Quantico, VA
2055 EST

*What am I doing here,* he thought. *I'm not trained for this. I'm a JAGlawyer!*

The lieutenant ducked around the warehouse's corner, hoping to lose himself in the shadows of the misty night. What had started as a simple investigation had turned deadly. If he weren't careful, he would be the one dead. He looked around for some kind of haven. He was lost in the middle of the warehouse district and still several blocks from where he was supposed to meet with Gunny Galindez. Somewhere nearby were several men out to kill him.

The weather was chill with a drizzling rain that kept his glasses constantly beaded with water. He'd lost his cover somewhere a few blocks back, and his long overcoat barely kept him from freezing. More than once, he had tripped because he could not see where he was going. Most of the streetlights looked as if they'd been shot out, because there was very little illumination in the area.

He knew his chances of getting to the meet with Gunny were slim. There was no way he could hope to evade his pursuers. They had years of experience in hunting down and killing their quarry. He was just a blip on their radar. A nuisance to be squashed. A bug to be stepped on. The lieutenant shook his head, trying to clear it of morbid thoughts. The overwhelming terror he felt nearly overrode his judgment. He thought about what Commander Rabb would do in this situation. He'd probably take them all on and win. He knew he was no Harmon Rabb. He deeply admired the man, even used him as a role model, but he lacked the qualities that made Rabb the JAG legend he was. The young man took a deep breath. He was still an U.S. Navy officer with a duty to fulfill. If he couldn't outrun his opponents, he'd outthink them.

The lieutenant slipped behind some boxes and crouched down. He pulled out his Palm Pilot and the new cell phone Bud Roberts had talked him into buying. Originally, he had been a little skeptical about needing it, but now he realized some of its features just might help him. He connected the cell phone to the Palm Pilot and quickly reviewed his notes. Dialing a number, he desperately sent an email with his findings, hoping the recipient would do the right thing with them. Pausing for a second, he ran another application on the Palm Pilot. Hastily, he disconnected the devices and put them back in his coat pocket. With a calmness that belied his fears, he decided to continue to make his way to the bar.

The JAG officer looked around and saw no sign of activity, and crept away from his hiding place, looking for something he could use as a weapon. Picking up a dagger-like wooden shard and gripped it tightly, he ignored the splinters digging into his palm. He started jogging down a side street when he heard footfalls behind him. Terribly frightened, he turned to look back, spotting two of his pursuers rapidly approaching him. Just as he stepped up his pace, a third figure lunged out from the shadows and tackled him to the ground. His glasses flew off his face, and landed several feet away, making him virtually blind without them, and thus rendering him incapable of distinguishing his attackers' features in the thick, soupy darkness.

The lieutenant didn't have time to react as his attacker punched him squarely in the face. The force of the blow snapped his head back, cracking it against the hard, concrete street. His swelling lip tasted metallic, and sticky blood poured from his broken nose. Trying to stand, he received another punch from the seemingly massive foe that rendered him unconscious.

"Is he dead?" asked the leader, in a monotone voice. The man shook his head with the disbelief that this legal weenie had nearly blown the entire operation. At the third man's headshake, he pulled out his sidearm and retrieved a silencer from his pocket. He slowly screwed the silencer to the 9mm, and looked over at the second, younger man standing next to him, who was pale, obviously shaken at the night's events.

"Do it," the leader said, handing him the gun. "He is an enemy to our country and our cause. He must be eliminated." Motioning to the third man kneeling over the lieutenant to step aside, he saw the hesitation marked in his eyes. "If you want to join us, this traitor must die," the leader said, morbidly.

The younger man swallowed audibly. He took the gun and chambered a round. Taking careful aim, he fired two rounds into the chest of Lt. Alfred Aldridge, USN, JAG Corps.

**************************************************

Bethesda Medical Center
That Evening
2350 EST

Lt. Colonel Sarah 'Mac' MacKenzie stormed into the ER like a tornado, her partner, Commander Harmon Rabb, Jr., hard on her heels. Mac, wearing a red Marine Corps T-shirt and blue jeans, sneakers and a bomber-style jacket with Marine insignia, felt a swirl of conflicting emotions. It had been an hour since she had been awoken by the call from Admiral Chegwidden informing her of Lt. Aldridge's condition. She had immediately called Harm. He picked her up in his SUV and they'd sped to the hospital. Mac's agitation had grown with every second.

"Mac, slow down!" Harm called to her. He'd seldom seen her in this state. She'd been increasingly waspish since he'd picked her up twenty minutes ago. He understood why she was so short tempered with him. Mac had been the one who'd sent Lt. Aldridge and Gunny Galindez, against Harm's recommendation, to Quantico to investigate a suspected gambling ring in the Marine barracks there. Now, the young lieutenant was perilously close to death's door and her guilt was eating her alive from the inside. Nothing he'd tried or said was calming her down. The only thing he could do was wait out the storm of Mac's inner rage.

Mac walked over to the receptionist desk. "My name is Lt. Colonel MacKenzie, JAG Corps. One of my officers was brought in recently with multiple gunshot wounds," she said in a tone fierce with emotion.

"What is his name?" asked the redheaded nurse, who flinched at the raw emotion emanating from the Marine Colonel.

"Lt. Alfred Aldridge. He was brought in a little while ago from Quantico."

The nurse clicked away at her computer terminal, searching for the appropriate records. "Aldridge. Yes, here he is. He's in OR 3."

Mac nodded, then headed off towards the surgical area. Harm found himself nearly running to keep up with her. A few minutes later, the two JAG lawyers found Admiral A.J. Chegwidden already in the waiting area near OR3.

"Admiral!" said Harm, surprised to his commanding officer here so soon. A.J., who was dressed casually in blue jeans and a sweater, looked tired. He turned to look wearily at them.

"Evening, Colonel, Commander," he stated in a tired voice. It had been a long time since he had found himself in this type situation. He didn't like the memories associated with it. How do you tell someone's parents you have no idea why their son is in the hospital with multiple gunshot wounds? Judging from Colonel MacKenzie's expression, she was going through her own personal hell over the same issue.

"Any word yet, Sir?" the tension in Mac's voice was a palpable thing.

"I'm afraid not, Colonel. Lt. Aldridge was brought in an hour ago. He's been in surgery since. Lt. Roberts is on his way to JAG HQ to get Aldridge's emergency contact information."

"Do we have any idea what happened?" asked Harm. "This was supposed to be a simple assignment, so Lt. Aldridge could get some investigative experience."

"I am aware of that, Commander," A.J. snapped, immediately regretting the words. Harm was only trying to defuse the tensions. "I know, Harm. I know. I've talked to the Gunny. He's going to maintain his cover and see what else he can find out."

"Sir, request permission to investigate this incident," Mac demanded.

A.J. looked closely at Mac. He was a little concerned with her attitude. Usually, Rabb was the one who had to be restrained. The irony of the situation was obviously not lost on the Commander. He glanced over at Harm, who was watching Mac without being obvious about it. "Fine, you both go. I want twice daily updates."

Mac started to leave, but abruptly turned back to face A.J. "Sir, about Lt. Aldridge?" her concern clearly written on her face.

"I'll call you as soon as I hear something. I'm not going anywhere for a while. Least until Lt. Roberts gets me Aldridge's parents home number."

"Yes, sir," Mac said softly, her rage subsiding but her guilt swelling to higher levels.

"Mac, let's go. There's nothing we can do here," Harm said soothingly, taking hold of her shoulder as he started to lead her away. Mac stiffened in rebellion. In spite of her request and the Admiral's orders, she still wanted to stay. "Mac, we can do more for Lt. Aldridge if we find the person responsible for this. Let's go."

The Marine in Sarah MacKenzie soared to the forefront. She straightened her posture; shoulders squared back, a dangerous gleam in her eyes. "You're right, Commander. Let's be about it."

************************

MCB Quantico
Quantico, VA
Next Day
1445 EST

"You want me to do the talking, Mac?" asked Harm. Glancing at his partner of four years, he noted she was madder than he'd ever seen her. He slowed the Navy issue sedan to a stop as they approached the main entrance to MCB Quantico.

"No, Harm. I'll handle it," she replied in a terse tone. "Just be quiet and do as you're told." She held up her ID card as the Marine guard checked their IDs with not so much as a glance, and waved them on. Harm threw her a glare, which she ignored. He had hoped that with the report that Lt. Aldridge had made it through surgery with no complications Mac would calm down.

Harm fumed silently as they drove past the checkpoint. He turned off on to a side street and parked the car. "All right, Colonel. Enough is enough."

"Excuse me, Commander," Mac replied in a frosty tone. Her face was flush with suppressed anger.

"I know you're upset with what happened to Alfred, but that's no excuse for taking that tone with me. You're angry, fine. We'll catch the person who shot him. If you want a punching bag, go to a gym. I'm as mad as you are, but I..."

"You don't understand, Harm," Mac shouted, her eyes filling with tears.

"Yes, I do. You sent someone under your command off to conduct a routine investigation and that person was nearly killed," Harm said sternly, gazing deep into his friend's eyes and wishing he could ease her pain. "You don't know who did it or why and the injustice of it all is tearing you apart. But, it's not your fault."

"What am I going to tell his parents?" she practically sobbed. Harm wanted desperately to take her in his arms, but there were too many onlookers so he settled for handing her his handkerchief.

"You don't. The Admiral will take care of that. Your job is to find out who did this and why. Now suck it up, Marine. We have work to do," Harm stared at Mac, willing to her some of his strength.

"I envy your ability to stay calm in moments like this," Mac said to him as she wiped away her tears. She blew her nose, then, with a slight grin, handed the handkerchief back to Harm, who looked at it with a nauseous expression. "You can return it later, Mac. Preferably after you've washed it."

"Wimp," Mac laughed, putting the cloth away. Harm smiled at that. Hopefully, it meant she would be her normal self again soon. He turned to watch her for a moment. Mac was gazing out into the distance, with her head resting against her elbow that was propped up against the door.

Harm tried one more time to reassure her. "Mac, what you're feeling is perfectly natural. It's something every line officer experiences."

"Have you ever felt like this?" she asked in a subdued tone.

"A few times. I have more pleasant memories to think about than those," Harm replied somberly. "You have to teach yourself not to dwell on things you can't change. Otherwise, you'll just drive yourself crazy and get someone hurt or killed because you weren't paying attention to business."

Mac looked at Harm. It was clear he was speaking from experience. "When did you get so smart?"

Harm gazed solemnly at the steering wheel. "When I killed my RIO in a ramp strike," he said as he started the car again. Mac saw the pain etched deep in his features. She placed her hand on his shoulder, squeezing it gently.

"I'm sorry for what I said earlier, Harm. It was uncalled for," Mac apologized.

Harm smiled, "Just save your energy for the bad guys, Marine."

***********

Commanding General's Office
MCB Quantico
Quantico, VA
1505 EST

Mac and Harm stood outside Lieutenant General David Fitzhugh's office. Mac was clearly impressed by all the photos of Marine accomplishments covering the last fifty years adorning the outer office walls. One picture in particular caught Mac's attention. "When was this picture taken?" she asked the General's aide. The 1st lieutenant, a short, stocky young man, walked over next to Mac and looked at the picture in question. He frowned and looked back at Harm.

"Uh, that was taken when the General was a midshipman," he stated, puzzled.

The door to the General's office opened then, two Marine Majors with Force Recon insignia quickly exiting the office. General Fitzhugh stood in the doorway, looking at the two JAG officers. He nodded politely at Mac, but did a double take at seeing Harm, who seemed puzzled by the General's response.

"Sir," began the aide, "Colonel MacKenzie and Commander Rabb from JAG HQ."

Harm and Mac stood to attention. "Welcome to Quantico," commented General Fitzhugh, gesturing to Harm and Mac to enter his office. "Tom, hold my calls for the next half hour."

"Yes, Sir," replied the lieutenant.

Inside, the General motioned Harm and Mac to sit down while he walked over to wall and took down a picture. "Commander Harmon Rabb, Jr?"

Harm exchanged a puzzled glance with Mac, who shrugged. "Yes, sir?"

General Fitzhugh laughed. "Relax, Commander. I'm not clairvoyant." He handed the picture to Harm.

The sound of Harm's jaw hitting the floor could be heard miles away. The picture showed a much younger David Fitzhugh in football gear. He was smiling and had his arm around the shoulders of another player. One who looked just like Harm? "You knew my dad?"

The General laughed. "We were roommates for two years at the Academy. This was taken our senior year after the Army/Navy game. Hammer was one hell of a man."

Harm was too shocked to speak. "Like father, like son," Mac chimed in. "Based on personal experience and from what the Commander's mother has told me, Harm is just like his father."

The General watched Harm closely. "If you have time later, Commander, why don't you and the Colonel join me for supper. I've probably got a few tall tales about your father you haven't heard yet."

"I'd appreciate that, Sir," Harm replied.

Mac cleared her throat. "Sir, begging your pardon, but we were sent here by Admiral Chegwidden to investigate the attempted murder of Lt. Alfred Aldridge, a colleague of ours."

The General frowned. "Yes, I'd heard about that. The NCIS agent in charge of the investigation thinks it was a mugging gone bad."

"What?" exclaimed Mac. "With all due respect, sir, the reports we've received so far show that the lieutenant was assaulted then shot twice at pointblank range. He still had his wallet and several expensive electronic items."

"I see. Why was the Lieutenant here, anyway?" asked the General.

"He was investigating a report of a gambling ring here on the base. He'd been here for a couple of days, searching for leads when he was attacked," Mac said. There was no point in bringing up Gunny Galindez's activities.

"Well, if there's anything my office can do to assist in your investigation, please let me know. I would also appreciate a daily update of your findings," stated the General.

Harm and Mac stood up, bracing to attention. "Yes, Sir," said Mac.

"Dismissed."

**************

Mac, having served at Quantico before transferring to JAG, led Harm to the base NCIS office. They introduced themselves to Special Agent Edwards, who was conducting the investigation. Agent Edwards was a dour-looking individual, in his early forties, and totally unimpressed at having two senior JAG officers pounding on his door.

"Look, Colonel. Your guy was just in the wrong place at the wrong time. Someone tried to mug your guy; he put up a fight and got whacked. There's nothing to suggest any other motive," Edwards said in a dismissive tone.

"So the fact that he was carrying several hundreds of dollars worth of electronic equipment and still had his wallet doesn't mean anything," Mac said ominously.

"Well, the perp probably panicked and left. I'm not psychic, Ma'am. I can't tell you why people act the way they do," Edwards said defensively.

"Is there anything you can tell us?" Mac said in an increasingly agitated tone. She felt bad enough as it was, but Edwards's indifference was starting to rankle her. She forced herself to calm down. Mac could feel Harm's tension level rising again.

"Not a whole lot, Ma'am. As you said, he had a cell phone, a PDA and some cash on him, but that's about it."

"Where are his effects, Agent Edwards?" Harm asked, cutting off Mac before she did bodily injury to the man. "We'll also need a copy of the case file."

Edwards walked over to a filing cabinet, unlocked it and took out a file folder and plastic baggie. "I haven't had a chance to inventory everything yet."

"Have they been dusted for prints?" Mac asked.

"Yeah. I'm waiting for a response from the lab," Edwards replied.

"We'll take those," Mac said in a 'thou-shalt-not-mess-with-me' tone, grabbing the items away from Edwards and handing them to Harm.

"Excuse me, Ma'am, but that's material evidence in an NCIS investigation," Edwards insisted.

"I am aware of that, Mr. Edwards. I'm going to have one of our people check out the Palm Pilot," Mac replied firmly.

"You'll have to sign for it, Colonel," Edwards said in an unhappy tone.

Mac filled out the paperwork, then turned to Harm. "Let's see if Lt. Aldridge copied his notes on to his Palm Pilot. There may be something in there that might explain what happened."

"What does a mugging have to do with a JAG investigation?" Edwards asked.

"Probably nothing. That is, if you're presuming the two are unrelated," Mac said coolly.

"If you come up with any other information, Agent Edwards, please let us know," Harm said as he handed Edwards a business card. "Here are my work and cell numbers."

Edwards tossed the card onto his desk. "Yeah, okay, Commander."

Mac considered her options. There was nothing more to be learned here. "Alright, Commander. We've gotten what we need for now. Let's go."

Once outside the building, Mac slowed her pace and turned to look at Harm. "Did any of that seem strange to you?"

"I was too busy deciding if I should restrain you," Harm gibed.

"Harm!" she said in a disparaging voice. "Didn't you notice how evasive he was? He was doing everything he could to make us go away."

"Oh, that. I thought you were talking about how the General didn't know there was a JAGman investigation occurring on his base," Harm said.

Mac nodded in agreement. The General should have known about that. "There's definitely something going on here," she said. "Better call Bud and have him get down here to take a look at Aldridge's Palm Pilot."

"Aye, aye, Ma'am," Harm said smartly.

"Jerk," Mac whispered, a trace of a smile on her face.

***************

"Sir, I have them in sight. What are your orders?"

"Keep them under surveillance. If they get too close, eliminate them."

**************

Tripoli Bar
Quantico, VA
1930 EST

Harm, now dressed in jeans and a Navy sweatshirt, walked through the crowded Marine bar, carrying two drinks (non-alcoholic, of course), to where Mac stood playing darts. The bar was filled with loud Marines, louder music and reeked of cigarette smoke. Harm weaved his way through the room, past the pool tables and stood just behind Mac. He smiled pleasantly as he watched her score a bull's-eye on her last throw.

"Not too shabby, Jarhead," Harm kidded her as he handed her one of the tonic water and lime twist drinks. Harm had to admire the way she looked tonight. Her tight-fitting blue jeans and a Marine t-shirt definitely complemented her figure, but then he couldn't recall a time when she didn't look wonderful. Harm quashed that thought. Their relationship was just returning to normal and he didn't want to ruin things by acting on long suppressed emotions. Harm placed his drink on the windowsill and sighed inwardly, picking up his own darts and taking his place on the throwing line. With three deft tosses, he scored a triple twenty and two bull's-eye.

"Not bad for a squid," Mac said, gazing covertly at Harm while sipping at her drink. It amazed her that he could remain so open with her in spite of recent events. Mac was relieved that Harm hadn't let Mic Brumby's return affect their friendship. Even with the increase in tensions between the two men, Harm still carried out his duties as her partner with the professionalism he'd always displayed.

"Adequate," said Harm. "I'm a little rusty. I haven't played darts since Ireland." She didn't have to know this was his best game ever. Darts simply was not his game.

"Lucky is more like... Hey!" Mac said as a Hispanic man, dressed in Marine sweats, bumped into her.

"Sorry, Ma'am. I didn't see you," the Marine apologized. He nodded politely to her and to Harm, then left.

Mac turned her attention back to her game. "Hey, Stickboy! How about a little wager? Best three out of five. Loser makes dinner for a week, and none of that meatless meatloaf for me!"

Harm laughed. "You're on, Jarhead!"

Mac's excellent eye-hand coordination won her the next match against Harm, who grumbled loudly about 'beginners luck,' to which Mac bitterly complained of a lack of worthy opponents. A number of Marine onlookers cheered her on as the age-old Navy/Marine rivalry surfaced again. The cheering grew louder as Mac swept Harm on the next two games. Mac, smiling broadly, raised her arms in victory as the other Marines applauded.

Harm finished his drink, shaking his head. "Come on, Mac. It's time to go." He grabbed their jackets and helped her with hers. Mac smiled to herself; Harm's chivalrous attitudes generally annoyed her, but now it felt reassuring. She led the way out of the bar and stopped in the parking lot to button her jacket. She glanced at Harm as he walked up next to her.

"Well?" he asked.

"He wants to meet at a diner down the street," Mac said.

"When did he tell you that?" a mystified Harm asked.

"When the Gunny bumped into me, he slipped me a note," Mac said, holding up a slip of paper.

Harm snorted, then shook his head. "Let's not keep the Gunny waiting."

***************

Joe's Diner
2005 EST

Mac spotted the Gunny immediately as they entered the greasy spoon diner. He was seated facing the front door in a booth at the far back end of the diner. The diner itself was old and it showed. An old jukebox played Patsy Cline country tunes. He was sipping at a cup of coffee, but did not acknowledge their presence. Harm and Mac made their way over to the booth next to him.

"Sir, Ma'am," Gunny Victor Galindez greeted them softly. He suspiciously eyed another Marine who entered the diner right behind the Colonel and Commander. The Marine sat down at the counter not far from them.

"Gunny," said Mac. Harm nudged her under the table as the server, a tired-looking woman in her 40's, approached them. Mac ordered a huge cheeseburger, fries and a large soda. Harm blanched at her order and ordered a salad and tea. The server walked away, calling out their order.

"How's the Lieutenant?" Gunny asked.

"Still in critical condition. The doctors aren't certain if he's going to make it," Mac said softly. "What happened, Gunny? This was supposed to be a routine investigation."

"I don't know, Ma'am. Honest," the Gunny confessed, his own guilt about not being there showing. "Lt. Aldridge and I had been working this gambling ring for ten days when this happened. We were supposed to meet at the Tripoli, but he never showed up. When he was thirty minutes late, I went looking for him. I spotted the police and ambulance activity a while later and found out the Lieutenant had been shot. That's when I called the Admiral."

"Have you been able to find out anything concerning the gambling ring?" asked Mac.

"Nothing usable in court, Ma'am, but I'm getting whiffs of something else going on. It has all the markings of a black market ring. I've still got a lot of friends stationed here from before I transferred to JAG. They're not concerned about the gambling; it's this other thing that's got them worried. Whoever's behind it is being very careful about what they're up to, but they're leaving a trail that an experienced investigator could follow. Weapons and gear are being shipped off to units, who say they never received the items. We're talking large quantities of front-line weapons, ammo and equipment. My gut tells me something big is going down."

"What?" Max exclaimed. The other patrons turned to look their direction. The Gunny took another sip of coffee, while Harm leaned forward and took her hands in his and gently kissed them.

"Come on, Mac," said Harm quickly to cover her gaffe. "It's not like I'm asking you to have my kids. All I want to know is if you'll go to the NATO Ball with me next week." Mac leaned closer to Harm, their heads nearly touching. He whispered softly to her, causing her to blush. The other customers quickly lost interest in them and returned to their meals and conversations.

"You think Lt. Aldridge learned something about this black market ring and was silenced because of it." Mac said, frowning as she leaned back into the booth seat. What was going on here?

"Ma'am, if you don't mind," Gunny asked. "I'd like to drop the gambling investigation and see what I can find out about this operation."

"Okay, but be careful," Mac insisted. "We don't need any more casualties."

"Aye, Ma'am," whispered Gunny. He finished his coffee then left, exchanging glances with the Marine at the counter.

Harm and Mac chitchatted for a few minutes, until their food was brought out. They ate in silence, enjoying each other's company and consumed with thoughts of the events unfolding in Quantico.

****************************

JAG Ops
0815 EST
Following Morning

Lt. Lauren Singer sighed as she sifted through the mass of e-mails awaiting her. Requests for meetings, inquiries about trial proceedings, earn your college diploma from home (*puh-leeze!*), accept credit cards at your website (*how did she get on their mailing list?*). Spend one day in court and come back to a stack of junk mail. She deleted most of the non-JAG emails, and then stopped at one particular message. The sender was Lt. Alfred Aldridge. Lauren stiffened in shock. The message was time stamped around the time he had been shot.

Lauren opened the attached document and skimmed through it. Most of it dealt with the minutiae of his investigation into the gambling ring. The man wrote in excruciating detail about every little conversation, how the interviewee responded to questions, his meetings with Gunny, the chance conversation he'd overheard regarding the militia movement... Lauren stopped and re-read the last section. She paused to consider its implications. This was big. If she waited until Bud left to reveal this information, it would be a big feather in her cap. Timing was everything.

Out of the corner of her eye, Lauren spotted Lt. Bud Roberts leaving the Admiral's office with their superior. The Admiral was giving Bud last minute instructions. Bud frowned when he saw the concerned look on her face. The Admiral turned to see what was distracting Bud.

"Is there a problem, Lauren?" asked Bud.

Lauren knew she was committed now. Whatever advantage she hoped to gain to further her position at JAG was gone. "No. You'd better look at this, Bud." Maybe she could still salvage something from this.

"Lieutenant Singer, this had better be important," snapped Admiral Chegwidden.

"Yes, Sir. It is," Lauren replied as she scooted out of the way so Bud could view the email.

Bud stared intently at the screen. "Has anyone else seen this, Lauren?"

"No."

Bud turned to Admiral Chegwidden. "Sir, we have a problem."

*********************

MCB Quantico
Quantico, VA
1130 EST

Lt. Bud Roberts walked into the temporary offices provided Harm and Mac. He tucked his cover under his arm as he came to attention in front of Mac. Commander Rabb was standing behind Mac looking over shoulder as the two viewed a report on her computer monitor. "Lt. Roberts reporting as ordered, Ma'am."

"You're an hour late, Lieutenant," snapped Mac. Behind her, Harm rolled his eyes and took a deep breath as he straightened up. Mac squirmed a little in her chair. Another long, sleepless night had done little to improve her disposition. Last night's excursion to the Tripoli and then Joe's Diner had helped her relationship with Harm, but the Gunny's news about the black marketing ring had ruined the mood. Not that she was going to let Harm forget he still owed her dinner for a week and to be her date to the NATO Ball.

"I'm sorry, Ma'am, but I think we know now why Lt. Aldridge was shot."

"We know. A black market ring appears to be operating on base," said Mac.

Bud frowned. "That's probably part of what's going on."

Harm stepped forward. "Part of? What else have you found out, Bud?"

"Well, Sir, it seems that before Lt. Aldridge was shot, he was able to e-mail his notes to Lt. Singer," Bud explained.

"Singer?" Mac inquired, confused.

"Yes, Ma'am. Anyway, along with his notes about the gambling ring, there's a section about a conversation he overheard. That's why I was late getting here. The Admiral reviewed the notes and ordered security be placed on Lt. Aldridge, just in case. He also cut new orders for the three of us. We're to drop the gambling ring investigation and start a new one, focusing on the information contained in Lt. Aldridge's notes."

"Bud," Mac said, shaking her head. As usual, he'd said a lot, but left out the relevant parts. "What did you find?"

Bud furtively looked around. "I think we should discuss this outside, Ma'am. You'll understand why when I tell you."

Harm shrugged and looked at Mac. This was obviously much bigger than either the gambling ring or black market operation they'd originally discussed.

"Ok, let's grab an early lunch," Mac said.

******************

Harm, Mac and Bud walked along the perfectly manicured lawn as they headed towards the Officer's Club. Bud set a leisurely pace as he explained what Lt. Aldridge had learned. Harm listened as he studied the contents of the folder Bud had brought with him.

"A militia unit operating within the Corps? Are you sure?" Mac asked dumbfounded.

"As sure as we can be," Bud said. "Lt. Aldridge was pretty thorough in his notes. Apparently, he heard a conversation about it in its entirety. The Admiral's notifying the Commandant about the discovery, but for now our orders are to learn as much as we can without direct involvement. He also wants us to hand over the gambling ring investigation to the local JAG office."

Mac was silent. She couldn't believe what she was hearing. The concept of Marines taking up arms against the country they'd sworn to protect shocked her. Now, more than ever, she wanted to find out who shot Lt. Aldridge.

"We should get Gunny into the loop, Mac," stated Harm, closing the folder and placing it under his arm. "He has more contacts here than we do. He may be able to learn more from the inside."

Mac hesitated, and then nodded. "Bud, Gunny's over at the Warfighting Lab. Inform him of what's going on and see what he can find out. Make it look like you're continuing the gambling ring investigation."

"Yes, Ma'am," said Bud. "Anything else?"

"Be careful, Bud," cautioned Harm. "Whoever shot Lt. Aldridge is pretty determined to keep this militia unit secret."

Bud swallowed, thickly. "Yes, Sir."

"Ok, Bud, go and talk to the Gunny. Work with him as best you can," Mac directed. "Report in at 1700. We'll see you later."

"Yes, Ma'am," Bud said, saluting her. "Will there be anything else?"

"Yes," said Harm, handing Bud the bag with Lt. Aldridge's Palm Pilot. "See what else you can find on this. Aldridge apparently password encrypted all the data files."

"I see," Bud said, turning on the device. "It shouldn't be too hard. Al's a little predictable about passwords." As Mac dismissed him, Bud saluted them both and left to make his way to the Warfighting Lab.

**************

"What do you think?"

"They're getting a little too close for my taste."

"Should we eliminate them now?"

"No. It's too public, and we don't have the right gear. Let's see what they uncover before we take action."

"Our orders..."

"Our orders are to eliminate them if they pose a threat. Right now, they know something's going on, but not what, or our strength and backing. We wait. If they find any kind of evidence, then we kill them."

***************

Mac discussed the situation with Harm for a while during lunch. Eventually, they decided to split up and approach the investigation from different angles. Mac first handed off the gambling investigation to the local JAG office. The JAG, Commander Miller, was surprised to have it turned over to his people and promised to move quickly and follow up on Lt. Aldridge's investigation. Mac then went to check the Transportation section, review the manifests for the missing arms and equipment, and interview the drivers involved. Harm had initially insisted that they should stick together, but Mac overrode his objections.

Harm spent the afternoon conducting interviews with various personnel involved in the gambling ring. He'd been able to dig up enough info to crack the gambling ring. Harm contacted the base MP's and had them arrest the Marines involved. He also had Bud and Gunny follow-up and make sure that the proper procedure was followed. He didn't want the Marines to get off on a technicality. Unfortunately, he still hadn't found anything that told him more about the militia or the shooting. It was becoming apparent that Lt. Aldridge had stumbled on to a clandestine meeting. Poor kid, thought Harm. All he wanted was to serve his country and be a good lawyer. Harm checked his watch. He was due to meet with Mac and Bud in thirty minutes at Joe's Diner.

Elsewhere, Mac wondered if Harm was having better luck than she was having. He almost had to be. The interviews had turned up little new information. The drivers had stated emphatically they had delivered the weapons per their orders. The counts had matched up and nothing had turned up missing in transit. The materiel had simply vanished after delivery.

Mac's internal clock told her she had twenty minutes to meet Harm and Bud at Joe's Diner. She headed back to her room at the BOQ to change before meeting them. The notion of Marines willingly violating the code she lived by sickened her. This was one of those times she didn't want to be a Marine.

Shortly, after Mac changed out of her service green uniform into jeans, blouse and sneakers, she took a cab to Joe's Diner. She was actually three minutes and twenty-two seconds late, but that didn't matter. Neither Harm nor Bud had arrived yet. The diner was sparsely occupied, so Mac was able to sit in the same booth as the night before. She ordered a cup of coffee from the server, a perky teenager, while she waited.

Mac finished her coffee and waited patiently as the server filled the cup again. Harm arrived at last, flashing his gorgeous flyboy smile. He sat down across from her.

"Sorry I'm late," Harm said. "It's been a busy afternoon."

"Did you find anything about the militia?" Mac whispered, leaning forward to create a more intimate setting.

"No, but I was able to crack the gambling ring. One of the ringleaders was afraid of being implicated in Lt. Aldridge's assault. He told me everything about the ring. Bud and the Gunny are following up and making arrests even as we speak."

"That's something," Mac said sadly.

"Don't let it get you down, Mac. Who knows? Maybe one of them knows something about the militia," Harm reassured her, holding her hands again, wishing he could do this forever.

"I hope you're right, Harm," Mac said, her mood lifting. She looked down to see Harm gently rubbing his fingers along the back of her hands. Mac sighed inwardly. How could something feel so good and yet be so wrong?

Harm was her partner and friend. They had been through so much together. She reflected on their many adventures. How many times had they saved each other's lives? When she had a problem, whose advice did she ask first? How often had they gone out to dinner just for the sake of being in the other's company? As much as she secretly desired Harm, she understood his reasons for not taking the next step. It took so little to ruin one's career. Harm would never jeopardize her career for the sake of a night's bliss. Her welfare was all that really mattered to him. It was sweet, in a Harmon Rabb sort of way, but she found herself wanting more from the ex-aviator turned lawyer. Things she wasn't sure Mic Brumby could give her.

Mac looked up into Harm's smiling eyes. Once more, she realized how fortunate she was to have Harm as her friend and partner. If only Mic would see it that way, she thought. Mac's introspection was interrupted as the server, Sherry, walked over and took their orders.

**********************

"Well?"

"Let's do it. They've got Baskins in custody. He's loyal, but they may try to cut him a deal if they learn he's one of us."

"What about Baskins?"

"That's up to the boss. Focus on putting these two to sleep."

"Shame. She's a beautiful woman."

"It's her fault for choosing the wrong side."

**********************

Joe's Diner
Quantico, VA
1824 EST

Mac slurped noisily at her strawberry milkshake. Harm shook his head as he watched her eat. After years of arguing about the virtues of a healthy diet, Mac still ate stuff that churned his stomach just to look at. She looked so happy now. He still couldn't figure out what Mac saw in Mic Brumby, but conceded that her happiness was more important than his own.

As if reading his mind, Mac smiled up at him. "What?" she asked. "I think we should be going now," Harm said, a bit uncomfortably. He really needed to have a long talk with Mac. He paid the bill and held the door open for Mac as they left the diner.

"Say, Mac, you want to go for a walk?" Harm asked nervously.

"Sure," Mac said, wondering about his sudden change in demeanor. He'd been so outgoing in the diner. It was like old times.

The two walked arm-in-arm in silence along a tree-lined side street. There was very little street traffic, giving them time to think. Neither noticed the plain-looking Ford pull up behind them. Their first indication they weren't alone anymore came from the car doors slamming shut. Harm squeezed Mac's hand.

"Harm," Mac whispered urgently.

"I know," he replied. "Just keep walking. Make them come to us."

Mac felt her tension levels rise. She looked around for something she could use as a weapon. Their walk had taken them near a small park. There were few places to hide. It sounded like there were at least two on foot, plus the driver. The only unknown was how well their opponents were armed.

"Get ready," Harm whispered. Mac barely had time to acknowledge when Harm stopped next to a tree. He pulled her into his arms and kissed her, as he turned her so that her back was against the tree. Harm placed her arms inside his jacket even as his roamed her back. She deepened the kiss as she found the pistol in the shoulder holster. Sneaky for a flyboy, she thought. Undoing the snap holding the gun in place, she slowly pulled the gun out. Mac devoutly hoped there was a round chambered.

The tiny hairs on the back of her neck raised in awareness as she felt rather than heard the two assailants move closer. Overconfidence kills, she thought as she pulled the gun free and released the safety. Harm broke the kiss and looked into her eyes, and she saw an unspoken promise in his. Mac smiled at him.

Behind them, the two assailants drew silenced weapons and took aim. Even as they opened fire, Harm pulled Mac down to the ground. Mac rolled free and took cover by the tree. The next three seconds were a blur for Harm and Mac. Harm scrambled to his feet, drawing attention away from Mac, who took aim and opened fire. The bullet took the first assailant in the heart, killing him instantly. The second assailant, surprised to see his comrade go down, fired at Mac.

The bullet missed Mac by inches. Mac drew a bead on the second shooter when Harm tackled him, knocking the shooter's gun out onto the street. The two men tussled on the ground for a moment before Harm was knocked away. The second assailant, a stocky, bald heavyset man, drew a knife and feinted at Harm with it. A crafty smile lit up his face.

Meanwhile, Mac struggled to get a clean shot at the second assailant, but Harm kept getting in the way. Her concentration was broken when she saw the car suddenly rev up and turn on its high beams. She winced at the bright lights and turned her attention away from Harm. She gasped as she saw the driver pull out a silenced MAC-10 submachine pistol and open fire at Harm and his attacker. Mac ducked behind the tree as the car roared by. She moved away from the trees shelter and fired three shots at the fleeing car with no apparent damage. She turned back to check on Harm and felt her heart leap into her throat.

Harm lay on his back; his attacker sprawled on top of him. He was covered in blood; Mac wasn't sure whose it was. The bald man had been hit four times in the back. "Harm!" She pulled the dead man off Harm. She checked for a pulse and breathed a sigh of relief as she found a strong, steady one. He'd apparently been stunned by the double impact of being hit by the attacker and then the fall to the ground.

Harm blinked and then smiled up at her. "I take it we won?"

"Yeah, you could say that," Mac replied, dusting him off. She pulled out her cell phone and called base security and the police.

Harm grimaced at all the blood soaking his clothes, as he got up and walked over to the man Mac had shot. He lifted up the dead man's head, and felt his blood chill as he recognized the man. "Mac! Get over here!"

"What is it?" Mac asked. She looked over at Harm who gestured for her to join him. She studiously avoided looking at the dead man's face.

"Does he look familiar?" Harm asked.

Mac looked down at the man, the wave of nausea passing. He did look vaguely familiar. "I've seen him somewhere before, but I can't place him."

Harm looked at her sternly. "He was one of the Force Recon majors who left General Fitzhugh's office yesterday."

**************

Mac's Quarters
MCB Quantico
Quantico, VA
2315 EST

The two JAG lawyers walked wearily towards Mac's quarters. They had spent the last few hours being questioned by both the Quantico Police Department and the Military Police. The local police were curious as to why two high-ranking JAG officers were getting into shoot-outs in their city. Mac gave as brief an explanation, citing an ongoing JAG investigation. Lt. Bryers, the QPD lieutenant running the investigation, was less than thrilled with her response and promised to call Admiral Chegwidden in the morning.

Special Agent Edwards, on the other hand, seemed quick to sweep the whole thing under the rug. He identified the deceased as Staff Sergeant Hugo Brenner and Major Kyle Fallon, both with the 2nd Force Recon Battalion. The two were listed as being on TDY to MCB 29 Palms. According to their records, they were recruiting poster Marines: tough, loyal and dedicated. Edwards had no explanation as to why the two men were in Quantico or why they would be trying to kill Harm and Mac.

Harm stopped at the door to Mac's quarters. They stopped and looked at each other.

"I guess I'd better be going," Harm said, swallowing as he stepped closer to Mac, invading her personal space.

"Yeah, it's been a long day," Mac whispered as Harm lowered his head to kiss her. *Please don't let her kill me,* he thought. Harm nearly jumped for joy when she cupped his head in both hands and deepened the kiss. Mac stepped back and bumped into the door, her eyes closed and a dreamy expression on her face. She turned and unlocked the door and looked over her shoulder at Harm, an inviting look in her eyes.

Harm knew she was his. All he had to do ... was answer her cell phone. Mac flushed and pulled the phone out of her jacket pocket. "MacKenzie?"

"Colonel MacKenzie, what the hell is going on there?" demanded Admiral Chegwidden. He'd just gotten off the phone with the Quantico JAG.

"Sir, I was going to call you in the morning," replied a startled Mac, wondering how he could possibly know. Harm stepped closer to Mac, who opened the door to her quarters and led him inside. Mac sat down on the bed. She glanced at Harm, and then patted the bed. Harm, smiling, sat down next to her.

"Answer the question, Colonel. I thought I ordered you two to avoid direct involvement."

Mac breathed a sigh of relief. "Yes, sir, you did. However, Commander Rabb and I were attacked by Major Fallon and Sergeant Brenner while we were off-base."

A.J. sighed. Yelling at her wasn't going to help things. He took a deep breath and exhaled before continuing, "Ok, Mac. What happened?"

"Harm and I were out for a walk after eating dinner," Mac explained. "We had been discussing the case and were walking down the street near a park when we heard a car pull up behind us. Two men got out of the cars and started following us. They followed us for a few moments, and then opened fire on us. There was a brief exchange of gunfire and the getaway car driver escaped."

"So, you did nothing to provoke this?" asked A.J.

"No, sir. Bud briefed Harm and me on what Lt. Aldridge found out. I sent Bud to update Gunny. I found out later during dinner that Harm broke the gambling ring," Mac stated.

"He did? I thought I told you to hand off the investigation to the local JAG office."

"Yes, sir, you did and we have," Mac stated, hoping to calm down the Admiral. "However, during the course of Commander Rabb's investigation today, one of the suspects confessed his involvement in the gambling ring. Apparently, he was afraid of being implicated in Lt. Aldridge's shooting. Commander Miller, the Quantico JAG, is preparing charge sheets for everyone involved."

"I see," said A.J. "You think there's any relationship between the deceased and the gambling ring?"

"I don't know yet, Sir," replied Mac. "We haven't had a chance to talk with Commander Miller yet. It's possible that there's some connection, but we need more time to conduct interviews."

Mac stopped as Harm tapped her on the shoulder. "Just a second, sir...Mm-hmm... Really? That's an interesting notion, Harm. Ok, Sir, Commander Rabb just thought of a new approach to the case."

"I'm listening," responded A.J.

"Harm theorizes that there may be a link between the gambling ring and the militia," Mac said.

"How?"

"Well... hold on a moment, Sir. Harm, you explain," Mac said as she handed the phone to Harm. She leaned in close to the phone to hear the Admiral.

"Sir, based on the information we have available to us, I'm wondering if Lt. Aldridge was on his way to interview one of the gambling suspects when he was shot. What if, as Lt. Aldridge was arriving at the suspect's home to interview him, he overheard the suspect talking with other conspirators about the militia?"

"So, you think the gambling ring may be a front for the militia?" A.J. asked.

"Possibly, Sir, or perhaps a way to recruit new members. It's all speculation at this point."

"Interesting supposition, Commander. On what are you basing this?"

"Instinct, Sir," replied Harm. "Lance Corporal Montoya was almost relieved to tell me about the gambling ring. He seemed to prefer being arrested for gambling than indicted on attempted murder charges."

"That doesn't necessarily prove he's involved in the militia, Harm," said Mac.

"No, but he may know someone who is, Mac," Harm said, reaching out to move a lock of hair out of her eyes.

A.J. swore to himself. This could be bigger than originally thought. Whether they knew it or not, Rabb and MacKenzie were sitting on another powder keg; one that could do a great deal of damage to the Corps' reputation. "What do you need from me?"

"Time, sir. Mac and I are going to talk with Commander Miller in the morning. I think if we do a full-court press on the gamblers, we may be able to find out more about this militia."

"Good thinking, Commander," A.J. agreed. "I'm authorizing you to make any deals you deem necessary to expedite this matter. I don't have to tell you how politically sensitive this is. If word of this leaks to the press, I can guarantee all hell will break loose. A militia unit operating within the Corps? That'll make Tailhook look like prom night."

"I understand, Sir," Harm replied. "Sir, there is one other thing."

"Why do I feel like I should've quit while I was ahead?" A.J. grimaced. "What is it?"

"Well, Admiral, yesterday when Mac and I first arrived here, we saw Major Fallon leaving General Fitzhugh's office with another Major from 2nd Force Recon."

A.J.'s blood chilled at the avenues of disaster Harm opened up. "That could be nothing, Commander."

"Sir, to my knowledge, there are no Force Recon units based here. What were they doing meeting with the base commander?"

Mac gasped in shock at Harm's implications. "Harm, we can't accuse a three-star general of sedition and conspiracy without proof. We'll be the ones spending time in Leavenworth."

"I'm not suggesting we do, Mac," Harm stated. "Not without evidence, anyway. I suggest we lean hard on the gamblers and see what happens. We may be able to work our way up the ladder or force them to take action."

"You're risking a lot, Commander," said A.J. "If the militia leaders get wind of this, and they most likely will, you and the Colonel could wind up being hunted by some very dangerous and highly trained individuals."

"I'm prepared to take that risk if it means unraveling this militia unit," Harm said, looking deep into Mac's eyes. His plan would place them in grave danger if things went badly.

Mac returned his look. She knew Harm would be there for her, no matter how dire things became, just as she would be for him. "I agree with the Commander, Sir. We've got to stop this now, before the press gets wind of this."

"Very well," A.J. sighed, wondering what it would take to stop those two from doing whatever they set their minds on. "Use caution. If necessary, I'll have additional MPs sent down to help with the situation. There's no telling how well connected this militia unit is. They could have people in the local NCIS and MP detachments."

"Yes, Sir," said Mac.

"Good luck and keep me informed," A.J. said as he hung up the phone.

Harm turned off the phone and handed it back to Mac. They stared at each other. Mutual desire warring with duty. Duty won. "I'd better go," he whispered.

"We've got a long day ahead of us," Mac agreed, not wanting him to go.

"Mac..." Harm hesitated as he walked to the door, fumbling for the words he wanted to say to her.

"I know," she said. Harm smiled as he left.

*****************

"A.J.? Is everything all right?" asked Sydney from the hallway. She was wearing a fluffy, blue robe that was several sizes too large for her. A.J. looked tired. Her instincts told her something very important was happening, but he wasn't allowed to talk about.

"I hope so, for their sakes," he muttered from where he was sitting.

"What?"

"Nothing, dear."

"Come back to bed," she said as she rubbed his shoulders.

A.J. smiled. It felt great to have a companion again. He got up and kissed her.

Sydney smiled seductively. "Last one in bed makes breakfast," she teased.

"You're on, Doctor Walden," A.J. grinned.

Sydney laughed and darted away. A.J. started to chase after her when the phone rang.

A.J. swore. This had better be God Himself, he thought. "Chegwidden," he barked.

"A.J. This is Webb. We need to talk."

*******************

MCB Quantico
JAG Offices
Following Morning
0930 EST

Harm looked from his computer as Mac, carrying an arm full of personnel folders, walked over to his desk. It felt a little odd not having an office, but there wasn't sufficient office space for them. Mac pulled up a chair next to him and dropped the files on his desk.

"You're kidding me, Mac?" Harm inquired. There were at least a dozen folders in the stack. "Montoya gave up all these people?"

"Yeah. We're going to have to review all these files to see if anyone has any ultra-nationalist leanings," Mac said, dreading the long hours of work ahead.

"Maybe not," Harm said, picking up one of the folders as he stood up. "I've got an idea."

"What do you have in mind, Harm?" questioned Mac.

"Why don't we let Montoya do the work for us?" Harm grinned.

Mac grinned, knowing what he had in mind. "Oooh, I like the way you think, flyboy!"

************

Interview room
0945 EST

Lance Corporal Montoya fidgeted in his chair as he watched Mac staring at him. "Is there something wrong, Ma'am?" Harm holding the stack of folders, watched from a corner.

"I don't know, Corporal. You tell me," Mac said coolly.

"I've told you everything I know about the gambling ring, Ma'am," he said, nervously.

"Why don't I believe you, Corporal?" Mac said, her voice getting even colder.

"I think Colonel would like some more information about your associates," Harm said in an even voice.

"I, uh, I've told you what you wanted," Montoya said.

"Actually, Corporal, we're looking for something else," said Harm.

"Something else, Sir?" asked Montoya.

"What I want to do with you is go over the personnel files of your associates," Harm asked reasonably.

"Of course, Sir."

The three spent the next two hours discussing the various members of the gambling ring. For the most part, Montoya was forthright about many of his fellow gamblers. One file made him very nervous to talk about. He claimed not to know the man too well, but the seeds of suspicion were sown instantly in Harm and Mac.

"Have you ever seen this man before, Corporal?" Harm said, handing Montoya a picture of Major Fallon in civilian clothes.

"I don't know the Major, Sir," Montoya said, glancing away from the picture.

"Did I say he was a Major?" Harm said ominously.

"I must have seen him hanging around the motor pool, sir."

Mac growled at the corporal. "He's a Major in Force Recon, you're a motor pool mechanic. Force Recon Majors have other things to do besides 'hang around' motor pools, Corporal."

"Why don't you tell us everything about, umm, Sergeant Baskins and Major Fallon," Harm asked in a soothing voice.

******************

JAG Offices
1215 EST

"Oh, you are so good, Harm," Mac said, happily. Harm had adeptly convinced Montoya to talk about the militia. They had gotten leads on several key members of the militia. They still didn't know how big the militia was or who were in the upper echelons, but they did know more about it than before.

"Was that a compliment, Colonel?" Harm teased. He turned to face Mac, a broad grin on his face.

"You can take it anyway you like, Commander," Mac gibed back.

Harm's grin faded as he saw a familiar figure walking towards them with Commander Miller in tow.

"What is it, Harm?" Mac asked, turning to see what Harm was looking at. Oh, no, she groaned. "Webb."

*****************

Commander Miller's Office

"You want us to what?!" exclaimed Mac.

"I want you to drop this case," Webb said calmly.

"Why?" demanded Harm.

"Because State and the FBI have been aware of this militia movement for some time now. In fact, in roughly nine hours, about a hundred and fifty FBI agents are going to be moving in on the militia's base camp," Webb said matter-of-factly.

"Why are we just now finding out about this?" Mac said angrily. The urge to punch him was overwhelming.

"Like I said, State and FBI have been investigating this for months now. There are several agents in place within who have been feeding us information about the size and strength of the militia," stated Webb, looking at both JAG lawyers. They both looked ready to pound him into oblivion.

"If State and the FBI have been working on this for 'months', why wasn't the Judge Advocate General informed of this? Who do you think you are, withholding this kind of information from us?" demanded Mac.

"It was felt that the military might not give the matter the proper attention it was due. The decision wasn't mine, Mac," Webb said defensively. "If it wasn't for the fact that your Lt. Aldridge stumbled onto this, you never would have known anything until it was over."

"Who else knows about your little operation?" Harm asked.

"You three, Admiral Chegwidden, General Fitzhugh, the Commandant, and high-level FBI personnel," Webb said, seeing the anger in their eyes slowly begin to fade.

"You had no right to cut JAG and NCIS out of something like this," Mac fumed.

"I know, Mac, but like I said it's not my call," said Webb.

"What do you know about this militia, Clay?" asked Harm.

"Not a whole lot, actually. They called themselves the Sons of America. They've been linked to a number of murders on the East Coast. Mainly liberal politicians and judges. According to our intel, the group is mainly composed of ex-military types who're fed up with the way the country's running."

"So they murder the people they're supposed to protect," Mac whispered.

"When did you notify General Fitzhugh?" Harm asked curiously.

"About an hour ago."

"What was his response?" Harm inquired.

"He was surprised, to say the least. He offered to send in the MP's, but I told him it wouldn't be necessary," said Webb.

Harm and Mac exchanged a knowing look.

"Send your people in now, Webb," Harm ordered.

"What are you talking about?" Webb asked.

"Clay, I have reason to believe to General Fitzhugh is the leader, or, at least, deeply involved in the militia," Harm stated. Mac looked at him, torn between telling him to be quiet or say nothing.

"What? Where did you get your information?" Webb commanded.

"Call it instinct. There's not enough to warrant an investigation, but there are too many bits and pieces pointing towards him," Harm said.

"Mac?" Webb asked, looking for confirmation.

"As much as I'd like to disagree, Harm's right. The General has to be involved in this. The evidence we've gathered indicates a high-ranking official's involvement. Who has more access to the facilities here than the base commander?" Mac said wearily, sitting in a chair. She rubbed her forehead in dismay. If Harm was right, the Marine Corps was about to get a black eye that would take years to go away.

"That's weak, guys. I need more than that before I can go up against a three-star general," Webb said dubiously.

"It's all we have, Clay," said Harm. "If we had more time to conduct a proper investigation, we could find the evidence we need to indict everyone involved. You're just going to have to trust us."

Webb looked intently at Harm. He knew Rabb was as dedicated as they came, but he had a tendency to turn minor incidents into major headaches. The problem was, Harm was usually right. Webb sighed and pulled out his cell phone and dialed a number. "This is Webb. Send them in now... Why? Because there may be a security breach on this end. Get them going now... Right. Call me when you move in." "I hope you're right, Harm. Jumping off early could cost lives on both sides."

"Maybe," said Mac, "but if Harm's right, there'll be no one there tonight when you make your planned assault."

Webb put his phone away and walked towards the door. As he started to leave, he looked back at them. "I'll call you when I hear something," he said as he left.

******************

MCB Quantico
1245 EST

"Hello, this is Commander Rabb. May I speak with the General if he has a moment? Oh, he did? When did he leave? Very well, thank you," Harm said. Mac had gone to brief Bud and the Gunny on what had happened.

Harm looked at his cell phone, considering his options. If he told Mac, she would insist on going with him.

******************

General Fitzhugh's home
1300 EST

Harm knocked on the door. To his surprise, the door swung open at his touch. Drawing his sidearm, Harm led the way in.

As Harm walked through the foyer, his attention was drawn to the den off to their right. Even though it was mid-summer, there was a fire raging in the fireplace. Harm took a deep breath as he walked into the room Harm was surprised to see General Fitzhugh, alone, at his desk. There was a drink in front of him and, judging by his appearance, it was not the only one he'd had.

"General Fitzhugh?" Harm asked.

"What tipped you off?" he responded.

"Major Fallon leaving your office the other day," Harm said. "He had no real reason to be there. Force Recon Majors don't usually report to the base commander without specific orders."

General Fitzhugh snorted. "Rabb deductive reasoning strikes again."

"Sir?"

"Long story," said the General, humorlessly. He looked at Harm, noting the aviator wings and JAG tabs on his uniform. "Did you know your father spent a month debating whether to become a Naval Aviator or a lawyer?"

"No, Sir," said a surprised Harm. "I wasn't aware of that."

"Ask your mother, sometime." General Fitzhugh said, remembering days long past. "You're here to arrest me, I presume," stated the General somberly.

"Yes, Sir," replied Harm, somberly. This was the first real evidence of his involvement. "Sir, you have the right to remain silent," he said. "Anything you say will be used against you in your court-martial."

General Fitzhugh flinched at the words 'court-martial'. "Of course, Commander."

Several silent moments passed with neither man saying anything.

"It wasn't supposed to be like this," General Fitzhugh said, finishing his drink.

"Sir?"

"The Sons of America was formed by myself and other veterans years ago as a 'good-ole boy' club. All we were interested in at first was helping vets fight for their rights. The SoA was intended to evolve into a political action committee for veterans. Somewhere along the line, we went from political rhetoric to terrorisms against the state. And there was nothing I could do to stop it," General Fitzhugh said solemnly. "Colonel MacKenzie did us all a favor when she shot Fallon. He planned and executed most of the assassinations the SoA committed."

"Sir?" Harm pleaded.

"Let me finish, Commander," said the General.

"Yes, Sir."

"I took the liberty of reviewing your record after we first talked. You have a record your father would be proud of. This country needs more people like you."

"Thank you, Sir," said Harm, wondering where this was heading.

"Are the MP's waiting outside?" asked the General.

"No, Sir. I came alone."

"I see. I know this is asking for a lot, but, as one warrior to another, may I have a few hours to get my affairs in order? Courts martial tend to be messy business."

Harm hesitated for a second. The General saw his concern. "Don't worry, Commander. I'm not going anywhere. You have my word."

Inwardly, Harm shuddered. The General's intentions were plain to him now. "Of course, Sir." Harm snapped to attention and saluted the General.

General David Fitzhugh stood to attention and returned the salute. "Dismissed, Commander."

******************

Harm walked outside the luxurious home, wondering if he should go back inside. His musings were interrupted by his cell phone ringing. "Rabb?"

"Harm, where are you?" asked Mac.

"I had to get some air. The case was starting to get to me."

"Ok, listen. I just got off the phone with Webb. The FBI is moving in now. Webb's invited us along as observers."

"Ok. I'm on my way back." Harm hung up the cell phone and turned back to look at the house. He put his phone away and walked towards his car.

******************

Sons of America base camp
1745 EST

"We've got him!" Webb exclaimed as he sorted through the files they'd discovered at the militia base. Despite the rush, the FBI had managed to capture the assembled militia with minimal casualties. To their surprise, the agents had discovered an even larger cache of weapons than expected.

Webb handed some documents to Harm and Mac for them to review. "You were right, Harm. General Fitzhugh is in it up to his neck. This evidence is going to crack the Sons of America movement wide open."

Harm dispassionately read through the documents. He could feel the tension emanating from Mac. He shared her concern about what the Corps was about to go through. The scandal would spawn dozens of inquiries into operations and leadership of the Marines.

"Let's go get him," said Harm. Mac nodded and led them back to their car. Harm smiled tightly as he saw Agent Edwards being led away in handcuffs.

******************

General Fitzhugh's home
1907 EST

"Damn!" swore Webb, taking in the sight before them. Harm and Mac stood next to him. Harm's face was taut, while Mac fought to keep from being sick. FBI Special Agent Tom Killough strode into the house and walked into the den.

"What the-?" Killough exclaimed.

"It looks like we're a little late," said Harm, looking at the dead body seated at the desk. General Fitzhugh had ended his life with a single round to the head. "Death before dishonor," he whispered.

Webb looked curiously at Harm. "It looks like this case is closed. Finish up here, will you, Tom? Harm, Mac, I'll see you back in DC tomorrow for debriefing."

"Mac?" Harm asked.

"Let's go, Harm. We're going to have a ton of paperwork to fill out over this," Mac said woodenly.

Harm took one last look at the body, then turned and left.

******************

Harm's Apt.
Saturday morning
1135 EST

Harm sat down at his desk looking over the paperwork he'd brought home, grateful for the chance to deal with regular, everyday, non-lethal paperwork. There were several Motions for Discovery, a Motion to Dismiss, and personnel files for witnesses to a fight between a drunken 2nd Class Petty Officer and a Chief Petty Officer. Just another day at the office, he thought.

One of the few things that had gone right in the last week was Lt. Aldridge's recovery. In spite of spending several hours on the operating table and a nasty post-op infection, the young lawyer was quickly recovering. The JAG Ops staff took turns spending time with him, filling him in on the office gossip. To his surprise, Alfred found himself the object of a nurse's attention. Additionally, a young Lance Corporal had confessed to shooting Lt. Aldridge under orders from Major Fallon. Life was looking up for the young lieutenant.

His mind drifted back to the events at Quantico. It saddened him deeply that a flag officer would so willingly betray his oath of allegiance. Mac had taken it harder than he. She had been quiet the entire drive back to JAG Ops on Wednesday. His Marine had said little after they'd found Fitzhugh's body, letting Harm work things out with Webb and the FBI. Harm snorted. When had Mac become *HIS* Marine?

There were things that needed to be said between them. A lot had happened in Quantico. Mac had learned a few harsh lessons about being a commanding officer. They both realized how much they loved each other. *How much they loved each other.* Harm rolled the words around in his mind repeatedly. He loved her. He loved Sarah MacKenzie. He smiled at the thought. His mother would kill him when he told her. She'd known it for years, but Harm had refused to acknowledge his feelings for Mac.

Harm tapped the desk blotter, wondering how he would approach Mac. He hadn't seen or spoken to her since Wednesday's debriefing. He had called her several times, but she hadn't returned his calls. An unworthy part of him wondered if he had misread the looks she had given him. What if she really didn't want him? What if...

THE END