Now And Forever

A JAG Fan-Fic By

Sheri Mitchell

sheri@mountainport.ca

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

NLSO Charleston – 13:12 EST

Walking into his tiny, airless office, Harm dropped his briefcase in the corner and sat down at his desk. The chair creaked loudly, as it always did, and he made a mental note to bring some oil from home and grease the springs. He’d already asked about it three times in the past month and had given up on getting it fixed by the maintenance crew.

The Naval Legal Service Office was in an old building and keeping the place shipshape was a full time job. Luckily, Harm liked old buildings. He thought the place had character.

Unlike his new apartment.

For the first two weeks, he’d lived in the station’s BOQ, but that got real old, real fast. He wasn’t twenty-one anymore and the constant comings and goings had gotten on his nerves. The new apartment was quiet, but it was plain and uninteresting – just a boring old apartment. He missed his loft, with the open feel and the little eccentricities that made it interesting.

He missed a lot of things, including the efficiency of working in the JAG HQ. Naval Weapons Station Charleston wasn’t a large base, which meant he didn’t have all the cutting edge resources at his fingertips like he was used to. He missed the people at HQ too. They had become like family to him, sharing triumphs and troubles alike.

He missed Mac.

He’d talked to her twice since his transfer six weeks ago and both times had been on official business. She’d wanted to chat when the official discussion was over and he’d tried to oblige, but had ended up finishing both calls with abrupt, awkward protests that he was swamped with work.

It wasn’t really a lie, but it wasn’t the truth, either. He couldn’t tell her that just hearing her voice hurt like hell.

A soft knock on the door snapped Harm out of his reverie. The door opened and his new CO, Captain Greer strode in. Harm leapt from his chair, but the captain waved him down. “At ease, Commander. I just stopped by to congratulate you on winning your case this morning. You did some fine work in there.”

“Well thank you, sir, but it wasn’t a difficult case to defend. We had some strong evidence.”

“Which you used pretty creatively,” Greer noted.

In his early fifties, Greer was almost as tall as Harm, and still beanpole thin. Harm guessed he’d outweigh the man by quite a bit. Not one to stand on ceremony, the captain had made it clear from the start that he preferred to be friends with the officers under his command. After the rigid but supportive command style of Admiral Chegwidden, the captain’s casual attitude took some getting used to.

“Sit down, Harm,” the captain said, taking a seat himself. “Just wanted to make sure you’re getting settled in.”

“Yes sir, everything’s fine,” Harm replied quickly.

“Good! Good! After all, this must seem like a bit of a backwater after spending so long at HQ.”

“No sir. Not at all.”

Greer chuckled. “And diplomatic too! You are a real find, aren’t you, Commander. I was a little surprised you asked for this assignment, and after seeing you in action in the courtroom today, I’m even more surprised.”

“Why is that, sir?” Harm asked, wishing the captain would just drop it.

“Because frankly, you don’t belong here, Harm. Your talents are being wasted and I think you know that.”

“Sir, with all due respect, I’m where I want to be, and that’s all that matters.”

Greer rose slowly to his feet. “Is it? Seems to me what should be most important is being where you need to be.”

He left Harm to chew on that.

JAG HQ – 11:15 EST The next day

Admiral AJ Chegwidden slipped his glasses off when Tiner buzzed him to say his call was ready on line three. He picked up the phone and leaned back in his chair. “Capt. Greer, good morning. How are things in Charleston?”

“Just fine, Admiral, just fine.”

“Did you get your computer glitch sorted out?”

“Yes, sir. The Weeklies will be on time from now on. Turns out it was a routing issue, but it’s been taken care of.”

“Well, that’s good to hear. So, how is Cmdr. Rabb working out?”

“He’s settling in just fine, Admiral. He’s already claimed his first coup. Put a nifty little spin on some innocuous looking evidence and won an acquittal. He’s one hell of a lawyer.”

“He is that,” AJ agreed.

“If you feel the same way, Admiral, then, if I may be so bold, what the hell is he doing down here? Don’t get me wrong, he’s a terrific asset to this office, and I’m glad to have him, but....”

AJ sighed. “Don’t ask, Rob. It’s a very long story. You said he’s settling in?”

“Sure is. I heard he recently took an apartment in town. He’s finding his way around our system pretty good and gets along fine with everyone in the office. Doesn’t socialize much, but that might change when he gets to know the folks here a little better.”

AJ listened in silence. He was glad things were going well for Rabb, but at the same time, it wasn’t what he wanted to hear. It left him with a difficult decision to make. “Well, I’m happy to hear he’s working out for you, but I knew he would.”

“Yes, sir. He’ll do just fine here. I guess your loss is our gain. Is that all, Admiral?”
“Yes, Captain. Just keep those reports coming in on time.”

“Will do. Bye, Admiral.”

AJ hung up the phone and hunched over his desk, leaning heavily on it. He had to admit, he’d been hoping Rob Greer would tell him Cmdr. Rabb was showing some signs of wanting to come back to Washington. So far, AJ had managed to keep the transfer a temporary one, but that couldn’t last much longer. He was short one attorney and he needed to fix that.

He glanced down at the list of candidates to fill Harm’s position. He had at least minor reservations about all of them, but then, he’d had his doubts about Rabb in the beginning too.

He looked over the list one more time, confirmed a couple of details on some service records and made his decision. Still, he hesitated a moment before signing the order. He’d learned a long time ago to trust his instincts and somehow, this felt wrong.

Scribbling his signature on the order, he punched the intercom. “Tiner, join me please.”

A second later, the petty officer came in. AJ handed him the file. “Inform Cmdr. St. John that he’s been selected. I’ll expect him to report by the end of the week.”

“Yes, sir.”

“And ask the senior staff to assemble in the conference room for a short meeting in twenty minutes.”

JAG HQ – 11:32 EST

Mac took her seat in the conference room, joining Sturgis and Singer, who were already seated on the far side of the big wooden table. The all looked at each other. “Anyone know what this is about?” Sturgis asked.

Mac had her own ideas, but she wasn’t prepared to share yet. If it was just wishful thinking....

Before anyone could speculate, the admiral entered, ordering them at ease before anyone had a chance to move. He sat down at the head of the table. “Thank you for dropping what you were doing. I won’t keep you long. This meeting it to inform you that I’ve chosen Cmdr. Rabb’s replacement. Lt. Cmdr. Paul St. John will be joining us by the end of the week.”

Mac was trying to follow what the admiral was saying, but her mind was still tangled in his announcement. Harm’s replacement? But that meant the transfer would be permanent. Until now, Mac had allowed herself to believe he would be back, but if the admiral filled his position, returning would no longer be an option.

Numbly, she accepted the sheet of paper the admiral handed her. “This is a short abstract on our newest member so you can familiarize yourself with his skills.”

“I met him once a few years ago,” Sturgis said. “As I recall, he was a very...enthusiastic young officer.”

A sinking feeling settled in the pit of Mac’s stomach. Sturgis only chose his words carefully like that when he was trying to be diplomatic. His opinion of the man was obviously less than stellar.

JAG HQ – 08:05 EST

Mac’s suspicions were confirmed when, three days later, she was called to the admiral’s office. Sturgis was waiting in the outer office when she arrived. “Good morning,” he greeted. “Did the admiral ask to see you too?”

“Yeah, he did. Any idea what this is about?” she asked.

“Not a clue. Shall we find out?” He knocked on the door, then pushed it open.

Mac followed Sturgis into the admiral’s office. Waiting with Admiral Chegwidden was a tall, sandy-haired Lt. Commander. Mac recognized him instantly from his bio-sheet.

His hazel eyes ran the length of her body in a sweeping glance and Mac bristled instantly. Her instincts told her this was a man who thought he was God’s gift to women – and perhaps humanity in general.

The admiral gestured broadly. “Lt. Col. Sarah MacKenzie, Commander Sturgis Turner, I’d like you to meet Lt. Cmdr. Paul St. John.”

After a brief handshake from Sturgis, St. John turned to Mac. His grip was warm but soft. He hung on just a little too long and when he finally released her hand, Mac had to resist the urge to wipe it on her skirt.

“I’m very pleased to meet you, Colonel,” he greeted, his voice deep and resonant. Then, as though suddenly remembered the rest of the world existed, he glanced at Sturgis. “You, too, Commander.”

“Welcome aboard,” Sturgis replied.

“Thank you. I’m looking forward to serving here. I’ve waited a long time for this opportunity.”

“Most officers do,” the admiral commented quietly. “If you’ll take your seats, people. There will be time to get to know one another later. Right now, I’d like to go over a few things.”

Mac slid into a chair and forced her mind to stay on track as the admiral briefed them on several topics. And then he came to his final subject, and Mac suddenly had no trouble concentrating.

“An incident occurred last night at the Naval Air Station in Atlanta. An F-14 apparently did a nosedive into the runway after its landing gear collapsed. The pilot involved has already requested legal representation, so personnel from NLSO Charleston have been dispatched, but I need one of you to go down and begin an investigation.”

“Sir,” Mac said quickly. “I’d like to—”

“I’m sorry, Colonel. I can’t spare either you or the commander at the moment. Cmdr. St. John, I usually like to give new officers a chance to settle in slowly, but it seems you’re the only one not up to his six in cases at the moment.”

“Yes, sir!” St. John’s eyes were glowing. “I’ll do my best, sir.”

“Pick up the case file from Petty Officer Tiner on your way out. You’re dismissed.”

St. John nearly flew out the door. Mac suddenly realized she’d somehow slipped to the edge of her seat and slid back quickly. “Admiral, with all due respect, do you think it’s wise to send a him out on an investigation his first day here?”

“Probably not,” the admiral agreed, “which is why you’ll be monitoring the case. The file includes instructions to report directly to you on a daily basis. You’ll be able to guide him and offer advice if he needs it. If I had someone more experienced available, I would send them, but the two of you are both expected in court tomorrow.”

“Yes, sir,” she replied reluctantly. She tried to tell herself that just because personnel from NLSO Charleston were on the scene, it didn’t mean it Harm would be one of them, but she also knew the CO of the NLSO wasn’t a fool. The accident involved Tomcat. Who else would he send?

NAVAL AIR STATION ATLANTA – 10:00 EST

Almost from the instant Harm walked into the conference room, something bothered him about the cocky young fighter jock. Lt. Neil Crossman had a reputation for being a hotshot, and the record to back it up, but like most hotshots, he was a good enough pilot to pull it off – most of the time.

The young man rocketed to his feet when Harm entered the room, snapping rigidly to attention, but somehow even the standard show of respect had Harm’s nerves tingling. The lieutenant was too quick, and the stance too rigid.

“As you were,” Harm told him, gesturing to a seat at the conference table. “I’m Cmdr. Harmon Rabb, from the NLSO.”

“Yes, sir. Thank you for getting out here so quickly.”

“Lieutenant, I’m a little surprised you’ve asked for representation at this point. Do you have reason to believe you’re going to need it?”

“I don’t know, sir, but I thought it would be wise to have someone to advise me.”

“All right.” Harm took out a pen and pad of paper. “Tell me what happened.”

“We were on a cross-country to deliver the Tomcat to San Diego and were scheduled to stop here for the night. On final approach to the runway, everything was green and good to go, but when I touched down, the front gear just dropped out from under me. We nose-dived into the runway. For a minute, I thought the momentum was going to flip us, but it didn’t. Sir, how’s my RIO?”

“Lt. Denault is still unconscious,” Harm replied. “The doctors are cautiously optimistic at this point. Lieutenant, do you have any theories as to what caused the gear to collapse?”

“No sir, none. Like I said we had green across the board then suddenly we were skidding down the runway.”

Harm didn’t buy it. He couldn’t say why, but something wasn’t right. The lieutenant’s explanation was clear and concise, but his straightforward, almost deadpan delivery somehow didn’t ring true. With nothing more than a gut feeling to go on, he opted to keep his thoughts to himself for the moment, but he had a feeling this was going to be a tougher case than he first thought.

He spent a few more minutes going over the details with Crossman, then rose from the table. “All right, Lieutenant. I’m going to make a few enquiries. We won’t know much about how to proceed until the investigator from HQ arrives. We’ll discuss it further after he’s made his recommendation.”

Or her recommendation. Harm didn’t know yet who Admiral Chegwidden was sending down to investigate. Part of him hoped it would be Mac; another part prayed it wouldn’t be.

****

A couple of hours later, Harm sat back in his chair, staring at the wall of the tiny room he’d been assigned to. He was completely baffled. By radio, he’d talked to the plane’s mechanic on board the carrier. He had confirmed that the jet was in perfect condition when it took off.

Things just did not add up. The landing gear on an F-14 didn’t just collapse for no reason. A sharp knock on the door pulled him from his thoughts. “Enter.”

Lt. (j.g.) Dawn Bennett, his assistant on the case, entered the room with another officer. “Sir, this is—”

The officer nearly shouldered her aside as he stepped forward. “Lt. Cmdr. St. John, sir, from JAG HQ. It’s a pleasure to meet you, Commander, although I have to admit, I didn’t expect to go head-to-head with my predecessor on my first case.”

So, this was his replacement at HQ. Harm rose and extended his hand, refusing to acknowledge the pang of disappointment that he wouldn’t be seeing Mac. “Glad to meet you, but I don’t know yet if we’ll be ‘going head-to-head’ as you put it. So far, there doesn’t seem to be any evidence that Lt. Crossman did anything wrong.”

“Well, that’s your take on it,” St. John replied, his tone a little to cavalier for Harm’s taste. “Have you been out to the crash site yet, sir?”

“Not yet, but that’s my next stop.”

“It’s going to be my first stop,” St. John announced. “Shall we go out together?”

Harm grabbed his cover. “Why not.”

****

A few minutes later, Lt. Bennett brought their jeep to a stop near the wrecked plane. Harm ignored the shiver that wanted to climb his spine as he looked up at the damaged jet. Crossman was right about one thing. It could have been a lot worse. Although the front part of the aircraft was badly crumpled and caved in, the rear portion was in reasonably good shape.

With practiced ease, Harm climbed up to have a look inside. He needed only one quick glance and at least one piece of the puzzle popped out clearly. He just wasn’t sure where that piece fit. He climbed down and crossed to Lt. Bennett, who was inspecting the damaged front landing gear. He knelt and leaned close, keeping his voice low. “The landing gear lever isn’t fully engaged.”

She frowned at him. “Is there any way it could have been jarred, maybe when they extricated the pilot?”

Harm shook his head. “They’re designed so they can’t be easily dislodged, for obvious reasons. I think we’d better have another talk with Lt. Crossman.”

“I agree, sir.” Bennett slipped lithely out from under the plane.

Harm ducked out himself, momentarily envying her five-foot-six inch height. As he straightened, he caught site of St. John, picking his way around the tail end of the plane. He stopped and lifted a foot to examine the sloppy white goop sticking to his shoe. “What is this stuff?”

Harm resisted the urge to shake his head in disgust. “It’s the chemical foam they use to absorb spilled aviation fuel.”

St. John grimaced. “Oh, great.”

Moving like a cat on a narrow ledge, St. John made his way to the side of the aircraft and clumsily scaled the side. He looked into the cockpit, slowly and carefully examining everything. At last, he turned and looked down at Harm. “What position is the landing gear lever supposed to be in?”

Harm folded his arms across his chest. “Do you really think I’m the one you should be asking, Commander?”

For a moment, St. John looked at him blankly, then understanding slowly dawned on his face. “Oh, good point. Sorry, sir.”

Harm glanced at Bennett in time to see her shaking her head. “Lord help us,” she whispered. He couldn’t help chuckling as he slid into the jeep to wait for St. John to finish.

****

By the end of the day, Harm had reached one conclusion. This was going to be the kind of case he hated most: defending an officer he felt was guilty. Lt. Crossman hadn’t offered any satisfactory explanation for why the landing gear lever was not properly engaged. Instead, he became defensive and uncooperative, even to Harm. St. John had questioned Crossman after their visit to the crash site and after listening to the lieutenant’s complete lack of explanation, had promptly filed charges.

At the desk in his quarters, Harm looked over the charge sheet. St. John was hitting Crossman with every charge that could conceivably be laid after an incident like this. All that would do is muddy the waters, making it easier for Harm to win the case. After watching St. John work, Harm was confident he could beat the man in court. The inexperienced officer was in way over his head, but he was so blasted arrogant, it would never occur to him to ask for help.

Leaving the paperwork, Harm stretched out on his rack, wrestling with his dilemma. He really hated it when his duty to his client got in the way of his duty to the truth. If Crossman was truly at fault, if he’d made a monumental blunder like not fully engaging that lever, he didn’t deserve to ever sit in a cockpit again, but it was Harm’s job to make sure that’s exactly where he went.

Harm found himself wishing he could talk to Mac. She’d always been his sounding board when conflicts like this arose, but even if he could find the guts to call her, he couldn’t discuss it with her. She was supervising St. John on this case. Someone needed to tell her that if he wasn’t careful, St. John was going to hand the case to Harm on a silver platter. Someone need to tell Mac, but it wasn’t going to be him.

JAG HQ – 09:17 Two days later

With a bit of a flourish, Mac added her signature to the bottom of the plea agreement and closed the file, literally and figuratively. Sturgis had finally talked his client into accepting her offer. The intercom buzzed as she was putting the file aside. “Colonel MacKenzie,” came Tiner’s voice. “The admiral would like to see you, ma’am.”

“Thanks, Tiner. I’ll be right there.”

Gathering some paperwork, she left it with Harriet to be filed away and headed to the admiral’s office. Tiner admitted her immediately.

Admiral Chegwidden waved her to a seat, leaning back in his chair. “Good morning, Colonel. Have you had an update from Cmdr. St. John this morning?”

“Not yet, sir. I was going to call him.”

Chegwidden nodded, hesitating as though gathering his thoughts. “I had a call from the CO at the station in Atlanta. It seems I might have put a little too much faith in St. John’s ability to handle this situation alone.”

Mac frowned. St. John’s reports had made it sound as though everything was going well. “Why is that, sir?”

“The CO down there has expressed some...concern...over how St. John is handling the case. Apparently, Capt. Bishop was passing by when St. John was interviewing some of the medical personnel regarding the condition of the RIO. The captain felt Cmdr. St. John was taking an unnecessarily hostile attitude.”

“He’s probably just a little overzealous, sir,” Mac replied, wondering why she was defending the man.

“Probably,” the admiral agreed, “and if that’s the case, I’m afraid it’s my fault.” He paused again. Hesitancy wasn’t something Mac was used to seeing from the admiral. There was more to this than he was letting on.

“Sir, is something wrong?”

“Hmm?” The admiral snapped back from his thoughts. “I was just thinking, Colonel. I realize now that I’ve put Cmdr. St. John in a very difficult position and, to be honest, I’m finding I have to question my motives just a bit.”

Mac was stunned at his admission. “Why?”

“He’s going up against Rabb, you know.”

“Yes, sir,” she replied softly. “I know.”

“And given the case – a downed F-14 – I knew who Capt. Greer would send as defense counsel.” He looked her straight in the eye. “Did I just throw St. John to the wolves?”

Mac couldn’t help a small chuckle. “No sir, but you did give him one hell of a challenge for his first case.”

“I never should have sent him down there, but with you and Cmdr. Turner tied up in court, I didn’t have much choice.”

“Well you do now, Admiral. Cmdr. Turner and I reached a plea agreement yesterday afternoon. We’re both free now.”

The admiral’s eyebrows climbed slowly. “Colonel, pack a bag.”

Mac smiled as she got to her feet. “Yes, sir!”

NAVAL STATION ATLANTA – 13:10 EST

Harm strode across the open space between the admin building and the base infirmary. He was hoping the doctor would tell him Lt. Denault was improving. A voice called his name from behind and he turned to see Lt. Bennett hurrying toward him. She caught up and fired him a quick salute. “Sir, I thought you should know, things might get a little more difficult.”

“Why?” he asked quickly.

“I heard JAG HQ is sending someone down to assist Cmdr. St. John.”

Harm’s gut clenched. “Did you get a name?”

“Yes, sir. It’s Col. MacKenzie. From what you’ve told me about her, she’s going to be a much more formidable opponent, isn’t she, sir? She’s beaten you in court, hasn’t she?”

Harm glanced down at the ground. Mac had beaten him on several occasions, but that wasn’t what was bothering him. He could face her in court. It was outside the courtroom he was worried about.

****

Mac couldn’t get a direct flight to Atlanta unless she wanted to wait till the next day, so she opted for a couple of short-hop flights instead. The final leg was aboard a helo. As it turned to set down on the pad outside the flight ops building, Mac caught sight of a figure on the tarmac. Like a lone sentry, he stood, feet planted, the backwash from the helo’s rotors tugging at his uniform. Mac’s heart turned over in her chest. The proud figure out there was achingly familiar. She hadn’t realized until this moment just how much she’d missed him.

The moment one of the aircrew opened the side door, Mac hopped out and turned to retrieve her kit. Without even thinking about it, she held out a hand to Harm as she walked toward him and a flood of elation went through her when he reached out and gripped it tightly, drawing her to him. He flashed her one of his signature grins. “Hey, stranger!”

“Hey yourself,” she returned with a smile of her own.

Taking her bag, he turned toward the low concrete building behind them. His hand slid slowly, almost reluctantly from hers, but moved to the small of her back as he escorted her across the tarmac. “How was the trip down?”

“Fine, if you like milk-runs. Where’s Cmdr. St. John?” she asked as the stepped inside.

The fist in Harm’s gut clenched another notch, even though the more rational side of him said it was perfectly natural for her to ask about St. John. He was the reason she was here. “I don’t know. Last I saw him, he was pestering the mechanics in the hangar.”

Mac stopped walking, looking up at him with the dark eyes he remembered so well. “Harm, will you be straight with me?”

His stomach almost turned inside out this time. “What about?” he asked cautiously.

“Is St. John really making a mess of this investigation?”

Relief flooded through him. “He’s just inexperienced, but he’s got a personality that would stop a truck. You must have noticed.”

“Actually, I only met him once. Admiral Chegwidden sent him down here the day he arrived.”

Harm’s eyes went wide. “You’re kidding! I know St. John said it was his first case, but I thought he meant outside investigation.”

“Nope, he meant ‘first case.’ Both Sturgis and I were tied up in court when this came up. If we hadn’t settled on a plea bargain, St. John would still be on his own.”

Harm shook his head, finding at least a little more sympathy for St. John. Admiral Chegwidden did have a tendency to believe in a trial by fire, but this was a bit much.

He waited while Mac went to the main counter where a petty officer gave her a clipboard and asked her to sign in. She signed the papers, then handed the clipboard back. “Can you tell me where I might find Cmdr. St. John?”

“Yes ma’am. He’s using Room Seventeen for interviews. It’s right down the hall.”

“Thank you.” Picking up her kit, she turned back to him. “I guess I’d better check in with him.”

“No problem,” he said with a shrug. “Maybe I’ll see you later.”

“Sure. Hey, want to grab some dinner tonight?”

Harm’s throat nearly seized on him. Working with her was one thing, but the thought of the two of them, alone at dinner... “Sounds great,” he heard himself say. It wasn’t what he’d planned to say, but it was too late to take it back now. Besides, when he saw her quick, beaming smile, he knew he wouldn’t take it back even if he could.

****

Mac gave Harm a quick wave as she headed down the hall in search of Cmdr. St. John. She found him in a room halfway down the corridor. He was in the middle of interviewing a young female petty officer. “So no one entered the cockpit after the pilot was removed.”

“Yes, sir,” the petty officer replied, her voice not quite steady. “That’s what I said.”
“You’re absolutely certain. No doubt in your mind whatsoever?” he demanded.

“No...sir.”

“You don’t sound certain, Petty Officer. Are you hiding something?”

Jaw clenched, Mac stepped into the room. “Commander, a word if you don’t mind.”

St. John leapt to his feet, a fraction of a second behind the petty officer. Mac waved St. John into the hallway. “The only thing she’s hiding, Commander, is how scared she is. What are you trying to accomplish in there?”

“I was attempting to ensure she was telling the truth, ma’am.”

“Do you have reason to believe she wasn’t?” she asked.

St. John hesitated, but only for a moment. “No ma’am, not directly. I was only trying to be thorough.”

“Being thorough is fine,” she told him, “but not at the expense of alienating potential witnesses. It won’t help your case any if you get your witnesses too rattled to be believable on the stand.”

“Yes ma’am. I’m...I’m sorry,” he stammered. “I’m only trying to do a good job.”

“You are doing a good job,” she said quickly, “so lighten up Commander.”

He let a small smile touch his lips, as some of the smooth arrogance she’d seen earlier began to resurface. “Is that an order, ma’am?”

She chuckled. “No, it’s a suggestion. Now, what have you got since your last report?”

“I can’t find a single plausible reason for that landing gear lever to be out of position, and Lt. Crossman doesn’t have an explanation either. In the interests of saving the navy the cost of a trial, I was going to make the lieutenant an offer, but I doubt it will be accepted.”

“Oh? Is it a reasonable offer?”

“Yes ma’am, immediate discharge, but he keeps all benefits. Like I said, though, I doubt he’ll take it. Cmdr. Rabb will probably talk him out of it.”

“What makes you think that?” she asked quickly.

“I read up on Cmdr. Rabb when I found out he would be the defense counsel on this case. He’s got a reputation for taking a hard line. He doesn’t seem to like bargaining much. Besides, he’s a pilot too. He won’t want to see the lieutenant grounded, even it is what he deserves.”

Mac tried very hard not to bristle. “Cmdr. Rabb may be a pilot, but he’s also a lawyer, and a damned good one. His advice will be based on what’s best for the client, regardless of what he would like to see himself.”

St. John took a moment to absorb this. “Then do you think I should make the offer?”

Mac shrugged. “Go ahead and make it, but you’re right that it probably won’t be accepted.”

His confusion was written all over his face. “But you said—”

“I said Cmdr. Rabb will advise his client on what he thinks is best for the lieutenant. I also said Cmdr. Rabb is a good lawyer. If he thinks there’s any chance he can win an acquittal, he’ll go for it.”

St. John shook his head. “You sure do know him well, ma’am.”

Mac’s thoughts bounced back to the tumultuous events of the past several months, culminating in Harm’s sudden departure after what should have been the final victory. She obviously didn’t know him as well as she thought.

****

That feeling continued as she changed out of her uniform later that day. She’d sensed his momentary reluctance when she asked about dinner, but then she’d found the message on her door, telling her to wear casual civilian clothes and meet him out front at eighteen-hundred.

She couldn’t help smiling as she slipped into a light sleeveless blouse and a loose, comfortable skirt. She felt a little like a giddy schoolgirl getting ready for a date. The thought brought her up short for a moment. Regardless of how romantic it might seem to find a note pinned to her door, she had to remind herself this wasn’t a date. It was a simple dinner with a good friend.

That thought went straight out the window the moment she saw him waiting out front. He was wearing jeans and a dark blue button down shirt with a gray sports jacket. He flashed her a grin as he reached out the same way he had when she arrived on the helo. She took his hand as he escorted her to the passenger door of the car he had waiting.

“I don’t know the first thing about Atlanta,” he admitted as he slid behind the wheel, “so I asked around a bit. Apparently, there’s a great Chinese restaurant not too far from here. Sound all right to you?”

“About now, anything sounds good,” she replied. “I missed lunch.”

His expression clouded. “Why didn’t you say something? We didn’t have to do this tonight. You could have grabbed something in the mess hall hours ago.”

She shot him a look. “Gee, let’s see. Mystery meat alone in the mess hall versus real food with my best friend. That’s a tough choice.”

He chuckled. “I guess when you put it that way....”

“Exactly, just don’t waste any time getting to that restaurant, flyboy.”

“Yes, ma’am,” he teased.

And he didn’t. Before she knew it, he was escorting her into the restaurant. Mac was thrilled to discover a large, well-stocked smorgasbord. No waiting.

Harm teased her about the way she loaded up her plate, then watched in awe as she polished off the mountain of food in record time. She really was hungry and the conversation was pretty thin until after they both finally pushed their plates away.

“So, how do you like the NLSO?” she asked.

“It’s taking a little getting used to,” he admitted. As you know, we don’t provide prosecution, so I’ve done nothing but defend. It’s different, but I think I’m starting to like it.”

Mac tried to be happy for him. “But you’re so good at prosecuting. Don’t you miss it?”

He chuckled. “Yeah, there are times when I miss it, like on this case for example.”

She regarded him for a moment. “You think he’s guilty!”

“I didn’t say that,” he replied quickly. “I would never say that about a client, especially not to one of the prosecuting attorneys!”

“You didn’t have to say it in so many words, Harm. I know you, remember?”

“Then you know I’ll represent Lt. Crossman the best I can. Now, can we drop the shoptalk, please?”

“All right. What do you want to talk about?”

“How are the admiral and the others? I’ve talked to him a couple of times on the phone, but that’s about it.”

She tilted her head, shooting him a look. “Harm, that’s still shoptalk.”

He laughed briefly. “I guess it is.”

The lapsed into a silence that threatened to become awkward. “Is that all we have left?” she asked quietly. “Work?”

His smile faded. “I don’t know, Mac. Maybe it’s all we ever had.”

“I don’t believe that,” she said softly. “Not for a minute.”

Harm didn’t either, but the conversation was starting to go in a direction he’d been hoping to avoid. He glanced around the restaurant. “Not in public, okay, Mac?”

She took a sip from her water glass. “I know. I’m sorry. Let’s just enjoy the rest of the evening.”

He raised his glass and touched it to hers. “Deal.”

****

Mac did enjoy the rest of the evening. They lingered over coffee then took a long walk before finally, reluctantly, returning to the naval station. Almost from the moment they drove through the gate, however, she could tell something was going on. They drove toward the her quarters but were stopped by a guard almost a block away. “What’s wrong?” Harm asked as he lowered the window.

“Sorry, sir, but you can’t go any farther in the vehicle. The road’s blocked off by emergency vehicles.”
“What happened?” Mac asked quickly, leaning over to look at the guard through Harm’s window.

“A small fire in the female officers’ quarters, ma’am. Nothing major, but they’ve had to evacuate everyone because of the smoke.”

“But I was supposed to be billeted there tonight. Where’s everyone being relocated to?”

The guard looked suddenly uncomfortable. “Well, they moved everyone to the enlisted quarters, but they’re pretty full in there by now. They can probably set up a cot for you, but I doubt it’s going to be very comfortable, ma’am.”

“Great,” she muttered. “Just great! Can I at least get my kit?”

“Depends on whether someone got it out for you, ma’am. If not, it’ll probably be pretty smoked up.”

Mac cast her gaze skyward. This was the last thing she needed. Harm gave her a sympathetic smile. “Come on, we’ll go on foot from here and see if your kit’s all right.”

Pulling the car to the side of the road, he got out and came around to open her door. Together, they walked down to the building. There were firefighters, hoses and equipment everywhere, but somehow, Mac managed to locate her bag on the front lawn. It was a bit damp, but looked all right otherwise.

“Someone must have thrown it out here,” Harm commented.

“Well thank heaven for small mercies,” she grumbled. “I am not looking forward to spending the night on a fold up cot in some overcrowded crew quarters.”

“Then don’t,” he said simply. “I’ll drive you back to town and you can find a hotel. If the admiral complains about the bill, tell him the enlisted quarters were full.”

She started to argue, but he shook his head. “You deserve a good night’s sleep, Mac.”

She weighed the options of a cramped night in a building with Lord-only-knew how many other women and a mad scramble for shared facilities in the morning, versus the luxury of a bedroom – and shower – to herself. Snagging her kit, she fired him a grin and headed for the car.

****

They found a small hotel close to the station, so close in fact that Harm offered to walk back and leave her the car. She argued hard against that one, but somehow, he managed to talk her into it. “All right,” she said finally, “but only if you’ll come up to the room for a coffee or soda or something. It’s the least I can do if you’re going to walk all the way back.”

“It’s not that far,” he protested.

“It’s far enough. Come on, Harm. We haven’t talked to each other in weeks. I...I missed you.” The admission jumped out before she could stop herself.

He glanced at the ground, whispering, “I missed you, too.”

****

The room was small but infinitely better than the alternative. Mac poured him a glass of orange juice from the bottle she’d picked up at the snack shop in the lobby. He drank it in two quick swallows. “There, refueling complete,” he teased.

“Well good,” she said with a smile. “I’d hate to send you off on a mission without a full tank.”

He set the glass down, then slid his hands into his pockets, as if he didn’t know what else to do with them. A charged silence stretched between them, expanding to fill the room. In the soft light, his eyes were the color of a winter sky, clear and glowing with an icy fire. “I’d better go,” he whispered.

“Uh...sure.” She licked dry lips. “Thanks for dinner.”

A tender smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. “My pleasure. I’ll...see you.”

He turned to go. In less than a minute, he would be gone and she would be alone again. Before she was even aware of moving, she’d caught his sleeve. “Harm?”

He turned back, taking a step closer. His eyes were full of question.

“Will you tell me one thing?” she whispered.

“If I can.”

She paused, gathering her courage. “What’s the real reason you left Washington?”

For a long moment, his wintry eyes searched her face. “Because if I didn’t,” his hands went to the bare skin of her arms, searing her as he drew her close. “I knew I wouldn’t be able to keep from doing this.”

His lips touched hers in a kiss that was gentle for all of a single heartbeat before he crushed her against him, his tongue sweeping over her lips. Mac sensed the savage restraint within him as his whole body hardened with a need so strong he shook with it.

Her own passion soared, carrying her away as her tongue entwined with his. His hands swept to her back, then dropped to curve around her buttocks, pulling her tightly against him. Her arms wound around his neck, her fingers seeking the short, soft silk of his hair.

Harm’s entire body shook as she melted against him, her soft body molding to the hard planes of his own. From the instant she’d hopped off the helo, he’d known this moment was inevitable. He wanted her, needed her, the same way he needed air to breathe.

Her hands were busy, pushing the jacket off his shoulders. He shrugged out of it, letting it fall to the floor. She started on the buttons of his shirt as his own fingers went to the front of her blouse.

His control was in shreds, torn apart by the searing heat of her hands on his chest. In another few moments, there would be no going back, no denying what he’d always known there could be between them.

His hand faltered on the third button of her blouse as a cold reality flooded through him. If they did this, if he gave in to the desperate ache she stirred inside him, he would never be able to let her go again – and that’s exactly what he had to do.

Calling on the last shards of control, he tore his mouth from hers, a ragged groan snagging in his throat. “I...I can’t do this.”

Her breathing was as unsteady as his own. “I don’t understand. I know you...want to.”

He smoothed a trembling hand over her hair. “More than I want to keep on breathing. That’s why I can’t do it. I am so, so sorry, Mac. I knew coming up here tonight was a mistake.” His hands still shaking, he tugged her blouse closed then forced himself to take a step back.

Bending down, he swept his jacket off the floor then yanked the door open. “I’m sorry,” he said again, not able to even look at her. As he stepped out into the hall and started to pull the door closed behind him, he thought he heard a strangled sob, but he didn’t dare look back. If he did, he’d go back in there and love her until neither of them could move, and – in the end – he would hurt her more than anything she was feeling now.

NAVAL STATION ATLANTA – 07:30 EST

It was all Harm could do to drag his six as far as the mess hall, in search of several gallons of caffeine. He’d had a sum total of about an hour’s sleep all night. Every time he closed his eyes, the sound of Mac’s muffled sob replayed through his mind, over and over, on an endless loop. The few times he had managed to make it stop, it had been replaced with other sounds and images: The way her breath caught in her throat when he’d pulled her against him, her soft moan as he’d molded her body to his, the scorching glide of her hands over his skin.

The coffee got Harm’s engines running, but didn’t do a damned thing for his mood. The first order of business was meeting with Lt. Crossman to discuss the offer St. John had presented the day before. As Harm expected, the lieutenant wouldn’t even consider it.

“No way, sir! I won’t be kicked out of the navy for something that wasn’t my fault.”

“But if we can’t prove it wasn’t your fault, you may spend the rest of your naval career in Leavenworth. Is that what you want?” Harm demanded.

“No sir. What I want is for you to find a way out of this. That’s your job, isn’t it?”

The streak of defiance Harm had first noticed in the lieutenant was getting wider by the minute and Harm wasn’t in the mood for it. “Yes, it’s my job, but you aren’t making it easy.”

“But St. John’s a weenie, sir. You can beat him!” Crossman insisted.

Harm’s hands curled into fists. “That ‘weenie’ you’re talking about is a superior officer!”

Crossman snapped to attention. “Yes, sir. Sorry, sir.”

“Cmdr. St. John may be inexperienced at investigation, but he’s a good litigator. The case against you is solid enough that he just might be able to pull it off,” Harm pointed out.

“But I thought you said this was his first case,” Crossman said quickly.

“His first with JAG HQ, yes, but he’s been a JAG officer for three years. He worked out of an NLSO on the west coast. That means he’s used to thinking like a defense attorney. That’s going to work against us in court,” Harm told him. “I think it would be in your best interests to consider his offer very carefully. Unless you can come up with an explanation for the landing gear lever, this is going to be a tough one to beat.”

Crossman suddenly turned nervous, shifting his weight from foot to foot. “Sir, I know I didn’t leave the lever out of position...because I didn’t lower the gear at all that night.”

A scowl settled on Harm’s face. “What do you mean?”

Crossman hesitated, fidgeting. “Lt. Denault lowered the gear, sir. He’s the one who didn’t engage the lever properly.”

Harm stared at him. “Why? It’s not the RIO’s job to lower the gear.”

“No sir,” Crossman admitted, still looking anywhere but at Harm, “but we...we didn’t follow procedure that night.”

“Why not?” Harm demanded.

“I don’t know, sir. We just....come on, you know how it is. I’ll bet you and your RIO got into a set routine. Didn’t you have your own way of doing things?”

“Yes, we did,” Harm replied, his tone low and hard, “but that routine was according to the SOP established by the navy. We didn’t just swap jobs for the hell of it. There’s a reason responsibilities are divided the way they are, Lieutenant.”

“Yes, sir. I’m sorry, sir, but me and Denault, we’ve been together a long time. We just developed a pattern that worked for us.”

“Why didn’t you tell me this sooner?” Harm asked.

“Because I didn’t want to get Denault in trouble, sir. He’s suffered enough because of all this. The doctors still don’t know if he’s ever going to wake up.”

Harm’s sixth sense lit up like a missile warning system. Blaming an unconscious man for the accident might very well seem to the lieutenant like a good way to get himself out of a nasty mess.

“Sir, does this mean Denault is going to be in trouble?” Crossman asked.

“It might,” he replied, going along for now.

“I don’t want that,” Crossman said emphatically.

“It might be unavoidable. At any rate, Lieutenant, we still can’t prove that’s what happened. We still have only your word to go on.”

“My word should be good enough,” Crossman said sharply. “I’m a US naval officer!”

Harm looked the kid up and down a moment. “A US naval officer accused of destroying a multi-million dollar aircraft, Lieutenant.”

NAVAL STATION ATLANTA – 10:14 EST

The moment Mac had been dreading came as she was on her way to Air Ops. She was approaching the building when the door swung open and Harm came out. Mac’s heart slammed into her shoes, then rebounded, lodging in her throat. She couldn’t face him, not after last night. She’s sent the entire night trying to pick up the pieces of her heart and get them back into some kind of order after his stinging rejection, and now, with one look at him, all the pieces came flying apart again.

But it was too late to turn away. He was coming in her direction, and she knew he’d seen her. Her Marine training was the only thing that kept her from darting away like a frightened deer.

Mac knew the very instant he saw her. His steps faltered, slowing briefly. She could almost feel the nervous waves flowing from him as he came up to her.

“Morning,” he greeted.

“Good morning,” she returned, hoping for a cheerful sound. It failed miserably.

“I was hoping to run into you,” he went on. “I’ve discussed it with my client and he’s not prepared to accept the prosecution’s offer.”

“I didn’t really think he would,” she admitted, relieved to be talking about something neutral.

“No, me neither.” Harm shifted his weight, his gaze dropping to the concrete at their feet. “Mac, about last night...”

“Don’t!” she said sharply. “Not one word, Harm. Not right now. This is definitely not the time and place for that discussion.”

He heaved a sigh. “I guess you’re right. Is it a discussion you want to have at all?”

“I don’t know,” she whispered honestly. “I’ll let you know...in a couple of days.”

He reached an impulsive hand toward her arm, but she flinched away, knowing any kind of physical contact with him right now would be fatal. His hand dropped.

“Fair enough,” he whispered. Moving around her, he walked away. Mac listened to his receding footsteps, struggling to keep a grip on her emotions. It seemed like that was all he ever did anymore – walk away.

****

It turned out she wasn’t going to have a couple of days to decide if she wanted to talk to him about it. Late that afternoon, the case blew wide open. Lt. Denault regained consciousness and adamantly denied being the one to lower the gear. He told both Harm and St. John that Crossman had lowered the gear. Denault had seen the lever wasn’t properly engaged, but it was too late to correct it.

Faced with his RIO’s statement, Crossman finally admitted his responsibility and when Harm suggested he take the prosecution’s offer before it was rescinded, Crossman took his advice. There wasn’t going to be a trial. All it would take would be some paperwork signed off the next day and Harm, Mac and St. John would all be going home.

Mac’s first instinct was to avoid being alone with Harm until things were wrapped up and then just go, knowing from bitter experience that time would dull the edge on the ache deep inside her. But the bulldog tenacity that served her so well as a Marine wouldn’t let the woman in her give up that easily. She knew Harm. He didn’t have a cruel bone in his body. Something kept driving him away from her with as much strength as the force that drew them together. Part of her told her she owed it to herself, and to him, to find out what it was.

But to do that, she would have to face him again. She would have to look up at him and see her own pain mirrored in his eyes. Did she have the strength to do this one more time?

Before she could think too much about that question, she grabbed the phone beside the bed and dialed his cell number. He answered on the first ring.

“Harm, it’s Mac.”

“Hi.” His tone was already guarded.

“You...you asked if I wanted to talk about....”

“And do you?”

“Do you?”

She heard him expel a hard breath. “I don’t know. I’m...I don’t want to hurt you any more than I already have.”

His admission gave her the courage she needed. “Come and talk to me, Harm. I’m at the hotel.”

“I’ll be right there.”

In the ten minutes before his knock sounded, Mac thought she was going to go crazy with nervousness. She’d paced the room, splashed cold water on her face, and turned the television on and then off twice. Although she was expecting it, she nearly went through the ceiling when he rapped softly on the door. She hurried to open it and he slipped inside, immediately going to the far side of the room, as though he already needed to put more distance between them than the small room would allow.

She closed the door, but avoided turning for a moment, needing to gather her thoughts.

“Mac, I’m sorry,” he said softly. “I know I hurt you last night, and I—”

“Then, why, Harm?” She spun around. “Why do you keep pulling away? You admitted you left Washington because of the attraction between us. Why is that suddenly such a bad thing?”

“I left Washington because it’s what I needed to do,” he replied.

“But what about us?” she asked, hating the weakness in her voice.

“There never really was an us,” he pointed out.

“But it was beginning to look like there could be,” she insisted.

He threw up his hands. “I don’t know, Mac. Maybe there could have been, if it wasn’t for—”

“There’s that word again,” she growled. “I thought you said you were sick of ‘if’.”

“I did, but things have changed.”

His continued evasion was beginning to spark her anger. “No, Harm, you’ve changed, and I think I deserve an explanation.”

“Maybe I have, and maybe you do, but I don’t have one to give you. I’m sorry, Mac. I really am.”

“Well maybe that’s just not good enough!” she cried. “You keep saying your sorry, but you won’t tell me what’s going on with you. I can tell you aren’t nearly as happy at the NLSO as you’d like everyone to believe. I know you, remember? Look, I’ll bet the admiral would be willing to let you and St. John switch assignments. Harm, come back to Washington, where you belong.”

“Where I belong is somewhere far away,” he countered. “And obviously, South Carolina isn’t far enough.”

Completely shattered, all Mac could do was stare at him through a blurry mist as her heart very quietly imploded. “Oh, it’s far enough all right. If that’s how you feel, I won’t ever bother you again.”

For a fraction of a second, Harm didn’t understand what she was talking about, then the realization hit him like the blast from an F-14 engine. He crossed the room in two steps and caught her arm as she tried to turn away. “Oh, Mac, that is not what I meant!”

“Then what did you mean?” she implored, half-heartedly thumping a fist on his chest. “Why is it you suddenly can’t stand to be in the same state with me, let alone the same room?”

He pulled her close, running both hands over her hair then down to cup her face between his palms. “Because I keep hurting you and every time I do, it tears me to shreds. I...I love you, Sarah MacKenzie...too much to keep doing this to you. I’d rather let you go forever than go on hurting you all the time.”

Mac couldn’t think straight, couldn’t form a reply, couldn’t even breathe. She suddenly had her answer and it was so unexpected, she didn’t have a hope of understanding it. “But...”

He put a finger to her lips. “No buts,” he breathed, his mouth only inches from hers. “It’s the way it has to be.”

“No, it’s not,” she whispered. “You know I love you too.”

“And that’s why I have the power to keep hurting you. I’ve watched you bouncing along behind me on this roller coaster I’m living on. My whole life is a world of hurt, Mac, and every time you get anywhere near it, you get caught in the pain. I can’t do that to you anymore.”

She rested her forehead against his chest, closing her eyes as she felt the soft kiss he placed on the top of her head. She should have known his reason would be something like this. It was so completely typical of him, trying to put her feelings first. The only problem was, he had it totally backwards.

Slowly, she drew away enough to look up at him. His eyes were shimmering with unshed tears and it damn near crushed her. “Harm, don’t you understand? I hurt every day, too. My own life isn’t exactly a Leave It To Beaver remake, in case you hadn’t noticed. The only reason I got through some of the roughest times in my life was because you were there for me. You shouldered some of the pain for me so I didn’t have to.” She stroked his cheek with her fingertips. “That’s what loving someone is all about.”

“But—”

She put a finger to his lips, exactly as he had done to her a moment ago. “You said no buts, and this time I agree with you. You can’t take away the pain by distancing yourself from me. You only make it worse. Harm, I want you in my life. I need you there. I want to share your hurt, so we can share the good times that come afterward.”

With a groan that sprang from deep in his chest, he dragged her against him, crushing her in a fierce embrace. His voice was nothing but a desperate whisper. “Oh, God, Mac. Are you sure?”

She smiled through the unshed tears in her eyes. “Yes, I’m sure, you big goof. I love you and that means I’ll always share your pain, no matter how far away you are.”

He kissed her then, desperately, frantically, his whole body trembling. He broke away, but only long enough to scoop her in his arms. He turned and laid her gently on the bed then stretched out beside her. He kissed her again, his tongue sweeping against hers in a deep thrusting motion that echoed what was to come. Covering her body with his own, he kissed her eyelids, her cheeks, the tip of her nose.

He drew back finally, his gaze locking with hers. “There’s no ‘if’ anymore. It’s not ‘if’, it’s when, and the when is now.” He gave her another kiss, this one so tender, so full of promise, it brought a fresh fountain of tears to her eyes. He kissed those away too, whispered against her cheek, “Now, and forever.”

The End

This is part 4 of a 4 part series.

Part 1: In The Service Of His Country

Part 2: Once More Into The Breach

Part 3: In Time of Need