Sorry about the unfortunate alliteration in the guy's name. Thanks to Jen and Sandra for beta reading the first half of it. Got kinda rushed at the end, so forgive any mistakes. Also, see end note.

August 14, 2000
1500 ZULU
JAG HEADQUARTERS
FALLS CHURCH, VA

Mac looked up at Harm from across his desk. "Well, I might be willing to accept simple dereliction of duty with a recommendation of 90 days in the brig."

Harm nodded. "I hate to see Seaman Johnson have such a big black mark on his record. But if he loses, he could be facing a dishonorable discharge. I'll talk to . . . ." He trailed off as he spotted something out the window of his office. "Was that the SECNAV I just saw walking out of here?" he asked.

"Hmm, he wasn't on the Admiral's schedule for today. If he's here, it must mean something big is up."

Harm's intercom buzzed and Tiner's voice came through. "Commander, the Admiral would like to see you and Colonel MacKenzie in his office immediately."

"The Colonel and I will be right in," Harm acknowledged. He looked at Mac. "I guess we're about to find out why the SECNAV was here."

***

The pair walked in and came to attention in front of Admiral Chegwidden's desk.

"At ease," he told them. "Have a seat." He flipped a folder across to them as they complied. As they opened it, he said, "I'll save you some time. There's been another breach of security at Los Alamos," referring to Los Alamos National Laboratory, where much of the nation's nuclear weapons development and testing had taken place since the program's inception.

"What did they get?" Mac asked.

"Computer disks with complete specs to the Titan missile."

"Isn't that the one that keeps blowing up on the launch pad?" Harm asked. "Maybe we should just let the Chinese have it," he joked.

"Harm, this is serious," Mac scolded.

"Thank you, Colonel," the admiral said dryly. "And this time, they think it's the North Koreans behind the theft, not the Chinese. Which makes it even more serious. This could move them from a rogue nation with a couple of missiles to a world-class nuclear threat in less than two years. Everyone from the president down is taking this very seriously. Luckily, the suspect was apprehended before he had a chance to make contact."

"I agree this is serious, Sir," Harm said more soberly, "but what's JAG's involvement in this? Los Alamos is a Department of Energy facility. Isn't this a matter for them and the CIA? And the Department of Justice? The suspect won't be tried in a military court."

"You'd be right except for the identity of the suspect," the admiral said.

Harm and Mac looked down at the folder before them.

"Lt. Commander Harold L. Flanders," Mac read.

"A member of the *Navy* did this?" Harm asked in disbelief.

"Makes you sick, doesn't it?" Chegwidden said. "But he was caught with the disks, and he's admitted he did it. The only question now is what the charge against him will be. If it's treason, the punishment is . . ."

"Death," Harm and Mac said together, looking at each other. They had just come through a death-penalty case. The thought of another one so close on its heels wasn't pleasant.

The admiral continued, "He claims he stole the disks to highlight the security deficiencies at Los Alamos. He says he planned to return the disks to the Department of Energy at a press conference designed to raise the heat on this issue."

"So where do the North Koreans come in?" Harm asked curiously.

"The CIA maintains that Commander Flanders' story is a convenient lie to protect him from the death penalty now that he's been caught. They claim to have evidence that the theft was commissioned by a Asian-American businessman known to have ties to the North Korean government. The CIA is continuing to investigate. You can expect them to take an active role in this case, and the SECNAV has advised me that we are to give them our fullest cooperation."

"CIA," Mac said. "That means . . ."

The door swung open, and a familiar figure in a three-piece suit walked in.

"Admiral, Colonel, Commander," he nodded to each in turn.

". . . Webb," Mac finished on a sigh.

***

Admiral Chegwidden had assigned Mac to prosecute Commander Flanders and Harm to defend him. However, given the unusual nature of the case, he had instructed them to work together to try to determine the truth of Flanders' claims before Mac went forward with charges. And he had ordered them to hear Webb out before coming to any conclusions.

"Webb, are you the *only* operative in the CIA?" Harm asked. "How come we always get stuck with you?"

"First of all, Rabb, I'm with the State Dep . . ."

"Save that State Department crap for someone who might believe it," Mac interrupted.

". . . and the CIA feels that I have established a special rapport with the JAG office, so I've been unofficially assigned as a liaison between our two offices," Webb finished.

Harm's mouth dropped open in disbelief. "You've got to be kidding. Special rapport?"

"Well, we've wanted to *rap* you on the head a few times," Mac added, "maybe that's what they mean."

"Joke all you want, Colonel, but I heard you bawled like a baby when you thought I was dead," Webb said smugly.

"Yeah, well, I bawled even harder when I found out Palmer didn't finish the job," she flung back.

"Let's just get through this, okay, guys?" Harm said.

The three nodded and bent over their files.

***

Three hours later, they had been over all the evidence, including the CIA's files - or at least the parts that Webb would show them. Of course they would each have to go over the information again and again before trial, but it was already clear that Mac and Harm were not going to reach a quick agreement in this case.

After Webb left, Harm began pleading his client's case to Mac.

"C'mon, Mac, Webb's so-called proof was nothing but a bunch of far-fetched suppositions cooked up by suspicious minds."

"I think you can forgive them for being suspicious, considering Flanders walked out of a national laboratory with top-secret nuclear weapons specs," Mac said a bit sarcastically.

"That's exactly his point. He should never have gotten near those disks, let alone gotten all the way to Albuquerque with them."

"Well I found the CIA's evidence a little more compelling than you did. And frankly, I don't care why the hell he did it. He stole nuclear secrets and he should be punished for it to the fullest extent of military law. For God's sake, he's supposed to be defending our national security, not compromising it," she said, her voice rising.

"That's what he was trying to do, protect our nation by pointing out a serious threat!" Harm responded with equal fervor. "He should be hailed as a hero, not sent to death."

"And suppose our hero had been mugged on the way from Los Alamos, assuming he was doing this for the good of America? What if Korean or Chinese agents tracked him and knew he had the disks? They could have ended up in enemy hands, even if that wasn't his intention," Mac pointed out. "There's a reason this stuff is kept in a vault in the middle of a secured facility. It's not meant to be wandering the streets of America!"

"Don't you feel just a little bit hypocritical condemning Flanders for trying to publicize a threat to our nation?" Harm asked, angered.

"Hypocritical? Why should I?" Mac responded, puzzled.

"When your uncle was the one stealing a national treasure to make a point, you were a lot more sympathetic," he jabbed.

Mac saw red. She was tempted to slap the self-righteous smile right off his face, but she restrained herself. "My uncle stole a copy of the Declaration of Independence. Precious, yes, but not a threat to our national security. And even though I understood his point, I still didn't approve of what he did. If you'll recall, I didn't try to stop him from turning himself over to the authorities. And," she added harshly, "at least my uncle was willing to take the punishment for his actions, unlike *your* client."

Harm looked shamefaced. "Mac, I'm sorry, I just . . ."

"I don't want to hear it, Harm. I'm sick of you assuming that anyone who doesn't see things your way has some kind of character flaw. Save the rhetoric for court, when you're defending your client on a charge of treason."

"So you're recommending that Flanders be charged with treason?" Harm asked.

"Yes."

"And you're going to ask for the death penalty."

"That is the punishment for treason under the UCMJ."

He looked her in the eye. "When I was prosecuting Caleb Farmer, you asked me if I could live with condemning a man to death. Now I'm asking you the same question. Can you live with yourself if Flanders is sentenced to die?"

Mac thought for a moment. The question troubled her more than she wanted to admit. Finally she said, "I won't pretend I won't give it a second thought. I won't pretend it won't be hard. But I believe Webb's evidence that he was trying to sell the disks to the North Koreans. And if he had succeeded, he could have been condemning a lot of Americans to the threat of death at the whim of some two-bit Communist government. And I can't let that go unpunished. *That's* something I couldn't live with." With that said, she gathered up her files and walked away.

2330 ZULU
SARAH MACKENZIE'S APARTMENT
GEORGETOWN

Mac dropped a pile of books and files onto her desk and spotted the flashing light on her answering machine. Hitting the button, she heard Mic's voice.

"Hi, luv, it's Mic. You're not home yet, so you must be out with your lover. Too bad, I was going to offer to take you to dinner. Give me a call when you get a chance."

Mac smiled. Ever since they had each been sent undercover, they had a running joke about his mistress and her lover. She picked up the phone.

"H'lo."

"Hey, Mic, it's me. I didn't catch you with your mistress, did I?"

"No, luckily I told her not to come over tonight, just in case you called," he laughed. "It's still early, do you want to take me up on that dinner?"

"Not tonight, I've had a rotten day and I can't face much of anything but going to bed," she sighed.

"Hmm, going to bed, that sounds promising," Mic teased.

"Mic!"

"Sorry, luv. Why was your day so bad? I thought you just had something minor with some absent-minded seaman."

"That was before we got handed a high-profile case with deep implications for the balance of world power," she groused. "I'd tell you more, but I'd have to kill you."

"Ah, just another day at the JAG office, eh?" he laughed. "Well, I guess dinner's out, but I could bring over a pizza and help you unwind with a little back rub."

"I don't know, I probably wouldn't be very good company," Mac warned. "Although I have a few choice things to say about a certain Commander - you might enjoy that part."

"That sounds intriguing, but you don't have to entertain me," Mic said. "Just let do my part for international stability by helping you relax. I won't even ask for anything in return."

"Nothing?" she teased.

"Well, maybe a little peck on the cheek."

"I think I can handle that," she said. "See you in about 30 minutes?"

"Sounds good, Sarah."

She hung up the phone and grinned. Somehow Mic's lighthearted banter had managed to lighten the load the case and her conflict with Harm had placed on her. She was still smiling as she headed into her bedroom to change.

2400 ZULU
HARMON RABB'S APARTMENT
NORTH OF UNION STATION

Harm had sprawled out on his sofa upon arriving home and hadn't moved since. He was still going over his argument with Mac in his mind and berating himself for making it personal. He didn't know why he had done it . . . maybe just to get some kind of real reaction from her, even if it was a bad one. It seemed the only way they communicated these days was by fighting.

The phone shrilled, and he eyed it warily. He was sure it was Renee, and he just wasn't in the mood to talk to her right now. He considered letting the answering machine get it, but then she would just ask him later where he'd been. He might as well get it over with.

"Hello," he said into the receiver.

"Hi, Harm, it's me," Renee said perkily. "I was calling to make sure you were home before I headed over.

"Uh, Renee, tonight's not a good night," Harm objected. "I just got handed a huge case, and I've got to spend the evening going over the files."

"Is this something to do with the theft of those disks from Los Alamos," she asked.

Harm was surprised. "Yeah, but how did you hear about it?" he asked.

"Honey, it's been all over CNN, haven't you been watching? The guy held a press conference."

Harm groaned. The least the commander could have done was consult his attorney before going public. Renee continued chattering. "I think this would make a great movie. Have you heard who's representing him? I'd love to talk to his lawyer about the rights."

"I'm representing him, and if he doesn't shut up, he may not live long enough to sign over the rights," Harm complained. "Look, Renee, I'm sorry, I just can't concentrate right now. I'll talk to you tomorrow, ok?"

"Ok," Renee pouted. "But are you sure you don't want me to come over there and help you relax?"

Harm knew what Renee probably had in mind would have little to do with relaxation. He was tempted to take her up on it and just try to put everything out of his mind for awhile, but he decided he just didn't have the energy.

"That's nice of you to offer, Renee, but not tonight, ok? I just couldn't give you the attention you deserve," he soothed.

"Well, okay, baby. Just call me tomorrow, ok? And ask you client about the movie, would you?"

"Night, Renee," Harm said without answering and hung up the receiver.

August 15, 2000
2200 ZULU
JAG HEADQUARTERS
FALLS CHURCH, VA

Sitting back in his chair in front of a desk littered with files, photographs and top secret reports, Harm went over the case again in his mind.

He had talked to his client for three hours this morning, which had necessitated a trip to a high-security brig, as the CIA insisted that Flanders was a flight risk.

The commander had explained that he had recently been assigned to work on a project that required frequent trips to Los Alamos. While he'd already had top-secret clearance, he had been given a special clearance issued only to personnel working on this particular project. He told Harm he'd been appalled at the lax security surrounding the lab, and that was what prompted his escapade.

Harm asked him how he'd been able to get past security, when his clearance for the project had been terminated months earlier after he was transferred to a new assignment. Flanders had explained that he had retained his ID badge when he'd changed assignments. The lab had made perfunctory efforts to retrieve the badge, but he had ignored them and nothing had been done. Also, the DOE had recently changed its policy on badges. Formerly, badges were color-coded according to the holder's security clearance level. But the new Secretary of Energy had felt this was discriminatory. So he'd ordered that the badges be made color neutral, which meant it was more difficult for guards to pick out people who were out of place at a glance. Flanders said he had deliberately picked a day when he knew most of the project members were at a conference. When he'd walked in, the guard had recognized him from past visits and waved him by. Flanders wouldn't explain how he'd gotten into the safe itself, saying that was "need-to-know" only. Harm didn't push it, but he thought the commander's new-found scrupulousness about security was a little ironic.

He had told Flanders to be prepared for a deposition by Mac tomorrow and urged him in the strongest terms to have no communication with the press. When he'd gotten back to his desk, he'd had a stack of messages, including ones from the ACLU, the Union of Concerned Scientists, and Nuclear Disarmament Now! Coalition, all offering to take over the commander's defense.

Then the phone had rung with the call Harm had been half expecting since he'd heard about the case.

"Commander, Congressman Latham is on Line 2," Gunnery Sergeant Galindez said over the intercom.

"Thank you, Gunny," Harm said, picking up the phone with a sigh of resignation.

"Commander Rabb."

"Harm, it's Bobbi."

"Bobbi, how are things on Capitol Hill?" he asked genially.

"Buzzing, as I'm sure you can imagine. Everyone is very upset about this theft from Los Alamos. The House Armed Services, Commerce, and Intelligence Committees are holding a joint hearing tomorrow on this. We're calling everyone on the carpet," she said briskly. "This is the opportunity we've been looking for to finally crack down on all the security problems we've been having at the labs."

"So you think Commander Flanders did the right thing?" Harm asked tentatively. He hated to play politics, but having a senior member of the House Armed Services Committee on his side could only help his case.

"Absolutely not!" Bobbi shouted. "I think he should be made an example of. How could you think I would condone such treasonous activity by a member of our own Armed Services?"

Harm groaned. He knew it was too good to be true. "And what do you want from me, Congresswoman?" he asked.

"Harm, don't get all formal on me," Bobbi said more quietly. "I know you have to represent your client zealously, but I'm just asking you to look at the big picture."

"I don't know, I think a man's life is pretty big."

"Look, we didn't pick this guy out of the clear blue sky. He did this all on his own. He brought this on himself," she argued. "I'm just asking you, before you give one of your three-hanky, God Bless America, root-for-the-underdog closing arguments, that you think about what this man did."

"Bobbi, how can you condemn him when he was just trying to do what you're trying to accomplish right now - improve our national security," he said plaintively.

"You don't really believe that line he's giving out, do you? The CIA says - "

"I've seen Webb's information, and I just don't buy it," Harm shot back. "I don't trust that guy not to fake the files for his own purposes if somewhere in his labrynthian mind he thinks it's for the good of the nation."

"Harm, I just finished getting briefed by someone a lot higher up on the food chain than Clayton Webb," Bobbi told him. "And I got the full version. This is no joke. This guy was two hours away from making contact with the North Koreans. The CIA has three top analysts doing nothing but trying to track down the money he got to pull the job."

"But they haven't found it, have they?" he parried.

"No, but it's just a matter of time."

"Well, they'd better find it before we get to court," Harm said sharply. "Because I don't believe it exists, and I'm going to have a field day with this in court. I think the CIA's just trying to cover for their own ineptitude. And I'm not letting a man be put to death because of it. I can't believe you'd ask me to do less than my best for my client."

"Harm, just think about one thing," Bobbi responded. "Do you believe he's innocent because you really believe him, or because you don't want to believe that a Naval officer could do something like this?"

"Good afternoon, Congresswoman," he said, as politely as he could manage, and hung up.

Reliving the conversation again, he wondered if there wasn't just a bit of truth in what she'd said. In fact, Mac had said the same thing to him a few minutes ago when she'd brought him a list of questions she planned to ask his client at the deposition. He'd denied it, he'd tried to remind her how untrustworthy Webb had been in the past, but thinking about it some more, he wondered if it were true.

He'd wanted to be a Naval officer all his life. He'd proudly absorbed the values of honor, courage, and duty, first from his father, and then at the Academy. How could someone who'd served as an officer for twelve years do something as horrible as selling his country out to an enemy nation. Was he letting himself be blinded?

But thinking back to his talk with Flanders, he didn't think so. The man seemed so sincere. Sure, it had been a stupid, misguided thing to do, but he'd done it for all the right reasons. Should he die for it?

No, Harm told himself. He shouldn't.

***

On the other side of the wall from Harm, Mac was also entertaining doubts about the case. She was horrified that a member of the military would steal military secrets for any reason. Webb had been pretty convincing with his evidence that Flanders had done it for financial gain, not for reasons of principle.

But what if the CIA were wrong? What if Flanders had been acting under a misguided sense of duty? What if he thought he was doing the right thing for his country, just as Uncle Matt had? Webb had had to admit that they hadn't found a money trail yet. Despite what she had told Harm, could she live with herself if she helped condemn a man to death who turned out to be trying to save his country?

Like Harm, she had also gotten a calls from various interest groups and from Congresswoman Latham, encouraging her to prosecute Flanders for treason with no holds bar. Mac was uncomfortable with the feeling that Flanders was being used as a political cause, a sacrificial lamb. She knew the calls she'd gotten today were just the beginning. She knew the Admiral and Harm were both under pressure from every conceivable direction.

If only she could be sure that Flanders had planned to sell to the Koreans. It would make things so much more clearcut. But with all the pressure JAG was under to move the case to trial, she might not be sure before she had to present her case. Reaching a decision, she picked up the phone and called Mic.

"H'lo."

"Mic, meet me at McMurphy's in an hour," Mac said. "I'll either have something to celebrate or else I'll need a shoulder to cry on."

"I'll be there, luv," he said.

She hung up the phone and walked out of her office. Leaning into Harm's office, she said, "Meet me at McMurphy's in half an hour. Maybe we can talk deal." She was gone before he could overcome his surprise and respond, heading toward the Admiral's office.

2300 ZULU
McMURPHY'S TAVERN
FALLS CHURCH, VA

Mic sauntered in and spotted Harm sitting alone at a table. He walked over to join him.

"Eh, mate, how're you doing?" Mic asked.

"Oh, hi, Brumby," Harm said uneasily. "I was just waiting for Mac."

"What a coincidence, me too," Mic said genially.

"Uh, we're going to be talking some business when she gets here . . . " Harm said, hoping Mic would take the hint. He really wasn't in the mood to talk to Mac's . . . whatever Mic was to her . . . right now. Just seeing the cheerful Aussie set his teeth on edge - always had.

"No problem, mate. When she shows up I'll go to the bar and let you two talk. But no sense in us both drinking alone in the meantime, is there?" he asked reasonably.

"I guess not," Harm said reluctantly.

The waitress came over to take Mic's order and soon returned with a beer. There was an awkward silence, and then Harm asked, "So, how's the job hunt going?"

"Oh, didn't Mac tell you? I got a job as legal counsel at the Australian Embassy. Just got the word Monday."

"She didn't mention it," Harm said. "We don't really discuss you too much. Congratulations."

Another pause, and then Harm piped up, knowing he would probably regret it. "I notice you haven't convinced her to switch that ring over to her left hand yet."

Mic thought for a moment, considering how to respond. "I'm not sure that's any of your business, Harm," he said.

"Mac is a very good friend of mine. I care about her. I don't want to see her hurt."

He decided now might be as good a time as any to get some things out in the open. "I don't plan to hurt her. And to answer your question, I'm not trying to rush her," he said. "It's her decision to make."

"So that's why you moved halfway across the world - to not rush her into making a decision?"

"The way I see it, my decision's made," Mic said. "I want to be with her. So I moved to be with her. But she's still making up her mind. So I'm letting her."

"Don't you think if she really loved you, she would already have decided?" Harm goaded, just as ready as Mic to have it out. "It seems to me she's decided by not deciding. If you loved her like you say you do, you wouldn't put her through this. You'd let her go."

"Well, you'd know all about letting her go, wouldn't you, mate," Mic shot back. He was trying not to get angry, but it was hard not to. Not just because Harm was being purposely rude, but also because he'd hit a sore spot. Mic had worried about that very issue many times. But he'd settled it with himself that he would do everything he could to convince Mac he could make her happy. He'd do everything she'd let him do to make her happy right now. In short, he'd do everything he could – short of forcing her to make a decision before she was ready. It wasn't in his nature to pull back from something he wanted, something he thought was right. He couldn't start now.

"What is that supposed to mean?" Harm asked sharply, jerking Mic back to the present.

"It means that just because you're willing to let her go, doesn't mean I should," Mic said. "Look, mate, we're never going to see eye-to-eye on this. But I love Mac. And I'm ready to be with her right now. If you aren't, then maybe you shouldn't try to stop her from finding happiness with someone else. If you really care about her, then you'll let her decide what's best for her." He glanced over and saw Mac heading toward them. He picked up his beer and stood up. "And now I'll let you two talk." He walked to the bar, greeting Mac with a kiss on the cheek on his way.

Mac took Mic's seat across from Harm. "Did you two have a nice chat?" she asked, sensing the tension coiling through Harm.

"Yes, a pleasure as always," Harm said sarcastically. He looked at Mac. Mic had given him something to think about. But not now. "So you said something about a deal?"

"Yes. The way I see it, this thing is a huge nightmare waiting to happen," Mac said. "Every group in Washington is ready to turn this into a political cause."

"I agree," Harm said.

"We know that Flanders stole the disks. His guilt isn't in doubt, only his motive. The CIA says it could be weeks or even months before they can either track down a payment from the Koreans or eliminate the possibility that one was made. And no one, especially the SECNAV, is willing to wait that long to go to trial."

"So what do we do?" Harm asked.

"It took some convincing, but the SECNAV, the CIA, and the Attorney General, and the Secretary of State are willing to agree to a plea bargain of 25 years to life in a military prison, and of course a dishonorable discharge."

"First of all, since when do the CIA, the Attorney General, and the Secretary of State, have anything to say about the disposition of a military case?" Harm asked.

"They don't, but realistically speaking, it would be tough to get one through on this high-profile of a case involving national security unless all those parties signed off," Mac reminded him. "State is actually pushing the deal. If Flanders was going to sell to the North Koreans, they don't want to know about it. Seems it might upset some "high level diplomatic meetings" they're setting up with the new government there."

"Unbelievable," Harm said in disgust.

"I agree, but Harm, you've got to see this could be the best thing for your client. Death penalty is off the table, and conceivably he could be paroled in 14 years, still a reasonably young man."

"Unless he gets off because he did it for the good of his country," Harm countered.

"Be realistic," Mac urged. "The most sympathetic members in the world aren't going to let a man whose admitted he stole top-secret nuclear information go scot-free, no matter why he did it. And he still gets to be a martyr for his cause, if that's why he did it. He just doesn't have to die."

Harm thought for a moment. Then he said, "I'll take the offer to Flanders. And I'll recommend he take it."

SEPTEMBER 27, 2000
1500 ZULU
JAG HEADQUARTERS
FALLS CHURCH, VA

Webb walked into Harm's office. It was the first time Harm had seen him since Commander Flander's sentencing. The officer had accepted the plea bargain and had been sent to Leavenworth, from where he was communicating with the media on an almost daily basis about the security of the Department of Energy labs. The military prison authorities were afraid to cut of his access for fear of being accused of a cover-up.

"What brings you here, Webb?" Harm asked warily. "And don't tell me another case. I've already saved the world at least once this year."

"Just thought you might be interested in this," Webb said, tossing him a plain white envelope. Then he spun on his heels and disappeared as quickly as he had come.

Harm picked up the envelope and opened it up. Inside was a single piece of paper. Unfolding it, he studied it, feeling shock burn through him as he realized what it meant.

It was a photocopy of a bank statement for an account in the Cayman Islands in the name of Harold Flanders. The statement showed a single transaction: a deposit in the amount of $5 million dollars on August 14th.

THE END

Note:
Most of this is completely made up, but disks containing top-secret information on how to disarm U.S. nuclear missiles did go missing from a safe in Los Alamos for three weeks. Also, the part about the colored badges is true.