LAST WEEK ON JAG

"Harm," Mac tried again, her voice low and soothing. "Put the gun down. It’s not what you think. He was only trying to help us..."

"I know what he was trying to do, damn it!" Harm yelled, cutting her off. "I trusted you..." he whispered, his eyes narrowed on her face. "I trusted you, Sarah..."

Mac took a step backward. "I’ll shoot you if I have to, Harm. Put your gun down," she ordered gently, firmly, praying he would do it.

"And make it easier for you to kill me?" he laughed bitterly. "Sorry to ruin the plan. Shoulda just left me..." he added, his words slurring slightly. "I’m not stupid. I won’t let...let you...shoot me in the back."

"What are you talking about?" Mac demanded, her frustration growing. "Mark, what have they done to him? Damn you, what did you have them do?" she yelled angrily, swinging around to point her gun at Sokol and leaving her back to Harm.

"Mac!" Webb called. "It’s some kind of trap! Don’t turn your back to..." Mac swung around - gun aloft - and the belch of gunfire rang out in the still night.

AND NOW THE CONCLUSION
Masque of Deception

If any one of them were asked to recount what happened after that...the details probably wouldn’t make any sense. The whole scene seemed suspended in time. No one moved. No one spoke. No one seemed to even be breathing. Admiral Chegwidden was the first to react as he realized Mac was down. He swung and aimed his gun at Harm, unsure of what was truly going on but knowing they were beyond all reason.

"Commander Rabb, stand down!" he bellowed.

Harm looked slowly from the woman crumpled on the ground to his superior and slowly took aim at him.

"I will shoot you, Commander! Now drop your gun!" A.J. ordered. Harm heard the words from a great distance and tried to focus on the Admiral’s face, weaving just a bit.

"Shoot him, Commander Rabb. Shoot him before I kill you."

A.J. and Webb heard the words at the same time and swung slowly to look at Mark Falcon. The agent was pointing his own gun at Harm, his finger tenuously on the trigger.

"I knew we couldn’t trust you," Webb growled furiously.

"This wasn’t supposed to happen!" Mark went on as if Webb had never spoken, his eyes locked on Harm, who could barely stand now. "She was supposed to shoot you first! I wanted you out of the way for good! Damn it, she was mine! She's always been mine!"

Incredulously, A.J. and Webb listened to the words spoken with a venomous fury.

"It was you!" Webb breathed. "You set this all up from the beginning!"

"Yes! I wanted . . ." Falcon briefly took his eyes from Harm, focusing on the figure that lay motionless before him. "But I never intended...I never...You bastard!"

The voices echoed around Harm, unrecognizable words of jealousy, hatred, conspiracy and betrayal spoken in familiar . . . except for one. He couldn't hear her anymore. Why couldn't he hear her anymore? Why couldn't he see her anymore? He couldn't see . . . but for a moment the cloud that shrouded his mind lifted, his hands shook and his gaze fell on the seemingly lifeless body before him. Filled with immeasurable guilt, he fell to his knees and reached for her dropping the gun that he had fired . . . the gun that fired the shot . . . that had fired the shot that had taken her from him.

"Stay away from her, you bastard!"

"Falcon!" Was the last word shouted before the volley of gun-fire erupted, as Clayton Webb fired, as Mark Falcon gasped his final breath, and as he lay dead next to the still body of Sarah MacKenzie. The Marine now being cradled in the arms of the man that had shot her, the man that couldn't let go.

Confusion reigned around them as men started appearing from the woods with Captain Korsokova and the prison guard firmly in their custody. A.J. ran to where Harm and Mac lay, cognizant of his two officer's blood mingling together from the shoulder wound inflicted by Falcon on Harm and the head wound inflicted on Mac by Rabb.

"Harm... Harm..." When A.J. saw the blank stare, saw the tears streaking down the officer's face, his voice softened and realized there was no way in hell that Harmon Rabb was going to relinquish his hold on Sarah MacKenzie. As A.J. tried to access her condition, Harm's grasp grew tighter. It was as if he was trying to pass his own energy, his own strength to her though he was wounded himself and his drug-induced world was spinning out of control.

"Son, please..." Before A.J. could convince Harm he wasn't there to hurt Mac, they were all engulfed with the wind stirred by the two landing helos, the confusion around them growing to deafening proportions. Watching Clayton Webb bark orders at the CIA agents that disembarked from the second helo, A.J.'s face turned to stone as he stood stiffly and made his way towards the second helo.

"Webb! You son of a bitch! You knew didn't you? You knew about all this! Damn you!" Russia, the Iranian desert, the Sudanese Embassy all flashed through the Admiral's mind as he moved closer to the one person that always seemed to use his officers in his covert operations without concern for....

Suddenly out of the mist, Michael Roth stepped between A.J. and Webb. "Yes, Admiral. We knew. Certainly not about Sokol's maniacal infatuation with Colonel MacKenzie, but we knew about the set-up of the Commander for the Admiral's murder. Unfortunately, this was a highly classified operation, therefore any discussion..."

"Excuse me, Mr. Roth, but right now I don't give a rat's ass about your highly classified operation. Right now my only concern is for my two officers lying in their own blood. But you better understand one thing. We will have this discussion once my officers receive medical assistance. That I can guarantee you on my stars! So I suggest you get them on that chopper and out of here now! Do I make myself clear?"

"Crystal clear, Admiral."

0430 ZULU
A PRIVATE HOSPITAL
OUTSKIRTS OF MOSCOW

Several hours after they left the deserted bridge, Admiral Chegwidden was finally allowed in to see Harm, who was coming through the effects of the drugs he’d been given. The private hospital Michael Roth whisked them away to was secluded but there were still armed military guards crawling around the place for their protection. Falcon was dead...for good this time and Captain Korsokova and several of his men were in custody.

Cautiously, A.J. pushed open the door to the hospital room and looked in. Harm was propped up in the white bed, sheets pulled to his waist and his head turned toward the dark window. He didn’t acknowledge he heard anyone come in but he spoke.

"Go away."

"Giving me orders, Commander?" A.J. drawled wryly.

Harm slowly, slowly turned to look at his superior, his eyes dark and withdrawn. He looked like a man who had just gone through a war...his face sunken and pale.

"No, sir," he answered hollowly. "I just want to be left alone. I imagine I’m in so much trouble I’ll never get out of it so you might as well leave me here and go back to Washington."

"That’s about the sorriest, feel-sorry-for-myself answer I’ve ever heard from you, Rabb!" A.J. thundered.

Harm remained silent, simply looking at the older man.

"Let me set a few things straight. You’re in no trouble and I’m sure as hell not leaving you here," he went on, a little more quietly this time. "Right now all I want is for the doctor to tell me we can leave so we can get the hell back to Washington. That’s all I want you to worry about, too. Nothing else until we get home. Is that clear?"

Harm still refused to speak and A.J. sighed. Coming closer to the bed, his face softened and Harm saw a more vulnerable side of his CO...the deep lines of worry and exhaustion etched around his hard mouth.

"Do you remember what happened?" A.J. asked carefully, watching for a reaction.

"Are you asking if I remember that I shot my partner because I thought she was going to shoot me?" Harm demanded bitterly, his anger bursting forth. "Yes, damn it! I remember every detail so just leave me the hell alone, Admiral!"

"No," A.J. answered succinctly. "I will not. She’s down two doors on the left." With those final words he turned and left the room, quietly but firmly closing the door behind him.

The sound echoed deep in Harm’s soul. Guilt raged in him. Guilt and doubt and self-recrimination for everything he could have and should have done differently. How could he go in there and face her? How could the Admiral expect him to?

But at the same time another side of him demanded to be heard. The side that had to go see that she was all right. Had to see her face, see her dark eyes, hear her voice. Had to see her even if it meant seeing her hatred and accusation against him. Very slowly, he flipped the sheet back and swung his legs to the floor. Someone had produced a pair of hospital scrubs for him and the worn, blood stained evening clothes he’d still worn from the State dinner were disposed of. He made his way out of the room, catching sight of several uniformed men with guns. He went to the door the Admiral had indicated and grasped the knob. He hesitated and drew a slow breath before blowing it out in a whoosh. Steeling himself for the unknown, he carefully eased the door open and slipped inside.

****

Mac stared listlessly at the dark window to the night sky beyond. A small lamp burned on the bedstand behind her, casting an eerie glow on the room. The Admiral had come in briefly to see how she was doing, ordering her gently not to worry about anything and promising things would be fine. He mentioned only once, that her partner would recover from the drugs. There was no mention of the shooting. She could only imagine what he must be thinking or feeling. If she knew him like she thought she did...

The sound of the door opening caught her attention and in the reflection of the window, she saw him. Steeling herself to what lie ahead, she took a slow breath and turned her head.

"Harm," she spoke softly. He heard the concern in her voice, not believing that it could be directed toward him.

"When we get back to Washington, I’ll request a transfer. I’m sure seeing me every day for the foreseeable future isn’t high on your list of great things in life."

"You don’t have to do that," she whispered. Please, Harm don’t do this, she thought.

"No, you’re the Admiral’s Chief of Staff, you belong there. I’ll go to CINCPAC or something."

Harm watched in shock as Mac swung her legs over the side of the bed and walked slowly toward him. She placed her hands on his face. Looking into his eyes, she mentally steeled herself for what was to come.

"You hate yourself for this, don’t you?"

"And you don’t hate me?"

"Harm, you were under the influence of mind altering drugs. You had no idea what you were doing."

"I shot you, Mac! How can you..."

"How can I what, Harm? Forgive you? Because above all else we are friends. At one point in our lives we were best friends. That wasn’t you out there last night."

Harm dropped to the bed before him. Putting his face in his hands, he fought back the tears that threatened to drop from his eyes.

Mac knelt before him. "If I can forgive you, you can forgive yourself. Can you do that for me?"

Mac was startled to hear him chuckle slightly. "Is this a course they taught you in law school? How to save Harmon Rabb from himself 101?"

"Yeah, I aced it." They stood up, laughing.

"Sarah, thank god you’re all right." They were startled to see Mic come into the room, followed closely by Renee."

"We came as soon as Mr. Webb called us," Renee said, answering the unasked questions swirling around them.

"Well, I’m going to go back to my own room. I’ll see you later."

Mac watched Renee link her arm through Harm’s and lead him back to his own room.

"Mic, you didn’t have to come up here. We’re going home tomorrow."

"That’s why I had to come up here. I’m not going back to Washington."

"What?" Mac asked, surprised.

"The scene that I just walked in confirmed any lingering doubt that I might have had. I was hoping that we could work this out, but I was wrong. Whatever bond you have formed with Rabb over the years is stronger than any that you and I can ever hope to form."

"Mic, it’s not like that."

"Yes, it is."

Down the hall, Harm sat down on his hospital bed, watching Renee pace the floor.

"This would make a great movie of the week!"

Harm laughed softly at her, always thinking that his life should be a movie. "I’m sure it would, but I’m not selling my rights to you."

"I know, besides, I have bigger fish to fry."

"What?" he asked.

"I’ve been offered a job as assistant director on a feature film."

"That’s great. What is it about?"

"It’s supposed to be next summer’s blockbuster romantic comedy."

"Where is it filming?"

"Vancouver. I’ll be gone for four or five months." She stopped pacing and sat down beside him. "Maybe when I get back we can see if there is anything still here," she said quietly.

"Maybe we can."

"You’re not fighting this very hard," she commented. "I didn’t think you would."

"Renee, we both know it was fun while it lasted. But some things just aren’t meant to be long term."

Mac stood at the window focused on nothing but the thoughts that rewound in her mind. Mic was gone, Harm was with Renee and she was once again alone.

"Colonel? Mac?"

Gaining her outward composure, she turned slowly at the sound of the Admiral's voice, and was startled by the sight of his companion being ushered into the room.

"I understand you know this young woman." A. J. paused concerned momentarily by the startled statement on Mac's face. " She has shown great perseverance in getting past the guards, insisting on seeing your condition for herself. "

"Rusha?" Mac hesitated for a moment before she moved toward the woman who had helped to save Harm and her so many years ago. "Is it really you?"

"Yes, it is I. I just wanted to see you for myself. To see that you were all right. To see that he hadn't hurt you as my visions had . . . "

". . . predicted?" Suddenly a chill ran through Mac as she was transported back to the bridge of her dreams, back to the mist, back to the woman who was always standing in the shadows. The woman who now stood before her.

"Yes, I'm afraid as I predicted in your dreams. I tried to warn you in the light of day. I sent the note. I knew he would hurt you and your friend, but you wouldn't listen. I was frightened that he had . . . "

Sarah Mackenzie embraced the Russian Gypsy and simply 'whispered, "Thank you."

Uncomfortable, Rusha moved away. "I am glad to see that you are safe and so is your friend. I must go now."

"Rusha, stay for..."

"I must go. My brother waits. This time the dark fates have been cheated, but next time they whisper to you in your dreams, listen to them. Trust them. Let them light your way. For the next time they will be the fates of happiness that will come to you."

As quickly as Rusha had appeared, she was gone.

"She's the Gypsy from your last visit to Russia, Colonel?"

"She's Romanesque, Sir. And she has a great gift."

TWO WEEKS LATER
HARM’S APARTMENT
NORTH OF UNION STATION

Harm sat at the bar in his apartment talking on the phone.

"Yes, Grandma, I’m fine. The effects of the drugs were short term. No, I’m not a PCP addict now or anything. I’m still your same straight laced, uptight, Grandson. I’ll bring Sarah up one day soon. I promise. I love you too." Harm clicked off the phone and turned to the sound of his opening apartment door.

"Mac, you’re early."

Mac sat her briefcase down. She went over and stood in front of Harm on the barstool.

He placed his hands on her shoulders and swept his lips across hers in a brief kiss.

"What was that for?" she asked.

"Has too much time passed?"

Mac placed a gentle kiss on his lips.

"Is there too much water under the bridge?"

"No. Are you going to tell your grandma that there will be more than one Sarah on that trip?"

Harm stood slowly, totally focused on the woman that stood so close to him finally, as more than a friend. He tenderly traced the outline of her face with the back of his hand.

"No. I thought I would surprise her. Gram and I have always shared a unique bond. I know all she'll have to do is look in my eyes and know that there are now "three" Sarahs that occupy the most important part of my life." The fates of happiness had come to her in the solitude of her dreams, and this time she had listened.

THE END