting him to her presence, but Harm felt the subtle hesitation that turned it into a silent gesture of support.

Col. Storey arrived and nodded to one of the armed guards stationed along the row of cells. The guard moved to one of the doors as the colonel turned to Harm and Mac. “There are five men we’re uncertain of. The rest have been confirmed as being prisoners at the time of the takeover.”

Harm’s stomach clenched painfully as the first man was brought out. He couldn’t even see his face yet, but he couldn’t stop the flood of apprehension that washed over him. Standing stiffly at ease, Harm squared his shoulders, forcing himself to breathe slowly and deeply.

The guard roughly shoved the prisoner forward then yanked on his sleeve so he stopped directly in front of Harm. For a moment, he couldn’t bring himself to meet the man’s eyes. He finally forced himself to look at the prisoner’s face.

Dirty and disheveled, the man gazed at Harm, dark eyes boring into him. A malevolent, knowing smile spread across the prisoner’s face.

A barrage of memories slammed into Harm, nearly driving him to his knees. He saw that same vile grin, hovering over him as he crouched in that stinking pit, saw those eyes glowing with a twisted, fanatic gleam as he was hoisted high in the air. Every muscle in his body screamed with the urge to strike out against the smug arrogance. Behind his back, his hands curled into fists. It took everything he had to keep still. “That’s one of ‘em,” he said quietly.

Standing close beside him, Mac could see the fine tremor that went through Harm as he identified one of his captors. She ached with the desire to touch him, to put an arm around him or at least take his hand—something to offer some support, but she didn’t dare.

This had to be agonizing for him, facing these men like this, but he stood, rigid and stoic. Mac was sure no one else could tell what this was costing him, and somehow, that made it even worse. She was right here beside him, but he still had to go through this alone.

Each of the other four men were brought out in turn. Harm positively identified two more, but wasn’t sure about the others. As the last man was led away, she watched Harm take a quick step back, unlocking muscles that had been held too rigid for too long. He gave a minute shake of his head, as if trying to clear his mind.

Mac stepped close to him and kept her voice low, but she couldn’t hide the urgency in it. “Are you okay?”

He nodded quickly, too quickly. “Fine.”

The single clipped word belied its very declaration. Harm was not fine, not by a long shot, but as she watched him turn to speak to the colonel, gathering his tough naval aviator persona around him like a cloak, she knew he would be. It would take some time, but he would be.

*********

Mac was praying Harm wouldn’t want to hang around the prison wing, and she was right. The moment he was dismissed, he strode away across the compound. She noted he kept to one side, the side opposite the pit she’d visited earlier.

Mac turned to the colonel. “Sir, I’d like to obtain blood samples from all five men. Even the ones Commander Rabb couldn’t positively identify. Just because he wasn’t sure they were here doesn’t mean they weren’t.”

“I agree,” the colonel said quickly. “I’ll make the arrangements to have the samples collected. We’ll keep them on ice in our temporary sickbay till you’re ready to leave tomorrow.”

“Thank you, sir, and could you package them discretely? I don’t want to have to explain what I’m carrying back.”

The colonel glanced in the direction Harm had gone. “I understand, Colonel. We’ll wrap ‘em up so you can put the package in your kit.”

“Thank you, sir. Now, I’d like to interview the men.”

*********

As expected, Mac got nothing from the prisoners. None of them would even admit to speaking English. It was hard to believe any of these men were once proud Marines, but she kept thinking back to Gunnery Sergeant Galendez. The gunny had looked so much like a native, she hardly recognized him.

The sun had slipped below the horizon while she was conducting the interviews. She grabbed a quick bite of chow and then went in search of Harm. No one had seen him since he’d made the identifications.

She found him in his quarters, a tiny, windowless room next door to hers. He had the door open, but the room still felt like a cave.

Harm was stretched out facing the wall on a small folding cot. Mac knocked softly, but there was no response. She raised her hand to knock again, but he stirred finally, rolling over slowly.

She stepped into the room, wishing she had some magic words that could ease the pain in his eyes. “How you feeling?”

“Used up,” he said flatly.

“Did you get some sleep?” she asked, knowing how stupid that sounded.

He covered his face with one hand. “No. Didn’t even try.”

Her heart aching, Mac simply stood. She wanted to go to him, but something held her back. He was so completely closed off. It was as if he’d erected a barrier around himself as thick as the walls of this prison.

“Harm—”

“Mac, don’t.” He bit off the words. “Not right now, okay? I don’t want to talk about it right now.”

“I understand,” she lied. “It’s...it’s getting late. Try to get some sleep.”

He didn’t answer. He simply rolled back toward the wall. Her heart in her throat, Mac silently left the room.

*********

Several hours later, Mac was still awake. After the heat of the day, she reveled in the brisk chill of the night air. In the privacy of her quarters, she’d changed out of her damp uniform shirt, slipping on a light tank top. It wasn’t quite regulation, but it was close enough.

Despite the relief from the heat, Mac couldn’t sleep. She was worried about Harm, but her insomnia went even beyond that. Ever since they arrived, she’d been feeling a deep unease. She kept telling herself it was because of what happened to Harm, but she swore there was an evil here, a vile presence in the very earth beneath them.

Suppressing a shudder, she paced the small, rough-hewn room. The air was cool, but utterly still and the room still felt stuffy. In hopes of finding at least a small breeze, she opened the door a few inches. Nothing. The air outside was as still as it was inside.

In the stillness of night, Mac heard a soft sound. Trying to identify it, she opened the door wider, listening hard. It came again, a low moan.

Mac went completely still. She knew that voice as well as she knew her own. It was Harm.

Slipping outside, she hurried to his room. Pausing in the open doorway, she peered into the darkened room. A shaft of pale moonlight slashed across the floor, giving just enough light to see the cot on the far side. Harm was sleeping on his side, facing toward her now. He flinched suddenly, thrashing onto his back, mumbling something incoherent.

As she feared, he was having a nightmare. She knew he’d been plagued by them in the weeks following his rescue from this awful place and it didn’t surprise her that coming back here had reawakened the demons inside him.

He cried out again, louder this time. Worried someone would think something was seriously wrong and sound the alarm, she darted across the room, going to her knees at his side.

He let out a sound that was somewhere between a sob and a moan. “No! No more!” he pleaded, his voice a harsh, strangled whisper.

Swallowing down the lump of tears that suddenly clogged her throat, Mac caught his shoulders. “Easy, Harm. Wake up. Wake up now.”

He thrashed against her restraint, fighting with a growing frenzy. “Stop it! No, don’t!”

Mac shook his shoulders hard. “Wake up! Harm, you’re dreaming. It’s all a bad dream, now wake up!”

At last, his eyes flew open and he went still. His body slick with sweat, the rigid muscles beneath her hands stayed rock hard for a long time before they finally began to uncoil.

“Mac?” he whispered hoarsely.

“Yeah, it’s me. You were having a bad dream.”

He let out a huge sigh, and more of the tension left him. She didn’t need to restrain him any longer, and her touch turned soothing instead.

“I haven’t had a nightmare in weeks! I thought they were finally gone for good,” he groaned.

“Hey, this place would give anyone nightmares,” she said honestly.

“If you think this is bad, you ought to try the economy rooms on the other side. The basement suite is particularly interesting.”

She could barely see him, but she stared anyway. “Harm, I can’t believe you said that! How can you joke about it?”

He gave a dry laugh. “Just following doctors’ orders. They tell me humor helps.”

Mac shook her head. “Well, whatever works. Now, if you’re all right, I’d better get out of here. If anyone saw me come in, we’re both going to have some explaining to do.”

She started to draw away, but he caught her hand. “Don’t go.” Mac hadn’t realized it before, but he was trembling. His voice was rough and filled with a kind of pain she hadn’t heard before. “I don’t care what people might say. Stay with me.”

He pulled her across his chest, wrapping her in his arms and burying his face in her hair. Something wasn’t right here, she told herself. Even with all he’d been through, she’d never seen him so...frightened. She did her best to sooth him, not sure how to handle this new side to him.

His fierce embrace went on and on until slowly, he began to relax. Mac thought he was drifting back to sleep, but he moved suddenly, stroking her hair. “I’m sorry,” he whispered. “I didn’t mean to...overreact like that.”

“Was this one worse than the others?” she asked softly.

“Sort of.” Releasing her, he rolled over and sat up. He sat for a moment, then took her hand in both of his. “You know I’ve had nightmares about this place ever since I got out of it, but what you don’t know is, I could never remember them. Not one scrap. I’d wake up screaming, filled with a terror way beyond anything I felt while I was actually here, but I never knew why – till now.”

“Maybe you were able to remember because I woke you up in the middle,” she whispered. “Do you want to tell me what you saw?”

“You.” The answer was so soft she almost didn’t hear. “I saw you. Oh God, Mac, it wasn’t me they were torturing, it was you!”

Stunned, Mac didn’t know what to say. He sat there, clinging to her hand, fighting for control and she had no words to comfort him. But maybe she didn’t need words. Sliding her free arm tightly around him, she rested her head on his shoulder, silently offering what words could not.

They sat together for a long moment before he stirred. Turning his head slightly, he softly kissed her cheek. Startled, she lifted her head to look at him but before she could get a word out, his mouth came down on hers.

His kiss was desperate this time, urgent and hungry. He crushed her against him, his sudden, raging desire igniting the fires inside her. She couldn’t help but respond to the urgent demands of his tongue as his hands roamed her body, trailing fire wherever they went.

But a part of her knew this was wrong. Not only were they in a Marine encampment, where intimate relationships were strictly forbidden, but it was wrong in other ways, too. It wasn’t Harm kissing her, touching her, needing her. Not really. It was his fear and guilt overwhelming him. If they went any farther, here, now, like this, they would both regret it.

An instant before she lost herself forever in the heat of his passion, Mac managed to pull away. “Harm, we can’t,” she whispered, breathless.

His hands still skimming her back, he tried to pull her close. “Why not?”

“It’s...it’s not right. Not here and not now anyway. We’re in the middle of a war zone!”

“My whole life is a war zone,” he groaned, but slowly, he drew his hands away. He folded them in front of him, as if needing to keep an eye on them. “Mac, I’m sorry.”

“Don’t apologize. If this were another time, another place...”

“If,” he snorted. “It’s always ‘if’ with you and me, isn’t it. ‘If’ we weren’t colleagues. ‘If’ we weren’t involved with other people. ‘If’ I had all my marbles where they belonged. Mac, I am so damned tired of ‘if’!”

Mac tried hard to blink away the sudden sting of tears in her eyes, glad it was so dark in the room. “So am I,” she whispered.

He shifted over on the cot, literally putting distance between them. When he spoke, his voice was flat and empty. “Go, Mac, while you still can. We’ll talk later.”

Slowly, she rose to do as he asked. Later. It was a word she hated almost as much as if.

*********

In the dim light of the moon, Harm watched Mac go. He meant what he said. He was sick and tired of the twisted complexities of their lives constantly being a barrier between them. He wanted to go after her, to apologize and try one more time to explain, but he didn’t move. A hundred things held him back, including more than a little embarrassment.

This was getting ridiculous. It seemed like every time he got the slightest bit emotional, he ended up pawing Mac like a teenager in rut. When had this become about sex?

It’s not, you moron! came the answer. And it wasn’t. It wasn’t about sleeping with her, it was about wanting – needing – to be close to her, needing her to know how he felt about her. It was about making sure things ended up the way they should between them before it was too late.

Completely drained, Harm flopped back on the cot. How the hell was he supposed to do that when he’d just created another rift between them?

*********

Harm was still considering that question when he dragged his sorry ass out to the helo the next morning. He hadn’t slept a wink after Mac left, and from the look of her, she hadn’t either. They’d mumbled a “good morning” in the chow line and stumbled through a few necessary conversations, but that was all.

Harm stood beside the helo, waiting for Mac while the pilot, Sergeant Anders, a gray-haired man in his early forties, warmed up the bird. As Mac approached, he still couldn’t tell what kind of a mood she was in. The only thing he knew for sure was that she was as wiped as he was.

He rested a hand briefly on her shoulder as he took her kit and put it on board. “Come on, Mac. Let’s go home.”

“Amen,” she replied emphatically.

Harm climbed on board behind her, but quickly realized the pilot was alone up front. Mac saw it too. “Where’s your other half?” she teased the pilot.

“Out sick, ma’am. Must have picked up a flu bug, but don’t worry. I can handle this baby by myself. Since there’s an empty seat up here, you want a better view on the way home ma’am?”

She smiled and shook her head. “No thanks. I’ll give that honor to Cmdr. Rabb. He’s the one who likes to fly.”

Anders turned to him. “How ‘bout it, sir?”

Harm glanced at Mac. She smiled at him and waved him forward. “Go on. You two play with the toys. All I want to do is sleep.”

With a quick grin, he climbed into the front seat. The sergeant glanced up at him and spotting his wings. “Hey, you’re an aviator! What’s your ride, sir?”

“Tomcats,” Harm replied, slipping into the copilot seat.

“Well, sir, they may be fast, but I’ll take a whirlybird any day.”

“Why is that?”

“A Tomcat can’t do this!” With a grin, he grabbed the controls and the helo shot straight up into the air.

Harm laughed, but his grin faded when he glanced into the back. “Let’s take it easy, Sergeant. The colonel’s lookin’ a little green around the gills.”

The pilot’s grin widened even further, but he leveled off, smoothing out the ride.

*********

Willing her stomach to stay where it belonged, Mac silently cursed the helo pilot, but not too severely. This was the first time she’d seen Harm laugh since they left Washington. She’d known getting him anywhere near the controls of an aircraft would be an instant tonic for him.

Through her headset, she listened to the two men killing time with conversation.

“You ever fly helos, sir?”

“A few times, but I’m not qualified on them. How long you been flying these things, sergeant?”

“Nearly twenty years, sir. My old man flew ‘em too, over ‘Nam.”

That shut Harm down, but only for a moment. “Like father, like son.”

Mac heard the wistful note in his voice, but apparently Anders didn’t. He continued to rattle on about flying choppers, regaling them both with tales of a few close calls. With his voice droning in her ears, and the constant roar of the engine over that, Mac was having trouble keeping her eyes open. Resting her head against the back of the seat, she let herself doze off.

*********

Nearly an hour into the flight, Sgt. Anders was still talking, and Harm was still listening. Despite the difference in their experiences, he felt a kinship with any pilot. They swapped stories, each trying to top the other for daring, bravery or sometimes just dumb luck. Harm didn’t tell him about his ramp strike, though. That subject was still a little to raw.

“Hey, Commander, I’ll bet you never—Sonofabitch!”

Harm reacted a fraction of a second behind Anders as a hail of bullets suddenly sprayed the helo. Wrenching on the stick, Anders dragged the bird to the right, away from the gunfire, but not fast enough. The helo bucked suddenly and alarms went off all over the cockpit.

“We’re hit, sir! I’ll have to set her down! See if you can find—”

Another barrage of gunfire sprayed the helo. Harm ducked instinctively as several rounds pierced the cockpit. The helo took a sudden, steep dive and Harm shot a glance at Anders. He was dead.

With one hand, Harm hauled the man’s body off the stick while he grabbed the controls with the other. He fought with them for several seconds before he finally got the helo reasonably level. Mac’s worried voice came over the intercom. “Harm, what’s happening?”

“We’ve been hit. The pilot’s dead.”

She appeared suddenly in the space between the two seats. She glanced briefly at Anders, and for a moment, her expression filled with sorrow, but it hardened again when she turned to him. “How bad is the damage?”

“Bad. I can’t keep her in the air.”

“Harm, didn’t I hear you tell him you’re not qualified on helos?”

“You did,” he confirmed, still fighting the controls.

“Can you fly this thing?” she asked quickly, her voice rising an octave.

“On a clear day with a fully functional bird, probably,” he replied, “but like this, I doubt it, which raises an even larger question.” He spared her a quick glance. “Can I land it!”

Mac disappeared and Harm knew she’s gone back to her seat. “Strap in,” he ordered over the intercom. “I see a flat open area up head. I’m going to put her down before it’s too late.”

Setting down a helo was nothing like landing a fixed wing aircraft. Harm had only done it a time or two and never with an injured bird. The controls were sluggish and soft and he knew they were coming down way too fast, but he had no choice. They were streaming fuel and it was only a matter of time before the engine quit all together. If that happened, they’d drop like a rock.

With a bone-jarring bang, the helo slammed into the ground. The instant they hit, Harm killed the engines, his hand nearly missing the switch as he was thrown forward. He slammed back into the seat just as hard. Stunned, he sat for a fraction of a second then started clawing at the harness release, ripping off his headset with the other hand.

“We gotta get outa here,” he shouted to Mac. “There’s fuel everywhere. She could blow!”

When he climbed into the rear, Mac was already out of her harness. He grabbed the emergency gear from its storage compartment while she retrieved a pair of rifles from a compartment on the other side.

Snagging one from her, he almost pushed her out the side door. “Go!”

She leapt out and hit the ground running. Harm was right behind her, but as he jumped, he felt his left foot catch on something. A wrenching pain shot through his knee and he hit the ground face first.

Instinctively, he tried to roll, but couldn’t quite manage it. A second later, Mac was at his side. She scooped his rifle up in one hand while using the other to help him up. Together, they darted across the desert sand. An instant later, the helo erupted in a ball of flame.

They managed to duck behind a rocky outcropping, landing in a heap. Without conscious thought, he covered her body with his own, shielding her as wreckage and debris rained down around them.

A few moments later, the bombardment of incoming wreckage stopped and he slowly lifted his head. “Are you all right?”

She came up beside him, her face smudged and her cover sitting askance on her head. “I think so. Are you?”

“I wrenched my knee when I fell, but it’s not too bad.” It wasn’t quite the truth. The damned thing hurt like hell, but he wasn’t going to tell her that.

They slowly got to their feet, brushing themselves off. They both scanned the surrounding hills, wary of snipers. Harm took a few tentative steps, testing his knee. It hurt, but it wouldn’t slow him down too much.

“We’d better start back toward the prison,” Mac suggested. “This burning hulk is way too big a beacon.”

Harm glanced at the flaming remains of the helo, making a silent vow that he would send someone back to retrieve the body of Sergeant Anders. “Let’s go.”

*********

They started back toward the prison camp at a brisk but even pace. Mac took the compass out of the emergency pack Harm was carrying and hung it around her neck. As they walked, she took a bearing every so often to keep them on track. As the morning wore on, the heat became unbearable. They were both carrying full canteens, as per regulations, but if they didn’t use the water sparingly, there was no way it would last.

Licking parched lips, Mac glanced at Harm. He’d been limping for the last hour or more, and it was getting worse. “Harm, we should find some shade and take a break. We’re going to kill ourselves if we keep going during the hottest part of the day.”

He stopped, chest heaving with the heat and exertion. He scanned the high ground around them. “Maybe you’re right. He glanced at his watch. “It’ll be another hour at least before anyone misses us, and then they’ll start searching. We can rest for awhile and when we start moving again, if we stick close to the helo’s route, they shouldn’t have too much trouble finding us.”

Ahead on the left was a steep wall of rock. At the base a sliver of shade was beginning to reappear as the sun moved off its zenith. They headed for it. Mac watched Harm throw off the pack and sink gratefully to the ground. Setting her rifle down beside him, she rummaged through the pack.

“What are you looking for?” he asked, taking a small swig from his canteen.

“The first aid kit. You’re hurt a lot worse than you let on,” she admonished.

“It’s not that bad,” he protested as she found what she was looking for and started lifting his pant leg.

He heard her suck in a breath when she revealed his knee. “Not that bad, huh? Harm, your knee looks like a balloon! Why didn’t you say something?”

“Like what? We had to keep moving, so there wasn’t much sense in whining about it.”

Mac could have strangled him. “I could have at least taken the pack. You didn’t need to be hauling that extra weight with your knee in this condition.”

He gave her that look that said he knew she was right, but he was never going to admit it. He winced as she put a chemical cold pack across the inflamed knee.

Dropping onto one hip, Mac took a swallow from her canteen. The water was lukewarm, but it still felt like heaven as it slid down her parched throat. Leaning back against the rock wall, Mac closed her eyes for a moment. She thought back to the sniper attack and wondered if it was just a random strike. Was it just coincidence that the helo carrying both the DNA evidence and the only eyewitness was shot down?

She glanced at Harm, resting beside her. His head was tipped back, his eyes closed. Lord, he’d been through a lot lately. She had watched him struggle back from the psychological effects of his incarceration, only to be thrown right back into the middle of the foray. She knew he had to be worried about being captured again. Hell, it was worrying her!

But he was right that someone would be searching for them soon. If they stayed near the helo’s route, they had a pretty good chance of being found by the right people before the wrong people spotted them, assuming the wrong people weren’t actively searching for them already. Sitting up, Mac propped her elbows on her knees, letting her head drop forward.

Shifting restlessly, Harm removed the cold pack from his knee. The swelling had already gone down and the pain was nearly gone. Carefully, he flexed his knee a couple of times. It was stiff, but the ice had definitely helped.

Once activated, the cold pack’s chemical reaction couldn’t be stopped. It would gradually warm up until it was worthless. They might as well get whatever use out of it they could. “Here.” He tapped Mac on the shoulder to get her attention before laying the pack across the back of her neck. She lifted her head slightly and a look of total bliss spread across her face.

He held the pack in place against her neck, letting her hair tickle the back of his hand. There had hardly been a personal word between them since last night. He desperately wanted to clear the air between them, but didn’t know how to begin. For now, it was better to stick to the subject at hand.

“Maybe we should plan on staying here,” he suggested. “We aren’t too far of the helo’s route. We’ll hear anyone searching by air.”

Mac slowly lifted her head, reluctantly removing the cold pack. “I don’t know if that’s a good idea. The strike on the helo might not have been a random attack. There could be enemy forces looking for us too.”

“Why do you think that?” he asked, confused.

“I...I had some evidence in my gear. They may have been trying to make sure it didn’t get back to our forces.”

Mac rose to her feet. Harm stood, testing his knee as he went. “Evidence? What evidence? Mac, what are you talking about?”

“Harm, the admiral didn’t just send me along to give you some support and ensure the prisoners were treated fairly. I have another assignment, one we didn’t tell you about.”

The hair on the back of his neck prickled. What would Mac have been ordered to do that they couldn’t tell him about? He waited for her to go on. She took a deep breath, hesitating, and the longer she waited, the more he knew he wasn’t going to like what she said.

“I was given a direct order not to tell you this, but circumstances have changed. You might need to know this if we’re going to get out here in one piece.” She hesitated again. “I was sent to investigate the very credible report that some of the men who guarded you at that prison are actually US Marines who deserted and joined the Talaban forces.”

Harm stared at her. Standing solidly on the ground, he pulled at least nine g’s. All the air slammed from his lungs and his vision narrowed to a tiny, focused pinpoint. Blood roared in his ears. Mac’s urgent tugging on his arm was the only thing that kept him from losing it completely and spinning out of control.

Mac steadied Harm when she saw him sway slightly, his expression slack, his eyes unfocused. And then, slowly, he honed in on her with his own internal guidance system. As his gaze refocused, a hard glint entered his eyes.

“Are you okay?” she whispered.

“No.” He spit out the word, bitter and gritty as the sand beneath their feet.

Inside, Mac began to shake. She’d seen Harm violently angry in the past, but she’d never seen the cold look of murderous rage he wore now. He shook off her grasp and backed away a few steps. “No, I’m not okay.” His voice was as cold and hard as his gaze. “The...scum...who did this to me aren’t Americans. A US serviceman could never do that to another one. Never.” Mac heard the change to present tense. Harm was lost in a nightmare world, reliving it all – because of her.

She tried to grab his arm again, but he drew back as if she would burn him. “Mac, if you’re right, if they really are Marines...” He spun away, striding into the desert with the snap of purpose in every step.

She darted after him. “Harm, where are you going? What are you going to do?”

He turned back, literally vibrating with rage. His voice was steady, however...steady and deadly calm. “Don’t ask that, Mac. It will make you an accessory.”

He turned and strode away. Even in the midst of his fury, he couldn’t quite suppress the limp. Mac darted after him. She grabbed his arm but it took every ounce of strength she had to spin him around. “Harm, don’t! This is crazy! It’s miles back to the prison. You’d never make it alone!”

“That’s where you’re wrong. I’ll make it, and alone is the only way I’m going. Stay out of this, Mac. It doesn’t concern you anymore.”

“Like hell it doesn’t!” she shouted. “You are a United States Naval officer and you’re about to commit a crime. You admitted it yourself when you said I’d be an accessory.”

“This isn’t about the navy anymore, or the Marine Corps or any other damned branch of the service! This is about me, and about them, and about what they did to me!”

“I don’t believe that!” she screamed at him. “And neither do you!”

At six-foot-four, Harm was an imposing presence at the best of times, but now, cloaked in fury and driven by rage, he surged forward and Mac needed every scrap of her Marine training to keep from taking a step back.

“Don’t you dare tell me what I need!” he screamed in her face. “I said I wanted you in my life, Mac, not running it! You have no idea what I went through back there, and I pray to God you never do! I was learning to live with it, just barely, because I believed the men responsible were a tribe of intolerant religious fanatics with a warped sense of their own responsibilities on this earth, but now I find out they were Americans! Men who took the same God-damned oath I did! I can’t – I won’t – stand around here while they twist that oath into the same heinous perversion that killed so many innocent people! I can’t!”

He spun around again and started to walk away. Mac cursed silently. She had misjudged the effect this would have on him – misjudged it by a mile! She had to stop him before he did something he’d regret for the rest of his life – and hers. He would either die out there in the desert, trying to make his way back to the prison, or by some miracle, he’d make it back, and destroy his life by his own hand. Either way, his life would be over.

Without making a conscious decision, Mac found herself running after him. Catching up, she darted in front of him, then did something that should have been inconceivable. She drew her sidearm and pointed it squarely at Harm.

He stopped, but the look on his face was one of complete disdain. “What are you going to do, shoot me? Get serious, Mac.”

“I’m very serious,” she said with a calm she didn’t feel. “I’m not going to let you do this, Harm.”

“And you’d shoot me to stop me? You care more about the lives those turn-coat deserters than you do about—”

“I care more about you than I do about anyone on this planet,” she said sharply. “In case you hadn’t noticed, I love you, Harmon Rabb, Jr. and there’s not one chance in hell I’m going to let you stalk off into the desert in the condition you’re in.”

He stared at her, all expression evaporating, except one: shock. It was then that she realized what she’d said. She was standing here, holding Harm at gunpoint for Christ sake, and she’d just blurted out that she loved him!

Very slowly, she lowered the gun, whispering, “Don’t do it, Harm. Please!”

He gazed at her for a moment longer and then, without a word, turned and walked back toward their makeshift camp.

Very carefully, she re-holstered the weapon. It looked like she’d managed to stop him from destroying his life, but she didn’t hold out much hope that their relationship had faired as well. As he’d turned away, she’d caught a glimpse of the look on his face. Professed love or not, she doubted he’d ever speak to her again.

*********

Over an hour later, she was beginning to think she was right. He hadn’t said a word, or so much as even looked at her, the whole time. He sat with his back to her, his forearms resting on his knees. The silence was agonizing. She wished to God she’d never told him about the guards. She’d violated orders to do it, and all she’d done was hurt him further. Picking up a pebble, she flung it across the sand.

At the very least, she should have had the brains to keep her mouth shut about her feelings. The last thing they needed was the added complication of the “L” word dangling out there.

“Why, Mac?” The sudden question came out of nowhere. His voice was rough and scratchy. “Why didn’t you tell me about the Marines?”

Mac moved over and sat down beside him. He still didn’t look at her. “I was trying to protect you. We all were. Harm, you’ve been through so much lately. I didn’t see any point to adding to your burden, and neither did Admiral Chegwidden. He specifically ordered me not to tell you. I’ll be lucky if I’m not up on charges when we get back.”

A very tiny smile tugged at the corners of his mouth and he finally turned to look at her. “I know where you can find a good lawyer.”

Mac chuckled. “I hope he works cheap.”

“For the right client,” a glow came into his eyes, “he’s been known to work for homemade jelly on toast.”

Mac’s smile widened as she remembered how much he enjoyed the simple breakfast. Why did that feel like a lifetime ago? “Well, then payment won’t be a problem. I’ve got six more jars in the cupboard.”

He laughed. “That’s enough for a lifelong retainer.” His smile faded, turning bittersweet. “You’re always trying to protect me. Is that why you kept that other little bombshell to yourself too?”

Mac knew instantly what he was talking about. Her unexpected admission. “Yes,” she said quietly. “I didn’t want to...complicate things.”

“Maybe it doesn’t have to,” he said very softly. “Maybe it will simplify things instead.”

Mac didn’t know if she liked the sound of that or not. “How? What do you mean?”

He pushed to his feet, extending a hand to help her up. He didn’t let go right away, holding her hand tightly for a moment. “As you said last night, not here and not now. We need our minds on what we’re doing and what’s going on around us.”

He was right about that. As much as she hated to admit it, a combat zone was no place for this kind of discussion. As usual, it would have to wait. Until later.

*********

His mind only half on what he was doing, Col. Mason Storey added his signature to the bottom of a requisition form and moved it to his out-box. Paperwork was the part of his job he hated the most.

He was almost glad for the interruption when a sharp rap sounded on his door. He set the pen down. “Enter.”

Sgt. Crawley marched in and snapped off a salute. “Sir, we just received word from the Seahawk. The helo that left here this morning is overdue.”

Under his breath, Storey let fly a curse. This was the last thing they needed. Their resources were stretched to the breaking point. Mounting a proper search wasn’t going to be easy. “Have they got a search going from their end?”

“Yes, sir,” Crawley replied. “They’ve asked if we can begin from this end, in hopes of covering more ground.”

Storey knew they would. “Very well. Get the other helo in the air, Sergeant, and have three two-man teams standing by for ground recon if necessary.”
“Yes, sir.” The sergeant saluted and turned to leave.

Storey shook his head. He tried hard to never jump to conclusions, but with both Rabb and the blood samples on the same helo, it was easy to think someone might have a good reason for wanting it to disappear in the desert.

*********

After a brief discussion, Harm and Mac had decided to keep moving. The closer they could get to the prison camp, the better off they’d be. Mac insisted on carrying the pack this time and she set a much slower pace. If Harm’s knee gave out, they wouldn’t get very far.

Even though they had made amends before starting out again, harm was quiet, too quiet. Mac knew he was still upset about the guards. His rage may have dissipated, but his anger had not.

“Harm, when we get back to the prison, you’re not going to do anything stupid, are you?”

He fired her one of those exasperated looks. “Mac, I never do anything stupid.”

“Oh, yeah right,” she shot back, trying to suppress a grin. “This, from the king of stupid moves!”

“Yeah, like what?” he demanded, his eyes glowing with the challenge of verbal swordplay with her.

“Firing a weapon into the courtroom ceiling.”

“I was making a point.”

“Trying to fly back from the carrier in the worst storm of the century.”

“Couldn’t disappoint a friend.”

“Going up with a pilot you suspected of killing his RIO.”

“Had to flush him out.”

“Kissing me in the middle of a war zone.”

Mac froze. That last one had just slipped out. Harm stopped, looking back over his shoulder. “Which part was stupid, kissing you or doing it in a war zone?”

His tone was still light and bantering, but he’d put her on the spot nonetheless. She gazed at him for a moment, then opted for honesty. “The war zone part.”

He chuckled, but there was a sad note to it. “Well, you’re the one with the impeccable sense of timing, not me.” He let out a breath. “But to answer your original question, no, I’m not going to do anything stupid, unless you count making sure that, if they are Marines, they spend the rest of their lives rotting in Leavenworth.”

“Now that,” she said emphatically, “I would be happy to help you with.” She jogged a couple of steps to catch up with him. “I’m glad you’re finding some perspective on this.”

“I guess I am,” he agreed. “I’m still outraged by what they’ve done, but if I blow my career over it, that would be letting them win. They almost destroyed my career once. I’m not going to let it happen a second time.”

“You have no idea how glad I am to hear you—”

A bullet ricocheted off a rock not six inches from her feet.

Simultaneously, Mac ducked and rolled while Harm brought his rifle to bear. On the run, he laid down cover fire as Mac darted behind him, firing as well as she sought cover for them.

There wasn’t much cover to be had. They managed to dive behind a small pile of boulders, but the largest was barely big enough to hide behind.

“We’re pinned down,” Mac hissed.

“I know.” Harm scanned the area. “Over there.” He pointed with his elbow at a larger rock outcropping several feet away.

“It’s too far. We’ll never make it!”

“Oh, yes we will,” he said defiantly. “Get ready.”

Knowing there was no choice, Mac got ready to run. Harm glanced at her, saw she was set and gave a quick nod. “Here we go.”

At last, the rage that had boiled inside him for so long could have its release. With a savage yell, Harm popped up from behind the rock, laying down a spray of cover fire on full auto. “Not this time, you bastards!” he shouted. “Not this time!”

He didn’t quit firing until he saw out of the corner of his eye that Mac was safely behind the next outcropping. When he stopped, only two of the four snipers above them returned fire.

Mac fired back, giving him time to dart across the open ground. He dove behind the rocks, landing on the ground behind her. A blinding pain flashed through him as his already injured knee collided with a large rock.

Gasping with the pain, he tried to get to his feet, but the damaged knee refused to hold him. Dropping down beside him, Mac pressed her back to the rock. “You okay?”

“Nope, not this time. My knee’s had it.”

Mac risked a peek over the rock. A bullet sprayed dust and fragments in her face. She ducked down again. “I don’t think it matters. There’s nowhere to go from here.”

Harm glanced around the area. There was a large boulder out in the middle of the scrub several yards away. “I can lay down cover for you to get to that big rock.”

Mac glanced at the rock, then turned, looking at him as if he was crazy. “Not a chance! I’m not going to leave you here!”

“Mac, I don’t agree—”

“Tough! I’m not going. Even if I could make it to the rock, which is debatable, where would I go from there? No. We stick together!”

Panic licked at the back of Harm’s mind. The situation was beginning to look pretty hopeless. A horrifying image from his nightmare flashed through his mind, a gut-wrenching image of Mac at the mercy of the same animals who’d tortured him. His jaw muscles locking painfully, he made a solemn, silent vow that he would die before he let that happen.

“I’ve got an idea,” Mac said suddenly. “If you cover me, I can make it back to the rocks we just came from.”

“What good will that do?”

“From there, I might be able to get far enough back along the ridge to outflank the sniper on the left.”

“No way. You’d never make it. I can’t cover you from beyond that first step.”

“Then I’ll just have to cover myself, won’t I.”

“It’s crazy, Mac. In fact, it’s suicide! Don’t even think about it!”

“Have you got a better idea?” she demanded.

“I’m workin’ on it.” The truth was, Harm was completely out of ideas, even crazy ones.

“Harm, we’ve got to—”

He threw up a hand. “Listen!” He cocked his head, praying his ears weren’t deceiving him. They weren’t. “It’s a helo. One of ours!”

Even as he said the words, a chopper rose from behind the ridge. Gunfire blazed from the open side door.

Harm watched the bullets spray the top of the ridge where the two remaining snipers were holed up. A moment later, the helo cleared the ridge and set down only a few yards away. A Marine leapt from the helo and darted over to them. “Somebody here call a cab?”

*********

The moment they were aboard the helo, it lifted off. The Marine, a gunnery sergeant, helped Mac and Harm get into their seats and strap in. “Sir, ma’am, we’ve been ordered to fly you straight out to the carrier.”

Harm grabbed the man’s arm. “Have you found our helo? Sgt. Anders, he...”

“Don’t worry, sir,” the gunny said quickly, his voice suddenly turning rough. “We’ll get him.”

“Gunny,” Mac shouted over the whir of the blades. “I need to go back to the prison. I had some evidence in my kit. It was destroyed along with the helo. It needs to be replaced.”

“All ready taken care of, ma’am. The C.O. is having new samples sent out immediately.”
Mac flopped back against her seat. They weren’t even going back to the prison. She offered a silent prayer for that one. Despite Harm’s reassurance, she knew how difficult it would be for him to go back there yet again, to know those men were only yards away. At the very least, he’d been spared that.

*********

It was getting dark by the time they arrived on the Seahawk. Lt. Bud Roberts met them on deck. “Welcome aboard, ma’am,” he nodded at Harm. “Commander. Glad you’re both in one piece.”

“One of us isn’t,” Mac shouted back. “Commander Rabb needs to go to sickbay.”

Bud’s grin dissolved into a frown. Harm couldn’t help leaning on the gunny because the burly Marine was the only thing keeping him upright, but he slapped Bud on the back. “I’m fine, Bud. Just a banged-up knee.”

With help from the gunny and Bud, Harm got down to sickbay. The doctor poked and prodded, twisted and yanked, and pronounced it a sprain. After icing it for twenty minutes, the corpsmen wrapped his knee tightly and then gave Harm a couple of painkillers. He couldn’t help wishing the young medic had done it in the reverse order.

Moving gingerly, Harm made his way up to his quarters to clean up then went up to the weather deck, his second favorite place on a carrier. The first was, of course, the cockpit of a Tomcat.

Mac had tried to follow them to sickbay, but she was ordered to report to the skipper. Harm saw the reluctance on her face as she turned, diverting to the bridge. It was just a sprain. He was fine, for crying out loud!

At least, his knee was fine. Standing in the darkness, the strong wind whipping at his hair and clothes, Harm looked down at the helo that had brought them aboard and suddenly, without warning, he began to shake.

Wrapping his quaking hands around the railing, Harm closed his eyes, willing the tremors to subside, but they weren’t cooperating. He was getting too damned old for this stuff, he told himself, knowing full well it was a lie. The sudden shaking in his hands and the tight feeling in his chest had nothing to do with age and everything to do with a mind and body that had been pushed to the limit.

He heard the hatch open behind him and knew full well who it was. He wasn’t disappointed. Mac stepped up beside him, leaning against the rail and looking out at the moonlit white-capped waves. Harm didn’t look at her, didn’t let go of the rail, until he was sure his hands were steady again.

“It’s finally over,” Mac said softly.

When he didn’t respond, she straightened and turned to him. “You okay?”

“Yeah, I guess. Mac, it’s not over yet. If the DNA testing comes back positive, those men will face court-martial.”

“And so will you – as a witness,” she whispered. “Oh, Harm, is this ever going to end for you?”

He turned to face her. She was shivering. “Someday, yeah, it will. But don’t worry, I’ll get through it.” He slipped off his flight jacket and reached around her to drape it across her shoulders, pulling her a bit closer in the process. “With a little help from my friends.”

The End.

This is part 2 of a 4 part series.

Part 1: In The Service Of His Country

Part 3: In Time of Need

Part 4: Now And Forever