Title: Darkness Descending

Author: Vivienne

Feedback to: [email protected]

And I would love to hear from you- good or bad!

WARNING: THIS STORY DEALS WITH THE TOPIC OF RAPE. There will be no explicit scenes or descriptions of the act, but it is the story of dealing with the consequences of a violent act. This is not my usual shipper fluff. I wanted to try my hand at dealing with a serious issue, so here it is.

Many thanks to LRM, who beta read the story for me. And to Catmom, for her tireless advice on the behavior of victims. And to Kay and LindyS, for reading and encouraging. And also to Barb, who gave valuable advice.

This story is dedicated to 2 people that I know that were raped. This is not their story in any way shape or form, but it is a story to show that happiness is possible, even after that horrible act.

Friday

1946 Local

The chaos swirled around her. Flashing police lights cut across her vision every few seconds, and the detective was barking questions at her. The rain misted down gently in the parking lot of the convenience store. The lights that had been flashing Joe’s Quick Stop were out, but the lights from the police cruisers cast an eerie other-world feel to the rather isolated convenience store.

Through it all, she sat quietly in the back seat of the police cruiser, holding little AJ tightly in her lap. At the moment, he was her sole focus, and she whispered soothing words to him constantly. Occasionally she shifted her attention to the young girl huddled next to her, giving comfort as best she could.

Little AJ clung to her just as tightly, his blonde head resting against her shoulder, his thumb in his mouth. Every few minutes he would give a little hiccup, the leftovers of crying. But he was calming down and feeling safer by the minute. The young girl was quiet as well.

A minivan pulled into the convenience store parking lot and stopped with a screech of brakes. Bud and Harriet emerged, looking frantically around. Mac looked up at the sound of Harriet’s voice calling for her son.

"AJ! There he is, Bud!" Harriet’s voice was almost hysterical as she tried to push past the policeman blocking her way. Bud followed her, his artificial leg slowing him down.

"Ma’am, sir, I’m afraid no one can go in there right now." The uniformed policeman was kind, but firm. The entire building was cordoned off with yellow police tape. The one entry was guarded.

Mac stood and walked the few steps to them, still holding AJ. "It’s okay, Officer, they’re his parents."

As if on cue, AJ held out his arms to his parents and started crying again. This time, the Officer didn’t attempt to stop Harriet from getting to her son. "AJ, honey, it’s okay. Mommy and Daddy are here, honey." Harriet took Little AJ from Mac and cuddled her sobbing son close, then walked off towards the minivan.

Mac didn’t say anything, just stood there looking after them.

"Colonel, are you all right?" Bud’s concerned voice startled her for some reason, and she shifted her gaze over to him. She looked disheveled and was sporting a bruise on her cheek. There was an emptiness in her expression that troubled him, and there was a large spot of blood on the front of her white shirt that troubled him more.

"I’m fine, Bud. And I think AJ will be, too." She shivered even though the night was warm and she had on a light jacket thrown over her shoulders to protect her from the rain. She was afraid she wouldn’t ever feel warm again. She tried for a smile, but gave up the attempt after a moment.

"Miss Mackenzie, I really need to get your statement now." Detective Bigalow tried to convey patience, but his was wearing thin. A large balding man in his late fifties dressed in the requisite old suit with scuffed shoes, he displayed a lack of sensitivity that also bothered Bud. It was obvious this man’s vocabulary did not include the word "empathy".

Noting the Colonel’s blank stare, Bud felt a strong urge to protect her wash over him. He didn’t know what was wrong with her, but he was damn sure not going to let this detective bully her when she couldn’t defend herself. "I don’t think so, Detective…Bigalow?" He squinted at the ID tag on the man’s suit jacket, then looked over at Mac again, once again taking in her pale features and drawn countenance. "This can wait till morning. I’ll bring her down to the station myself."

Bigalow’s eyes narrowed as he answered Bud nastily. "Look buddy, I don’t know who you are, but there has been a shooting here, and two men are dead. I can’t just let her go." Turning back to Mac, he gestured roughly for her to precede him back to the cruiser.

Bud borrowed a page from his mentor, Rabb, and stiffened his spine. Giving the detective what he hoped was a hard look, he replied, "I’m an attorney with JAG, and so is Colonel Mackenzie." He emphasized the Colonel for good measure. "We’re both well aware of her rights and I’m telling you-"

"It’s all right, Bud." Mac’s voice interrupted his tirade. "Go ahead and take Harriet and AJ home. They need you. Wrapping her arms around herself, she continued. "I’ll give him his statement and see you in the morning." Her second attempt at a smile failed utterly. "I’ll be okay, don’t worry."

It was true Harriet and AJ needed him, but they would be okay without him for a little while. He thought back to the day of his injury, when his friends risked a DDO charge to support him. There was no way he would abandon her, not with that look in her eyes.

"Ma’am, either I stay, or I call Commander Turner or the Admiral for you." Commander Rabb was conducting an investigation on a carrier halfway around the world.

"NO!" His jump at her sharp tone made her take a deep breath and start over. "No, thank you Bud, but I can handle it. There’s no sense in ruining their night as well. Go, your family needs you."

This time when he met her eyes there was a spark of fear in hers, only hardening his resolve. He didn’t understand what was going on in her head, but that didn’t matter. Turning to Bigalow, he continued, "I’m her attorney, no questions until I’m present."

Bigalow merely rolled his eyes. "Fine."

Mac interjected with a protest. "Bud, you don’t have to-"

This time it was his turn to cut her off. "Yes I do, ma’am. I don’t abandon friends anymore than you do." And with that he made his way across the parking lot to confer with Harriet and send her home with Little AJ.

Bigalow didn’t say a word as they waited for his return, his irritation palpable. Mac was quiet as well.

The minivan pulled out and Bud walked back over to them. "Okay, Detective. Ma’am, do you want to do this here, or down at the station?"

Mac shot him a tired glance. "Here, Bud. Let’s just get this over with." Turning from the two men, she went back to the police cruiser and leaned inside. "Casey, come on, honey. You stay with me until your parents get here, okay?"

To Bud’s surprise, a young brunette girl in jeans and a T-shirt about 16 years old climbed out of the back of the cruiser and stood next to Mac. "This is Casey, Bud. She was in the store with us. She’s having a difficult time reaching her parents."

The girl was obviously shaken, and was looking to Mac for protection, but she managed to say a few words. "They’re coming. They’ll be here in a few minutes." Mac put a steadying arm around the girl’s shoulders.

Casey had barely finished the sentence when an expensive looking SUV roared into the parking lot with a harried looking couple inside.

Mac looked over to Bigelow, her first real emotion showing. "Look, she’s underage and scared. Can’t you question her tomorrow? I can give you everything you need to know." She watched as Casey ran to her parents, the tears starting to flow again. The woman gave her a comforting hug as the man continued in their direction.

One look at the obviously wealthy man coming his way caused Bigelow to cave. "OK." Grumpily he walked over and met Casey’s father to make the arrangements.

"Ma’am? Do we need to talk alone before you tell them what happened?" Bud asked gently as he still didn’t know what happened in the store. Mac’s call to him had been brief and to the point. They had stumbled on an attempted robbery, but Little AJ was fine, they needed to come and get him. But he was banking on Mac’s legal knowledge to let him protect her if she needed it.

Mac shook her head wearily. "No Bud, it’s okay. I really just want to get this over with." There was a tired slump in her shoulders that normally wasn’t there.

"OK then, let’s get you comfortable." Hesitantly he put an arm around her to guide her to the cruiser, but she pulled away sharply.

At his surprised look she shot him an apologetic look. "Sorry Bud, I’m just jumpy. I had to…I…"

To her horror she felt tears welling up and desperately choked them down. Taking a deep breath, she continued in an almost desperate tone. "I had to kill them both. I had no choice."

Shocked, Bud could only stare at her.

Finally he voiced the question. "What happened exactly?" He was aware that Bigelow had returned and was standing next to him, but the detective didn’t interrupt. Bud had asked the question Bigelow would have asked anyway.

Mac directed her answer to both of them, but looked away across the neighboring field as she answered. "I stopped to pick up some coffee, that’s all. I was running Little AJ home, and just stopped for a minute for some coffee." Pausing for a moment, she drew a shaky breath before continuing.

"When I went in, Casey was there. She was filling cokes in the cooler. She told me she’d be right out, so I went to find the coffee and then waited for her at the counter."

"Two men came in then." Meeting Bigelow’s gaze was difficult, but she forced herself. "I didn’t like the look of them…I had a bad feeling. They looked around the store, then came up to me. One, the younger one, pulled a gun and told me to keep quiet."

It was then she looked at Bud apologetically. "I didn’t put up a fight. I did as he asked for Little AJ’s sake, Bud. I wouldn’t have endangered him for anything." She seemed to be almost pleading with him to believe her.

He nodded, shaken at her story. "I know, ma’am."

Another ragged breath was drawn. "Anyway, the other one went to the door where Casey would come out. As soon as she did, he grabbed her and pushed a gun to her side. He forced her back up to the counter and demanded the keys. She did everything right, gave him the keys without a fight."

The pause this time was longer, as if she was gathering strength. "Go on, Colonel." Bigelow’s voice was still impatient, and Bud shot him an angry look. Bigelow had the grace to look slightly ashamed of himself. Mac took no notice of the exchange.

"They locked the doors then, and shut off the lights outside to make it look like the store was closed, I guess." Staring at the ground now, she visibly braced herself to continue. "They told us to get in the back…in the store room. One of them, I think his name was Tom, emptied the cash register as we went to the back."

Suddenly she looked up. "Please, I’ve got to sit down." Her hands were trembling, and Bud could see the toll this was taking on her and was infinitely glad he had stayed. Bigelow finally acted like a human being and pointed to the cruiser. "Why don’t you sit there, Colonel? We’ll try to finish this quickly."

She clutched her hands together to hide the tremor after she sat down and faced out towards them as both of the men stayed near the open door. "When we got there…to the store room…they…the 2 men…decided they wanted something more."

‘Oh God’, thought Bud, ‘Please don’t let this have happened.’

"I convinced them to let Casey alone. She was too young…I…I…" This time she couldn’t choke back the sob. Both her hands were over her face, but she gathered herself together and continued the story. "They wanted to do it right there, but I begged them not to. Not in front of AJ and Casey. I promised I wouldn’t fight."

A bleak stillness came over her. It was chilling. "Tom and I went into the manager’s office. He closed the door, but didn’t lock it. He came over to me and pushed me against the desk." She stopped and looked at Bigelow. "I had promised not to fight, but when he started to grope me, something just snapped, and I…I…pushed him away. He got mad then, and punched me." One slender hand touched the bruise on her cheek in remembrance. "I just lost it then, and we grappled for the gun. While we were struggling, it went off."

She stopped, seemingly lost in memories. Bud asked this time, as gently as he could. "And then?"

"He died." This was said flatly, in a monotone. Shaking her head as if to wake herself up, she continued.

"And then the other one, I never heard his name, burst in through the door. I still had the gun in my hand, so I shot him too. It was a reflex, really. I didn’t stop to think."

She stopped again, then added as an afterthought. "Casey and AJ were naturally upset, but I managed to calm them down and call 911. We waited for the police to show up."

"Did either one of them…" Bud hesitated to ask, but wanted make sure, "hurt you?"

Once again she touched the bruise on her cheek, but didn’t meet his eyes. "Except for this, I’m fine."

Bud couldn’t help feeling there was more, but he didn’t want to push her, especially in front of Bigelow. He turned to the detective. "Anything else you need?" He hoped not. It was obvious Mac had been through enough for the evening.

"Just a couple of questions. Have you ever seen either of those two men before?"

Mutely, Mac shook her head.

"Do you know why…" He checked his notes briefly. "Casey was in the store by herself?"

"She said her manager had an emergency…a sick kid. He was supposed to be back in a little while."

Bigelow thumbed through his notebook, and then sighed. "Okay, that’s it for now. As long as the kid backs up your story, we shouldn’t have a problem. And the security tapes."

Mac’s head jerked around in alarm. "Security tapes?"

Suspiciously Bigelow eyed her and nodded. "Yeah, security monitors the entire merchandise area. No sound, just video. Why?"

Bud broke in before it went any further. "If there’s nothing else, I’ll just see the Colonel home."

There was a short silence as Bigelow considered this. Mac looked visibly shaken, but that could have been the result of the whole night, not the last question.

Finally, Bigelow acquiesced. "All right. But don’t leave town, we might have questions."

JAG Headquarters

Thursday

1032 Local

Admiral AJ Chegwidden exited his office to get some coffee. He was in an expansive mood this morning. The SecNav was on vacation for 2 weeks, he had finished up the budget request early, and Meredith wasn’t cooking dinner tonight. All in all, the day was looking good.

His good cheer and his trek to the break room was interrupted by a loud "God damn it!" from Colonel Mackenzie’s office. This was followed almost immediately by the sound of a muffled crash. All activity in the bullpen ceased as personnel looked apprehensively at Mac’s office.

AJ noted the apparent reluctance of anyone to approach as he made his way to her door. He had not spoken with Mac alone since Monday morning when she had briefed him on the events of Friday night. At the time, he was aware that her demeanor was strained, but her obvious disinclination to discuss Friday’s incident, much less take any time off, had made him draw back. He respected her, and didn’t want to push. She’d handle it in her own way. She always did.

Still, he’d been worried about her. As he neared her office, he wondered if he’d made the right decision. He always had a finger on the pulse of his office, and he was well aware that Mac had been short-tempered all week, alternating between a cool professional attitude and an uncharacteristic crankiness.

He stopped at her door, shocked at the sight before him. Mac was sitting at her desk, her hands over her face, struggling not to cry.

"Colonel?"

The sound of his voice brought her to her feet instantly. "Yes sir?" A quick swipe at her eyes was her only concession to tears now. That cool professional attitude was snapped into place.

The stapler was on the floor where it had bounced off the wall. Looking at it to give himself a chance to think, he asked, "Is there a problem here?"

She flushed and looked embarrassed for a moment. "Uh, sorry sir. I guess I lost my temper."

Returning his gaze to her, he noted the circles under her eyes and ashen face. "Mac, are you all right?" The soft tone seemed to stiffen her spine even more.

"I’m fine sir." That, of course, was the answer he expected.

He sighed inwardly. Obviously, she wasn’t willing to open up, but he was going to try anyway. Rabb would back tomorrow, but he didn’t want to wait that long. If he couldn’t help her, surely Rabb would be able to.

"Have a seat, Mac." He waited until she seated herself at her desk before sitting down himself. He would have preferred his office for its home court advantage, but maybe the security of being in her own office would help.

Gathering his thoughts, he decided to cut right to the heart of the matter. He’d never been one for pussyfooting around. "I’ve been where you are, Mac. It’s never easy, no matter why you had to do it."

Wide-eyed, she stared at him. "Sir?"

He caught the tremble in her hands, but she quickly put them together to still them. Patiently he answered her. "I’ve had to kill people." Even now, after so many years, there were occasional nightmares about Vietnam.

For one moment she seemed to slump, and he thought he’d broken through. But in the next second her shoulders straightened and she recovered.

"I know, sir. I’ve been having…problems, but I’ll get past it. I can deal with it."

He appraised her stoic demeanor and silently admitted defeat. There was no sign of a crack in the armor. He couldn’t force her to talk, no matter how much he wanted to. At best, he could order her to counseling, but it could have ramifications on her career. Hopefully Rabb will have better luck. With a sigh, he gave up, with one last caveat.

"Okay, Mac, but take the rest of the day off." He cut off her immediate protest. "That’s an order, Colonel. Get some rest; you look like you could use it."

Resigned, she gave in to that. "Yes sir, thank you."

He got up to leave, but paused at the door. "Mac, if you need anything…" He let the sentence trail away, almost embarrassed.

She surprised him by giving him a genuine smile. It was a small one, but it was a start. "Thank you, sir, for everything."

He nodded and closed the door as he left. That smile had given him hope, but he wasn’t fooled into thinking she was all right. Maybe Meredith would have some insight that would help.

With the close of the door Mac dropped her head into her hands, propping her elbows on the desk. If she could just hold out for a few more minutes, she could get home and collapse. The tears welled, but she choked them back. "I can get through this, I’m a marine."

Ever since she had joined up, that mantra had gotten her through some tough times. Boot camp, OCS, law school, Bosnia…the list went on and on. It had worked (sort of) through Dalton’s murder and her subsequent stalking, and through the whole Ragle mess.

Unfortunately, it didn’t seem to be working now. She took a deep breath and repeated it again, fortifying herself for…whatever was to come.

Sarah Mackenzie’s Apartment

Georgetown

2330 Local

Once she left JAG, the day had loomed before her, frightening in its emptiness. She needed to be busy, to keep herself occupied. Having nothing to do only left room for thoughts best kept at bay. It had not been easy, but she’d managed to keep busy all day.

First she went for a 15 mile run. Usually a run meant time for introspection, a time for planning. But she discovered if she pushed herself - running harder and faster – that the struggle to keep up the pace and physical discomfort kept her from thinking.

A workout was next on the agenda. A stop at the gym was therapeutic. The hypnotic rhythm of heaving weights around as long as her strength held out was mesmerizing, requiring no thought whatsoever. And the boxing, even if it was sparring with a bag, released pent up emotion better than any "talk" could. It was cathartic.

By the time she got home it was early evening, and she was exhausted. Cleaning out her refrigerator occupied another hour. A scrub down of the bathrooms and kitchen, a quick vacuum and dust around the rest of the apartment and she could barely move.

She didn’t eat. In fact, she hadn’t eaten much since Friday. It was not that she was nauseous; it was that food just didn’t appeal to her. She had no appetite (an irony she was sure Harm would enjoy in other circumstances) and subsisted on coffee and an occasional nibble on crackers, or other readily available snacks.

For the first time since the weekend, she had hope that she might actually get several hours of uninterrupted sleep. A long hot shower relaxed her aching muscles and with the added comfort of some flannel pajamas, she poured herself into bed, worn out.

An hour later she was awake. Another nightmare brought her to her knees, sweating and trembling. "Shit," she said aloud. Her plan for a good night’s sleep was shot. That last nightmare had been a doozie, and sleep was now an impossibility.

The night now stretched out agonizingly in front of her. Not for the first time in her life, she cursed her sense of time. Usually she considered it a great asset, but when things were bad, it was a slow sort of torture feeling each minute tick by.

The ring of the phone startled her, making her jump. Putting a hand to her heart to still its frantic beating, she picked it up. "Hello."

Harm’s cheery voice greeted her. "Hey Mac. I haven’t gotten a chance to call you since last week, and I just wanted to see how you’re doing." Uh huh, and there was no ice in Iceland. Someone had told him about Friday.

"I’m fine, Harm. How’s life on the carrier? Case about wrapped up?" Two could play at this game.

"Yeah, I should be home tomorrow. How about dinner? I’ll cook." Oh yes, he definitely had been told. In all their years as friends, he had never called and asked her to dinner before he got home.

Unexpectedly she felt her heart twist painfully. They’d been growing closer, almost dating, and prior to the weekend she’d been sure they were getting ready to move toward a more intimate relationship. Well that was sure screwed up now.

"Mac? Are you still there?" Harm’s almost frantic voice interrupted her thoughts.

"Yes, sorry. Umm…can I have a rain check?" She didn’t want to lie to him, but she wasn’t ready to face him yet.

There was a short pause and she thought for a moment she’d won. There was no privacy on a carrier, and he couldn’t really argue with her, much less get into a discussion of what happened.

Then his voice came achingly soft and sweet through the receiver of the phone. "Please, Mac. Bud emailed me. I need to see you."

Without warning, tears welled up and she choked back a sob. Damn him, he always knew how to get to her.

"Okay." Even as she said it, she knew she wouldn’t tell him the truth. She couldn’t.

He gave an audible sigh of relief. "I’ll pick you up. I should be there around 1800."

She gave a nod, then realized he couldn’t see her. "Okay."

He seemed to understand she couldn’t say more than that, and was satisfied for the moment. At least he would see her in less than 24 hours.

"I’ll see you tomorrow. Take care of yourself, Ninja-girl." The nickname touched her, bringing back memories of a simpler time.

Slowly she hung the phone up. Tears streamed silently down her face, and then she broke down completely. Collapsing on the bed, she sobbed as her heart broke. She cried for Harm, for all the lost opportunities. She cried for herself, and all the pain she was struggling with. And finally she cried for the loss of a dream…the dream of a future with Harm. It was gone, even if he didn’t know it yet.

JAG Headquarters

Friday

0720 Local

The office was quiet, only a few people were in. Mac poured herself a cup of coffee and then stared reflectively into it. Its murky black liquid seemed to mirror her state of mind.

Last night after Harm hung up she had cried herself to sleep. Then mind-numbing exhaustion must have kicked in, because she actually slept until 0400. Unfortunately, she didn’t feel any more rested than she had the previous evening. The depression was still there, broken only by occasional flashes of rage. Crying hadn’t helped anything, at least not that she could see. In fact, it only seemed to have made her wearier.

She managed to drag herself out of bed, shower and get dressed for work. No energy for a run this morning, and the thought of food had actually made her nauseous. Thank god for coffee.

This was her fourth cup this morning, and the caffeine was finally kicking in. She finally had enough energy to tackle some of the paperwork stacked up on her desk. Whenever she let her attention slide away from it for a day, it quickly grew. Longer than a day and it was a landslide she had to scramble to keep up with. She was just barely keeping her head above the flood level.

"How are you this morning, Colonel?" The Admiral’s voice broke into her reverie.

She jumped, fumbling with the coffee, but was unable to catch the mug as it fell. She smothered a "damn it" as the mug hit the edge of the counter, shattering, and spilling coffee everywhere. By some miracle, it missed her uniform for the most part, but did soak her shoes.

"Fine, sir," she replied with a sigh as she ruefully surveyed the mess.

AJ shot her an apologetic smile as he handed her the paper towels. "Sorry about that."

"It’s my own fault, sir. I should have been paying more attention." Carefully, she picked up the bigger pieces of broken mug and tossed them into the garbage. She spread paper towels around to sop up the worst of the coffee and then wiped her shoes and stockings down.

AJ watched as she cleaned up the mess, noting her wan features and tired demeanor. She sure as hell didn’t look ‘fine’. And had she lost weight? He considered making another attempt to get her to open up, but rejected it. Rabb would be back today, and hopefully he’d talk to her. In fact, he’d just make sure they had a reason to talk.

"Commander Rabb should be here this afternoon, and I have a new case for the two of you. Stop by my office this morning and pick up the file. You can brief him."

"Yes sir." She noted his scrutiny, but ignored it.

"And Colonel?" Something in him wouldn’t let him just drop it. She just looked so…. stressed.

"Yes sir?"

"If you need some time, I can assign this case to someone else." He knew she wouldn’t take him up on the offer, but he needed to give her the option.

"Thank you, sir, but I’m fine." It was nothing less than he expected, but he was still disappointed.

"Carry on then, Colonel. I’ll expect you in my office later."

"Aye sir."

0936 Local

Mac’s Office

"Colonel?"

With a gasp she swung around from staring out the window trance-like to face a hesitant Bud. For a moment she stared at him as if she had no idea who he was.

"I’m sorry to interrupt, ma’am. If you’d like me to come back later…" Bud’s voice trailed away in the face of her startled reaction.

"No, that’s okay, Bud. What can I do for you?" She forced a smile.

"Well, nothing really, ma’am. I was just wondering how you’re doing." He paused, obviously fumbling for the right words. "I mean, this has been a tough week for you, and I…well…" Again he faded away, not wanting to irritate her, but wanting her to know he cared.

"I’m fine, Bud, really. I appreciate everything you did for me, but I’m fine." Again she compelled herself to smile convincingly. "Honestly."

He looked at her doubtfully, but didn’t push it. "I’m glad, ma’am. But both Harriet and I want you to know if you need anything, we’re here for you."

For some reason Bud’s honest concern annoyed her, but she stifled that feeling quickly. Bud was a good friend. She couldn’t take her ill temper out on him. Besides, it would feel like she was kicking a puppy if she yelled at him. "Thank you, Bud. If I need anything, you and Harriet will be the first people I call."

The smile on his face at her acknowledgement made her effort worthwhile. "Thank you ma’am. I’ll get out of your hair now." And with a last smile, he left.

She dropped her head into her hands, wishing that the earth would swallow her up. First the Admiral, then Jen had dropped by to see if she ‘needed anything’; Harriet had been hovering all week in spite of the fact that Mac had been downright mean upon occasion, and now Bud. Who was next?

The answer to that came quickly with a knock on her door. "Mac?"

Sturgis stood in the doorway, his calm gaze quietly appraising.

Even as she began the ritual smile, she cursed herself for asking that question. "Hey Sturgis."

"How are things?"

"Things are fine. Did you need something?" ‘Please God, let him just say no and go away.’

"Not really. I was just concerned about you."

She stifled the urge to scream. "Thanks, Sturgis, but I’m fine." ‘If I have to say that again I’m going to kick someone’s six.’

There was a short pause as she waited for his next question.

His dark eyes flicked over her, but still he said nothing.

She finally caved a little under his silent scrutiny. "OK, so I’m tired and grouchy. But I really am all right."

Clearly wanting to respect her boundaries, Sturgis gave a small smile at her honesty. "Just so you know, Mac, people around here care about you."

The irritation that had been building within her vanished. Sturgis was right. She gave him a shame-faced look and nodded. "I know, it’s just…everyone is walking on eggshells around me and asking me how I am. It’s driving me crazy. I don’t mean to be snappy…"

"Well, maybe if you really were ‘fine’, people wouldn’t ask you so much. You look tired and stressed, and no one has seen you eat anything."

"Hold up, doc." She cut him off. "I really am all right. It’s been stressful, but I’ll get through it. I promise." Mentally she crossed her fingers, wincing internally at the lie. She’d actually been lying to her friends for a while, but this was the first time it had hit home so hard.

His gaze told her he recognized the lie, but would bow to her wishes. "All right then. But if you need anything…" He started backing out of her office.

"I know who to call." She tossed him a casual salute as he left, closing the door behind him.

Once more she dropped her head onto her hands, feeling torn.

Sturgis was right, people cared about her. Her friends here had gotten her through some tough times, and she loved them for it. They were family, the only real family she had ever known. It wasn’t fair. Correction. She wasn’t being fair. If she wasn’t honest with her friends, she damn sure better be honest with herself.

But she couldn’t tell them everything. There was no way. Maybe if she’d said something when it happened…maybe if everything that she was wasn’t tied up in presenting a touch ‘Marine’ image to the world…maybe if it had never happened to her before…maybe if life would just once give her some kind of break…

Tears welled up, but she choked them down. Crying didn’t help and she despised self-pity. There was only one thing to do. Suck it up. She’d gotten through bad times before, and she’d get through this. All it took was time, and being tough.

Unbidden, a thought came into her mind. There was one way to forget, even if it was only for a while. There was one thing that could make her forget, or at least not care.

A drink.

Firmly she clamped down on that thought before it was even finished. Don’t even go there. She had climbed out of that hole once before, and had no desire to fall back into it. The hole she was in was already deep enough.

Taking a deep breath, she squared her shoulders and picked up the file the Admiral had given her earlier. She’d have to brief Harm on it, and it would be a good thing to talk about tonight. She could use it to stave off any personal questions on his agenda.

She bent her head to the task.

1545 Local

She’d managed to keep it together the rest of the day by firmly keeping her mind on her work. No thinking about anything, not even Harm or the evening with him looming on the horizon. It must have worked well, because her friends seemed to have laid off. There were no more "Are you all right?" and "How are you?" questions, thank god. And the Admiral had gotten called over to the SecNav’s office, so he wasn’t making any inquiries either.

The phone rang, breaking her concentration. "Mackenzie."

"Hey Mac. It’s me." Harm’s normally cheerful voice sounded a little forlorn.

"Hi." For once, Mac didn’t know what to say to him. She’d been subliminally dreading going to dinner with him all day, and now she was tongue-tied.

"Ummm…listen…about tonight…" His voice drew it out, it sounded like he was going to cancel. Her heart gave a lurch; she just wasn’t sure if it was disappointment or relief that caused it.

"Yes?"

"Well, I got tied up here and won’t be back till Sunday. Can I have a rain-check till then?" He sounded so apologetic that she almost smiled.

"Of course, Harm. Case giving you problems?" Actually, she was relieved. Two extra days to get it together before she faced him.

"Yeah. I need to interview 3 more people, so I’ll miss my ride out tomorrow. I’m really sorry, Mac." And the hell of it was, he did sound sorry. "I really wanted to see you."

"It’s okay, really. Just call when you can, the Admiral wants me to brief you on a new case." She kept her tone brisk, but professionally friendly. He might as well get used to the change from now on. She had to put some distance between them, no matter how hard it was.

"Uh…well…can we still do dinner on Sunday?" He was obviously puzzled by her tone, and she didn’t blame him. Of late, they’d been very close. It was unlike her to be so ‘official’ when this was just a personal call.

"Why don’t you wait and see when you get back? Just call, and we’ll work it out." Despite her intentions, she couldn’t just cut him off without any kind of explanation. This was going to be hard.

Satisfied for the moment, he agreed. "OK, I’ll call you Sunday." She could hear the hesitation in his next question. "How are you, Mac?"

She managed a laugh. "I’m okay. Don’t worry about me. Take care, okay? See you on Sunday."

As she hung up the phone the relief that she had felt dropped away. In its place came despair. Yes, she had 2 more days to get herself together before facing Harm, but what was she going to do with them?

The weekend stretched out before her interminably.

JAG Headquarters

1635 Local

There was a knock at her door. She looked up to see Tiner standing there, looking apprehensive and holding a large manila envelope in his hands. "Ma’am? Sorry to interrupt you, but this just arrived for you from the DC police."

"Thank you, Tiner." She reached out to take the proffered envelope, carefully remembering to smile.

"Your welcome, ma’am." He paused for a moment as if wanting to ask how she was, but thought better of it. Instead, he substituted, "Did you need anything else, ma’am?"

"No thank you, Tiner. Dismissed." She deliberately kept her tone pleasant although her insides were shaking.

He gave a nod and turned to leave.

"And Tiner? Shut the door, please?" By some miracle, her voice didn’t waver.

"Aye ma’am." He did as he was bid.

With trembling hands she opened the envelope and slid out the autopsy reports. She’d been waiting for the autopsy results for what seemed like forever. Closing her eyes, she said a quick prayer for strength and then opened the first one — the one that referred to Thomas C. Clark as the deceased. At least it didn’t say "victim".

It was the standard report, one she had seen many times. She skipped over the photos and the main body of the report to the blood work. This time when her eyes closed, it was relief, not fear. He was not HIV positive, and had no sexually transmitted diseases.

She let out the breath she had been unconsciously holding. Thank you, God. Thank you for this one small favor. She let out a short bitter laugh. It felt almost stupid to thank God given the recent events of her life, but she did. It could have been so much worse. He could have had any number of diseases that she could have contracted.

Since she began her life of sobriety, one thing she prided herself on was facing facts. Even if she hadn’t been able to relate what happened to her to other people, she was much too familiar with rape victims and the possible physical ramifications that arose from the crime. It was this knowledge that had forced her to take a difficult and humiliating precaution.

She’d gone to a medical clinic in Baltimore the Saturday after it had happened. Using a false name and paying cash, she’d claimed that an acquaintance had forced her to have sex, and that she needed the "morning after" pill, or pregnancy prevention pill. The doctor in charge, a man, had asked her several questions about what had happened, seeming to doubt the veracity of her story.

From the man’s attitude, he thought she was some kind of prostitute. He’d insisted on a physical examination, which he carried out with a gruff thoroughness. Those kinds of exams were never fun, but this one had been a whole new kind of torture. The doctor’s disdain for her was apparent in his every gesture, and he did nothing to make the experience painless or comfortable.

The doctor had also wanted to run blood tests, but Mac had refused. She didn’t want any type of traceable evidence showing up later. Paranoid? Yes, but she was so afraid it would all come out; she couldn’t take any kind of chance.

Finally, the doctor had given her the prescription, along with a long lecture about safe sex. He had then handed her a bag filled with condoms. It took every bit of strength she had in her not to throw the bag at him and scream, but somehow she managed to force herself out the door without making a scene.

She’d taken several hot showers Saturday and Sunday, unable to feel clean. She knew it was an illogical reaction to her traumatic experience, but knowing that didn’t help. She still bathed as often as she could.

A morbid curiosity seized her. She flipped back through the report to the pictures and scanned through them quickly. They were stark, dehumanizing. In death, the man’s face was slack, no personality showing. She almost wouldn’t have recognized him from these pictures.

Except for that big hole in his chest. She stifled another laugh at the thought, aware that hysteria could break her down. Try as she might, she could summon no guilt at shooting the bastard. She’d shoot him again if she could. A rage came over her, so strong it shocked her. More than anything she wanted that bastard to pay and pay and pay…

"Mac?" It was Sturgis. "I knocked, but you didn’t answer."

Quickly she flipped the report closed and shoved them both back into the envelope, struggling to control her unexpected anger. "Sorry, I was just looking at some reports. I didn’t hear you."

"I’m just going to stop at Benzinger’s after work for dinner. Would you like to join me?" His eyes were guileless.

Repressing the urge to roll her eyes, she nevertheless shot him a knowing look. "Thanks Sturgis, but I’m going to work out, then just head home."

"Come on, Mac. It will do you good to get out. And you look like you could use a good feeding. Where’s that legendary appetite Harm’s always talking about?"

The fury she’d been suppressing suddenly erupted. "I said no, Sturgis." Her tone was sharp, biting, and totally unlike her. "What part of that didn’t you understand?" God, she was tired of everyone trying to "help" her. She just wanted to be left alone.

Instead of withdrawing in offense, his serene gaze never wavered. "I understood, Mac, I just want to make sure you eat something. You look like you’re about to blow away."

Shame at her unfair attack engulfed her, drowning out the anger. "I’m sorry. I…" To her horror, her voice broke. She was on the verge of tears. Furiously she tried to choke them back.

"It’s okay, I understand. You’ve been under a lot of strain lately." The words and tone were gentle.

She paused a moment, trying to gather herself. Mercifully, he let her.

"Thank you, Sturgis. But I really am tired. I appreciate it though." This time she managed an apologetic smile.

"Mac…" His voice trailed away, recognizing he couldn’t force her, but wanting to help. "Just promise you’ll eat something, okay?"

"I promise."

After he left, she rested her forehead in her hands, feeling torn apart. There were too many emotions running around inside her. Shame, anger, fear, disgust. The turmoil was just too much to bear, and she hoped that "Thomas Clark" rotted in hell for eternity.

Sarah Mackenzie’s Apartment

Georgetown

Saturday 0330 Local

In spite of her promise to Sturgis, Mac had found herself unable to stomach solid food. She settled for coffee. Lots of it. Of course this had not helped her insomnia, or rather it had helped it tremendously. Once again it was a sleepless night.

This time she gave up trying to sleep and sat watching television until the wee hours of the morning, the "Alien" series of movies with Sigorney Weaver. Now there was a heroine worth emulating. Nothing and no one, human or alien, got in her way. No matter what tried to hurt her, she mowed them down with a ferocity that was amazing.

The endless violence was oddly soothing, mesmerizing her. It was so easy to get lost in a world where there were bad aliens that needed to be killed in spectacular showy ways. The destruction of the "pods" where the alien larva grew until it latched onto a human host was equally fascinating. She thought about how great it would be if the "good guys" really could go around blasting the "bad guys" away like that.

It was in the middle of Alien Resurrection that her thoughts took a different turn. When Winona Ryder (the robot) asks Ripley (the clone), "How do you live, knowing what you are?"

The question haunted her, and the rest of the movie faded away for Mac as she contemplated that question. What was she, really? A woman who had never had a successful relationship in her entire life? Not even with her parents? Harm’s comment from a year ago had hurt, but only because it was true. Look, anyone who's ever been involved with Mac is either dead or feels like they are.

Ripley’s answer, "I don’t have a choice," was not an answer she could accept. There was always a choice. The trouble was, sometimes choices came back and bit you in the ass.

Her choices in men always did. Eddie, John, Chris, Dalton. Even Mic. Choices she had made that had cost some of them their life, some their career. All of them had suffered in one way or another. Because of her.

Sometimes, it wasn’t your choice at all. Like Friday night had not been her choice. Well, in a way it had been; of the available options, she had chosen of the lesser of two evils. How could she let that monster violate a young innocent like Casey? Or allow Little AJ to be threatened?

She laughed aloud bitterly. Harm was the lucky one. For seven years he’d managed to avoid becoming entangled in her life, except as a friend. And even that had cost him a plane crash and several frigid hours in the Atlantic. If they had ever managed to become involved romantically he’d probably be dead too.

The movie ended, Sigorney and Winona looking serenely over the blue earth, looking forward to the future. She shut the television off, disgusted with such a sappy end to the series. The entire series had been about death and destruction, and now all was sweetness and light. The future looked bright. What bullshit.

Wearily she headed off to bed, hoping that somehow she’d manage to rest.

Sarah Mackenzie’s Apartment

Georgetown

Saturday 1945 Local

There was a bottle of vodka in the freezer.

Mac was seated on the couch attempting to watch television, but all her attention was really in the kitchen. On that bottle. With every fiber of her being she was totally aware of that bottle.

She’d slept for a total of 4 hours, taken 2 showers, consumed countless cups of coffee, worked out at the gym, and gone through some case files she’d brought home from work. And, oh yes, she’d stopped and bought a bottle of vodka.

She’d actually stopped to fill up the car with gas, grateful for the pay at the pump feature. She didn’t have to step inside the convenience store. Even being this close to a similar situation had her hands shaking as she’d pumped the gas. It was during that vulnerable moment, when flashbacks were crowding in, that the sign had caught her eye. The liquor store was right next to the gas station. Without even thinking about it, she’d replaced the gas hose on the pump, collected her receipt, and stepped across to the beckoning neon sign.

Once inside, she’d stopped at the door, overwhelmed. There were hundreds…thousands of bottles of forgetfulness right in front of her. Rows of oblivion. An entire store of anesthetic. She couldn’t breathe.

"Can I help you?" The kindly looking woman behind the cash register had sounded so helpful, but Mac had shaken her head, unable to articulate anything. Her heart pounding, she had wandered up and down the aisles, pausing only to touch a label occasionally, skimming her hand over the bottles.

She had stopped at the vodka section. Delicately, reverently, she’d trailed a finger down a bottle of Stolichnaya, a very old friend. One she hadn’t talked to in a good many years. Oh, she remembered the smooth taste of that particular potion. Straight, chilled, with no ice, it was quite possibly the elixir of life. Or death, the sane part of her mind whispered to her, but she’d ignored it.

She’d broken out in a sweat, the sound of her pulse beating loudly in her ears as she picked it up. It was heavy, but the cool glass of the bottle felt so good against her fingers. It was all she could do not to open it right there in the store and take a big swig. She had tried to put it back. Really. But before she could figure out just what the hell she was doing, she was at the cash register and handing the woman her credit card.

As the woman ran her credit card, she’d looked Mac over. "Are you all right, honey?" Apparently, she’d looked bad. And unable to answer, she’d just given the woman a nod, signed the receipt, and practically run to her car, the Stolichnaya tucked tightly under her arm.

And now, here she was. Hiding from it.

She’d placed it in the freezer and run into the living room. But out of sight was definitely not out of mind. Like a siren, it called to her, luring her. She could hear it. ‘Mac, I’m here for you. Remember how I can make you feel?’

Desperately she reminded herself of the struggle she went through to dry out. The physical pain, the emotional torture. She recalled the look Harm had given her when she was drunk, and his words, "You’re not just a drunk, you’re a mean drunk." She went over the 12-step program in her mind. She forced herself to remember the feeling of being hung over, of feeling like crap.

But most of all, she remembered the feeling of not caring about anybody or anything, least of all herself. The feeling of being free…to do anything she wanted, to ignore the world and everybody in it. And that was what she wanted more than anything right now. Not to care, not to feel, not to remember.

Shutting the television off, she rose slowly from the couch and headed for the kitchen. She could feel herself sweating; her pulse pounding again, just like it did in the store. In a surreal slow motion, she took the bottle out of the freezer and set it on the counter.

It was cold now, chilled, just how she liked it. The little drops of condensation on the outside of the bottle were dripping down the side to form a puddle around it on the counter. Without taking her eyes off it, she reached up and retrieved a glass from the cupboard and set it next to the bottle.

With a shaking hand she took the bottle of vodka in her hands and opened it, breaking the seal in one forceful twist. The sweet subtle scent of it hit her like a brick. Oh God, it had been so long since she’d really smelled that wonderful aroma. She inhaled, hoping against hope that that alone would satisfy her. But she knew, even then, that it wouldn’t.

The bottle neck clanked against the glass as she filled it. The glub glub of the flowing liquid hitting her ears like music. Somewhere, deep inside her, a voice was saying ‘STOP’, but she wasn’t listening.

She raised the glass to her lips, pausing to savor the scent.

There was a knock at the door.

She stopped, debating as to whether or not to ignore it and keep drinking, but the knock sounded again, louder this time, insistent. Knowing once she started drinking, she wasn’t going to stop, she set the glass down on the counter.

Determinedly she stalked towards the door, irritated at being interrupted and promising herself to get rid of whoever it was as soon as she could. Without checking the peephole she whipped open the door, fully prepared to give a quick speech to any well-meaning friend who was there and hurry them out.

The words died on her lips unspoken. It was Harm.

"Mac?" She looked awful to him. She’d lost weight, she was pale, and there were dark circles under her eyes that make-up couldn’t hide. And she hadn’t said a word, just stared at him, her mouth forming a perfect "O" of surprise. Something was definitely wrong, very wrong.

Abruptly she shook her head as if to wake up. "Uhhh…Harm. I wasn’t expecting you till tomorrow night."

"Can I come in?" She cast a furtive glance over her shoulder and he thought for a moment she was going to refuse.

"Um…yeah…of course." She gave him a ghastly smile and opened the door wide, gesturing for him to enter. Shock made her acquiesce before she thought about it.

Wary now, he made his way to the couch, trying to decide on the best course of action. Obviously she was not doing well, but if he didn’t handle this right he’d just make things worse. Even at the best of times Mac was tricky to deal with, and he needed to tread carefully.

"Would you like something to drink? Err…some tea, I mean?" Guilt made her fumble her offer of refreshment. She really needed to get control of herself; Harm didn’t know about the vodka and wouldn’t assume she was offering him alcohol. Scolding herself, she settled on the couch with him, making sure there was a large space between them.

"No thanks. I just stopped by to see how you’re doing." He could see how she was doing. Badly. She was doing very badly. His first instinct was to grab her and hug her, then demand to know what was wrong. But he knew better than that. "I managed to get finished early."

"Umm…I’m okay." She managed another smile for him, but it was a poor effort.

At his disbelieving glance she flushed and looked down. Damn him.

Picking up the case file the admiral had given her earlier in the day, she tried changing the subject. "Here’s a new case. The admiral gave it to me yesterday, but we’re both working on it. We’re the defense. Flip you for first chair?" She handed him the file with another one of those awful fake smiles.

He took the file and set it down on the coffee table without opening it. "Mac…" He kept his tone gentle, but left her no doubt that he meant to get to the truth. He was not going to just go away.

She laughed nervously, stalling for time. She hadn’t thought up a story for him, she felt guilty over the vodka, and she didn’t want to tell him anything. Couldn’t he see she didn’t want to talk? It wasn’t fair of him to just show up and undermine all her defenses. Damn him.

Still as gently as he knew how, he continued. "I can see you’re not okay. I have eyes, and it didn’t take 30 seconds for me to see it. Talk to me, marine."

There was a long silence as he waited, trying to be patient and give her time to think.

She drew in a shaky breath and pressed her hands to her face.

He still waited.

Her mind worked frantically, trying to come up with some plausible story to tell him. In her panic, she couldn’t think of a thing and the silence drew out until finally she crumbled into tears. Too much was happening and she couldn’t deal.

The tears astounded him; Mac just didn’t burst into tears like this. Moving quickly, he scooted over to comfort her and place his arm around her.

"NO!" Before he knew what was happening she was up off the couch and away from him.

He knew what had happened from Bud, that the bastard at the convenience store had tried to rape her, but he was still surprised at the strength of her reaction. Then he remembered when he’d tried to comfort her long ago, when a poacher had tried the same thing and she had had to kill him. She’d had the same reaction then, just on a lesser scale.

Carefully, he followed her, making sure he didn’t close in on her, giving her space. "Mac, it’s okay."

A choked sob was his answer and he ached to hold her. She was standing by the fireplace, her arms wrapped tightly around her stomach. He stretched out a hand, intending only to touch her arm, but she flinched away. "Please don’t touch me."

Holding up both hands, he said, "I won’t, not until you tell me to. Come sit down, Mac. It’s okay."

Still not looking at him, she went back to the couch and sat down, pulling her knees up and clutching a pillow. There was no sobbing now, but the tears still flowed down her face. ‘God’, he thought, ‘What the hell is wrong?’

"Mac, I’m going to make us some tea, okay? I’ll be right back." It was all he could think of to do. She nodded, and he turned to go to the kitchen.

It was then she remembered and found her voice. "No, wait! Harm!" But it was too late.

Before he even fully entered the kitchen, the bottle with the full glass beside it caught his attention. He just stared at it, horrified, his heart in his throat. ‘Oh God, not this Mac. Please God, not this.’

He stood stock still, staring at the bottle on the counter.

She froze in mid-stride.

The silence was deafening.

He turned slowly and looked at her, a terrible fear in his eyes. "Mac?" The soft question asked so much.

She had no idea what to say to him. There was no excuse to justify it. Nothing she could say or do would make it okay. So she said nothing.

The anger rose in his eyes. "Mac?" This time there was heat in the question. "Mac…what the hell are you doing?"

Still she said nothing. Humiliation and shame engulfed her, silencing her.

Finally, she said the only thing she could. "I didn’t drink it." Her innate honesty compelled her to finish that sentence. "Yet."

The struggle to control his anger and fear was epic, but one look at Mac made him realize he had to win it. Her eyes were wide, the "deer in the headlights" look, but it was the deep anguish in those beautiful eyes that got to him. It had to be really bad if she was drinking again, worse than he had suspected.

He wanted to scream at her, to make her see that she was killing herself, but he didn’t. It would solve nothing; only make things worse. He took a deep breath to steady himself, willing all the anger away. This had to be handled with delicacy, or she would shut down on him. This time when he questioned her the compassion was evident in his voice. "Mac, what are you doing to yourself?"

It was that question, the last one, spoken with such kindness, that broke her. A rage like she had never experienced before washed through her. She literally saw red. "What am I doing? WHAT AM I DOING?" Fury had her yelling.

She turned away from him, almost running across the room. A violent wave of her arm cleared the mantle, knocking the pictures and candlesticks everywhere. "I’m not doing anything! It’s everything that’s being done to me! God damn it, I’m just trying to cope with everything, that’s all! I’m just trying to figure out how to get from one day to the next without going crazy!"

Wild now, she turned back to him, not even able to make the effort to control herself. She kicked a basket across the room. "I can’t deal with it anymore! I’ve had enough in my life and I can’t deal with it ANYMORE!"

Shocked at her reaction and the depth of her wrath, Harm still tried to close in on her and calm her down. He did his best to speak soothingly. "Mac, it’s okay. We’ll get through…"

Completely out of control now, she cut him off with more yelling. "It’s not okay! Don’t give me that bullshit! It will never be okay again!" She moved away from him as he neared. "Just stay away, damn it. This is not something you can fix with a hug and a talk. It can’t be fixed at all!"

He stopped, not wanting to chase her, and hoping against hope he could figure out the right thing to say. To do. Pleadingly, he tried to convince her that he could help. "Mac, whatever is going on, you know I’ll be there for you. I can help. I promise you…"

Once again she cut him off. "Don’t make a promise you can’t keep. You don’t know anything, and you never will! Just get away from me and stay away!" She calmed suddenly, stopping to gaze at him sorrowfully. "It’s for your own good, Harm. Believe me. Stay as far away from me as you can." She wrapped her arms around herself as if she was cold.

The anguish in her voice tore at his heart. Unable to stop himself, he took a step towards her, holding out his hand. "Mac…please…let me help you." God, what was going on with her? In all the years he had known her, through all the troubles she had endured, he had never seen her like this.

Her anger was back in an instant. She knocked his hand away. "No! Don’t you get it? You can’t help…no one can. Just get out!" She pointed a finger towards the door. "Get out, damn it!"

Stubbornly he crossed his arms and planted his feet firmly. "No." He may not be able to reason with her, to convince her, but he sure as hell wasn’t leaving her like this.

"I SAID GET OUT!" The second crack in her armor appeared as she picked up a small vase to throw at him, but she couldn’t do it, dropping her arm before completing the act. The vase dropped to the carpet with a quiet thud. There were tears in her eyes, but she dashed them away. "Please, Harm. Just get out." The despair in her now soft voice broke his heart. "Please."

Having learned his lesson he didn’t attempt to get near her, but he didn’t back down either. "No, Mac. I’m not leaving. I don’t know what’s going on with you, but I’m sure as hell not leaving you, and you can take that to the bank." He did his best to appear firm, but not threatening or aggressive.

Once again, her anger waned, only to be replaced by pain. He was getting whiplash from the sudden changes in her mood. She dropped onto the couch and rested her head on her knees. Her voice was muffled when she replied. "You have to, Harm. I’m not giving you any choice."

Hopeful the storm was over, he sat next to her carefully, as close as he dared. "I don’t care, Mac. I’m not leaving you." Everything in him wanted to hold her, to somehow alleviate her pain.

Leaping up at the sound of his voice so near, she backed away from him. "I…I can’t do this, Harm. I can’t." Once again the agony in her voice and demeanor pained him. "I’m going to bed. Please shut the lights off and lock the door when you leave."

He sat there on the couch as she turned away, shutting the bedroom door behind her. A few moments ticked by, and the sound of the shower came through the door.

Shell-shocked, he surveyed the wreckage of the room. He just sat there, wondering what the hell was happening.

The shower shut off, and silence reigned. He barely heard it when the sobbing started, she was so quiet.

He stood outside her bedroom door, his hand splayed against it. It was torture to listen to her and not be able to touch her, to do something to help. The sound of her crying tormented him, but he didn’t go in. Somehow, he knew he had to give her some space. He couldn’t force her to accept his comfort, no matter how badly he wanted to.

He didn’t know how long he stood there, listening, but it seemed like hours. It wasn’t until the sound of her sobs died away that he realized he was crying with her. Wiping away his own tears, he prayed she was asleep and getting some kind of peace.

Turning, he took a step towards the kitchen. First, he was getting rid of the vodka, then he’d pick up the rest of the mess. He could only hope that whatever was hurting her was something he could fix.

Sunday

0330 Local

Mac opened the door of her bedroom and walked out. As usual, the nightmares had woken her in spite of her exhaustion.

Blinking against the unexpected light, she sighed gently as she saw Harm, stretched out asleep on the sofa. Tiptoeing by him, she headed for the kitchen, intending to throw away the vodka. Thank god he had interrupted her, but she needed to get rid of it. If she kept it, sooner or later she would drink it.

Of course it was gone. She should have known. Back in the living room, she saw that he had picked up the litter from her earlier rampage. She covered him with a blanket before quietly sinking into the chair across from him.

There were lines on his face that even sleep didn’t erase, and she realized they were there because of her. He was clearly exhausted. She knew how hard it was to make that trip home from a carrier, but he still came to her. He cared, about her.

A small part of her wanted to tell him everything, but she knew she couldn’t. No matter what, she needed to stay away from him. He needed somebody better, someone who wasn’t as damaged as she was. But still, it was a comfort to know he cared.

Curled up in the chair, she watched him until she fell asleep. And for the first time since the rape, she slept untroubled by nightmares.

Sarah Mackenzie’s Apartment

Georgetown

Sunday 0930 Local

It was the smell of coffee that woke him. Awareness was slow in coming, but he finally realized where he was. Pushing the blanket aside, he rose and stretched, grimacing as his back cracked. He sat back down on the couch rubbing his face and trying to wake himself up. He picked up the blanket, realizing Mac must have covered him with it after he fell asleep. He wondered if she got any sleep at all.

Quiet sounds from the kitchen caught his attention, but he folded the blanket before going there, trying to collect his thoughts. Finally he headed towards the kitchen, unsure of what Mac was going to say. She’d been so adamant about his leaving last night, and so angry. Angry about what, was the question. Somehow, in spite of everything, he didn’t think she was angry at him. He just happened to be in the path of destruction.

Her back was to him, but he could see she was pouring a cup of coffee. She was wearing sweats, but it was obvious she’d been up for a while. It was also obvious she’d lost some weight, weight she hadn’t needed to lose.

"Thanks for the blanket." It was an inane thing to say, but he was so unsure of the ground underneath him. All he could think of was to keep things neutral until he got his bearings with her.

She didn’t answer him immediately. Turning, she handed him the coffee without meeting his eyes. "No problem."

There was an awkward silence. They both leaned on the counter, side by side, sipping their coffee. More than anything, he wanted to talk, but he was afraid. Afraid to start her up again, afraid of saying or doing the wrong thing. It was Mac that finally rescued him.

"I’m sorry, Harm." She still didn’t look at him, staring intently into her coffee instead. "I shouldn’t have done that to you last night." Her voice was so low he could barely hear her.

As gently as he knew how, he answered her. "It’s okay. I just want to know what’s wrong."

He noted the tremor in her hands. She quickly stilled it by clutching the coffee mug tightly.

Okay, things were calmer this morning, but definitely not okay. Deciding to take charge and lighten things up, he nudged her teasingly with his elbow, careful to keep his distance. "Come on, Marine. Let’s sit down and drink our coffee. I need to sit down if I’m going to be yelled at some more." The direct approach definitely hadn’t worked last night, so a different strategy was called for here.

Surprised at his bantering tone, she glanced up at him. The smile that met her was tender, melting some of the walls she’d been building. She couldn’t help but give a smile back, if only a fleeting one. "I’m not going to yell at you."

"Good. Then let’s sit down and have a peaceful discussion about last night." He gave her one of those looks, the one that said he wasn’t letting it go, then walked into the living room, clearly expecting her to follow.

She hesitated, then trailed after him. After her display last night, she owed him some kind of explanation. Whether or not he would believe it depended on her performance. She’d better be damn good because she sure as hell wasn’t telling him everything.

He was sitting on the couch, obviously waiting for her. With a sigh she sat down on the opposite end and curled her legs under her. Taking a sip of his coffee, he cocked an eyebrow at her. "Well?"

"Well what?" Nerves made her sound harsher than she intended, so she gave him an apologetic smile.

Carefully he set his coffee down on the table, then reached over and took her mug. Placing it on the table next to his, he leaned over to take her hand. "Mac, talk to me."

She pulled her hand away and grabbed a pillow, clutching it to her. At his look of surprise, she tried to explain. "This will be easier if you just let me talk, don’t touch me."

Though he was surprised and troubled by her insistence on not being touched, he settled back and gave her his full attention. He didn’t understand it, but he would respect it.

Nervously she fingered the pillow, not looking at him. "I guess it all just got to me. Everything. I mean…" She risked a quick glance at him. "You know what happened, right?"

"Yes, Bud told me." He didn’t like the way this was starting out. This was not forthright and honest Mac. In the worst situations, she never backed away from looking him in the eye and talking. The one time she had lashed out before, when she was defending the wife-beating murderer, Holst, she’d managed to talk about it later. And she’d looked him right in the eye through the worst of it.

The niggling thought in the back of his head demanded that he ask the question. "Mac, did you tell Bud everything that happened that night?"

She froze. "What do you mean?"

"Did the guy…well…did he…um…go further than you told the police?" He didn’t want to believe it. Hell, he was sorry he even had to ask. He couldn’t make himself say the word.

Damn him for being so perceptive. "Of course not!" At his questioning look she realized she’d been too quick and defensive in her response. She was going to have to watch everything she said.

Summoning up every bit of strength she could, she softened her tone and continued. "It just reminded me of the poacher. And Chris. Dalton, Coster, and even Eddie." She still didn’t meet his steady gaze. "It’s just…I don’t know how to explain it…" She took a deep breath, willing the tears away. "I’m tired of it. Death…men wanting something from me…it never ends…no matter how I try to live, no matter how I’ve tried to change."

In spite of her obvious pain, the relief he felt with her denial was enormous. From the way she’d been acting, he’d been afraid that…he couldn’t even bring himself to think the word. No woman should ever have to go through that, but especially not Mac.

The anger was building; he could hear it in her voice. Her dark eyes flashed when she finally looked at him. "I’m tired of men demanding something from me I don’t want to give. Since I was 16, it’s been like that. Men making advances…wanting…" She fumbled for the words, and then finally let it out before she could stop herself. "No one has the right to force me—no one!" Frantically she turned her thoughts to another part of the episode that had been bothering her. She wasn’t telling him all of it, there was no way.

"Mac…" Desperately he tried to soothe her, but the effort was wasted.

She leapt up, agitated, and began to pace the room. "And when I try to defend myself, the only option open is to kill them! What the hell am I supposed to do?" She turned and gazed at him, then sat back down limply. Covering her face with her hands, she repeated the question in an agonized whisper. "What the hell am I supposed to do?"

Edging closer to her, he still didn’t touch her. "Just what you’re doing, Mac. Living life as best you can. Dealing with whatever it throws at you."

She broke down with deep, gut-wrenching sobs that racked her body, shaking her shoulders. "Do I just go around killing people, Harm? Is that it? Is that what life holds for me?" There was such raw pain in her that he couldn’t doubt her. Death had always been a wound on her soul. From her tale of Eddie’s death, to the death of the poacher, Dalton, Coster, Ragle, her father, even the supposed death of Webb, they had all taken their toll on her.

"Do you realize how many men I’ve killed, not in the line of duty? Just because of personal circumstances?" She almost couldn’t talk because of the crying, but she answered her own question. "Five, Harm. These two made five that I, personally, have killed." She wasn’t lying, even if she wasn’t being entirely honest. Though not at the crux of her problem, it certainly was a part of it.

She tensed, but didn’t pull away when he placed a gentle hand on her back. "Mac, I can’t tell you what life holds for you, but I can tell you that as much as you’ve had to suffer through, you’ve had good things happen too." He stroked her back, grateful she’d let him get this close. "You’ve built a good life, one to be proud of. You have people that love you. And when things get too tough, you have to hang on to them."

He hesitated, but decided to finish the thought. "Not a bottle, Mac. Hang on to your friends. We’ll get you through anything." He stopped there. The sobs were abating, but she kept her face hidden.

Drawing a shaky breath, she answered him. "I know." She withdrew her hands from her face, but stared at the floor. "It just seemed to happen so fast. One minute I was pumping gas, the next I was buying a bottle." She finally looked at him, the humiliation evident in her expression. "I kept thinking I could ignore it…that I could handle it. If you hadn’t come when you did…" She let her voice trail away, unable to voice what would have happened.

"But I did. And I’m always just a phone call away. No matter when or where, Mac. You know that." His voice deepened with emotion as he spoke. Surely she knew that by now.

The tears this time were softer, but no less heartfelt. For just a moment she leaned on him, her head touching his shoulder. "I know."

Afraid to break the moment, he held perfectly still, fighting the impulse to hug her. In spite of his restraint, she pulled away, wiping her tears away. Heaving a sigh, he pulled a handkerchief out of his pocket and handed it to her. "Here. You’re never prepared for tears, Marine."

His heart lightened when she gave a choked laugh as she accepted it. It sounded real. "Come on, you look like you haven’t eaten in months. Breakfast on me at IHOP…the sky’s the limit."

She smiled up at him shakily. "Rain check?"

"Maaac…" Maybe cajoling her would work.

"I’m exhausted, Harm, honestly. I just want to sleep. And I think I might just be able to now." The gratitude in her eyes embarrassed him, but he couldn’t let it go. She needed to eat.

"Okay for now, but I’m coming back here with food around 1800. You still have to brief me on that case, and we can go over it while we eat."

A shadow crossed her face, but she turned away before he could figure out why. Picking up the file that was still on the coffee table, she handed it to him. "It’s a rape case. We’re defending."

He took the file from her with a concerned look. Before he could say a word, she answered him. "I can handle it, honestly. Don’t worry." At his obvious doubt she hit him lightly on the arm. "Go on, Flyboy. Go home and get yourself organized. I know you haven’t been home long enough to unpack. I’ll be okay, really."

He still hesitated. There was something going on with her still, but he didn’t know what it was. And he didn’t want to leave her alone.

She gave an exasperated sigh, sounding more like the Mac he knew. "I promise I’ll call if I need you. Now you need to go home and shave and clean up." She stood up, and he reluctantly rose with her.

She walked him to the door, but he stopped when they reached it, turning to her one more time. "Sarah, I care about you. You know that, don’t you?"

Tears welled again in her eyes as she nodded, unable to reply. Something pulled at his heart. She’d cried so much…been through so much. Unable to stop himself, he reached out to draw her into a hug.

She stepped back, avoiding him. "Sorry Flyboy, but I’m already a soggy mess."

He smiled and touched her cheek before she could withdraw further. "I’ll see you at 1800."

She closed the door behind him, leaning her head against it. How was she ever going to get through this? She had to be stronger and deal with it. That’s all there was to it. Sighing, she decided to take a shower and then really try to sleep. The few hours of sleep without dreams had given her hope. Maybe she could do it again.

Harm was thinking hard as he drove home. He’d believed her. But something was still wrong. He knew his Mac, and something was still very wrong.

Jag Headquarters

Wednesday

1440 Local

Harm sat in his office, surreptitiously watching Mac through the glass between their offices. Beautiful as always, there was an underlying tension that showed in the set of her shoulders even when she was working alone at her desk. For the thousandth time he went over the events of the last few days, trying to figure out what was going on in her mind.

Saturday night had been rough, but Sunday night she had been better. He’d shown up at the appointed hour, with food, and she had actually eaten. While no outright laughter escaped from her, she had appeared cheerful and had even smiled at some of his jokes. He’d been feeling pretty hopeful that the previous night’s eruption had been cathartic, and that she would be able to move on.

Then they had started on the case, and she shut down. Completely. She became the prototype cool professional Marine attorney, allowing none of her personal feelings to show. In effect, she became the Mac of years ago, when he had first met her. She hadn’t even argued about him assuming first chair.

In retrospect, he should have expected it, but it caught him off-guard. Given her explanation of what had been bothering her, her own experiences with attempted rape, he had expected a little more emotional reaction to the case. When they had first started out as partners, men that reminded her of her abusive father had brought out an open hostility. While tough to deal with, the reaction had allowed him to confront her and attempt to help her achieve perspective. But this time, she absolutely closed down. Discussing the case with a cold, professional detachment, she had given him no opening, no way to draw a parallel to her own feelings.

The case was relatively simple; a he said-she said situation that would be difficult if not downright impossible to solve. According to the young male Marine lieutenant, Lieutenant Gilroy, the girl, Gloria Masters, had had consensual sex with him after he’d met her in a bar. He’d walked her out to her car and one thing had led to another, etc. The girl’s story was he’d simply shown up at her car while she was unlocking it and raped her.

No witnesses. DNA evidence was inconclusive as the lieutenant did not deny having had sex with her, only the rape part. The girl had apparently related to a friend what had happened, and the friend had convinced her to report it, which she did one week after the encounter. While there was some physical evidence, a few bruises and a couple of "love bites", that was basically it. Neither the lieutenant nor the girl had ever been in trouble with the law prior to this incident.

He’d thought that Mac might crack when they interviewed Lieutenant Gilroy on Monday afternoon, but she’d maintained that cool, professional demeanor throughout the interview. Nothing had leaked through that façade. As first chair, Harm had directed the interview and asked the questions. Mac had been quiet for the most part, only interrupting occasionally to clarify a point. She had been enclosed in steel.

Now they had a meeting with the victim, never a pleasant experience. Even if he accepted his client’s story, he had to deal with the accuser. In this instance, when he couldn’t be sure who was telling the truth, he dreaded it. To prove their client’s innocence they were going to have take to this girl apart. And if his client was guilty, well, he’d best not think about that. He hated rape cases. He rose to get Mac.

The knock on the door made her look up. She was unsurprised to see Harm standing there. "It’s about time for our meeting. Are you ready?"

She gave a short nod, collected her files, and went to join him at the door. Inside, she felt as if she were about to throw up. The interview with Lieutenant Gilroy had been bad enough; she’d just managed to control herself by convincing herself he must be innocent. And she could let Harm handle most of the questioning, allowing her to safely hide in the shadows. This interview she would be doing the questioning. She dreaded this interview with everything in her.

A young girl of about 21 was seated in the conference room when they arrived; Sturgis seated by her side. She was a pretty girl, with a waif-like appearance that boded ill for their client. She was small and she looked scared to death.

"Commander, Colonel." Sturgis was formal in his presentations. "This is Gloria Masters. Gloria, this is Commander Rabb and Colonel Mackenzie. They are Lieutenant Gilroy’s defense team."

Gloria nodded to them, not saying anything. They both sat down across the table as they acknowledged the introductions. The haunted look in her eyes chilled Mac’s soul. This was not going to be easy.

"Miss Masters, may I call you Gloria?" Mac began the questioning, carefully keeping her voice soft and unthreatening. At the girl’s nod, she continued. "Gloria, why don’t you tell us what happened."

Gloria took a deep breath, obviously fortifying herself as best she could. "I’ve already told the police and Commander Turner everything. Can’t you just read my statement?" Gloria had blue eyes that were red-rimmed and blood-shot, probably from crying. They begged Mac not to make her repeat the story.

Mac hardened her heart, although it killed her to do so. "I’m sorry, Gloria." But she couldn’t do it. The anguish in the girl’s eyes got to her. Against her will, she softened. "How about if I lead you through it? Would that be easier?"

Harm shot her a surprised look; this was not how they had planned it. Mac was supposed to get the girl to tell her the story so they could look for inconsistencies with her police statement. It was standard operating procedure. He decided not to interrupt, hoping Mac had a plan.

"You met Lieutenant Gilroy at Beaches, is that right?" Mac’s tone was sympathetic, setting the scene for the girl to talk, coaxing her.

"Yes." Gloria’s voice was shaky, but she seemed determined to get this over with.

"How did you meet him? Did a friend introduce him?" Both Harm and Mac knew from Gilroy there had been no introduction.

"No, he came up to me and asked me to dance. I was with a group of friends, so I said okay." Gloria looked at Sturgis nervously, and he smiled reassuringly.

"And did you dance with him?"

Harm relaxed slightly, Mac was letting the girl tell the story a little at a time. She was good.

"Yes, we danced a couple of times. He seemed nice, and not too pushy or anything."

"And what happened after you danced?"

Harm wanted Mac to inquire into what type of dances, slow or fast, but Mac pushed on. He decided she was waiting for the trial for that. They already had that information from Gilroy. It could easily be confirmed by Gloria’s friends anyway.

"Well, I was tired, I wanted to go home. We’d all driven our own cars, so I said good night and left." Gloria stopped and took a drink of water. "He wanted to walk me to my car, but I said no. I…I…didn’t want to lead him on or anything."

Mac paused in her questioning, aware they were coming to the difficult part. She wished she could have a drink too, just not water.

"And then?"

"I went to the bathroom and then walked out to my car." Gloria’s hands started to shake, and Sturgis quickly put his hand over hers, calming her. She took another deep breath and continued as he removed his hand. "I had parked in the back because I had arrived late. I unlocked the car with the remote, and when I got there he…Gil…was there."

Mac tasted bile in her mouth. She didn’t want to hear this. She didn’t want to ask the questions she had to ask. She wanted nothing more than to run out of this room, preferably screaming. But she didn’t. She stiffened her spine. "Go on."

"He…he…well…he said he wanted to get to know me and asked for my phone number. I told him I didn’t think so, and to please get out of my way. I started to walk past him, but he grabbed my arm."

"Did you scream?" Mac’s voice had taken on a flatness.

"Um…no…I thought he would leave me alone…and I didn’t want to make a scene."

Desperately Harm wanted to interrupt, to clarify what was happening. How close were they to the car, why didn’t her friends walk her out, there were numerous questions to be asked. But Mac was oblivious to him.

"And then what happened?"

The girl started to cry. "He kissed me. He said…he…said he knew I wanted it. I tried to tell him no, but he wouldn’t listen."

Mac was holding on to her emotions so hard she didn’t even realize she was crying with the girl. A tear rolled down her cheek. Both Harm and Sturgis looked at her, shocked.

"He forced me into the back seat…and then he…and then he…he…" Gloria broke down then, sobbing into her hands.

Mac stood up abruptly. "Excuse me."

And before Harm could stop her, she was gone.

45 minutes later

Harm walked out of the conference room, leaving Sturgis to comfort his crying witness. Mac had never returned, so he’d taken over; asking the questions that needed to be asked. He hated it, but he had a job to do.

He caught sight of Bud as he walked towards his office. "Bud, have you seen Mac?"

"No sir, well, yes sir." Usually Bud’s confusion made Harm smile, but not now. Now, he needed to talk to Mac.

"Which is it, Bud?" His uncharacteristic sharp tone seemed to take Bud aback, but he answered more coherently.

"I saw her leave, sir. She walked straight out of the conference room to her office, picked up her purse, and left." Bud paused, looking concerned. "She looked like, well, like she’d been crying."

Damn it. He should have insisted she take herself off this case. It was hitting too close for her. "Has she called in?"

"Not that I know of, sir."

"Thanks, Bud." Harm continued on to his office, unsure of what to do. Should he give her space, or should he follow her? Sitting down at his desk, he tried her at home and on her cell. She wasn’t answering, of course. Sighing, he sat back in his chair, debating his next course of action.

There was one niggling thought that had been in the back of his mind since Saturday night. He’d done his best to talk himself out of it, and then ignore it. But he couldn’t escape it. He’d even asked her the question, but she’d denied it. But this last episode forced him to reconsider it.

He had investigated enough rape cases to know Mac’s behavior was consistent with that of a rape victim. The anger, the not wanting to be touched, even the denial. But should he confront her? What if he was wrong? She’d be so angry he’d be lucky to escape alive, especially in her current frame of mind. And, he acknowledged, he could be wrong. Her behavior was also consistent with someone who had been forced to kill to defend herself, more than once. But, God help him, what if he was right?

There was only one thing he could do. He’d have to investigate. If she found out, his ass was grass.

JAG Headquarters

1720 Local

Waiting impatiently in his office, he drummed his fingers on the desk. Where the hell was she? He’d left messages on her home phone and her cell. Stifling his immediate feeling of panic, he’d try to convey concern without appearing unduly alarmed. What he’d actually said was "Mac, what happened? Where did you go? Call me, please, and let me know what’s going on."

What he meant was ‘What the HELL is going on with you? Get your ass home to me NOW!’ He was fairly certain that that particular message would not be received favorably. So he’d opted for the more civil message.

Actually, he’d called several times, but had only left one message on each. If he left numerous messages she’d only become defensive. She was probably going to be defensive as it was. Fortunately the Admiral had not inquired as to her whereabouts, so he hadn’t had to come up with an excuse for her absence.

Sighing heavily, he rubbed his hands over his face, then picked up the video cassette on his desk. It was the security tape of the robbery. A phone call to Bigelow, the police detective handling the case, had secured him a copy as well as the case file. The tape had basically followed Mac’s story. He should know, he’d watched at least 3 times in spite of the fact that no clues were on it.

Once again he sighed. Bigelow had been so quick to wrap the case up he hadn’t investigated thoroughly. Well, he didn’t blame the detective; in spite of the fact the man was an ass. In this particular case, the bad guys were killed by one of the intended victims, an obvious case of self-defense.

The phone rang, making him jump. Praying it was Mac, he managed to sound professional, he hoped. "Commander Rabb."

"Harm? It’s me, Mac." As if he didn’t know.

Relief washed over him, and all thoughts of not appearing alarmed flew out the window. "Mac? Where the hell are you? Are you all right?" Her unexplained absence had conjured up all sorts of images, from her taking a drink to a horrible car accident. "I’ve been going crazy!"

She sounded so apologetic, so unlike her feisty marine self that he became even more worried. "I’m okay. I’m sorry; I shouldn’t have run out like that…"

He cut her off impatiently. "Just tell me where you are." He fully intended to go get her and force her to talk to him. This—whatever this was—had gone on long enough.

"Well, umm…" Embarrassed, she stuttered a little. "A…actually, I’m in Hanging Rock, WV."

"Where?" What in hell was she doing there? And where was it?

"Hanging Rock, WV." Giving a short laugh, she continued. "I…um…well…I needed to clear my head, but I just didn’t realize how far I was driving. Or how long it had been."

There was a short silence as he tried to process the information. "You mean you just drove around for 3 hours? To West Virginia?" Try as he might, he couldn’t help sounding incredulous.

"Yeah, I’m sorry about that." Now that was better. Impatience had crept into her tone.

But even though she sounded more like herself, he still couldn’t let go of his worry. "Mac, what is going on?"

"Nothing is going on. I just needed to get out for a minute." Now the defensive attitude he’d been fearing appeared.

Still, he couldn’t seem to stop the words from coming out. "Nothing? Come on Mac, you disappeared in the middle of an interview! An interview you were conducting, I might add. Now something is going on with you, and I want to know what it is." His attempt to keep the frustration out of his voice failed miserably.

"It’s nothing I can’t handle, okay? It all just got to me, but I’m over it." Her anger only seemed to fuel his. She could be so damn unreasonable!

"Over it? Over what? For God’s sake, Mac, talk to me!" Frustration made him harsher than he meant to appear.

"I just got upset! I’m sorry I ran out on you, but I’m fine. Now can we drop this please?"

Silently he counted to ten and returned to a more professional level. "We can drop it for now, but I need a better explanation than that, and you know it. Your problems are starting to affect our case." Crap that was the wrong thing to say, even if it was the truth. Pissing her off more would solve nothing.

"My problems? Her voice rose in anger. "Because one time, when interviewing a witness I get upset? You can’t understand that?" Then her voice dropped dangerously low. "I think there has been a time or two that you have failed that test, Commander."

He caved, despising himself for not being tougher, for not battling this out. "I know. I’m sorry, Mac, I just…well…I’m worried about you, okay?" He could hear her take a breath, and held his own, hoping he had averted the storm.

"I know. But I promise I’m okay now, and it won’t happen again. I’ll be back at work tomorrow morning on time." Damn, she sounded drained now.

"Mac, why don’t you just come to my place tonight?" Maybe he could get her to talk to him, calm her down. "I’ll fix you something to eat."

Tearful now, she answered him. "I can’t, Harm. I’m exhausted. I appreciate it, but I need to go home and just crawl into bed."

"Are you okay to drive? Because I can come and get you…" Even as he offered this, he knew she would refuse. God damn all independent women everywhere. Why couldn’t she just accept help? Why couldn’t she just TALK to him?

"By the time you got here and drove me home it would be close to midnight. I’m just going to home and I’ll see you tomorrow, okay?" She was practically pleading with him to let it go.

"Okay, but call me when you get home so I know you made it safely." He cut off her automatic protest, anticipating the ‘I’m a marine speech’. "Just humor me. I’ll sleep better knowing you’re home."

"Ok."

"Talk to you in a little while".

"Bye Harm."

He hung up the phone; mentally counting the number of times she said she was sorry. She never said she was sorry. And the whole thing with the interview, leaving in the middle of it, the tears…He was more convinced and more afraid that his suspicion was right. Mac just hadn’t been herself since the night of the attempted robbery. There had to be more there.

He put the tape in his VCR, sat back down, and pushed play. He’d already viewed it more than once, but watched it again, trying to get a clue as to what happened out of sight of the camera.

The tape followed Mac’s statement exactly. Mac entered the store, Little AJ on her hip. She poured herself a cup of coffee and stood by the unattended counter, presumably waiting for the cashier. Two men entered, one pulling a gun on Mac, who immediately turned so that Little AJ was away from the weapon. She put up no fight.

The cashier came out of a door, and the second man accosted her with a gun, forcing her to the cash register. Neither woman argued or struggled. Mac stood passively holding Little AJ while the cashier fumbled around emptying the cash register. It was then the men’s behavior changed from threatening to sexually aggressive.

The two men exchanged leers, looking both Mac and the girl over with disgusting expressions of lust. The one man behind the counter with the cashier fondled her, finally drawing a reaction from Mac. A reaction that was quickly put down by the second man holding a gun on her. A few moments later the two men pushed Mac and the girl towards the back, disappearing out of the eye of the camera.

Harm pushed fast forward, knowing there was nothing more except Mac, Little AJ, and the girl coming back without the men, using the phone, and then waiting for the police.

It was then that it hit him. He rewound the tape to the point where the group went to the back and checked the time at the bottom of the tape. Then he fast-forwarded again to the point where Mac, Little AJ, and the girl came out into the store and checked the time at the bottom of the tape. One hour and forty-six minutes had elapsed. The sick knot in his stomach twisted more. Oh God. He shut off the tape.

Quickly he pulled out Mac’s statement to the police, scanning quickly. Estimating time in his head, he quickly calculated how much time they should have been back there. Fifteen minutes, tops, for Mac to convince them to leave Casey alone. Another fifteen minutes for the attempted rape and shootings. Ten more minutes to calm Little AJ and Casey down. Ten more minutes just to be on the safe side. That’s a total of fifty minutes.

He put the report down, his hands shaking. Fifty minutes, a very generous estimate. There was no way it took almost 2 hours. Not unless Mac had left part of the story out. Oh God, he wanted to vomit.

Hanging Rock Diner

1930 Local

After the call to Harm, Mac had shut her cell phone off and put it away in her purse. Then she just sat, staring at the cup of coffee in front of her. Despite her assurances to Harm, she was far from ‘over it’. All she could see were the girl’s tormented eyes as she was relating her story. And all she could remember was how it felt to be…to be…Damn it! She couldn’t even think the word, much less say it.

The aimless driving had been a kind of torture, where scenes of her own experience flashed over and over in her head, only interrupted by the girl’s tearful face, the sound of her voice as she described the scene.

With a start she realized how late it was. She’d been sitting there for almost 2 hours. It was time to head for home, hopefully to actually sleep. She got up, paid the bill, and headed for the parking lot.

Back in her car, she eased the corvette gently onto the interstate, the road stretching out before her, dark and inviting. There was little traffic on the road, and she unleashed the corvette, enjoying the feeling of power under her hands. If Harm ever found out that she loved the speed, the teasing would be merciless. As well as the accompanying lecture on safety and the wonder at her queasiness on tomcats.

‘The difference’, she thought to herself, ‘is I’m in control here; it’s my hands on the steering wheel, my foot on the accelerator. I’m not relying on someone else’s reflexes and knowledge. I know what I’m doing and where I am. Here the control is mine.’

She shifted into fifth gear, feeling the powerful engine rev and take off in a burst of speed. The dotted white line was mesmerizing as it flew by, an endless path before her, fading into the darkness behind her. A path to follow, to a known destination. The speedometer swung over to 110 mph, the danger pumping up her adrenaline. The car hugged the curves, dark scenery flashing by in an unseen blur.

Despite the velocity of the car, her mind drifted to Harm…damn him. She knew he was going to pull his ‘big brother’ routine, insisting that she talk to him. Somehow, someway, she was going to have to get it together and handle this case like the professional she was. Just because it was a…a…she forced herself to at least think the word…rape case, didn’t mean she couldn’t handle it. She’d handled them in the past, and she’d handle this one. Yes, her feelings had gotten away from her, but she’d make sure it didn’t happen again.

A sharp turn came up, demanding she pay attention to her driving. The corvette skidded a little, fishtailing, but held true. Once around the curve, she pushed the accelerator back to the floor.

Maybe she should tell him. Everything. Just get it over with. Intellectually she knew there was no shame in being a victim, but that’s not how she felt. Inside, she was ashamed, disgusted, humiliated, and even blaming herself on some level. How could she tell him? She couldn’t even think about it herself, much less talk to him…or anyone… about it.

It was something best kept locked in her soul; down as deep as she could bury it.

There was a rumble as the corvette veered onto the shoulder. Desperately she wrestled with the steering wheel, stepping on the brakes to slow it down. There was the sound of screeching tires and the sensation of spinning…and the car finally came to a stop.

Shaken, she unclamped her fingers from the steering wheel, not surprised to find them trembling. She was turned around the wrong way, and off the shoulder in the grass. The engine was still purring, and she managed to shut it off. Getting out of the car, she stood on unsteady legs, leaning on the door and drawing deep breaths. That had been a close one.

The crisp autumnal air should have been bracing, a relief to the fever of her scare, but a shiver ran through her. For once there was no sound of traffic, only the rustle of trees in the wind. She glanced up at the full moon, its bright illumination partly obscured by clouds. It looked like a storm was brewing.

For a moment all she wanted to do was cry, and she actually felt the tears well in her eyes, but she choked them back. Once again it was rage that washed over her. She thanked God for it; it helped make her strong.

For a long time, anger was the driving force in her life. Anger at her parents…at Eddie, for dying…at herself…and at life itself. With Harm’s help, and the rest of JAG which she had come to regard as family, she had been able to let go of that anger and reach for a happier life. One based on the idea that good things could happen, that she didn’t have to protect herself from everything and everyone.

It had only taken one incident to realize she’d been mistaken. Nothing in life is safe; the reality was she couldn’t let down her guard for an instant. The anger was back, stronger than ever. It was once again the anger of the helpless, doomed by whatever fate threw at them.

She drew some comfort from the fact that she had protected the helpless in this case. But the price…the price had been so high.

Again she wanted to cry, but she resolutely stomped on the tears. There was nothing to be gained by them. She closed her trembling hands into fists and took a deep breath, willing control back into her body. She would be strong. And she would be silent. No one would know the price she’d paid.

She got back into her car, turned the car around and headed for home. She kept the speed under 80 this time.

Harm’s Apartment

North of Union Station

2045 Local

The events of the day had overwhelmed him. He sat, exhausted, on his couch with a full beer in his hand. At this very moment, he was numb.

After his discovery of the time difference on the tape, he had contacted Casey, the young girl that had been caught up in the robbery with Mac. He’d need some kind of corroboration if he was going to confront Mac with his suspicions. In fact, he’d need solid evidence. Casey was the only one who could give him that.

Initially reluctant, she’d finally agreed to see him after school tomorrow. He’d explained who he was and that this was not an official inquiry, but that Mac was his friend. He was to meet her at the park next to her school at 3:15.

After that, he’d alternated between bouts of rage and bouts of guilt. The feeling of nausea had never left him; hence the full beer in his hand.

Rage. A four letter word. A small word. It didn’t begin to encompass the feeling. Wrath…ire…fury. None of them described it. There really wasn’t a word that could begin to express exactly what he was feeling.

God knows she’d been through enough in her life. Alcoholic father, abandonment by her mother. Her own alcoholism, Dalton, Coster, Brumby. The list went on and on. Shamefacedly he added his own name to the list.

Son of a bitch. It was lucky that lousy fucking asshole was already dead, or he’d kill him with his bare hands. It took all his strength to put the beer down on the coffee table and not heave it across the room at the wall.

That stinking bastard had dared to touch Mac. His Mac. And she was HIS Mac, even if they hadn’t actually acknowledged it. God damn it…he wanted the satisfaction of slowly strangling the motherfucker to death, only after he’d beaten him to an inch of his life. And cut off his balls with a dull rusty knife.

He stood up and paced around the apartment, restless with anxiety and rage. What could he do about it now? There was no one to kill, or maim.

And where the hell was Mac now? She should have been home by now. She should have called him. He desperately wanted to know she was all right. At least, that she was home safe. She wouldn’t be all right, would she?

Abruptly, guilt kicked in. He should have been there. Somehow, someway, he should have prevented this; he just fucking well should have been there. Yes, he’d been away on a case. But he damn well should have been there for Mac.

And he hadn’t been. There was no denying it. He hadn’t been there for her. Just like he hadn’t been there for her after Bugme left, or when Chris Ragle showed up. He’d been busy, just like always.

Sitting back down on the couch, he rested his head in his hands. How was he going to face her? Knowing that it was his fault. He was never there when she needed him.

And God damn it, there was no way to "fix" this. It had already happened. Nothing he could say or do would make it all better, would soothe her wounds, remove her scars. Nothing.

And he’d waited too long to make his move. He’d been stalling, telling himself they needed time to be friends again, before they moved into a real relationship. Sure, they’d been taking baby-steps, dinners together, movies, etc. But he hadn’t told her how he felt about her. He hadn’t even kissed her.

She hadn’t even told him about it. She’d kept all the hurt…the pain…all to herself. Not sharing it with him…or anyone.

And now. He drew a shaky breath, rubbing his eyes. Now, he was going to have to be the bad guy. He was going to have to confront her. Make her deal with it.

Hopefully, she’d be able to put it behind her, lead a normal life, even after the rape.

And she would probably hate him for the rest of his life.

His heart ached. It more than ached, it was torn in half by his knowledge. He choked back a sob. "Mac," he said aloud, "Mac, I’m so sorry, so terribly terribly sorry."

The phone rang. Wiping his eyes, he reached for it, trying to compose himself.

"Harm? I just wanted to let you know I’m home." It was Mac. Thank you God.

"Are you all right?" He knew she wasn’t, but he had to ask.

"I’m fine. But you sound…strange. Are YOU all right?" God, she was asking him? Pure love washed through him for this woman. Whether she knew it or not, or whether he acknowledged it or not, she was everything to him.

"I’m fine, Mac. I’m just glad you’re home."

There was an awkward silence as the conversation lapsed, each one keeping their secrets.

Finally he broke the stalemate. "I’ll see you tomorrow, okay? Get some sleep."

"I will. And you too. You don’t sound good, Flyboy."

His heart tore a little more at her concern.

"Mac?" He tried to catch her before she hung up.

"Yes?"

"I…I…" He wanted to tell her he loved her, that he’d figured out what happened, that he needed her to be happy. But he couldn’t. It wasn’t the right time or place for any of that. "Just take care of yourself."

"Harm, is everything all right? You’re worrying me."

He laughed at the irony of all this. "Yeah. I’ll see you in the morning."

Memorial Park

1500 Local

Harm stuck his hands in his pockets, wishing he’d thought to bring his gloves. As usual, D.C.’s weather had changed on a whim. Was it only yesterday that it had been 75 degrees and sunny? Today it was cold, overcast, and gloomy, matching his mood. He almost laughed at the ironic metaphor.

This morning he’d lied to Mac. True, he’d only done it because he had too, he couldn’t tell her about this meeting with Casey. He’d come up with some cock and bull story about interviewing a witness about the Macpherson case he was working on. He cringed mentally as he remembered looking into those trusting brown eyes and lying. He reminded himself he had no choice.

He felt awful. Not getting a wink of sleep all night long had not had a particularly good effect on him. He’d spent the night wrestling with his anger. Realizing that walking around in a brooding rage was counterproductive to rational thinking, he’d finally managed to get some control of it. Truthfully, it had more to do with the fact that he knew he needed to be there for Mac than for anything else. He was not going to be much use to her if he couldn’t manage his own anger.

The guilt was another matter entirely. He couldn’t shake the feeling that somehow he’d let her down. He should have been able to protect her. He should have been able to do something. On one level, he knew that it was irrational to think that way. On another, it didn’t matter. He felt how he felt. Even if he hadn’t said the words, she was his to protect.

And of course, there was Mac. A good portion of the night had been spent trying to decide how to handle this. Should he confront her? Should he try to get her to talk to him? How would she react when she realized he knew? He had a feeling it would not go down easily with her.

Should he tell anyone? The Admiral? In point of fact, he was duty bound to tell the Admiral. If what he suspected was true, Mac had no business being on this particular case. But Mac had never betrayed him like that. Even when she knew he was going after Diane’s killer, she had protected his career at great risk to her own. She’s never told the Admiral anything.

Maybe he should consult a professional. Maybe he should get Mac to consult a professional. Hell, maybe he should have his head examined for trying to handle this on his own.

The only thing he’d decided on was that he had to talk to Casey before he did anything. Hopefully, she’d be able to give him irrefutable evidence as to the truth. Until then, anything he had was basically supposition and intuition. If he confronted Mac, he’d need something solid. If he knew one thing about her, it was that she was stubborn. She’d never admit to anything unless cornered.

And even more hopefully, once he had the facts, the path to follow would become clear.

So he’d showered, shaved, and dressed for work, steeling himself to behave normally around Mac and not to show any undue concern around her. Not an easy task.

She’d been in her office when he’d arrived. As usual. Dumping his briefcase and cover in his office, he’d looked through the glass, trying to see if there was anything in her demeanor to give him a clue as to what she was feeling.

At first glance she’d looked as she usually did, calm, collected, in control. The very image of everything a marine could aspire to be.

A closer look revealed that she appeared wan and tired, with circles under her eyes that even expert make-up couldn’t hide. She’d never been fat, but she’d lost some weight. And there was an overall fragility that had never been there before. In fact, fragile was a word he’d never associated with Mac before now.

It had taken all his strength not to stride into her office and just take her in his arms. Not in passion, as he’d thought of many times, but to give comfort. If there was anything in the world he wanted, it was to take that wounded look away from her…to give her back what was taken from her.

But he couldn’t.

Instead, he treated her as if it was just another day, glossing over the previous day’s incident. She’d obviously been surprised by his apparent lack of righteous indignation about her lapse, but just as obviously, she’d been relieved.

He’d briefed her on the rest of the meeting with Gloria Masters, wrapping it up as quickly as possible, not going into many details. Then he’d pled a busy morning coping with the Macpherson case, including an afternoon interview, and they’d agreed to have dinner at his place to discuss strategy.

So here he was, sitting at a picnic table, waiting to question a teenager about Mac. He was investigating his…his….what? Best friend? She was that, of course, but she was so much more. He rubbed a weary hand over his eyes. Damn it, why hadn’t he told her before now?

"Commander Rabb?" A soft voice interrupted his tortured thoughts.

He rose automatically. "Casey?"

At her nod, he gestured for her to sit down as he resumed his seat. "Thanks for coming."

She was a young pretty brunette, conservatively dressed for a teenager. He hoped she was exactly what she looked like—a nice girl that didn’t lie easily. He noticed her shiver. "Are you cold? We can go over to the McDonald’s, if you want. It would get us out of the cold."

"No, that’s all right. I’m not sure what I can tell you anyway. I told the police everything I know." Her eyes shifted away from his as she spoke.

The band around his heart tightened another notch. Despite everything, he’d held out a desperate hope that he was wrong and that Casey would allay his fears. It didn’t look like that was going to happen.

"I appreciate you talking to me, Casey. I wanted to talk to you about the Colonel." He shot his best smile at her, hoping to gain her confidence.

She didn’t smile back. "The Colonel? You mean Mac?" Her concern was immediate.

At his nod, she asked, "Is she okay?"

He zeroed in on the opening. It was like shooting fish in a barrel. The inexperienced girl wouldn’t have a chance with him questioning her. "Why do you ask? Is there some reason she wouldn’t be?"

Casey looked down and flushed. "Of course not. I just…I mean…she was very nice to me and I…um…just want her to be okay."

Harm hesitated deliberately, prolonging the moment. "Well, Casey, that’s why I wanted to talk to her. I don’t think she’s okay."

Casey’s head came up with a snap. "What’s wrong?"

Again Harm paused, increasing the young girl’s anxiety. "Well, I don’t want to say too much, but she’s just not acting like herself. She’s not sleeping, and she’s not feeling well."

"Well, it’s no wonder. Look what she went through!" Her voice rose indignantly, but she caught herself quickly. "I mean…she protected me and the little boy. And then she had to shoot those men. It’s no wonder she’s having a hard time dealing with it."

He softened his tone, hoping to draw her out. The girl was never going to be a good prevaricator. "She’s a marine, Casey. She’s had to shoot people before. And it’s her job to protect people, she’s trained for it for years."

"Not for that! No one is trained for that!" She practically yelled, and then fell silent.

"For what, Casey?" He kept his tone gentle, coaxing.

He could see her trying to back peddle, stammering. "For…for…well…that situation. She wasn’t prepared for it, that’s all."

He waited until she calmed a little, and then looked her in the eyes. "Casey, the only way to help a person is to tell the truth. Even when the truth is painful."

"I know…but…I…" She started to cry then. "I can’t. She asked me not to. I promised her."

Reaching out, he laid a soothing hand on her shoulder. "If you want to help Mac, tell me the truth, Casey. I can’t help her unless I know the truth. And I want to help her so badly."

She drew a shaky breath and then looked up at him. "I just want her to be okay. She did so much for me that night. More than anyone ever did for me."

Her sincerity touched him, and he answered in kind. "I know. She’s done more for me than anyone has ever done, too. That’s why I need to help her."

"Okay." Another shaky breath, then she started. "That night, those men broke in. Do you know what happened?"

He gave a short nod as he answered. "Only what was in the police reports."

"Well, I…we…left some things out. When we got to the back, the men wanted to…to…" She broke off.

He helped her out. "To force themselves on you?" Why, he wondered to himself, is the word so hard to say?

She nodded and continued in a choked voice. "They kept saying things, awful things, about what they wanted. And one of them, the older one, started touching Mac. The young one laughed a lot, but he held the gun on us. The other one, the one touching Mac, he was groping her all over. But the little boy, he started crying. Then he came towards me, but she stopped him. She told him…she said that he shouldn’t bother with a young girl like me. That what he really wanted was a more experienced woman."

The girl sobbed, breaking down, but got herself under control. It was obvious now, that this had eaten at her as well as Mac.

Harm was getting nauseous again, but he forced himself to listen, to project calm. It was if he had stepped outside himself and was observing the scene from a distance.

"Then she said, if they would leave me alone, she’d do whatever they wanted. The guy, he went over and slapped her. I don’t know why, maybe it was a test or something. The little boy started screaming then. The guy told her to shut the brat up. Somehow, she got the little boy to stop crying and handed him to me. Then she asked the guy to not do anything in front of the little boy.

He just laughed and said he didn’t need an audience to get off. Then he took her into the office and shut the door. They were there for a long time. The young one, with the gun, he just kept grinning at me, but he kept his distance. He was like…listening at the door…but there was no sound.

Until the gunshot. When that happened, he opened the door and ran in. There was another gunshot. Then nothing.

I didn’t know what to do, so I…I…just held on to the little boy and stayed in the corner. I should have run away…or at least to check…but I was so scared. I was just frozen."

Harm nodded understandingly.

"Then finally, I don’t know how long it was, Mac came out. She…her hands were shaking, but she seemed so calm. She said it would be easier not to tell everything that happened, easier for her and easier for me. The little boy, he grabbed on to her and wouldn’t let go."

"I just said okay. I couldn’t argue, not after what she did. She saved me. I mean, I’ve never…you know…been with anyone. And she did that…just so…well…to protect me and the little boy. I just wanted her to be okay, I wanted to help anyway I could. If not telling helped, I promised I wouldn’t."

She broke down completely then, sobbing her heart out.

Harm shook himself out of his stupor and reached across the table to take her hand. "It will be okay, Casey. I promise. I’m going to help her."

The only problem was he didn’t know how he was going to help. For once, knowing the truth hadn’t made the path any clearer.

Harm’s Apartment

North of Union Station

1920 Local

Despite his initial awkwardness with Mac, the dinner was going smoothly. He wasn’t sure how he had accomplished it, but she didn’t seem to suspect anything was wrong. Thank God. Because if she asked him, he didn’t know what he’d say.

The afternoon meeting with Casey over, he’d gone straight back to his apartment. The last thing he remembered was comforting Casey, and then he was sitting in his apartment. He didn’t remember the drive at all; a mixture of emotions—anger, guilt, and anxiety—had overwhelmed him. Then he’d just sat there, trying to figure out what to do.

And he hadn’t come up with anything.

It wasn’t until Mac knocked on the door that he realized he hadn’t done a thing about preparing dinner. No grocery shopping, much less planning a menu. Shit. Oh well, that was what delivery was for. Mac liked Chinese, fortunately.

She’d laughed off his lack of preparation with aplomb, and actually seemed more like herself, if a little distant. When she’d complained of the cold, he’d grabbed the afghan off his couch and covered her shoulders. Immediately he could feel her tense under his fingers, and he backed off without saying anything, understanding the reaction now.

During the dinner she hadn’t said much, but had nodded agreeably as he talked. He didn’t even know what he was saying; he was too busy studying her. He noted again the shadows in her eyes, the way they never smiled the way they used to. He noted the loss of weight, and the sadness that never quite left her.

And each time he saw these changes in her, another piece of his heart broke. Someone had hurt her. The one person in the world who never seemed to catch a break, and who never deserved to be hurt at all. He squelched the flash of rage that inevitably followed that line of thought.

"Harm?"

Startled out of his reverie, he realized he’d been staring at her. God knows for how long. "Yeah?"

"Why are you staring at me like that? What’s wrong? You seem so…I don’t know…preoccupied." It was the warm concern in her dark glance that did him in. Here was the opening he’d been looking for, but he couldn’t do it. He just didn’t know how to start.

"Nothing’s wrong, I’m just tired." He sounded insincere, even to himself.

"Are you sure?" There was doubt in her voice this time.

At his nod, she continued, "If you’re tired, we can discuss the case tomorrow morning at work. It’s not that pressing."

Somehow he couldn’t let her leave. He was going to have to get through this, and just talk to her. Tell her he knew. And somehow…somehow…get her to let him help. "No, it’s okay. I actually want to get to it. Let’s start, okay?"

Together they rose from the table. He made quick work of clearing off the cartons of food while she pulled out the files she had brought with her. It was a scene that had taken place many times in his apartment, and somehow it calmed him. She was here, and somehow, he would talk to her.

Settling on the couch near her, he opened his mouth to ask a question about the case when her cell phone rang.

Shooting him an apologetic glance, she answered her phone. "Hello."

A surprised look crossed her face and she shot a wary glance at him as she continued her conversation. "Hey, this is a surprise. How are you doing?" Her voice was just a little too bright, a little too happy.

She paused, listening. "No, I’m fine. No problems."

It was then he knew. He didn’t know how, but he knew. It was Casey. His stomach clenched.

There was another pause, longer this time, as she listened. Her entire body visibly tensed, and she turned away from him. "I see."

Her fingers whitened against the cell phone as she listened. "No, it’s okay, Casey. Don’t worry about it. You did the right thing." There was a flatness to her voice as she reassured her. "No, I haven’t talked to him yet, but I will. Thanks, Casey. I’ll talk to you soon."

Slowly she flipped the phone closed and put it in her purse. She still didn’t look at him.

He didn’t know what to say. "Mac…"

She stood up abruptly. "I’ve got to go." She ran towards the door, her purse still clutched in her hand.

She was almost to the door when he caught her, grabbing her arm to stop her. "Mac, listen to me…"

"NO! I can’t!" She wrenched her arm away and tried to open the door, but he put a hand on it.

"Mac, let’s just talk about it." Damn it, he should have talked to her earlier.

She pulled ineffectually at the blocked door. "No! If I wanted to talk about it, I would have! Just let me go!" The agony in her voice tore at his heart, but he knew he couldn’t let her leave. Not like this.

"Mac, just calm down for a minute. Please, let’s talk." He stood behind her, leaning on the door as he pled his case. "I want to help. That’s all."

She turned suddenly to face him, furious. "If I wanted your help, I’d have asked for it! Just let me go!" And she pushed him with all her strength.

Despite the fact he had at least 80 pounds on her, she might have accomplished her goal of freedom if he hadn’t been braced to hold the door. She was damn strong. As it was, she rocked him back a little, but not enough to get through the door.

Instead of blocking the door again, he grabbed her arms, intending only to stop her and force her to calm down. He was completely unprepared when she screamed "NO! Don’t touch me!" and punched him in the stomach.

He managed to fall against the door as he doubled over, bracing himself against it and gasping for air. He’d forgotten she could box.

She ran, desperate to get away. She pressed herself into the corner of the living room.

For a few moments, there was no sound except the Harm’s gasps as he tried to regain his breath. He struggled to his feet, looking for her. When he saw her, huddled in the corner, her face against her knees, he almost cried.

"Mac." He approached her cautiously, not wanting her to bolt again. "Mac, honey…" The endearment slipped out unconsciously.

It was then the sobbing started. Great anguished sobs. "Why, Harm?" He could barely make out what she was saying. "Why did you do this? I didn’t want you to know. I didn’t want anyone to know."

More than anything he wanted to hold her, but he knew he couldn’t. "I could see something was wrong, Mac. You wouldn’t say anything, but I could see."

The sobs lessened marginally. "Did it never occur to you to respect my privacy? To let me handle things my own way?"

"Frankly, no. Not this. And you weren’t handling it, you were ignoring it. And it’s eating you up inside." He held out a hand, praying this time she would take it. "Come on, Mac. Come sit down on the couch."

She didn’t move. "Please Harm. Just let me go. I don’t want to talk about it. I can’t even look at you right now."

Careful not to touch her, he crouched down next to her. "Mac, you don’t have to tell me what happened. Just come with me. Please."

Something in his voice must have gotten to her, because she pushed herself up and stood leaning against the wall. But she still wouldn’t look at him.

"I promise, I won’t touch you without your permission. And I won’t make you talk about it. It just has to be acknowledged for now. We’ll deal with everything else later."

She nodded and wiped her eyes. Still not meeting his steady gaze, she walked around him and curled up on the couch, clutching a pillow to her. "I’m sorry I hit you."

He managed a laugh, trying to lighten the mood a little. "You pack quite a wallop, Marine." Sitting down on the other end of the couch, he tried to meet her eyes, but she wouldn’t look at him.

She didn’t smile or laugh back. The sobs started again. "It’s just…when you grabbed me…I…I…"

"Shhhh…it’s okay. I know, I shouldn’t have grabbed you. I understand." Waiting while she continued to cry was killing him, but he didn’t know what else to do. Finally, inspiration struck. "Mac, just try to calm down, okay? I’ll be back in a minute; I’m just going to make some tea."

She nodded, but shot a quick glance at the door as if still contemplating escape.

"Don’t, Mac. Please, don’t run. Just rest here for a minute…catch your breath. Please?"

She nodded again and covered her face with her hands, trying to stifle the tears. Knowing he couldn’t touch her or comfort her was killing him. He left to make the tea, needing a moment to gather himself together.

He watched her as he made the tea, both to make sure she didn’t run and just because he had to for his own sanity.

When he returned, he set the tea on the table beside her, careful to give her space, and then settled in the other end of the couch. "Mac, why didn’t you say anything?"

She flinched when he spoke, then picked up the tea. Sipping it, then blowing on it to cool it in an obvious effort to stall. "I just didn’t want to. I didn’t want to talk about it; I didn’t want anyone to know." Her hands started to shake, spilling the tea, and she quickly set it back down. "It was bad enough that it happened. I couldn’t…I didn’t…I just didn’t want anyone to know." More tears welled up, but at least she didn’t break down this time.

"It’s nothing you have to hide, honey." The endearment slipped out again, but if she noticed it she didn’t react. "You did nothing wrong or to be ashamed of."

"It’s so damn easy for you to say that, isn’t it?" The anger was back, but this time he was a little relieved to see it. Anything was better than that horrible despair. "But you don’t know, you have no idea…It’s my choice, not yours. You had no right to go behind my back on this, Harm. No right at all."

"Yes, I did." His calm reply infuriated more, and she finally met his gaze with her angry one.

"You did not! It’s my life and my choice. There was no need for anyone to know. The guy is dead, he can’t hurt anyone else."

"You’re forgetting one thing."

"And what’s that?" Her glare was not back to its former intensity, but it was close.

"My right as someone who cares about you, worries about you. There was something wrong, and I had to know what it was to help."

That stopped her cold. Her eyes dropped from his, but he continued anyway. "You would do the same, Mac. You know you would." Desperately he wanted to say the words—I love you—but this was the wrong time. But he could at least hint. "You know what you mean to me."

There was no reply. She just looked down.

"Regardless of anything else, Mac, we’re best friends. And I want, no need to be there for you. The same as you would for me." He let that sink in for a minute, then reached out a hand to her again. "Let me be there for you, honey. Trust me."

She looked at his hand, wanting so badly to take it, but she couldn’t. "I…I can’t."

Stubbornly he kept his hand out. "Yes you can. You’re strong, and you can trust me. You know it."

Hesitating, shaking, her own hand slowly went to grasp his. She hesitated, and he saw the fear in her eyes.

He didn’t back down. "It’s all right to be scared. But you can still do it, Sarah."

Finally…still shaking…her hand took his. Smiling gently at her, he said, "See? That wasn’t bad, was it?" Silently he prayed for the knowledge he needed to help her.

Smiling back with the tears still in her eyes, she shook her head.

"Then come the rest of the way, honey. Let me just hold you. It’ll be all right, honestly." Pulling gently at her hand, he coaxed her across the couch so that she came to him.

She tensed when he put his arms around her, but he was stubborn, holding her unyielding body gently.

It was then she realized she had reached a safe haven. It was Harm, someone she could trust. Turning abruptly to him, she wrapped her arms around his neck and held on tightly.

She felt so small and fragile in his arms, but the surge of emotion left him speechless. Finally, she’d trusted him. He hugged her just as tightly, thanking God for small miracles such as this.

Her face was buried in his neck, he could feel the warm tears falling, breaking his already broken heart into little pieces. "Oh Harm," she whispered brokenly, "What am I going to do?"

Stroking her hair, he rocked her gently, just grateful for the opportunity to hold her. "For right now, just this, honey. We’ll make it through this together, I promise."

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

He was holding her. They hadn’t spoken much after the initial breakthrough, just occasional whispers of reassurance from him while she cried. Now she was finally asleep. She lay against his chest, his cheek resting on her hair. There was a little catch in her breathing every once in a while, as if she was still crying.

He alternated between thanking God that she’d finally told him, and being angry at God for letting something so awful happen to her. Somehow, someway, he was going to get her through it. This time, he was going to be there for her. His heart literally hurt. His beautiful, feisty marine had been brutalized. His own tears welled up, but he choked them back, not wanting to wake her.

Carefully, gently, he slid an arm under her legs and stood up with her, carrying her. He wasn’t going to let her leave tonight, so there was no point in waking her. He carried her to the bed and laid her down, then spread a blanket over her after taking off her shoes.

Toeing off his own shoes, he lay down next to her, fully clothed. Then he just looked at her.

Her tear-stained face was pale, but achingly beautiful to him. One more time he’d cursed himself for never telling her how he felt…for allowing duty, friendship, and yes—fear—to interfere with what was the best relationship of his life. And now, he couldn’t tell her. Now was definitely not the time to rock the boat with declarations of love.

She’d finally talked to him, thank God, but what now? Tenderly he brushed the hair out of her face as he considered it.

First things first. She had to resign from their rape case. She was a great attorney, but he had to make her see that she was compromising their client. There was no way she could remain objective. And even if she could, the appearance of impropriety would be too great.

That is, of course, if she told the admiral. Deep in his heart, he knew he could never betray her confidence, no matter what the cost to his career. But surely he could make her see that the admiral needed to know, if only to keep her off similar type cases while she received counseling.

And that opened up a whole new can of worms. In order for her to receive counseling, she would have to put the rape on record. She would never agree to that. Well, she could receive counseling "off the record", but she’d still have to tell the admiral.

His mind still churning, he finally fell into an exhausted sleep himself.

0620 Local

He woke to find her gazing at him, her soft brown eyes conveying an odd combination of wistfulness and apprehension that she hid immediately by looking away from him.

They were close together, facing each other, but not touching. Except for her hand, which he held in his. He was pleased to note that she didn’t pull away immediately, even if she did have a difficult time meeting his eyes.

"Good morning." He kept his voice low, not wanting to break the intimate mood.

"Morning." Stubbornly, she still didn’t look at him as she mumbled her response, obviously nervous.

"How about some coffee?" Keep things light, he told himself. Let her breathe.

She nodded silently, but he noted the easing of tension in her shoulders.

"Ok then, let me use the facilities. Then I’ve got an extra toothbrush you can use, help yourself to anything in the bathroom you need- shower, etc. I’ll be making breakfast."

She started to speak then, "Harm…"

He cut the apology he knew was coming, laying a finger on her lips. "I’ve got a policy. No apologies or any serious discussions before coffee. Okay?" He breathed a sigh of relief as she smiled at him.

He took care of business in the bathroom, then washed up and brushed his teeth, laying out a new toothbrush for her to use. Then he went back to the bedroom, grabbed 2 fresh shirts, one for him, and for her which he laid on the bed next to her. "Try this if you want a clean shirt, and the bathroom’s all yours." Then he headed for the kitchen without waiting for an answer.

As he set up the coffeemaker to brew, he called the office and left a message that they had a witness to interview and would be in later, then set about making a couple of omelets.

He was pouring the coffee when she came out, wearing his T-shirt and her jeans from the previous night. In spite of her hesitation, she looked better, more rested. Handing her a cup, he gestured to the table where breakfast waited. "Have a seat."

She looked as if she wanted to argue, then acquiesced, sitting at the table. But she didn’t eat. Instead she sipped the coffee.

He didn’t eat either. "We need to talk, Mac, decide what we’re going to do."

"What do you mean?" There was something in her tone that worried him, but he ignored it. He had a lot of things to discuss with her.

"I called the office and told them we’d be late, we were interviewing a client."

"You did?" Her voice was decidedly stiffer now, but he pushed on, wanting to make his point.

"Yeah, I did. I wanted to talk before we went in."

Her silence made him nervous, but he decided to continue anyway. "I want to talk to you about this case, I think you should ask the admiral to take you off it. It’s too hard for you, Mac. You know it."

"And what would I tell the admiral?" The glint in her eye suggested he was treading in dangerous territory, but he couldn’t stop now. He had to make her see, to get things fixed. He took a deep breath and plunged in.

"The truth." Before she could object, he rushed on, "Mac, he’s got to know. He can arrange for you to have a little time off, to get some counseling, and take the easy way for a while. You need to give yourself some time, and get some help."

He broke off, suddenly aware that she was blazingly angry.

"I see." The fury vibrated in her low voice. "And if I don’t want to do this? Will you tell the admiral?"

Unsure of his footing, he didn’t know what to say. He wasn’t prepared for her anger, it struck him as coming out of left field.

She raised her voice. "So, you’ve got it all figured out, right? How to help poor Mac? You’re going to fix it, make everything okay? I just do what you say…be a good girl…and it will be all right?"

Pushing away from the table, she stood up. "This is why I didn’t tell you in the first place! You can’t fix it! And look, you’re already treating me like I don’t have a brain. Like I can’t make a decision on my own! Damn it, Harm, if I couldn’t face you knowing, how can I face the admiral? And everybody else? How am I going to maintain any type of command when all people will see is what you see? Poor Mac, she couldn’t protect herself!"

Angrily she paced back and forth in front of him. "Oh yes, the poor little victim! Or even worse, I had it coming! I can’t do that, Harm! I can’t surrender my life to this…this…rape! I’m a lieutenant colonel in the marines; I can’t have people looking at me like that! You know as well as I do that appearances…image is important."

"Mac, please, I was only trying…"

Still furious, she cut him off. "I know, only trying to help! That’s the point! You didn’t even consider what I might want! YOU just decided what YOU think is best! You didn’t even consider that I might have an opinion, or discuss it with me. Well, I’ve got to do what I think is best, even if you don’t agree!"

It hit him then, what she was angry about. Control. She needed control. The rape was out of her control, and now she needed to maintain it desperately. And he had stepped all over that need. With the best of intentions, but still, he’d stepped on it. "I’m sorry." For once in his life, he knew what to say to her to diffuse her anger.

She dropped back into her chair in shock, staring at him. "What?"

He smiled gently at her incredulous stare. "You’re right. I should have talked to you about it. I should have asked you what you wanted to do. I’m sorry."

He’d taken the wind right out of her sails. Harm never apologized. "You…I…"

He answered her stutter. "Mac, you need to make the decisions about what happens from here. I understand that. Can we just discuss it? Without you assuming I’m making decisions for you? I promise to listen, if you will."

"Okay, but I’m not telling anyone about this." She was adamant on that point. "And I’m not dropping out of this case." Crossing her arms, she glowered fiercely at him, not willing to bend on these points.

In spite of the fact her anger was directed at him, he was relieved to see it. Anything was better than that broken despair. "Just hear me out, please?" He wasn’t above pleading if it worked.

She gave a short nod, looking unconvinced.

"Whatever you decide, I’m with you." He took a deep breath, desperate to convince her of his sincerity. "You’ve got to know that, up front. I lo-care about you,"—He looked her right in the eye, hoping she didn’t catch his slip— and I’m not about to turn around and walk away. Got that?"

She softened then, and looked apologetic. "I know. And as hard as it was, I’m glad you know what happened." Uncrossing her arms, she looked down as she continued. "I haven’t slept like that since it happened."

He smiled at her, feeling like he was making another breakthrough. At least he’d helped a little. "Look Mac, try to see this as if it had happened to someone else…a client. Wouldn’t you advise them to get help?"

"But—"

"Wouldn’t you?" He was unyielding.

Looking mutinous, she nodded.

"And you’d be right." He smiled to take the sting out of his words. "Because it is a traumatic experience, one that causes long-lasting pain. And I don’t want that for you, Mac. I want…need you to be happy and healthy. I’m looking for the future."

Warily, she gazed at him, knowing instinctively what he meant even if she wasn’t willing to acknowledge it. "Harm…I can’t…I mean…"

One more time he cut her off, determined to get it out. "I know you can’t. But you will, in the future, if you get help." He hesitated, then decided the hell with it. She needed to know how he felt. "We were moving towards something…something great. You know it, even if we didn’t say it. I don’t want to lose that, or you. Please Mac, get some counseling."

He reached out and took her hand. "Do it for you first, Sarah, do it for me…us. Just do it." The care in his blue eyes made tears come, but she blinked them back.

She looked down at his hand holding hers, and gripped back tightly. "Okay," she whispered. "But I don’t know what will happen." Fear compelled the next statement. "I’m not sure…I mean…I’m screwed up, Harm. I’m not good for anybody."

His fierce response made her flinch a little. "Don’t say that. You’re too good for anybody, that’s all." Seeing her flinch, he softened his tone, but not the intensity of his message. "That attitude is part of the reason you need to talk to someone, Mac. Just know I’m waiting, Sarah, as long as it takes." Her gaze came up to meet his, her eyes wet with unshed tears.

Reluctant to break the tender moment, he nevertheless pushed through with his advantage. "Let me tell the admiral. You don’t have to discuss it with him."

She pulled her hand away abruptly. "No." It was a single, uncompromising syllable.

"I can tell him off the record. I have a plan. No one else has to know." Somehow, he had to convince her.

"No."

"Mac, he cares about you. He respects you, and he’ll help. You know it." Surely she must be aware of that.

"He’ll think I can’t do my job."

"He’s never thought that before, Mac, and he won’t think it now. He’ll understand that you’re under tremendous stress and give you a break, but he would never think less of you for it."

"He’ll take me off this case! He’ll give me paperwork! Damn it, I can still do my job!" Adamant, she wasn’t backing down.

Hating himself for doing it, he was nonetheless forthright with her. "Can you honestly say that, Mac? What if we found out today that our client was guilty? Could you still defend him with everything you have in you?"

For a moment he though she was going to continue to argue, but her shoulders slumped in defeat. But she didn’t answer.

Once more he pressed his advantage, but softened it some. "Sweetheart, give yourself a break. You have nothing to prove, to me or to the admiral. You’ve already proved it a hundred times over."

Shuddering, she choked back a sob. "I’m scared, Harm." God, he hated it when she cried. "I’m scared if I let go of things, I won’t get them back. I won’t be me anymore."

Abruptly he stood up and pulled her into his arms. "It’s okay to be scared, like I said last night. But when you are, just hold on to me. I won’t let you fall."

JAG Headquarters

Thursday

1120 Local

Harm was standing nervously outside the admiral’s door, hoping his plan would work. He was pretty sure it would, but if it backfired, it would hurt Mac. When the expected "Enter" sounded, he took a deep breath and strode in to stand at attention in front of the admiral’s desk after closing the door.

"Have a seat, Commander." AJ looked over his glasses at him. "What did you need?"

Harm sat down, taking another deep breath to fortify himself. "Thank you, sir."

There was a short pause as Harm tried to think of the best way to start, but AJ beat him to the punch. "Is everything all right?" Given Harm’s unusual hesitation, he figured this was about Mac.

No, Harm wanted to shout. Everything is definitely not all right. In fact it’s screwed all to hell. Of course, he didn’t say that. "Not exactly, air."

"What’s the problem?" AJ didn’t like the way this was starting out. It didn’t bode well.

Instead of answering the question directly, Harm sidestepped. "Actually, sir, I need your advice on a personal matter."

"Go ahead." AJ noted the evasion, more convinced than ever that this was regarding Mac.

"Uh…well Sir…I have a friend and she’s had some trouble recently. A lot of trouble, actually, and I’m not sure how to help. I wondered if you could make a suggestion or two." Harm watched his CO’s face carefully to see if he picked up on his doubletalk.

"That sounds serious, Commander. What kind of trouble?" Thank you God, the admiral got it.

"Well, sir, she was in a convenience store that was robbed, but there was more to it than she led the police to believe." Harm paused, finding it difficult to continue. He could only imagine how hard it would have been for Mac.

AJ looked concerned. "Go on."

"She…well, Sir…it seems that she was…well…there was a rape." His stomach still twisted at the thought.

Sick comprehension dawned on AJ’s face. This explained so much of Mac’s behavior. "Rape?" Despite his attempt to remain calm, the horror in his tone was unmistakable. "She was raped?"

Harm nodded and gave him more details. "It seems that the men were threatening both my friend and a young girl. There was also a toddler present. My friend convinced the men to leave the girl and the toddler alone by promising not to fight them. She…" His voice broke, but he forced himself to continue. "She didn’t want anyone to know, but she’s having a difficult time dealing with it."

AJ took off his glasses, throwing them on the desk. "I would imagine she is." Rubbing his eyes, he sounded strained. "Damn it." It figured Mac would sacrifice herself to protect others. He gave Harm a meaningful glare. "The SOB responsible is dead already, isn’t he?"

Harm knew exactly how he felt. "Yes sir. I only wish I could get my hands on him. Death is too easy for him." The two men stared at each other, both in protective mode. And, quite frankly, wanting revenge. Finally AJ looked away, taking a deep breath to get himself under control.

Harm gave the admiral a chance to compose himself before continuing, but AJ beat him to the punch. "So why didn’t…your friend report this to the police? Or to…anyone?" What he meant was, why didn’t she come to me?

"She doesn’t want anyone to know. Somehow, she sees this as a humiliation…she’s afraid she’ll be viewed as weak, or worse. And she feels she’d lose respect in the workplace."

Incredulous, AJ stared at him. "What? Doesn’t she know that I…uh…I mean…most people…her boss would just understand? I’m sure he wouldn’t think less of her! She should have known she could have come to me…him. He would have understood." Damn it, this doubletalk was stupid. Stupid, but necessary, if he was not to know officially about the incident. "I’m sure he would have supported her, made sure she was helped."

"I know, sir. I told her that". Knowing the admiral as well as he did, Harm had figured he’d be upset that Mac hadn’t come to him. "But she’s defensive. And angry. She’s not thinking too clearly about all this, if you know what I mean." He paused again, and then let the admiral know it wasn’t just him that Mac wanted left out. "She didn’t even want to tell me, but I did some investigating and found out. She wasn’t happy with me for that."

Now there was a longer pause as AJ considered everything Harm had told him. Grimly he pressed for more information.

"Is she going to get help? I mean, counseling?" The deep concern in AJ’s voice touched Harm, although it didn’t surprise him.

"She’s agreed to it, but it took some convincing. We just have to find someone now, someone she can trust." In fact, Harm thought this would be difficult. It was not easy to find a counselor, not one you could feel comfortable with.

AJ flipped through his Rolodex and withdrew a card. Handing it to Harm, he said, "Try this one. I’ve known her for several years, and she’s reliable and discreet."

Grateful, Harm took the card. "How do you know her, sir?" He spoke before he thought, not realizing he might be asking for information he wasn’t entitled to.

AJ hesitated, then answered truthfully. "She helped me through some rough spots when I came back from Vietnam. You can tell that to your friend, if it helps. We all need help sometimes."

Harm decided not to comment, it wasn’t his business. "Thank you, sir." One more thing had to be covered. He was sure the admiral would think of it after everything had sunk in, but he might as well bring it up now. "Sir? One more thing about my friend…"

"Yes?" AJ sounded like he wanted to yell, but was forcibly maintaining his composure.

"Well, sir, she’s been working too hard to try to escape from everything. In fact, although she won’t say so, she’s actually working on something now that’s difficult for her." He waited for the Admiral to realize what he meant.

AJ shut his eyes as the light dawned. The rape case. "I understand. Tell her to take care of herself, first. Work comes second to her health and peace of mind." Damn it, he couldn’t believe this, didn’t want to believe it. "Anything else?"

"No sir." Harm rose to leave, but the Admiral stopped him.

"Is the colonel coming in today?" AJ was all business again.

"Yes Sir. She should be in shortly."

"Have her report to me when she gets in. Dismissed".

"Aye, sir."

As Harm left the admiral’s office, he heard a muttered "God DAMN it."

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

Back in his office, Harm breathed a sigh of relief. He had never doubted the admiral’s concern for Mac, but he had not been sure the admiral would keep everything "unofficial". Mac would be relieved when she came in.

He’d tried to convince her to take a day off, to rest, but she’d insisted on coming in. Of course, that was par for the course. Having won on the big issues, he felt he had to give in on this one. She’d basically agreed to everything he wanted, but it hadn’t been easy for her.

Damn it, he thought, if he could just get his hands on that lousy SOB. He’d still like to take him apart. The pig’s death had been too quick. It should have been long and slow and painful.

He was so focused on thoughts of torture that he didn’t hear the soft knock at his door. Instead, it was Mac’s soft, tentative voice that caught his attention. "Harm?"

"Mac!" Leaping up from his desk, he went around and took her hand. "I didn’t think you’d be in so soon."

Gently she pulled her hand away, with a small smile to show she wasn’t angry. "Harm, I appreciate everything you’re doing, but you can’t do this at work."

Embarrassed, he gave her a quick grin, and tried to cover the faux pas with humor. "Can’t blame a guy for trying."

She blushed and looked down, obviously unsure as to how to answer his flirtation. There was a time when she would have answered in kind, but it was too much, too soon, he thought, and tried to back out of the awkward situation. "I was just thinking about you, that’s all. I kinda worry about you, you know?"

"I know." She lifted her eyes to his, but her face was still flushed. "But you can’t do that all the time. I’ll be okay."

There was a pause as they looked at each other, trying to convey what couldn’t be said. He tried to project all the support he could, and she tried to express appreciation. Finally he broke the silence. "The admiral wants to see you."

She paled. "Did…did you tell him?"

He hastened to reassure her. "Hey, it’s okay." Leading her to a chair to sit down before she fell down, he continued, "It went just as we discussed. He knows about my ‘friend’ and wanted me to tell her that work comes second, her health and peace of mind come first. And he was quick to point out that he was sure anyone who knows my ‘friend’ will never lose respect for her."

She didn’t look reassured. She looked terrified.

"Mac, I promise, it’s okay. Look, he even knows a counselor. He gave me her card." Digging in his pocket, he handed it to her. "He said he’d seen her before, about some rough times in Vietnam. And he said to tell my friend that everyone needs help sometimes."

She gave him a wan smile, then straightened her shoulders and stood up. "I guess I’d better go see him."

Harm watched her go. He’d always known that Mac was strong…that she had guts. But now, he saw that he hadn’t known how strong she really was. She was amazing.

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

"Colonel Mackenzie reporting as ordered, sir." Taking refuge in military protocol, she stood at attention in front of him, not meeting his gaze.

"Have a seat, Mac." He watched with compassionate eyes as she sat down.

"I have a problem, Colonel. One I’m hoping you will be able to assist me with." It wasn’t easy, but he kept his tone professional.

"Yes sir." She did manage to meet his eyes briefly as she said this, but looked down almost immediately.

"The JAG Law Revue, Article 51, subsection C needs to be updated. (AN: I made that up-LOL). The particular section in question deals with international weapons accountability, something you have some familiarity with." Her posture never wavered, but her disappointment was clear.

"Yes sir." Damn it, she should realize he’s doing this to help her, not to undermine her.

"It would mean a lot of work for you; you’d have to give up your current caseload." Maybe she will see what he’s trying to do.

"I understand, sir." She was perfectly composed; she just never looked directly at him. But even without Harm’s explanation of her fears regarding her work, he would have never missed the defeat in her demeanor.

He was trying to decide how to handle the situation when she attempted to draw the meeting to a close. "Will that be all, Sir?"

He made a snap decision then. He couldn’t let her think he didn’t trust her, that he didn’t believe in her or her capabilities. "No, it’s not."

Rising, he came around and leaned against his desk, facing her. "Mac, look at me."

Slowly she complied, unable to refuse a direct order. The hurt in her eyes nearly knocked him over. He couldn’t let this go. "I know you might view this as a setback, Mac, or come to the conclusion that I don’t have faith in your abilities." He paused, giving her the chance to deny it, but she stayed silent. "In fact, nothing could be farther from the truth."

She still didn’t say anything, but the disbelief showed clearly. Had the situation not been so serious, he would have smiled. She used silence like a weapon. "You are one of the finest officers under my command. Nothing has happened that has changed that opinion. I seriously doubt that anything actually could change that opinion."

She blinked back sudden tears at his praise, and he smiled gently. "I would be remiss in my duties if I allowed one of my officers to be hurt, physically or mentally, without attempting to get them help, wouldn’t you agree?"

Afraid she would cry, she just nodded.

"And of course, once he or she was healed and ready for full duty, I would certainly be glad to take advantage of that fact. It only makes sense, don’t you think?"

This time she managed to choke out, "Yes sir".

He stiffened as a disturbing thought occurred to him. "Colonel, when was the last time you had a physical?" Please let her have gone to a doctor.

"Just recently, sir." She had to look away as she answered.

Suspiciously, he questioned her further. "Your record does not indicate this."

"It was a private doctor, sir. But I assure you; I’m physically fit for duty. There’s nothing wrong with me." Her face reddened as she kept her gaze averted.

He watched her closely, then decided she was telling the truth. "Good." He handed her a stack of files. "Then you can get started on this."

She took the files and stood. "Yes sir."

As she started to leave, he stopped her. "And Mac, you are not only a great asset to this office and the Marines, you are a friend." He reached out and touched her arm, just for a moment. "And as a friend, I’d like you to know that if you need anything, anything at all, my door is always open."

She did look at him then, and he could see the gratitude in her eyes. "I know, sir. Sometimes, when things are…difficult…it’s easy to lose sight of that. But I won’t, ever again."

Feeling slightly better, he let her go. "Dismissed, Colonel."

She snapped to attention. "Aye sir."

She left, thinking maybe…just maybe…she would get through this after all.

Sarah Mackenzie’s Apartment

Thursday

2323 Local

Mac was stretched out on the couch, not quite asleep, but not quite awake either. For once she was not tossing and turning, miserably stressed. Clad in cozy flannel pajamas, she was relaxed, thinking over the past 24 hours.

She hadn’t realized how cathartic it would be. True, she hadn’t voluntarily told Harm, and had even been angry with him, but his knowing about it had helped. Well, not just his knowing, his unwavering support and tender care as well.

Pulling up the afghan under her chin, she snuggled down in the couch more. She should have trusted him from the beginning, but she just couldn’t. Thank God he’d been a true friend and seen through her façade. He was amazing.

She shied away from his hints of a future though; she wasn’t ready to even think about that. Part of her felt like she was…well…just not good enough. Not for him. Not for anybody really. Intellectually she knew that this feeling of being ‘unclean’ was a by-product of the rape, but knowing that didn’t make it any less real.

But she was so grateful for his friendship and support. He’d even broken the ice with the admiral for her.

The admiral. Another man she should have trusted. He’d gone out of his way to help her, keeping the whole incident confidential and reassuring her of his belief in her. Way beyond the call of duty. She was lucky. In fact, although she definitely wasn’t about to share it with anyone else, she was lucky in all her friends. Bud, Harriet, Sturgis…They’d all been there for her in one way or another.

Her biggest worry right now was the counseling Harm insisted upon. At his prodding, she’d called and made an appointment with Dr. Gloria Masterson, the psychiatrist the admiral had recommended. She hadn’t told her why she needed to talk to her, just made the appointment and hung up. She couldn’t get into it over the phone. She wasn’t sure she could get into it in person.

A knock at the door snapped her awake. She definitely wasn’t expecting company. Rising, she checked the peephole before opening the door. It was Harm.

Dressed in sweats, he had his hands in his pockets and looked a little nervous. "Hey."

Opening the door wide, she gestured him in. "Hey yourself. Kinda late for a visit, isn’t it? Is something wrong?"

Stepping into her apartment looking uncharacteristically uncomfortable, he actually fidgeted as he answered her. "Well, no, not exactly. It’s just…" His voice faded away as he struggled for a coherent answer.

Concerned, she placed a hand on his arm. "Harm? What is it?" He didn’t answer immediately, so she pulled on the arm gently. "Come on, Flyboy, sit down. You want some coffee?"

He allowed himself to be led to the couch. "No thanks." Pushing the pillow and afghan out of the way for him, she practically forced him into a seat.

Seating herself next to him, she gave him her full attention. "OK then, spit it out. What’s going on?"

"Nothing, really." Shooting her a grin at her disbelieving look, he continued, "I just couldn’t sleep, so I went for a drive. I saw your light on, so I thought I’d stop in."

She couldn’t help it. He was so transparent. Breaking into a smile, she answered him. "You really expect me to buy that line?"

Realizing he was caught, he gave in with an anxious chuckle. "All right. I was worried about you. Satisfied?"

Instead of getting angry as he expected, she was touched. "Harm, a phone call could have saved you a trip out here. I appreciate it, but I’m doing a lot better. Thanks to you." She laid a hand on his arm again, reassuring him. "You don’t have to worry about me."

Instead of relaxing, he became more troubled. "Yes, I do! Damn it, Mac, that shouldn’t have happened. If I’d been with you, it wouldn’t have." He shut himself up abruptly, realizing he’d said too much.

Astonished, she stared at him. "Are you saying you feel responsible in some way?" She should have realized he’d feel that way, but she’d been so wrapped up in her own misery she hadn’t given any thought to his feelings.

He stood up and wandered over to the fireplace, rubbing the back of his neck. "No…yes…I don’t know what I feel. I’m just angry that it happened, and I…I…" Once again his voice faded away, then he finished the sentence softly. "I’m just angry. And I need to be sure you’re really okay."

He dropped back into his seat on the couch and laid his head back. "I’m sorry, but a phone call wouldn’t have done it. I had to see for myself."

Intuitively she realized that he had his own issues to deal with about the rape. "It’s not your fault, Harm."

"I know that!" His head snapped up and he glared at her. The anger in his voice caused her to flinch, and he softened his voice. "I know that, but if I’d been there, it wouldn’t have happened. I could have killed the son of a bitch before he laid a hand on you!"

"Or he would have killed you first, and then the rest of us. There’s no use second guessing it, Harm." She kept her voice calm. "I know you’re upset, but—"

"But nothing!" He cut her off, the anger growing. But he wrestled with it and got control. "I’m sorry, Mac. I’m sorry that this happened to you, that I couldn’t stop it." To his disgust, his voice choked up. "I’m really sorry."

"Oh Harm." Instead of trying to argue with him, she leaned over and hugged him. He clutched her to him like she was his lifeline. This time it was his tears on her shoulder, but she didn’t hold back. She cried with him.

After a few moments, his hold loosened and she felt him regain control. "Hey," he whispered. "I’m supposed to be comforting you."

She laughed softly through her tears. "How about we comfort each other?"

He didn’t answer, just tightened his grip on her, then let her go. He gave an embarrassed swipe at his eyes. "I guess I should go. It’s late, and you need your sleep."

The haunted look in his eyes had lessened, but not gone away. If she let him go now, he still wouldn’t sleep. How well she knew that feeling. She tugged at his hand as she stood up, pulling him with her. "Why don’t you stay here tonight?"

"Are you sure?" His unsure look spoke volumes; he didn’t want to smother her.

She gave him a shy smile. "Last night, I slept better than I have since this all started." Looking down, she went on. "I just thought…maybe…I mean…I’m not…"

She was stumbling around the subject, trying to clarify what she meant, but he understood immediately. "You don’t have to explain, Mac. I understand. And yes, I would sleep better here with you. Just for tonight. I really need to know you’re okay."

"I will be. Thanks to you." Shutting the lights out, she led him to the bedroom, where they lay down together. Despite the previous night, it was awkward there in the dark.

They didn’t touch, but were too aware of each other to sleep.

"Mac?" His whisper broke the silence.

"Yes?" Her answer was just as quiet.

"Can I hold your hand?"

She didn’t answer. Instead she slipped her hand in his, and they both feel asleep.

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

Masterson & Associates

Friday

1625 Local

The stately home on a wide avenue looked nothing like a clinic. For that he was exceptionally grateful. Mounds of snowy chrysanthemums interspersed with purple pansies lined the flagstone path to the front door. Lacy branches of white crape myrtle waved gently at eye level. It was a welcoming home, a home that embraced guests.

He thought about how much Mac would admire it as he crossed the wide verandah, pausing briefly before entering. He also thought about what Mac would say when she found out he was waiting for her. He figured he’d be better off inside, with witnesses, than if she discovered him skulking around outside.

The receptionist desk was empty, so he took a seat in the waiting area. Once again he was struck by how lovely everything was. Tall windows, a color scheme of muted blues and ivory, and many, many plants. A veritable forest. Someone here definitely had a green thumb. It was incredibly relaxing.

In spite of the beautiful room, he leaned back in the chair and closed his eyes. Mac was going to kill him.

She’d been incredibly sweet last night, and even in the morning. She’d made breakfast (sweet rolls and coffee- it figured), reassured him that she totally understood, then shooed him out the door so they could both get ready for work.

It wasn’t until she was getting ready to leave for her 1500 appointment that things started getting a little rough. She’d been nervous; he’d readily understood that. She kept checking her watch all afternoon, in spite of her internal clock.

It was when he offered to take her to the appointment that things started going down hill. Okay, so when she said no, she needed to do it herself, he should have backed off. Instead, he’d argued that she needed support; it was no problem for him, etc. He knew she was getting hot under the collar as he argued; he simply couldn’t seem to shut up.

It ended when she yelled at him. She needed to do things for herself. She needed to stand on her own two feet. She couldn’t have him bailing her out of everything, she was capable of going to a god damned appointment by herself- she didn’t need a nursemaid.

When he’d started to withdraw in offended silence, she’d apologized instantly. She hadn’t meant to yell, and she appreciated everything he’d done, but some things she was going to have to do on her own. It didn’t mean she didn’t care about him, or appreciate his friendship, but she needed to do this alone.

Deep inside he knew he needed to back off a little, give her breathing room, but something in him wouldn’t let him. Quite simply, he wanted to watch over her, protect her. Moreover, he didn’t want her out of his sight. He just worried about her when she was.

"Can I help you?"

Harm opened his eyes to see an older gentleman standing in front of him. The cultured Virginia accent fit perfectly with the silver haired man in front of him. He was the epitome of the southern gentleman, even to the three-piece suit, complete with a gold watch chain.

"No, thank you, I’m just waiting for someone."

"Miss Mackenzie?"

"Yes." Harm didn’t want to be rude, but he certainly wasn’t going to discuss Mac with a stranger, even if he seemed to work here.

The gentleman smiled. "You must be Commander Rabb."

Startled, Harm gave a nod. "How did you know?"

An easy laugh accompanied the answer. "Sarah said you’d probably be here. I’m Dr. Masterson. Sarah is in with my colleague, who also happens to be my wife."

Embarrassed, Harm had the grace to smile. "I guess she knows me better than I thought."

"Annoying, isn’t it?" They both laughed, Harm feeling more at ease.

"Commander, I may be out of line here, and if I am, please feel free to tell me so. But it occurs to me that you might have some difficulty dealing with Sarah’s…situation."

Instantly wary, Harm asked, "Did she tell you that?"

"No, she only mentioned that you were feeling very protective and would probably be waiting for her. I’m reading between the lines. And I have some familiarity with the situation." Dr. Masterson hesitated, then continued, "You see, several years ago, my wife was raped."

Harm wasn’t sure what to say. ‘I’m sorry’ seemed so inadequate.

Before he could say anything, Dr. Masterson went on with a sad smile. "She’s uniquely qualified to help Sarah through this, to say the least." Then he looked at Harm meaningfully. "I know the rage you must be feeling, and how you want to make sure she’s safe. All the time. I went through it myself."

"I’m handling it." He could feel himself becoming defensive.

Dr. Masterson just looked at him for a moment. Then, as if weighing his words carefully, he said, "You know, in order for you to help her, you have to be okay yourself. You need someone to vent to, and a way to let out what you’re feeling."

His smile was self-deprecating. "Believe me, I know. My wife had to hand me my head on a platter before I realized it, but I know it now." He became more serious. "She can’t be okay with you if she’s afraid you’re too angry about the rape. She’ll just feel guilty that she’s hurting you, and she’ll hide her emotions. It will all be more difficult than it already is."

Mentally worn out, Harm rubbed his eyes. "Damn it. Why did this have to happen? To Sarah? It’s not fair."

"No it’s not, Commander. It’s not, at all."

There was a short silence, Harm struggling with his emotions when Dr. Masterson spoke up again. "I don’t need to drum up business, I assure you. But I think I can help, if you let me."

Harm didn’t say anything at first, considering everything. More than anything he wanted to help Mac, but he was astute enough to recognize the truth in what Dr. Masterson was telling him. "I think I’ll take you up on that, Dr. Masterson." He smiled suddenly, some of the weight lifting from his shoulders at the thought of help. "I don’t need Sarah handing me my head. She’s a Marine, she could literally do it."

Dr. Masterson laughed at Harm’s joke. "Sarah’s next appointment is Monday at 4. Why don’t you come at the same time? We’ll talk more then."

"I’ll have to check with my CO, but I think it will be fine." Harm smiled his appreciation. "Thanks, Doc."

"It doesn’t seem like it now, Commander, but it really will be okay. It will take time, and work from both of you. But happiness really is possible."

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

It was while he was chatting with Dr. Masterson that Harm saw Mac approaching. Walking slowly, head down, her shoulders slumped in exhaustion. She hadn’t seen him yet. Peripherally he was aware of someone behind her, but all his attention was on Mac.

Instantly on his feet, he started towards her only to be stopped by Dr. Masterson. Startled, he looked down at the hand on his arm. "Don’t startle her." The older man kept his voice low. "Trust me; she’s going to need some space."

Harm stared for a moment, considering the advice, then nodded and called out to her softly, "Mac?"

Her head came up and he could see the remains of tears on her face. She attempted a smile as she walked over to him. "I guess I should have known you’d be here."

Despite her attempt at humor, he could see the turmoil in her. He started to reach out to her, but caught Dr. Masterson’s eye. The psychiatrist gave a tiny shake of his head, and although everything in him wanted to comfort her, he decided to follow the doctor’s advice. Smiling back at Mac, he answered, "I just thought I’d see if I could take you to dinner. You know, feed the bottomless pit." Of course, she hadn’t been a bottomless pit in a long time- she was far too skinny.

An honest glint of humor shone in her eyes for a moment at his banter, before being swallowed up by exhaustion. "I don’t think…"

"You must be Commander Rabb." The woman that had been following Mac spoke up, interrupting Mac’s refusal. "Sarah said you’d probably be here." Her soft Southern voice was charming.

Beside him, Dr. Masterson chuckled. "Commander, I’d like you to meet my wife, Dr. Gloria Masterson."

Courteous as always, Harm was prompt in his reply even when all his attention was focused on Mac. "Nice to meet you, Ma’am." He dragged his eyes away from Mac to offer his hand.

Dr. Gloria Masterson was a perfect foil for her husband. A few inches shorter than Mac as well as several years older, she’d kept her figure. Silvery blonde hair in an elegant French twist and wearing a deep blue suit, she was an elegant sight. Her handshake was firm, and Harm liked her immediately.

"Please, call me Gloria. And this is Bill." She gave a short laugh. "It’s just too confusing with two Dr. Mastersons around."

Gallantly, Harm replied, "Then make it Harm, not Commander Rabb."

Mac seemed to fade into the woodwork during this exchange. The lines of exhaustion were clear, and she was uncharacteristically silent.

Gloria turned to her with a gentle smile. "Sarah, I’ll see you again on Monday at 4, right?" She reached out to touch Mac’s shoulder, but didn’t seem surprised when Mac moved away.

Mac managed a nod, not meeting anyone’s eyes, and stepped toward the door. It was obvious all she wanted was to get out of this place. She didn’t acknowledge Bill at all.

Hurriedly Harm took his leave, trying to follow her. "Gloria, Bill, it was a pleasure to meet you both."

"Harm." It was Gloria that held him up. "Give her room. She’s in pain right now. Be there, but let her call the shots. You’ve got to trust her feelings on this."

It was all Harm could do not to argue, but he didn’t have time. If he’d trusted Mac’s feelings on this subject Mac would never have told him anything. But he was going to lose Mac if he didn’t expedite his departure. "I will. Thank you." He hurried out the door to catch Mac.

Mac was opening her car door when he caught up with her. "Hey, Mac. Slow down a minute."

She ignored him and got in the car.

Managing to get there before she shut the door, he gave her his best puppy dog look. "I thought I’d take you to dinner. You know, a nice juicy steak." His voice took on a pleading tone.

Her entire body tensed. "Harm, please." Her voice broke on that last word. She leaned her head against the steering wheel. "I’m so tired. I can’t…"

"I just want to be sure you’re all right," not knowing quite what to say. She’d been reaching out to him before, seeming to need him. Just this one session with the doctor seemed to have made her worse, not better.

"I’m fine." Her standard answer, second only to ‘I’m a marine; I can take care of myself’. "I just need some time alone. Do I need permission for that?" The sharpness in her tone made him stop. This was about what she needed, not what he wanted.

Changing tactics mid-stride, he decided to listen to the advice the Mastersons had given him. "How about this? I’ll follow you home; stop to pick up some food. You don’t have to talk to me, or anything. Once you’ve eaten, I’ll fade away and go home. I promise."

Finally she looked up at him. "Harm, I’m not good company right now. I’m angry and tired. I’ll just say things that are mean. Please, do yourself a favor and stay away from me."

She was deadly serious; he could see it in her eyes. "I can handle you being mean, Mac. But I can’t handle staying away from you." He could see the spark of anger in her eyes and tried to head her off. "We’re friends, right? Friends don’t run out when the going gets tough." He did his best to sound reasonable.

Abruptly, too tired to fight about it, she gave in. "Fine. It’s your neck. Don’t say I didn’t warn you." Shutting the door, she started the car, not waiting for him to get to his.

As he hurried to his SUV, he was starting to be glad he’d agreed to see Dr. Masterson himself. This was like walking a tightrope. And as much as he wanted to be there for her, he was aware that one slip could bring them both crashing down.

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

Sarah Mackenzie’s apartment

Georgetown, VA

1700

She hadn’t eaten much of the Chinese food he had picked up. Nor had she spoken to him. At all. Not one single word. Not when he had showed up with a smile, his hands filled with cartons of food. She had just walked away from the open door, leaving him to come in and set up the food. And not when he had arranged the food on plates and announced that dinner was ready.

True to his word, he hadn’t made her talk, even though he’d wanted to. God how he’d wanted to make her talk. He had wanted to ask her about her session today, he had wanted to know what she was feeling and why. But as much as it killed him, he had been quiet. The silence and the tension had been deafening.

They were sitting at the table now. She was poking at the food with the chopsticks, a sullen expression on her pretty face. It was making him nervous, and irritating him as well. He was only trying to help, damn it.

He was just about to make a sarcastic remark when she suddenly threw the chopsticks down and burst into tears, covering her face with her hands. Shocked, he didn’t move. He just stared at her; infinitely glad he hadn’t opened his big mouth.

"God, Harm, I’m the biggest bitch alive."

The humor of that statement caught him, and his nervousness and irritation disappeared. "Well, not the biggest, you’ll have to work for that title a little harder." Laughing, he decided to tease her out of her doldrums.

A choked laugh escaped her, but she didn’t look at him. "Damn it, Harm, if you were smart, you’d just get away from me."

Smiling, he flicked a piece of rice at her. "No one ever accused me of being smart."

A fresh burst of tears greeted his humor. Getting out of his chair, he went around and crouched down next to her chair, taking her hand in his. "Mac, get it through your head, once and for all. I’m not leaving you to face this alone. You’re not going to drive me away."

Turning those tear stained Bambi eyes on him at last, she melted his heart into a puddle. "You should, Harm. You should run far and fast."

Tenderly he brushed some hair out of her face and wiped away a stray tear. "Ain’t gonna happen."

Standing, he pulled her into a hug. "Whatever happens, Mac. We’re friends. I don’t pretend to know everything you’re going through, but I’m here for the duration. Got it?"

She nodded against his chest.

Feeling like he finally had a handle on things, he decided to push his luck. "Now earlier, I promised I’d fade away and go home. But I have a different suggestion. But it’s your choice, okay?"

She nodded again. God, he just wanted to hold her and keep her safe. "You said you need some time alone. Do you still feel that way?"

She struggled with the decision, knowing she should send him away. She wasn’t good for him, but she needed him near.

"It’s okay if you do, Mac. But I was going to say, why don’t you just go and relax, take a bath, read, whatever you want. I’ll just hang around out here for a while, till you go to sleep. Is that okay?"

Please say yes, he begged silently.

Finally, one more time, she nodded.

Drawing away from him slowly, she paused. "I’m sorry. For everything."

He pulled her in for another hug, and kissed the top of her head. "If you keep apologizing, you’ll never win the biggest bitch title." He didn’t need an apology from her. "Go on, I’ll be around. Just yell if you need something."

When she disappeared into the bedroom, Harm dropped onto the couch, tired. Again he thanked God that he was there with her. And he thanked God that he had agreed to talk with Dr. Masterson, because he was going to need help and advice.

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

90 minutes later-

Mac entered the living room, feeling a little better after a steaming hot bubble bath.

She was not surprised to see Harm stretched out asleep on the sofa, a paperback on his chest. Retrieving a blanket and pillow from the bedroom, she pulled off his shoes and covered him with the blanket. Carefully lifting his head, she placed the pillow under it. Unable to stop herself, she placed a light kiss on his forehead. When she drew back, he was smiling in his sleep.

He loved her. He hadn’t said it, but she was sure of it now. He had gone to great lengths for her sake, far and away beyond what a friend would do, no matter what he said. He’d wait for her, as long as it takes. That simple statement pulled at her heart, bringing tears to her eyes as she looked at him.

She watched him for a moment, wondering why he would love her. Here was an incredibly handsome, smart man…who could have just about any woman he wanted.

Sighing, she just couldn’t see it. Hating herself right now, she felt unclean, and unworthy. One minute she’d be coping, and the next her feelings were zooming out of control. She reminded herself of Dr. Masterson words, "Sarah, it will be hard. But if you want it, you can be happy again. You can feel safe, and good, again. You’ll have to fight for it, but you can have it."

Right now she wasn’t sure it was possible. But one little voice reminded her of something else. If Harm can see something good in you, you can’t be all bad.

Taking one last loving look at him, she turned off the lights and made sure the door was locked. Once in her bed, she decided to hang on to the hope. Happiness was possible.

Six months later-

On the way to Benzinger’s

Harm’s SUV

1930 Local

He was home. Finally. Gone for 2 weeks on an investigation on the Big E, he’d managed to get some flying time in. But home was home and definitely where his heart was. Or rather, home was wherever Mac was.

A quick change at his apartment, and he was on his way to Benzinger’s, where the JAG crew had gathered for an informal get together. No special reason, just to socialize. Since he wasn’t expected back until tomorrow, no one was expecting him.

As he drove, he thought about all that had happened in the last six months. It had been one of the most difficult periods of his entire life. In fact, sometimes it had been sheer hell. Mac’s emotions while dealing with counseling had been all over the place. There were times when she wouldn’t talk to him; times when she vented her rage, and times when all she could do was cry. In the beginning, there had been two entire weeks when she insisted he leave her entirely alone except for work-related discussions. That had been the worst by far.

It had started when she found out he was going to counseling himself. She had hit the roof. Her anger caught him entirely by surprise, although with the clarity of hindsight he should have realized what her reaction would be. Not thinking it really important, he’d neglected to mention it to her until his first session, which happened to coincide with hers. His appointment had coincided with hers, so he’d innocently suggested that they carpool.

Initially she hadn’t understood, thinking he only meant to accompany her. When he’d explained that he was attending a session of his own with Bill Masterson, he had been taken aback by the depth of her rage. At first he couldn’t understand it.

She had felt that he was intruding, taking a much bigger part of her problem on his shoulders than was proper or necessary. He wasn’t her husband or lover. It was not appropriate for him to become so involved. And, to add insult to injury, he was going to the same place she was.

He’d argued, at that point, that his relationship status with her didn’t matter. He was her friend, and he wanted to be there for her, to understand what she was going through. He honestly felt that counseling was a healthy thing for him to do. Her sarcastic rejoinder that he should have had his head examined earlier in his life had not helped an already tense situation. They had driven to their respective sessions in separate cars, quietly enraged with each other.

When he apprised Bill of the situation, Bill had been surprisingly on Mac’s side. He had apologized to Harm, saying that he had made assumptions about his relationship with Mac. It had taken Harm two full hours to explain his rather bizarre history with Mac, at the end of which Bill had agreed to continue with the sessions, with the stipulation that both Gloria and Mac agreed.

Rather insultingly, Mac had finally said she didn’t care one way or the other. Before she put on a mask of cold indifference she made some final comments. If he wanted to have his ‘head shrunk’, it was up to him. It had nothing to do with her and she wanted no part of it. As an aside, she added that she didn’t think it was possible to make his brain any smaller.

His next 2 sessions with Bill had been spent picking apart why Mac had reacted so poorly to the situation. Harm had finally understood that there were several reasons behind her anger.

First and foremost, he’d committed the cardinal sin of taking away control. He definitely should have discussed his intention with her, allowing her input. With the best of intentions, he’d agreed to something that affected her deeply without even acknowledging her opinion on the matter.

But secondly, on a deeper level, she felt guilty about it. In Mac’s mind, he shouldn’t have had to deal with her problems, especially not to the point of needing counseling. It was just too much for her to accept. If he was having problems, she had to lay the blame for that at her own door.

And thirdly, she was just plain afraid. Afraid to rely on him at all. He’d been truly hurt by this realization, but had been able to put it aside at Bill’s urging. Given Mac’s history, trusting anyone had always been an issue with her. This last incident had her doubting the entire male population. While Harm had no doubt that Mac trusted him with her life, trusting him with her emotions was an entirely different matter. And Harm had to admit to himself that his own history with her gave her reason to doubt him on this.

And fourthly, painfully, she was afraid that his involvement implied commitment. One she obviously wasn’t ready to make. Self-esteem had never been her strong point, and the rape had certainly detracted from what little she had. She wasn’t good enough for him, not in her eyes. And she definitely wasn’t ready to even imply that she might ever be.

At Bill’s suggestion, he hadn’t pursued Mac or tried to reconcile with her. It had killed him to do it, but Mac had to decide on her own if she wanted to be friends with him. He couldn’t force her. Thank God it had only lasted 2 weeks.

She had showed up at his apartment on a Friday night. It had been raining, and she looked wet and bedraggled, as if she had been walking out in the storm. She didn’t say anything at first, and didn’t come in, just stood looking at him with those big brown eyes full of unshed tears. Hesitantly, he had held out a hand, and then she was in his arms, crying and apologizing. It had taken him a full thirty minutes to calm her down.

Since that night, she hadn’t really shut him out. Not like that. There were times when she was withdrawn and uncommunicative, but he just gave her the space she needed. As Bill kept reiterating, all he could do was be there. It was her struggle, and she had to deal with it the best way she could.

His sessions with Bill Masterson had been a Godsend. Not only had they given him an objective viewpoint about Mac, they had allowed him to deal with his own anger. And his own guilt. In fact, just discussing his life with Bill had given him a lot of insight into his own actions throughout his life.

If the last six months had been the worst, conversely they had also been the best. Once that initial struggle had been resolved, they became closer, closer than they’d ever been. For all the times she wouldn’t talk, there were other times when she spoke more deeply and freely than she ever had before. And he had responded in kind, for once in his life not holding anything back. Surprisingly, it had been remarkably freeing. As a result, the bond they had always shared was stronger than ever.

They had even discussed past relationships, more specifically Mic and Renee. The revelation from Mac that she had not loved Mic with her whole heart did not come as a surprise, but it was a relief to hear it. When he had revealed that Renee had never been a candidate for a wife, Mac displayed a similar relief, albeit silently.

He had been careful to avoid mentioning his feelings for her, or any kind of future for them together. There was no place for that kind of discussion yet.

Although his relationship with Mac was the most intimate he had ever had, they had not, of course, explored their relationship in a sexual sense. It wasn’t that he didn’t want her, it was just common sense. Mac’s traumatic experience had left her with a deep wound, one that would require careful healing before that subject could even be broached.

After his first session with Bill, it had become obvious to him that if Mac were to trust him completely, certain things had to be faced, up front. If there was even a shadow of a doubt in Mac’s mind as to his intentions, she’d be on guard with him constantly.

So, once they were speaking again, he’d gathered his courage and talked to her. It had been tricky. And embarrassing. He and Mac had never really discussed their relationship. Definitely more than friends, they had never ventured into the territory of lovers, although they had danced along the edge. Something he still castigated himself for. Coaxing her into discussing her feelings toward sex had not been easy, but he’d persevered. He was not surprised when she revealed that she couldn’t even imagine having sex again. Fear of flashbacks, a general feeling of being ‘dirty’ and unworthy, and not wanting to be touched were classic symptoms, according to Bill.

Delicately, he tried to broach the subject of "them" as a couple. He felt like an idiot stumbling around the subject, but he managed to make his feelings clear to her. Red-faced, he’d attempted to answer her unasked questions. Yes, he found her very attractive, and no, her experience had not ‘diminished’ her in any way to him. But he knew there could be nothing sexual between them right now. She was not to worry that he would make a move on her, or be anything except the friend she needed right now. When she felt comfortable enough…when she was ready…they could talk about being more to each other.

It had been hard for her too, he could see that. She tried her best to tell him not to wait, that she was never going to be ‘good enough’, whatever that meant. He was free to go to anyone, she would not take it as rejection, she would understand. He had needs and wants, and was free to act on them. It was enough for her to be friends, that was what she needed and wanted from him.

All the while, as she explained, he watched her eyes. Always expressive, they now held a deep heartfelt anguish at what she thought she could never have. A normal life. A life with a husband, 2.5 kids, white picket fence and the shaggy dog. A life with him.

Thanks to Bill, he’d been emotionally prepared for her feelings. Instead of arguing, he’d merely held her, saying they would wait and see. Whatever the future held, he was her friend. And she could trust him.

He loved her, of course, more than he had ever loved any woman. He hadn’t told her, but she must know. And he believed that she loved him too. Every once in a while, he’d caught her staring at him, a soft and tender light in her eyes. It had been happening more and more lately, and he was glad to see it.

Professionally, Mac was definitely back in the swing of things. About a month after counseling began, the Admiral had put Mac back in the courtroom. He’d started her out with easy cases, but it hadn’t been long before she’d moved up to the top cases again. The objectivity and deadly calm that served her so well was back. And lately, flashes of humor, and temper, had begun to show up again.

He laughed to himself. The day before he had left for the Big E, he’d pulled one of those ‘last minute witness’ surprises that she hated. His client had been exonerated, and Mac had been furious with him. Not because of the loss, which she’d actually expected, but because he "insisted on melodramatic tactics that belonged on a soap opera, not in a courtroom."

And so he stood there as she chewed him out, enjoying every second, not even attempting to defend himself. Her eyes snapping with irritation, she’d finally asked him what the hell was so funny. He couldn’t help it. He’d just grinned at her, blissfully happy, and said he was just glad she was back.

Instead of retreating into her shell, she’d poked him in the chest. "You won’t be happy long, jerk." Then she’d given him one of those too rare, beautiful ‘Mac’ smiles and sauntered off.

As he pulled into the parking lot at Benzinger’s, hope filled him. Somehow, sometime, they were going to get it right. Even if it took years, he would wait for her.

Getting out of the car, he pushed the button on the remote key lock and headed towards the entrance, anxious to see her.

But some little part of him believed…hoped…it wouldn’t take that long.

Harm walked in the door just in time to see Mac laughingly protesting to Sturgis, who was trying to pull her out onto the dance floor. Apparently whatever Sturgis said was effective, because she finally gave a nod and followed him out. Harm noted that Sturgis held her loosely, but Mac was not in the least nervous. In fact, she was talking animatedly to Sturgis as they danced.

He paused to watch her, glad to see her relaxed and enjoying herself. It seemed like it had been years since he’d seen her out with people, laughing.

Feeling he was being watched, he turned his head to see the Admiral watching him watching Mac. Raising a hand, AJ gestured to him to join him at the bar. He walked over without greeting Mac, not wanting to interrupt her good time.

Taking a seat next to AJ, he greeted him. "Evening, Admiral. Good to see you."

"Same here, Commander. Investigation wrap up early?" AJ gave him a half smile and a knowing look.

Harm gave him a grin in return. "Yes sir. I was just tired of the carrier life and wanted to get back."

Before AJ could roll his eyes, the bartender interrupted their conversation, and Harm ordered a beer.

As he turned back to the Admiral, he noticed AJ was looking out at the dance floor at Mac. "She’s amazing, isn’t she? She’s got to be one of the strongest people I’ve ever known."

Nodding, Harm could only agree. "Yes sir, she is."

They both watched Mac for a moment, profoundly content to see her having fun.

Mac must have felt their eyes on her, for she turned her head and saw them. Well, she saw Harm.

AJ could almost hear an audible click as Harm and Mac’s gazes met. He backed away, smiling to himself as Harm didn’t even notice his retreat.

Mac excused herself from the dance with Sturgis and made her way to Harm. Sturgis, left on the dance floor alone, watched her go. He caught the Admiral’s eye, shrugged with a smile, then walked over toward him.

Mac’s smile lit up her face as she approached Harm. "Hey Flyboy, I didn’t expect you to make it back tonight. How are you?" Instead of sitting on the stool next to him, she leaned on the bar, very close to him. He caught the scent of her, and reminded himself sternly that they were just friends and that she wasn’t ready for anything more.

Returning her smile, he answered her. "I’m fine, I was just anxious to be back home. I’m getting to old for carrier life." He loved the sparkle in her eyes. She looked gorgeous. It was just so great to see her happy.

Surprising him, she laughed and leaned in closer. "Really. I thought maybe you were just homesick."

Was she flirting with him? Unsure, he looked away and began peeling the label off his beer bottle. "Well, that too." Down boy, he reminded himself again,

A slender hand reached out to cover one of his hands. "I missed you." Simple words, but the tone of voice conveyed so much more. It was sultry, seductive, and totally unlike the Mac he was used to.

Shocked, he didn’t move or say anything. Truthfully, he was too scared. What if he was reading this wrong? God help him, what if he was reading it right? His heart pumped even faster at that last thought.

When he showed no reaction, she withdrew her hand. "I’m sorry. I shouldn’t do this to you." He felt, rather than saw her falter. "I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable." Moving away, she continued the apology. "I’m sorry, really."

He finally kick started himself, grabbing her arm. "Wait, Mac…"

She smiled bravely at him, but he could see shame in her eyes. "It’s okay, Harm. I understand. I’m just going to—"

"No, wait." He cut her off. "You just took me by surprise." Attempting to smile reassuringly, he held on to her arm firmly. "I mean…I thought you didn’t want…you weren’t ready…" Embarrassed now; he wasn’t sure how to get out what he meant without sounding like an idiot.

"Harm, I understand." He could feel her arm trembling under his fingers, and he cursed himself for his bumbling stupidity. Whatever she thought she understood, it wasn’t what he meant, but this time he was not letting her run away.

"No, you don’t understand anything. You’re jumping to conclusions. Just let me explain, ok?" Panic made him sound sharper than he intended, but she didn’t flinch. Nodding, she looked down, avoiding his eyes. She braced herself as if readying for a blow.

Marshalling his thoughts, he turned to face her. "Mac, look at me." When she didn’t respond, he put a gentle finger under her chin, tilting it up. "Mac, please."

Once again there were unshed tears in the brown eyes that looked at him. "Just say what you have to say, Harm."

He took a deep breath and blurted it out before he thought. "I…I love you." Finally, he’d said the words. A huge weight lifted off his shoulders.

But she didn’t react. "I know you do. No one could ever be a better friend, and I’m sorry I put you in this position." She began to move away again. "Maybe we could just forget about this, ok?"

"I don’t want to forget about it." He turned her around to face him, grasping both her arms. She was going to hear it now, regardless of consequences. "You’re not listening, Mac. I love you, not just as a friend. I love you…as a woman. And I want you…as a woman." He was practically yelling now, oblivious to their surroundings. "I just didn’t know you were ready for…anything more."

Her mouth opened in stunned surprise. "I didn’t…I don’t…what?"

He lowered his voice. "It’s you I want. It always has been."

When she didn’t say anything, just stood and gaped at him, he smiled and slid his hands down to her wrists. He could feel her pulse, fast and furious, beneath his fingertips.

It was, he decided, highly ironic that Mac was the one tongue-tied and in shock. Usually it was he that couldn’t spit out the right words. She had that deer in the headlights look—panic—and he decided to give her a break, time to process everything.

He pulled gently on her hand, leading her to a table in the corner. "Come with me."

Seating her at the small table, he sat down across from her and took her hand. "Mac, I can’t believe you didn’t know that."

Once again she found it difficult to meet his steady, honest gaze. "I…I think on one level, I did. I guess I was afraid to believe it." Her fingers wound around his. "But I love you too, Harm."

Bringing her hand to his lips, he kissed it gently. "I’m glad to hear that." He hesitated, then decided to ask the question. "It’s just…Mac, are you really ready to try for us? Because I can wait…as long as it takes."

She risked a glance at him then, and smiled. "I want to. I’m scared, but I want to." Taking a deep breath, she continued. "Remember the support group that Gloria insisted I join?"

"Yes." He nodded at her to go on.

"Well, they’ve been pretty good for me. Supportive, encouraging. And vocal." She gave a short laugh. "They think I should trust myself, and you. They think it’s time I stepped up to the plate."

"And what do you think?" He held his breath as he waited for her answer.

Her other hand crept across the table to hold his. "I think they’re right." Her dark brown eyes were full of love. "I love you, Harm, and I want to show that to you." A light blush suffused her features, but her gaze never fell. "I want to feel like a woman again, with you."

Somehow, his roguish sense of humor took over. He couldn’t help it. He raised her hands to his mouth again, kissed it, and waggled his eyebrows at her suggestively. "You’ve always felt like a woman to me."

She giggled, then burst out laughing, taking him along with her. "Harm, you’re terrible!" She slapped his shoulder lightly.

Their shared laughter died away, and they were left holding hands again, and gazing into each other’s eyes. The silence should have been awkward, but it wasn’t.

There was a heat in her eyes that did not escape his notice when she said, "I think I’m very tired, aren’t you? I’m ready to head home."

Standing, he pulled her to her feet as well. He just managed to refrain from kissing her. "Yours, or mine?"

"Mine. I’ll be waiting for you." With one last look, she headed over to say good night to their friends.

He grinned to himself as he watched her leave. The evening was definitely looking up.

Sarah Mackenzie’s Apartment

Georgetown, VA

2110 Local

The stage was set. At least, it was set as much as she could bring herself to set it up. A fire was blazing in the hearth, throwing flickering light throughout the living room. She’d lit a few candles to add a romantic glow. But she couldn’t make herself change into something sexy. It seemed…wrong, somehow. Artificial.

What about music? Would he want that? Something slow and sexy? Maybe Latino music. She shuffled through a few CD’s, then laid them aside, unable to decide.

The waiting was killing her. And she’d only been actually waiting for 5 minutes. She’d started out feeling confident, but as each minute ticked by, she became more and more nervous. Telling herself it was Harm wasn’t helping. In a way, that made her even more nervous.

It was Harm. The man she’d loved for years, yearned for, ached for. Oh God, what if she had a flashback? What if she just couldn’t? What if she froze? What if she didn’t please him? What if he didn’t enjoy it? What if she couldn’t feel anything? What if…"

A knock at the door interrupted her self-torture. "Suck it up", she said to herself out loud and walked towards the door to open it. Walking the plank must have caused similar feelings.

Sure it was Harm; she opened the door without checking the peephole. And there he was. All six foot four inches of him. Looking handsome, dashing…and anxious? Oh God, was he nervous? Maybe he’d changed his mind! She wouldn’t blame him. After all, she wasn’t exactly…

"Mac? Are you all right?" It was his voice that interrupted her panic this time.

"Um, yeah. Come on in." Smiling uncertainly, she stepped aside to let him enter. "Sorry, I guess I’m a little nervous."

He walked in and waited for her to lead the way. She just stood there for a moment, then started talking non-stop. "I guess we should get started. Do you want to sit in here with the fire for a moment, or go to the bedroom?" Looking down at her dress, she didn’t take a breath as she continued. "I didn’t change, I didn’t know if you wanted me to. I have nightgowns, of course, and some negligees. Oh! I didn’t make any coffee or anything, would you like something to drink, first?"

"Whoa! Mac…stop, relax." He took her hand, hoping to calm her down. It was cold as ice. "This isn’t a job, honey, calm down. There’s no schedule to keep."

She gave a choked laugh. "I’m sorry, I guess I’m a little nervous." Anxiety made her repeat herself.

He’d been a little nervous himself on his way over, imagining himself doing all the wrong things to scare her. Realizing that he needed to project confidence and understanding, and that she needed to relax, he decided to slow things way down. Maybe even postpone things. "Why don’t we just sit down and talk?" At her hesitation, he continued, "It’s all right, Mac. We don’t have to rush into anything."

Careful not to crowd her, he led her to the couch. "I’ll make us some tea, how about that? You just sit here and enjoy the fire, ok?"

She gave a nod and sat down, curling herself protectively into the corner of the couch. Smiling, he reached out and tapped her nose. "Relax. We’re friends before anything else, ok? And nothing’s going to change that, whatever happens here tonight." He paused meaningfully. "Or doesn’t happen."

As she waited for him to return from the kitchen, she stared into the fire, hoping to recall her earlier feelings of self-belief and poise from Benzinger’s.

This was Harm. More than anything she didn’t want to disappoint him. He’d been so good to her, he deserved better. She made a promise to herself. No matter what she felt tonight, she would please him. She was a marine, and she could control fear. Tonight would be for him.

Harm emerged from the kitchen, handed her a mug of tea, and sat down on the other end of the couch, giving her plenty of space. "You okay?"

Laughing a little, she nodded. "Sorry about that." She paused for a moment, then continued in sultry tone, "Why are you sitting so far away?"

The sexy tone stirred him as it was meant to, but he couldn’t decipher the look in her eyes. There was still a tension in her, and he meant to make sure things were all right before proceeding any further. "Because I think we should talk."

Carefully she set the mug down and scooted over close to him. Leaning close against him, she ran her fingers through his hair. "I think we’ve talked enough."

As much as he wanted to believe her, something was off. He couldn’t put his finger on what exactly, but he meant to find out. She’d been so nervous before, he’d never seen her like that. Could she just snap out of it that easily and quickly?

Despite his good intentions, her nearness and touch were getting him hot. It had been a long time since he’d been with a woman, and this was Mac. The woman he’d spent years fighting his feelings for, having secret fantasies about her. She was making it difficult to think straight.

Still, he tried to initiate conversation. "Mac…" She cut him off by leaning over and kissing him. She was pressed against him, the warmth and curves of her intimately touching him. Her lips so soft against his. God, did he ever want her. In spite of his doubts, he deepened the kiss, tasting her.

Something wasn’t right, he could feel it. Pushing her away while he still could, he struggled to get the words out. It wasn’t easy. "Mac! We’ve got to talk." Breathing hard as if he’d been running, he had to wrestle to get control.

Pulling away from him, she regarded him with a hurt expression. "I…I thought you wanted this…wanted me." Her dark eyes reflected her embarrassment and shame. "I didn’t mean…I…I’m sorry." Shoulders slumped in defeat, she turned away.

She shrugged off the gentle hand he placed on her shoulder. "Mac, it’s not that I don’t want you. I do, very much." He gave a short laugh. "Very, very much." He was still willing his body under control.

Turning back, she gave him a puzzled look. "Then why did you push me away?"

This time when he took her hand, she didn’t resist. "Because, honey, I have to be sure that you’re ready for this. As much as I want you, it’s not just about me. I want to be sure you really want me- that you’re really and truly ready." His blue eyes stared intently at her. "I want you to enjoy it too."

"I am ready—I do want you." The honesty in his candid blue gaze undid her, and she looked down to avoid it. "I was, anyway. I just sort of…panicked." Looking back at him, she hastened to explain. "I don’t know why…it wasn’t you. It was me. I just…" Helplessly she let her explanation die away. She didn’t know what to say.

"Then why didn’t you just say so? I would understand." There was a gentle reproach in his voice that had her blushing, ashamed of her attempt at deception, however well intentioned.

Once again it was hard to look at him. Her voice was forlorn when she answered. "Because, I’d already…started, back at Benzinger’s." She tugged a little at her hand, but he didn’t let go. "And even if I couldn’t…if I didn’t…feel good…I could at least make you feel happy."

She still didn’t look at him. Pulling her with him, he leaned back against the couch, holding her loosely in the circle of his arms. "Mac, I know you meant well. But I don’t want to make love with you if you’re not going to enjoy it. I’d much rather wait."

Laying her head on his chest, she whispered, "I’m sorry."

"You don’t need to be sorry, sweetheart." He kissed the top of her head, then laid his cheek against her hair. "Just promise me you won’t do anything like it again. Be honest with me; tell me when you don’t feel good. I promise I’ll understand." His arms tightened around her. "I love you. I want you to enjoy it, not feeling like you have to do something like that for me."

She nodded against his chest. "I promise."

He nuzzled against her hair for a moment, enjoying holding her. "Do you want me to go?" He didn’t want to leave her, but he would if that’s what she wanted. Even if they didn’t make love tonight, he still wanted to hold her, at least for a little while.

"Only if you want to." She pressed up more closely against him. There was just something special when he held her. It hadn’t happened often, and she wanted to enjoy it while she could. There was love in his embrace, and she was starved for that.

"Let’s just move a little," he whispered. With a few twists and turns, he was lying on the couch, his head propped up with a throw pillow. She was next to him, cuddled close in his arms, her head on his shoulder. "This is better, isn’t it?"

He could feel her smile and nod. "Yes."

Quiet fell between them. The candles still lent a soft glow to the room, and the fire cast softly dancing lights. The warmth and tranquility was a balm to both their souls.

"Harm?" He barely heard her whisper.

"Yes?"

"I’m sorry about before."

"Mac?"

"Yes?"

"Shut up about it, will you?"

He smiled when he heard her stifled giggle.

Only the occasional crackle from the fire disturbed the peace.

"Harm?" He barely heard her this time; he was almost asleep.

"Hmmm?"

"I love you too, you know."

Pulling her in even closer, he turned on his side, fitting her between his body and the back of the couch. "I know."

Snuggled up against him, she smiled.

The peace wasn’t disturbed again as they both fell asleep.

Sarah Mackenzie’s Apartment

Georgetown, VA

0145 Local

The fire had died down to glowing embers, the candles were burning low. The room itself was chilly, but she was warm. Snuggled up securely in his arms, she doubted anything could bother her here.

Never in her entire life had she been so comfortable. Or felt this safe. It was amazing, really. Or rather, he was amazing.

Deep in her heart she had always known that he was the kindest and most honorable man she had ever known, but tonight had been something completely out of her experience. No one had ever put HER needs first and foremost. Typically men were just not that tuned into her.

And it wasn’t that she had always been with selfish men. Most had wanted her to receive pleasure and had attempted to make sure she had. It was just that their pleasure had come first. She had always thought that that was just the way it was supposed to be.

Opening her eyes, she pulled back a little to look at the sleeping man holding her. There was no doubt he was incredibly handsome. Even in sleep he was gorgeous. She traced a finger lightly across his cheek and his bottom lip. He had such sensuous, soft lips.

She’d never had this chance before, the chance to touch him like this. Unable to resist the temptation, she let her hand trail down his chin and curve around the strong neck. Feeling brave, she slipped her hand inside his shirt, delighting in the feel of his muscled shoulder.

It was then she realized that he was aroused, even if he wasn’t awake. They were intimately close together below the waist, and she could feel him, hard against her. A smile flitted briefly across her face as she realized that he really did want her.

A thrill of desire ran through her. She almost didn’t recognize the feeling; it had been so long since she’d felt that. Without thinking, she arched up to kiss him, allowing her lips to brush gently against his.

For an instant he didn’t respond, but then his arms tightened around her, drawing her up and pulling her even closer. She tried to draw back, afraid she’d woken him, but then all thoughts flew out the window as his mouth settled over hers.

In an instant she was drowning in a torrent of feelings. Feelings she’d been afraid she’d never feel again. Need, hot and heavy, washed over her, drugging her. His mouth—oh God— his mouth was on hers, and her senses went into overload.

Sweet and gentle at first, he nibbled at her, his lips teasing hers before claiming her mouth in a passionate kiss that swept her completely away. When his tongue grazed her lips as if asking for entrance, she opened to him like a flower.

There was nothing she wanted more than this. Harm as her lover. For so long, she’d been tied up in knots emotionally, fearing making love, fearing she wasn’t good enough. Just plain fear. She reveled in her newfound freedom, reveled in the fact that she wanted him and he wanted her.

Desperate to get closer to him, she pushed away slightly and began unbuttoning his shirt. She wanted skin to skin contact, nothing between them. She wouldn’t settle for less.

It was a struggle. He kept pulling her closer, never stopping his sensual assault on her lips and she couldn’t bring herself to interrupt him. When the shirt finally opened, she slipped her hands in, glorying in his smooth hard muscles. Greedy for the feel of him, her fingers tangled in his chest hair, then slid up, trying to push the shirt off his shoulders.

While she was struggling with the shirt she felt him freeze. "Mac?"

Giving a low laugh, she managed to get the shirt off one arm as she answered. "Yes?"

He still didn’t move. "What are we doing?"

He was so cute. She took advantage of the fact he wasn’t moving and nibbled his neck, delighting in the goose bumps she raised. "I think you should be able to figure it out, Sailor. I’m pretty sure you’ve done it before."

Laughter rumbled in his chest, but he persisted. "I thought we were going to wait until you were ready." Boy scout that he was, she noticed he hadn’t pushed her away. And his hands closed on her shoulders convulsively as she tasted a sensitive spot where his shoulder met his neck.

"I’m ready." She gave a little giggle. "I was kinda hoping you’d noticed."

It was her turn to gasp when his hands reached down and cupped her rear. He shifted slightly, and then his lips grazed along her neck and his tongue flicked in her ear, sending shivers down her spine. "I noticed. I just noticed before I was awake, and I wanted to be sure I hadn’t misinterpreted."

His hand slipped under her dress and skimmed along the silken skin of her leg. "Oh." She could barely think straight. "You didn’t." His other hand smoothly unzipped her dress from the back. Another shiver went through her.

"I can’t tell you…" As he spoke he traced butterfly kisses back down her neck. "How glad I am to hear that."

Incoherent now, she only managed to answer, "uh huh" as his fingers unsnapped her bra. Instead of pushing her dress down, he eased both hands inside the now open back of her dress, sliding down until they slipped under the waistband of her panties.

He paused, and she could feel the effort it took him to do so. "Are you sure, Mac?" His whisper was hoarse.

Taking his face in both her hands, she kissed him with everything she had in her. She broke it only to say breathlessly, "I’m sure, Harm."

He groaned then, and pulled her tight against him. The heat between them became frantic as hands fumbled with clothing and still tried to touch and caress each other. Neither one wanted to move from the couch or leave the other long enough to disrobe.

It was Mac that finally made the move. Still kissing, she rolled over Harm and stood up, drawing him to a sitting position. She stepped away, allowing her dress and bra to fall to the floor. She tried not to look at him as she pushed her panties down and stood before him, naked.

He gazed at her, drinking her in. Hair tousled from their lovemaking, eyes liquid in the flickering candlelight, she was breath taking. "You’re so beautiful." It was his tone of voice that gave her courage. He sounded…reverent…awestruck.

Taking his hand, she pulled him up. Boldly she answered him. "I want to see you. Naked."

It didn’t take long to get his shirt off the one arm still in it. His pants were already unbuckled; he wasn’t even sure how that happened. But in an instant he was naked too.

He didn’t give her the chance to really look at him. Instead, he pulled her to him, and the shock of feeling him naked against her rendered her speechless. But she gloried in it. Bare skin to bare skin—total intimacy. Oh how she had longed for it.

He seemed to echo her thoughts, because he just held her as he whispered. "Mac…I’ve wanted you for so long…" It seemed as if he held her forever, and at the same time it seemed as if it was only a moment. When he sat her down on the couch, she almost whimpered from the loss of contact.

"Wait," he instructed. Turning from her, he took the poker and stirred the embers of the dying fire, then carefully placed more wood on it. As the flames flickered and shot up, she took the opportunity to admire him.

Well rounded bottom, muscled shoulders and abs. He was magnificent- all male. She watched as the muscles in his back rippled as he moved, bronzed by the fire. "Harm," she called softly to him. "You’re the one that’s beautiful." She couldn’t be sure because of the dim lighting, but she thought he blushed.

Much Later-

Collapsed against him, she could barely move. He held on to her and slid sideways, allowing his body to fall prone on the couch. She fell with him, landing on top of him and driving what little breath he had left out of him with a loud whoosh.

She giggled and then apologized, sounding completely unrepentant. "Sorry."

For some reason, it struck him as funny and he laughed out loud. "Sorry? Sorry for what? Disturbing my sleep? Trying to kill me?"

They both laughed at that, feeling deliriously happy and silly the way lovers often do.

When their laughter faded, he shifted a little, settling them both more comfortably on the couch. "I love you, Mac." There was not a trace of laughter in his voice as he said this.

"I love you too." Her voice was equally serious.

"Think you could get us a blanket?" Humor crept back in.

Heaving a long-suffering sigh, she answered, "I guess so."

Making sure that she rolled over him, smothering him and pressing an elbow into his stomach, she fought her way to her feet.

"Hey!" His indignant tone set her to laughing again.

"Sorry." She still didn’t sound repentant.

He made a grab for her, but she evaded his hands as she went for the blanket. "You’re lucky I’m tired."

"Yeah yeah. Big bad squid will punish the little marine," she called over her shoulder sarcastically.

A tickle struggle ensued when she returned, but eventually they ended up snuggled under the blanket together.

Sleep came easily to both of them.

9 Months later-

"I can’t do this." Mac’s voice was uncharacteristically weak. "I just can’t."

"Suck it up, Marine." Harm’s voice was reassuringly close in her ear, and in spite of the words, uncharacteristically sympathetic.

"Drugs. I need drugs." She turned beseeching eyes on the doctor, currently crouched like a baseball catcher between her legs. "Please Doc, can’t I have drugs?"

"Mrs. Rabb, you know it’s too late for that." The doctor was used to this particular demand. "And you wanted a natural childbirth."

"No, I wanted drugs." She gestured rudely at the man behind her who was propping her up. "Nature Boy here wanted natural childbirth." Turning her head so she could see him, she continued, "You son of a bitch. This is all your fault!"

Far from taking offense, Harm seemed amused. "I would hope so, Mac."

"Don’t laugh, you creep!" Her hand clutched his. "Oh God, here comes another one."

"Breathe, Mac." He attempted to keep his tone soothing, despite the iron crushing grip she had on his hand. "Breathe through the pain." Feeling ridiculous, he nevertheless panted through the contraction with her.

"You…pant…pant…shut…pant…the hell…pant…up." She tried to glare over her shoulder at him, but failed miserably.

Prudently, Harm merely held her and panted with her, refraining from any smart-ass comments that would get his six kicked.

As the contraction eased, the Doctor checked her again. "We’re almost there, Mrs. Rabb. I’d say you’ve got about 15 minutes before delivery."

Once the worst of the pain had passed, Mac relaxed in relief. She wanted this baby with everything she had in her, but pregnancy sure wasn’t a romantic dream. Especially the last three months when she had felt fat and uncomfortable all the time.

Not to mention it had been totally embarrassing to realize she’d gotten pregnant accidentally at her age and level of experience.

"You know, Fertile Myrtle," Harm’s teasing voice drawled in her ear, "if you didn’t want me around you shouldn’t have trapped me into marrying you by getting pregnant." Winking at the Doctor who was listening with an amused smirk, he further endangered his life. "Most women would be thrilled they’d snared a fine specimen of a man like me for a husband."

Even 9 months pregnant and on the verge of childbirth, she wasn’t going to let that go. Slapping him on the hand, she answered him. "If you hadn’t seduced me the first time we made love, I’d have remembered birth control, you big stud."

Used to their banter, the doctor merely smiled.

It was a long-standing joke between them. The only unprotected sex they had ever had was that first time. Neither one had given a thought to birth control that night, although they had begun using it right after that. They figured the odds were with them and hadn’t worried about it again. Until they found out she was pregnant.

Another contraction began. He held her as he had learned in Lamaze class, silent this time in his encouragement. Panting with her again, he allowed his mind to muse back through the memories.

It had taken him two full weeks to convince her to marry him. Her self-esteem, never a strong point, had taken a beating after the rape. Finding out she was pregnant hadn’t helped. He’d had no doubt she was thrilled about the baby, but she hadn’t believed he really wanted to marry her.

Fortunately he was a very persuasive man.

"She’s crowning!" The doctor called out. "Push now! Now, Mrs. Rabb!"

With eight hours of labor behind her, she still managed to gather her strength and push. He could feel

the effort she put forth, her muscles straining. She was amazing. Definitely the strongest person he had ever known, and that was saying something.

Just because they’d finally gotten together didn’t mean everything had magically gone away. She still had mood swings, and even flash backs. And there was a vulnerability in her that hadn’t been there before. She second-guessed herself frequently.

But she was a fighter. She’d continued with the counseling, even taking the lead in a new support group her counselor had set up. Like a butterfly emerging from its cocoon, she was spreading her wings to fly higher and farther than she ever had before. It had taken work on her part, but she was definitely getting there.

He hadn’t continued much longer with Bill, although they kept in touch and occasionally played golf together. The support and advice that Bill had given him had been invaluable.

"That’s it, Mrs. Rabb. You’re halfway there. One more good push and your baby should be delivered."

Even as he watched this miraculous birth, Harm was thanking his lucky stars. Here he was, with a wife, and now a daughter. He got choked up at the thought. As much as he’d always wanted this, he never really believed he’d be lucky enough to have it.

"Here she is, Mrs. Rabb."

The baby was delivered to Mac’s eager arms, and it was all he could do not to carry both Mac and the baby around the delivery room in a mad jig of joy. He had everything he ever wanted now.

"Hello Elizabeth." Mac’s teary voice was music to his ears. Elizabeth O’Hara Rabb. They’d fought long and hard over names once they’d found out the sex of the baby. Well, not fought, just bickered. He kept proposing old-fashioned names, like Lavinia or Rosamund just for the fun of seeing her get riled up and argue with him. They’d settled on his Mother’s middle name, and O’Hara for Uncle Matt.

Harm found he still couldn’t talk, but a gentle finger went out to trace Elizabeth’s soft cheek. When she opened her eyes and grabbed on to his finger, he knew that he was a goner. He now had the two most beautiful women in the world as his family, and life couldn’t get any better than this.

Leaning down, he kissed Mac’s cheek. "She’s beautiful." He whispered. "She’s as beautiful as her mother."

She turned her head and kissed him back. "She’s got her Father’s beautiful eyes."

Much to his dismay, Elizabeth was swept away for whatever hospitals did to newborn babies. He was instructed that he could see her in the nursery within the hour. And then he was gently but firmly ejected from the delivery room, away from Mac. Apparently she needed some stitches and other things he preferred to know nothing about.

Before he left, he kissed her softly one last time. "I love you."

Her loving eyes said even more than her whispered words. "I love you too."

And with that he was back in the bright white world of the hospital waiting room. Surrounded by friends and family, all congratulating him, demanding to know how the birth went. It was a scene he’d watched in a hundred movies, but never thought it would happen to him.

Sturgis had even brought cigars for him to pass around. Which he did, with great pleasure and amidst much laughter.

But it was later that night, when it was just he and Mac and Elizabeth in the hospital room, that he realized just how far Mac had really come.

He was watching her breast feed Elizabeth, when she suddenly looked up at him. "I never thought I could be this happy. I have you. I have Elizabeth. I have friends and family and loved ones. I never thought this much happiness was possible."

He reached out to stroke her hair before leaning down to kiss her. "Me too, Mac. Me too."

The End