Crossing The Ocean, a jag fanfic

Crossing The Ocean

Chapter 1: Tuesday, August 21, 2007

Part 1: The Talk

Author's Note: Harm and Mac are back, by popular demand. This is intended to be a sequel to my previously posted An Ocean, Two Continents, Eight Time Zones, and Heartache between Them. If you haven't read it, I strongly recommend you do before starting this one as certain parts of this story may not otherwise make sense. Like An Ocean… This will be a multi-chapter story. Fasten your seatbelts, and return your tray tables to their upright positions. Something tells me this may be a very eventful flight!

Disclaimer: Does anyone really need me to say it? Okay, here goes. I don't own JAG, its characters, or much of anything else but I hope you like this story anyway.

San Diego California

Sarah Mackenzie wakes to the aroma of strong coffee brewing and food; not just food, breakfast meats. He hates meat, she thinks. With a lazy smile, she stretches languidly before tossing off the covers. Once she has both feet on the floor, clad only in an oversized night shirt, she shuffles toward the kitchen rubbing her face. For a moment, she leans against the door frame with her arms folded over her chest, just watching him. He's standing barefoot and bare-chested in front of her stove, wearing only the khaki cargo pants he wore the previous day. He is cooking food that he will not eat.

Crossing the room, she wraps her arms around him from behind. Standing on tiptoe, she kisses his shoulder and then glances over it at the sausage flying in the pan. He also has eggs and hash browns going on the stove, and cantaloupe and honeydew melon already partially sliced on a nearby cutting board.

"God, I've missed you."

Harmon Rabb chuckles, "Morning. Was it really me you missed, or just having somebody around to feed you." He asks, caressing the hand that is splayed across his chest.

"Harm you're the only person who has fed me in… Both, I missed both you and the food." She picks up his coffee cup from the countertop beside him and takes a sip.

"Hey Squid, your coffee's improving." She glances out the window at the pre-dawn sky, takes a few more sips and then returns his cup to its place. "What time is it anyway?" she asks, moving to the cabinet to get some plates.

"It's 05:40, and get your own cup, Jarhead."

"God Harm, why are you up this early? Aren't you on leave?"

"I'm up because I knew you would… Wait a minute! Did you just ask me what time it is? What's the matter? Does your internal clock need new batteries?"

As she passes him on her way to the table, she gently nudges him with a hip. "I think you fried its circuits."

"Oh really? And just how did I do that."

Setting the table, she shrugs and confesses playfully. "I always lose track of time after a good tumble." She offers him a flirtatious smile when he turns away from the stove to give her an inquiring look. "But it's never been out of commission for this long. It's usually brief; maybe 15-20 minutes, tops."

"I didn't know that." He says. I didn't think anything could make you lose track of time."

"Well, it wasn't something you needed to know… at least not before last night." She tells him; her playfulness becoming a pout.

"Something wrong?"

"I guess not. Not really. It's just that it's starting to make me a little uncomfortable. I've known what time it is every second of the day since I was nine years old. This is a little disconcerting. I'm going to need a watch today if it doesn't reset itself soon."

Stepping in close behind her, he sets a platter of scrambled eggs and toast on the table, and then wraps his arms around her. "Here." He says, taking off his own watch and fastening it around her wrist.

She stares at the big watch. On her smaller wrist, it's loose and clunky but the sight of it makes her smile. "Now you aren't going to know what time it is."

He shrugs and says, "Don't need to. I am on leave." Just before stealing a quick kiss.

"Until when?"

"Through Saturday evening."

"Maybe I can take a few days, but not the whole week… Actually I probably should. I have a feeling it's going to be a tough week. I need to prep for Laura's placement hearing." She says; referring to her niece; whom she hopes to obtain custody of. "I need to visit with her doctors, her therapist, and her former school teachers…" She pauses to offer him a smile. If I'd known you were coming before 1700 yesterday, I would've already asked for the time. I'm sorry you arrived in the middle of all this Harm… But I'm not sorry you're here." She adds softly.

"I wish I'd gotten here sooner." He says with regret.

"You're here now."

"I guess we need to talk about that."

She nods. "We do. I don't want this to be… Just some thing we did."

"Me either."

"So what are we going to do about that?" She asks, feeling a bit nervous.

He shrugs. "I could request to transfer. We might have to wait for an opening, or it might be denied. But it might at least get me back to the States. Here, sit." He pulls out a chair for her. "Let's eat."

Mac's eyes go wide with unabashed surprise. "You'd do that?" She asks; sliding into the chair.

He nods while going to get a bowl from a cabinet for the melon slices. "I hate London anyway." He says; returning to the table with the bowl full and taking the seat next to hers.

"Really?" She eagerly helps herself to a slice of cantaloupe.

"It rains almost every damn day Mac. I guess it's okay to visit, but living there sucks."

"Harm, don't you like your job?"

Picking up his coffee, he nods, but there's a slight hesitation in it. "Or I would, if I weren't so damn miserable." He smiles awkwardly over the rim of the cup before admitting, "I like being the guy in charge, but it would be a lot better if I had somebody there to share it with." He pauses for a sip. "And, did I mention, I hate London."

"Maybe you can have my job. I hate being the guy in charge." She tells him quietly while busying herself with putting food on their plates.

He sets down his coffee cup. More than a little shocked by the admission, he waits until her hands are free and then takes one and gives it a gentle squeeze.

"I'm bored silly." She admits, meeting his eyes." Sitting behind a desk doing prep work for trial is one thing. Sitting behind a desk giving orders while watching everybody else do the prep work for trial is driving me nuts Harm. I miss the work. I miss the courtroom, the arguing, the debating, the investigation… I feel like I don't do anything anymore; except referee large children who happen to wear uniforms. I hate it."

"So, I'm not the only one who needs a change."

"No, you're not. I mean, I still love being a Marine and I need to work but…"

"But what Mac."

Well, the thought of not being a Marine anymore, let's just say it's not as scary as it used to be."

"Really?" Now it's his turn to be shocked.

"Harm, I'm a Colonel. I think we both know that's my exit rank. They aren't going to make somebody like me a Brigadier General; and I don't even think I want to be one. Have you seen the women with that rank? If I wanted it, that would be one thing, but there are other things I want."

"Like what Mac."

"I wish I had more time to give to Laura, and having her with me; loving her. It just makes me feel like I'm wasting precious time. I'm not getting any younger Harm. "With that and the Endometriosis… Harm, I'm scared it won't work. Actually I'm not scared; I'm terrified. I still want to try though." She closes her eyes. "With things the way they were between us; I thought I had lost that option. A couple of times over the last two years, I thought about… Trying to find…a donor ... I guess. But I couldn't do it. Even thinking about it just felt wrong. It felt like; like I was giving up on you. I didn't want to do that. I started to get on a plane so many times." She opens her eyes wide with alarm, afraid that she has said something wrong, and she reaches out to gently touch his face. "Not just because of that Harm."

He takes her hand in both of his and kisses it. "What stopped you?"

"I was afraid you wouldn't want to see me. Not after what happened. People who are grieving are capable of terrific and terrible things. I know that. I never should have left you."

"I shouldn't have made you want to leave. We're here now though. I'd rather focus on where we go from here than watch you continue to beat yourself up. Besides, if you hadn't come here…"

"I know. No Laura." She squints at him. "You sure you want to get involved in all this. I can't leave her behind Harm, and this may not go well. You've been through all this before; custody I mean. You don't have to do this; not again."

He's quiet for a long moment; choosing his words very carefully. "No Mac, I don't want to go through all this again… But I will. I know you can't leave her behind. If you were the sort of woman who could, I wouldn't want anything to do with you. So, I'm here. I'm here, and we'll figure it out...together. We have to focus on Laura first. Once we get clear of the custody thing, then we can figure out the address thing."

"The address thing?" she smiles; feeling a little better.

"Yeah, the address thing. As in, there's an ocean between yours and mine. I don't like that Mac. I don't like that at all! Whether you go there, I come here, or we both go someplace else; I don't know the answer yet, but there has to be one."

"Okay, Laura first. Then the address thing." She nods, picking up her fork.

"That should keep us both busy for a while, and we can't really do much of anything about the baby thing with the Atlantic between our mailboxes."

She laughs, "You've got a point there, Sailor!"

"Good, we're in agreement then. Hey, this is sort of unprecedented."

"Sort of unprecedented? Harm, I think I just felt the Earth shift on its axis."

"Yeah yeah, eat your eggs Marine. You've got to go to work."

Part 2: An Unofficial Staff Meeting

06:45 HRS

Petty Officer Jennifer Coates is somewhat disappointed to step off the elevator into the bullpen and realize that her commanding officer is already in her office. Nevertheless, she goes to the break room to start a pot of coffee and finds that the task has already been done. She pours a cup for herself and a second cup. She carries both with her to the Colonel's doorway.

"Good morning Colonel, fresh cup?"

"Good morning Coates, and yes; thank you."

The Petty Officer enters the office, finds a clear spot on her superior's desk for the two cups and then stands at attention.

"At ease. Have a seat. Is something the matter? You look…disenchanted." Mac decides.

The junior officer replaces Mac's first cup of coffee with the second and then picks up her own cup before taking the offered seat on the other side of Mac's desk.

"I guess I just didn't expect you to be in quite this early Ma'am. Does that mean you were unable to find Captain Rabb yesterday?"

"Quite the opposite. He was walking on the beach when I got home. That's why I was able to be here so early this morning."

"I don't follow Ma'am."

"I didn't have to take Laura to the Harrell's this morning. I woke her at 0600, same as usual and started getting her ready for the day. However, she and Captain Rabb became instant pals last night. He called her sweetheart. She called him Flyboy when I introduced them, and then before dinner, she called him weird. She absolutely refused to even consider leaving the house today. Normally she likes spending the day with Liam and his mother, but she informed me this morning in no uncertain terms that she was spending her day with Harm. Of course, he didn't say no."

Coates flashes a smile fit for a toothpaste commercial "Of course not. The Captain, refuse to spend the day with a pretty girl? It would take a lot more then mild insults to stop him. Why did she call him weird?"

"While I was setting the table for dinner last night, we were having pot roast. Fortunately, I had some leftover broccoli cheese soup in the fridge. I warmed it in the microwave and put it on the table for Harm. Laura thought I intended to serve it along with her pot roast. This caused a minor fuss. There are quite a few vegetables she will eat, but broccoli isn't one of them. The conversation started with, 'Ew yuck! Aunt Mac, I'm not eating that! When I explained that it wasn't for her; that it was for Harm and that he rarely eats meat; I thought she'd swallow her teeth!"

Mac imitates the small girl "You don't eat meat! Really? Oh man, something's wrong with you! You're weird!' Typical Harm, he took it all in stride. As soon as she said it, she covered her mouth, like she hadn't meant to say it out loud. Next thing she knew, she was hanging upside down with her knees over one of Harm's shoulders and he was tickling her; telling her that she was the weird one because he wasn't the one hanging upside down like a monkey. This morning, I did manage to get her out of her pajamas and into some clothes before I left, but that was it. When I left, she was sitting on the kitchen counter telling Harm how to fix her breakfast properly."

Coates raises an eyebrow, "How to fix it properly?" she asks; stressing the last word in the question."

Mac chuckles. "Yeah, she's a little OCD about eggs. It's sort of weird. She's not this way about other foods; but she cannot stand for her eggs to touch anything else on the plate. In fact, it's best if you just put her eggs on a separate plate by themselves; and when I left she was telling him this in great detail."

"What's he have to say about all this?"

"Not one word; nary a complaint. I swear Jen, if the girl told him the moon was made of split pea soup he would smile and nod. They've known each other for just slightly over 12 hours and already he is wrapped so tightly around her tiny little finger…"

"Sounds just like the Captain, and I'm glad for it too. We rarely talk anymore. I think I remind him of Mattie, or at least of the fact that she's not here anymore. Maybe Laura will help ease his grief."

"I hope so. It's been two years, and he's still not quite the way he was before. The difference is almost intangible, it's hard to put your finger on it, hard to define it; but it's there and I suspect it always will be."

"Yes, I agree. I've never lost anyone that really mattered to me except for Mattie and I still feel different than I used to be… Well…" she says needing a break from the depressing turn in the conversation. "The gang will start arriving soon. I guess we better get it in gear."

"Yes, we should. Let's see, we've got a staff meeting at 0830. I've got a ton of paperwork that needs to be done before lunch, phone calls I need to make, and then after lunch. I'll need to start securing my office for the rest of the week. I'm leaving at noon tomorrow in order to prep for Laura's placement hearing and spend some time with Harm. He leaves on Saturday."

"Ma'am would it be okay if I drop by some time later this week; just to say hello?"

"Of course you can. You can come by for dinner on Friday night. Or, if you like, you could make your own plans with him this afternoon. He and Laura are picking me up for lunch at 1230."

"It'll be nice to see him again." The Petty Officer smiles at the thought and then she sighs, "And another day begins. I'll be at my desk if you need anything Colonel." She says wistfully, standing again at attention and waiting to be dismissed.

Part 3: Causing Heads to Turn

12:38 HRS

Even without glancing out her window, she knows he has arrived when an unnatural hush falls over the bullpen outside her office. The usual workplace noises, scraping chair legs against the floor, file cabinet drawers opening and closing and the incessant hum of quiet conversation, all come to an abrupt halt. Getting up from her desk with a smile she thinks; leave it to Harm to bring productivity to a complete standstill. When she opens her door she herself is struck momentarily immobile and silent by the sight of him crossing the room with her niece tucked safely in the curve of one arm and her walker in the opposite hand.

Speechless, Mac watches her office staff watch him. It's her own fault, she thinks. They might be less inclined to stare if anyone at all had come to visit her at the office over the last two years.

She watches as Jennifer Coates offers him a reserved but warm greeting. If anything, the woman's professional manner, in spite of her obvious affection for the man causes office personnel who do not know him to become that much more interested. Coates pretends not to notice this as she says hello to Laura and the small girl gives her a hug without ever leaving Harm's embrace.

The Petty Officer offers a quiet "Right this way, Sir." just as Laura catches sight of Mac.

"Aunt Mac, we're here!" Laura proclaims with delight.

"So I see. Come in." Mac chuckles, stepping back into the office and clearing the doorway for them.

Coates walks with them as far as the office door and then quietly closes it behind them. Turning to face the room, and realizing that all eyes are on the Colonel's door, she hisses. "Oh go back to work people! I know you've all seen the Colonel's niece before. Honestly, stop acting like you've never seen a naval aviator before!"

Inside the office, Harm grins and Mac bites her lower lip to keep from laughing loud enough to be heard outside.

"Some of them wouldn't have known that I'm a naval aviator if she hadn't just told them." He says gesturing toward his own tee shirt and jeans.

"It's just as well. If you walked in here clad in summer whites complete with gold wings we might have had to break out the smelling salts for Lieutenant Angelo out there. She's got a thing for pilots."

Laura observes the exchange between the two adults, looks down at the floor, and then gives Harm's shirt sleeve an insistence tug. When he turns his attention to her, she smiles and says simply, "Down please!"

He sets her walker down and then lowers her feet to the floor waiting for her to take hold of the walker before he lets go. No sooner than she is on her own she looks up at Mac. "Aunt Mac, can you please fix my hair before we go to lunch?"

The Marine eyes the girl's lopsided messy ponytail and swallows the impulse to smile." Sure Baby. I can fix that for you. Did Harm do that for you?"

Laura nods as Mac retrieves a small handbag from the top of a filing cabinet and steps behind her desk; returning to her seat. "I thought you said he had a daughter."

"He did." Mac assures quietly; offering Harm a sympathetic smile.

"Well she must have had short hair because he doesn't know nothing about doing ponytails."

"Come here Laura." Mac says gesturing for the girl to come close enough so that she can take care of her hair. When she is close enough, Mac guides her into position to stand just between her knees so that she can not only reach her, but help hold her in place as well. "First Laura, the proper way to say that is, he doesn't know anything about doing ponytails – not he doesn't know nothing; and second, even if he doesn't, you should still tell Harm thank you. At least he tried."

Mac begins to untangle the ponytail holder and various barrettes in Laura's hair. "I imagine he's never done this before. By the time he and Mattie found each other she was old enough to do her own hair. Just be glad he's not your grandfather." Thinking, Mac is silent for a moment before she says, "I think I was a little younger than you are the one and only time my dad ever tried to do my hair. I can't remember where Mom was that morning. All I do remember is that when she returned, he told her she was never allowed to leave again without either fixing my hair or taking me with her until I was old enough to do my own hair; and he never touched my head again. He snapped the rubber band against his own fingers and when it hurt he yelled at me like it was my fault." Mac hands her the dislodged ponytail holder.

Harm stands by, observing without comment as Mac removes a small hairbrush from the handbag along with a small plastic baggie filled with hair accessories, and a very small spray bottle of some sort. She doesn't even try to pull the brush through the girl's thick unruly curls without first misting her hair with whatever is contained in the bottle. Mac then tries to comb her fingers through the girl's hair gently. When she can't get her fingers through the entire length of Laura's hair without pulling it, she repeats the process two more times until she can slide her fingers through with relative ease. Then she applies the hairbrush to good use; starting at the ends of Laura's hair and working her way up to her scalp.

"Well that's dumb!" Laura says with feeling. "Everybody knows you're not supposed to put rubber bands in hair. They pull your hair out when you take them out at night. You're supposed to use a ponytail holder, and anyway, he shouldn't yell at you if he popped his own fingers."

"Baby, when I was a little girl rubber bands were the only ponytail holders there were."

"I don't care." Laura shrugs, "That's still not a nice thing to do Aunt Mac. Harm didn't yell at me, and he didn't pull my hair much either. Course, he stopped trying to brush it. Mom never uses the conditioner stuff. She always pulls my hair. "

"Yeah, the conditioner is nice; isn't it? My hair use to be a lot like yours. Your grandmother use to pull my hair." Mac sympathizes; running the brush through one last time and reaching over Laura's shoulder for the ponytail holder.

Mac winds the ponytail holder around the thick length of hair and gives Laura's new ponytail a gentle tug to make certain the soft band of fabric is in place. "About face kiddo." She says, helping to guide the girl again as she turns. She glances at the numerous barrettes now on her desktop, with Laura's hair done properly, she'll only need a fraction of those Harm had used. "Butterflies or lizards?"

Laura looks at the barrettes and then at the bright rainbow-colored butterfly screen-printed onto her tee shirt. "Lizards!" Laura announces happily, leaving Harm in a state of mild confusion. He had expected her to select the other choice. Mac, on the other hand, doesn't seem surprised at all.

Girls! He thinks. He still doesn't have them figured out, and he doubts he ever will. He continues to watch as Mac selects two small gecko shaped barrettes and uses them to secure small wisps of hair that are too short to be secured by the ponytail holder.

"There. All done!" Mac announces. Sweeping the unneeded accessories into the plastic baggie and returning it, the hairbrush, and the small bottle of conditioner back to her handbag. "You look gorgeous! Now let's go get some lunch! The only thing I've had since breakfast is coffee. I'm starving, and I know you are!"

"Hamburgers?" Laura wants to know.

"No, I don't feel like going through a drive-thru window and eating in the car. Let's go someplace where we can go in, sit down, and relax. I have important things to tell both of you."

"Pizza?" Laura tries again hopefully, looking up and back at her aunt as Mac gently shoos her toward the office door which Harm opens for them and stands waiting for them to pass through.

Mac looks at Harm inquiring. "Giovanni's Italian restaurant has the best pizza in town, and if you want, she can get a personal pan and you can have whatever you prefer. There are things on the menu that you will like too."

"Mac, I like pizza." He laughs as if he's been wounded. "You know that."

"Not the way she eats it; you won't." Mac whispers passing by and resisting the urge to kiss him.

He alone catches the telltale flash of desire in her eyes and it piques his own. To let her know this, he places his fingertips gently against the small of her back as they walk through her bullpen toward the elevator. He smiles briefly but then rolls his eyes in response to her words. "Let me guess; dead animal?"

Mac nods. "Lots of it; and jalapenos too." She tells him."

"Jalapenos! Mac! You let her eat that? She's just a little girl!"

"With a cast iron gut!" Mac answers; chuckling quietly.

The elevator dings upon its arrival and the doors slide open. Once they are inside and the doors slide shut again, Jennifer Coates shakes her head smiling in response to the nearly imperceptible changes in the couple's body language. "Well, it's about damn time!" she muses silently.

Part 4: Lunch

1258 HRS Giovanni's Italian Restaurant

Giovanni's is the kind of dimly lit place with scarred wooden tables and chairs where people dine in jeans and sandals. The tablecloths are plastic with red and white checkered patterns and the candles on each table do little to illuminate the place. What it lacks in ambiance the food more than makes up for. Mac loves the cream of tomato soup with garlic and basil. The Pizza Margherita, and any of the numerous pasta dishes she has tried have all been worthy of a second serving.

After waiting for Laura climb in, she slides into the booth across the table from Harm. The moment they are seated a server is standing by with chilled glasses of water, menus, and a basket of bread slices lightly drizzled with olive oil and garlic.

Mac holds conversation until after the college-age waitress takes their drink orders and then she watches, amused as the girl flashes Harm a flirtatious smile before leaving their table.

"What?" He rolls his eyes in response to Mac's obvious enjoyment.

"I didn't say anything."

"You didn't have to."

"It's just interesting; that's all. She's not the first woman I've seen smile at you like that. She won't be the last. But I've never seen it from this perspective before."

"What perspective is that?"

"The perspective of a woman who knows what that girl is missing. It's sort of fun. That's all." She declares with spunk.

"Oh okay." He grins. "Long as you're having fun."

Mac switches gears as he leans back; propping his left arm on the back of the booth he is sitting in. "If you want pasta I'll let you check the menu yourself. I haven't tried them all yet. But if you want pizza, we should get the Pizza Margherita. You'll love it. It's a whole wheat crust, with sun dried tomatoes, basil, garlic, and cheese. That's it; and it's fabulous. It doesn't even need any dead animal on it." She'd teases with a smile. "And the cream of tomato soup…" she sighs happily.

Harm chuckles quietly. "You like this place."

She nods. "Best pizza I've eaten; ever!" I only wish they delivered. They'd put Dominoes and Pizza Hut out of business; permanently."

Laura wiggles around in the seat beside Mac until she is on her knees and reaching for the basket of bread. Mac moves her glass of water to avoid any spelling accident and then places a few small pieces of bread on a saucer in front of her rather than allowing her to continually reach for the basket. "I want the Bambino." The girl chimes in, "With everything on it. Well, almost everything. Everything; except the little fishies." She wrinkles her nose in disgust.

"The Bambino?" Harm grins. "Baby pizza?"

"That's just the name they gave it." Mac replies. "Don't ask me why. It's not a kid's special. It comes in the same sizes as any other pizza served here. With the exception that it tastes 10 times better, it's basically the equivalent of a Pizza Hut Super Supreme with jalapenos and anchovies added. She will eat a personal pan all by herself in spite of the fact that it's about ¼ bigger than the same pizza anywhere else."

Harm smiles at Laura. "That's an awful lot of pizza for such a little tummy."

"I won't waste it." She assures.

The server comes back with drinks for them and flashes Harm another dazzling smile. "Ready to order?"

With the slight nod of his head, Harm defers to Mac.

"Pizza?" she asks him. When he nods again she orders Laura's personal pan, an extra-large Pizza Margherita and two large bowls of the tomato soup. As an afterthought, she tells the girl to hold the anchovies on the smaller pizza.

Telling them that it will be about 25 minutes before their food arrives, the perky server trots away again. When she is gone Harm asks, "So, what are these important things you have to tell us?"

"Yeah Aunt Mac; what's up?"

"Quite a lot. I spent much of the morning on the phone and not all of it was Marine Corps business. First, I work only until noon tomorrow. After that, I am on leave for the rest of the week. However, it's going to be an incredibly busy week. Laura, tomorrow afternoon you're going to go stay with the Harrell's for a little while. I have to go back to the trailer." Mac hesitates only briefly, deciding to start with the bad news first. "Mom told me she'd take care of the busted window. She called this morning to say she hasn't done that. It's more expensive than she expected it to be and she's worried about looters."

"What's looters?" Laura wants to know.

"Looters are people who steal things; usually from places that have been damaged and are left accessible to the public. It's easy to get into your mom's trailer because either she or Derek shattered the kitchen window; the big bay window. Mom said a neighbor put up some plywood, but that's not much of a deterrent in that neighborhood. I told Mom I'd pay for the window's replacement. Plus, she doesn't know the man who's coming to do the work and she doesn't want to be alone with him."

Harm frowns. "Why not? If she's afraid he's not reputable or that she won't be safe with him, then why hire him in the first place?"

"Probably because he gave her the lowest bid, and…" Mac pauses, unsure exactly how much Laura is aware of.

Seeming to sense that she is the reason for her aunt's hesitation, Laura supplies the answer herself. "Mimi's afraid of all men. She doesn't like to be alone with any of them."

Mac cringes; wishing, not for the first time, that her niece didn't understand such things. She gives Harm a slight nod. "Anyway, I told her I'll be there, and that I'll pay for it. Laura, give it some thought, if there's anything in the trailer that you want that I didn't get the last time I was there, let me know before tomorrow afternoon.

Laura nods; munching a small piece of bread.

"Really think about it okay Baby. After tomorrow, I don't want to go back there." Mac says quietly; crossing her arms over her chest as a sudden chill that has nothing to do with the temperature invades her body.

Laura nods again but does not comment, and she looses interest in her bread.

"Want me to come with you?" Harm asks softly; sensing the shift in moods across the table from him.

"Yes. No. I don't know." Mac answers awkwardly. "I've been there twice in the last four days. I don't want to go back there, but it has to be none. If you're with me it might make it easier for me. It might make it worse. I don't know which Harm."

"How could it make it worse?" he asks tenderly.

"Knowing about my past is one thing Harm. Seeing an actual example of it." She sighs. "I want to keep that away from you as much as I want to keep it away from Laura. Having you there, it may not be the balm you think it will."

"Mac." Harm reaches out for her hand and waits for her to offer it before he says quietly, "It can't be any worse than seeing you…" he pauses to look at Laura. "After Lowne died." He chooses carefully. "And I'm still here. You didn't scare me off then, and you're not going to now."

She fidgets uncomfortably in her seat. For a long moment she says nothing, but finally she nods and swallows. "Okay. You can come."

"Good. What else?"

"I also have appointments tomorrow evening to talk with two of Laura's former teachers. I'm hoping to gather information that'll be useful in her placement hearing. Thursday morning, I'm meeting with her pediatrician. After that, I have a meeting with her physical therapist, Charlie Waters."

"You're going to see Charlie?" Laura asks; suddenly brightening up."

"I am, and you're coming with me. We're going to talk about starting your therapy again, and we're going to talk to an orthopedist about getting you a new brace; one that fits correctly."

"Yay!" Laura cheers.

"Friday, right before lunch, we have your placement hearing, so over the next couple of days, after dinner, I'll need to focus on that for a while. Other than that, in the evenings, we're going to spend as much time as possible with Harm because he's only here until Saturday evening."

"Where's he going?" Laura asks, suddenly worried.

"He has to go home. He has to go back to London."

"Why? You guys made up a right? You not mad anymore; you're not even sad Aunt Mac."

"Yes, we made up, and no, I'm not sad anymore; but Harm is the Force Judge Advocate in Europe. He's in the Navy baby. He has to go to work; the same as I do."

Laura folds her arms over her small chest and pouts. "The Navy sucks!"

Mac hugs her gently. "No it doesn't, not really sweetie." She whispers. "The Navy does good things; just like the Marine Corps does. Besides, Harm and I have talked about that and we want to be together. Harm's going to see about a transfer."

The scowl on her face is softened a bit by curiosity. "What's that mean?"

"He's going to ask if the Navy will move him back to the U.S."

"Is he coming here?"

"Maybe; maybe not. We don't know yet. We have to wait and see. We'll work it out somehow."

"Aunt Mac, can't you just give him a job at your office." The little girl asks hopefully; bringing a smile to the faces of both adults.

"No, Laura. I can't do that."

"Why not?" she frowns. "Navy people work there. I've seen lots of them. Jen works there."

"Yes, you're right, she does; but Harm and I are in a relationship or at least, we're trying to be. People in a relationship can't work in the same office in the military and he certainly can't work for me. That would get us both court-martialed."

"What's court-martialed?"

"Really big trouble; really really big. It means you messed up really bad!"

"Like being grounded?"

"Worse. Like lose your job and maybe go to jail. "

The little girl's eyes go wide. "Harm, you can't have a job with Aunt Mac; no way!" She declares adamantly. "But you guys need to figure something out, cuz I like him. I wanna keep him!" She whines.

Harm laughs and Mac tries to keep a straight face but fails dismally. Between spurts of laughter she manages to choke out, "Laura… he's not… a… puppy."

Completely serious, the little girl doesn't understand their laughter. "It's not funny. I'm serious! And anyway, you know what I mean Aunt Mac."

"Yeah, I know what you mean." Mac kisses the top of her head and whispers, "I wanna keep him too. We'll figure something out. Won't we Harm?"

"You bet we will. It might take us a while Laura. But your aunt and I, well - we've known each other for a long time and we're tired of being apart. It took us awhile to get here, but we're ready to be together. The last two years haven't been any fun at all because I missed her so much, but we're gonna fix it okay… And we've got until Saturday evening. That's four whole days. So cheer up. No sad faces today. Besides, look, here comes the pizza."

"Yummy! I'm starving!" she declares happily.

"Yeah, I thought that might perk you up a bit." Harm chuckles.

Once the food has been delivered and they are alone at their table again, Harm puts a few slices of their pizza on his own plate and then Mac's as she tends to Laura's plate.

"Careful baby. It's hot! Let it cool for a minute." She instructs Laura, impatient to dig in herself. The zesty aroma of pizza makes her empty stomach grumble.

Harm watches her tuck a napkin into the collar of Laura's shirt. "Let it cool." She says again as Laura tries to pick up a slice; dripping hot cheese over her fingers. "And try not to make a mess Kiddo. You want me to cut it up?"

Laura shakes her head with vigor. "Aunt Mac, it's pizza! You're not supposed to cut it up!"

"Okay. Have it your way. And you Flyboy, what are you smiling at?"

"You. You're really good at this."

"Good at what?" Mac asks absent-mindedly a second before she catches his meaning. "Oh. What... this? I don't know. Maybe. You think so?"

"Yeah, I think so."

"What's she good at?" Laura wants to know as she happily picks pepperoni off the top of her pizza pulling melted cheese with it all the way to her mouth.

"Being Aunt Mac." Harm answers with a wink.

"Duh! Course she's good at it. She is Aunt Mac!"

"Laura, I wish you wouldn't use that word."

"What word?"

"Duh… I'm not even sure that technically qualifies as a word."

"Why shouldn't I use it?"

"Because you're much more intelligent than that word indicates. It makes you sound uneducated."

"Hey, I'm smart!"

"I know you are. That's my whole point. You are a very smart little girl. You should sound like one too."

"Oh okay." Laura answers before a bite of pizza. "I'll try not to anymore, but that might be hard to remember Aunt Mac." She mumbles around her mouthful of food.

Mac smiles at her. "And swallow before you speak, don't talk with your mouth full." She says, gently poking the girl in the ribs.

Harm takes a bite of pizza hoping to conceal the fact that he is very nearly laughing.

"Oh… now you're laughing at me Squid!" You find this amusing?"

Harm nods quietly, busy with his own mouthful. A moment later, as Mac finally gets a bite of her own, he wipes his mouth on a paper napkin before speaking. "You just reminded me that La Jolla is 20 minutes from here, and this is the first time I've been stateside in two years. If I leave the country without going to see my mother, when she finds out she'll do a lot worse than poke me in the ribs."

After a bite of soup and a sip of water, Mac answers, "Well then you better go see her, Sailor."

He nods. "I'll call her and ask if lunchtime Saturday is okay… Come with me?"

For some reason, the simple invitation makes Mac nervous, but she hesitates only briefly before quietly saying, "Okay" with a gentle nod.

Chapter 2: Wednesday, August 22, 2007

Part 5: Meeting Ms. O'Hara

Author's Note: It has come to my attention that I seem to have given Mac a bump in pay grade. I think my assumption must have been that her promotion occurred at the same time that Harm moved from Commander to Captain. This probably happened because I was so discouraged by the final episode of JAG that I was not paying full attention. Because, I have already begun this story, not to mention written its predecessor, with her at the rank of Colonel, as opposed to Lieutenant Colonel, I will backtrack at some point in the future and write a piece explaining how and when her promotion occurred. Please dear readers, when you catch me doing things like this, as long as you are nice about it, it is perfectly okay for you to tell me so.

Also, just a quick word of warning, this chapter took an even darker turn that I was expecting. Please keep that in mind as you read. And as always, let me know what you think. Do you like it? If you hate it, it's OK to tell me that too.

11:59 HRS Outside the Joint Legal Services building

When her morning at the office is done, true to her word, Mac meets them outside at the curb. As she opens the front passenger door of Harm's rented SUV he flashes his customary grin. "Hey wait! You drive okay. You know where we're going. I don't."

She shrugs and reaches into the backseat and gives Laura an affectionate pat on the leg before stepping around the front of the vehicle. Harm steps out from behind the wheel and holds the door open; waiting for her. He is mildly surprised to find her wearing a woodland pattern BDU.

"Field trip today?" he asks lightly.

She shakes her head and steals a quick kiss before sliding in behind the wheel. When Harm climbs into the passenger seat she is busy saying hello to Laura and adjusting the seat to accommodate her shorter height. As she puts the vehicle into drive she tells him quietly, "No field trip, but given what we have to do this afternoon, I feel like I pulled combat duty. I changed in the lady's room a few minutes ago. I figure a little armor can't hurt."

"Armor?"

"This will go better for me if I dress for the part. It might help keep me in a better frame of mind; remind me how far I've come - that sort of thing. I wish I had thought of it Sunday."

Harm nods. "If it helps..."

She changes of subject. "You bring the things I asked for?"

"In the back; vacuum cleaner, cleaning supplies, toolkit. I've never seen a pink toolbox before Mac."

"It's not pink. The toolbox is black, the handle is pink,"

"So are the handles of the screwdrivers, the socket set, and the tape measure."

"You snooping through my tools Flyboy?" She raises an eyebrow playfully.

"Yeah, I guess I was. Like I said, I've never seen pink tools before."

"A local hardware store was selling them and giving a portion of the proceeds to the Susan G. Komen Foundation for breast cancer research. I figure every household needs a basic toolkit and why not donate to a worthy cause at the same time."

"Yeah, okay, but how many women buy toolkits?"

"A lot more than you think Harm." She tells him in that tone of voice she uses when she thinks he's being mildly inappropriate. "And a lot of the women who have dealt with breast cancer have boyfriends, husbands, fathers and sons who love them and who will gladly buy pink tools, or pink, anything else, in support of their women. Besides, you're the one who wanted to come along on this little excursion." She reminds him. "You should know, it's likely I'll put you to work with those pink tools. So suck it up Squid!" Taking one hand off the wheel, she pats his thigh and offers him a sweet smile. "The trailer is a wreck. I didn't bother to clean anything up Sunday. I should have, but I just wanted out. With her bail denied, Casey won't be back there any time soon. Someone's got to clean the place up, and I imagine, as bad as it is for me, it'll only going to be worse for Mom. Besides, I don't think she can physically handle it."

"Laura, baby. Is there anything you want me to get out of the trailer for you? Last chance. After today, I'm not going back there."

"Um, see if you can find my backpack. I think it's in my closet. School starts again soon doesn't it?"

"It does. I will look for it, but backpacks are replaceable. Is there anything in there that isn't replaceable; like a favorite toy?"

"My doll, Rosie. She's hiding out in the closet too."

"That's kind of funny." Mac says, trying to ignore the words 'hiding out.' I use to have a doll named Rosie. She went missing when I was a teenager. By then she was really just a keepsake, but it made me sad anyway."

"I know."

"Laura what you mean; you know?"

"Mimi gave her to me. She said she used to be yours."

For a moment, Mac is stunned. Then, wiping away a stubborn tear that refused not to fall, she nods. "Well I guess that explains why she went missing. She left with Mom." Mac whispers the last sentence.

Her quiet acknowledgment brings a pained look from the man in the front passenger seat. She offers him a stiff smile. Then, almost imperceptibly, she shakes her head. It is her way of indicating that he shouldn't acknowledge her distress - at least not with words.

For Laura's benefit, he keeps quiet.

From the backseat, the girl has limited awareness of her aunt's sorrow, but sensing it on some level; she says in a small voice, "You can have her back, if you want."

The offer causes another willful tear to fall, but for an entirely different reason. "No baby. She's yours now, and I'm glad. You keep her. I'll find her and bring her back to you."

"You sure Aunt Mac?"

"I'm positive, and thank you for being such a sweet girl."

"You're welcome. I'm still going to Liam's right?"

"Yes, you are. Beth is going to take you two fishing while Harm and I take care of things at your mom's."

"Are we going in the boat or are we staying on the pier?"

Grateful for the change in subject, Mac answers. "I don't know. You'll have to wait and see."

"Probably the pier. Beth gets grouchy because Liam won't be still in the boat. Last time he almost fell in the water."

"Are you still in the boat?"

"Yes, but Beth makes me wear a dumb life jacket anyway."

"Good for Beth." Mac chuckles.

Pulling into Beth Harrell's driveway, Mac catches sight of the woman putting small fishing poles in the trunk of her car. "Okay Kiddo. Looks like you're gonna have fun." Mac gets out of the SUV and waves at Beth as she opens the rear door to help Laura out while Harm goes to the rear of the vehicle to retrieve her walker and a small tote bag he packed for her from the cargo hold.

"Harm and I will be back to get you in a few hours. Please be good, wear your life jacket if you go in the boat, and your sunscreen even if you don't, and have lots of fun."

Beth Harrell approaches. "Oh good. You just in time Laura. Train's pulling out of the station in five minutes." She reaches for Laura's walker and tote bag and smiles at the unfamiliar man holding them. "Beth Harrell; I'm Liam's mom."

"Harmon Rabb." He says, handing over the tote bag and then shaking her hand before following it with the walker.

Beth studies him for a speculative moment and then turns her attention to Mac. "I think your sister lied to me. Either that, or she has a significant misconception of who you are Sarah." She chuckles.

The rear door of Beth's Honda opens and Liam calls out impatiently for Laura.

Smiling at the red headed freckle-faced young boy with big blue eyes, Mac walks his way with Laura in her arms as she responds to Beth's comment. "Neither possibility would surprise me." She says dryly. "What did she say?"

Beth glances at the children before speaking and then mentally edits the Marine's sister's choice of words. "Apparently she thinks you're - not all that into men."

Mac leans over to put Laura in the car next to Liam, fastens the girl's seat belt, and then, closing the door, she rolls her eyes for Harm's and Beth's benefit. "My sister thinks any woman who doesn't have three men at the same time is not 'that into men.' I like them. I really do. I especially like this one." Mac points her thumb in Harm's direction. "But he's plenty all by himself."

Beth glances Harm's way again and chortles. "Somehow Sarah, I don't doubt that."

Stepping to his side, and noticing that he looks a little uncomfortable, Mac takes his arm. "You did put sunscreen in Laura's bag?"

Harm nods. "It's in the front pocket along with some insect repellent."

"It sounds like she's all set." Beth comments; stowing Laura's things in the truck, and then heading for the driver's side door of her own car. "We'll be back at three." She waves; sliding behind the wheel and closing the door.

Mac moves Harm's rental to the end of Beth's narrow driveway, so that the other woman can pull out. When the old pale blue Honda is headed for the trailer park's exit she pulls into another narrow drive just three doors down on the left; drawing an inquisitive look from Harm. Getting out again, she smiles at him. "I guess I should've told you. They all live in the same trailer park. I don't want to park in Casey's driveway, and risk being blocked in if Derek shows up. Police had to release him, Casey refused to press charges."

He gets out, coming around to her side. "Well, who's is this."

"Mom's; she won't mind if we park here. Casey's is just across the street." Mac points.

Harm eyes the trailer across the winding street that is barely wide enough for two cars to pass side by side. From this angle, all he can discern about the trailer is that it is old and poorly cared for. The one at the end of the drive where he now stands is in only marginally better shape.

Mac reaches for his hand; giving it a gentle tug. "C'mon. I need the key. The guy coming to replace the window doesn't show up until 13:45. I want to start cleaning before he gets there, and finish up about the same time he leaves. Plus, I'd really like to have some downtime between this and meeting with Laura's teachers. I'm going to need time to clear my head, that or punch a hole in a wall." She admits grimly. "Let's get this over with."

Harm watches her square her shoulders and take a very deep breath. He's seen her do this countless times. It has always occurred just before those times when they knew they were about to place themselves in situations that might be dangerous or even life threatening. He realizes that she is mentally gearing up for the possibility of battle; and it pisses him off. Resisting the urge to clinch his teeth, he silently resents the fact - no, he despises the fact - that the simple act of knocking on her mother's front door has to be this hard for her.

She strides to the end of the drive and up onto the porch; head held high. She does knock, and long seconds later Harm is surprised by the woman who opens the door. He doesn't know what he expected, but whatever it was, the woman before him doesn't fit it. She is younger than he expected; though time has not been kind to her. She's also taller and heavier. Briefly, he wonders who Mac resembles. It certainly isn't her mother.

Before he can give the thought much consideration, the older woman starts to smile at Mac, but the smile falters at the sight of her attire. Harm watches her take in the fatigues and boots. Her sigh is audible. When her gaze shifts to him the smile that never quite graced her face becomes a frown.

Beside him, Mac tries to ignore all this. "Hi Mom. This is Harmon Rabb. He's going to help out across the street. I need the key." Mac gives his hand an affectionate squeeze. "Harm, this is Deanne O'Hara."

Harm offers to shake her hand, and she does finally manage a brittle smile as she steps back from the front door without accepting the gesture. "Come in, the key is somewhere in the kitchen. I think it's in the drawer by the phone."

It's clear to Harm that her mother's behavior bothers Mac a great deal, but it's also clear that she expected it. Stepping inside behind her, Harm pushes the door closed and follows the women from the small living room to an even smaller kitchen. On his way, he notices that although the place is somewhat shabby, it's very clean and orderly.

"You're earlier than I expected Sarah." Her mother says opening the aforementioned drawer.

"I know Mom. I want to clean up a bit before the window repairman gets there."

"Well that's nice of you." She talks with her back to them; occasionally looking over her shoulder as she searches the drawer. "I suppose you're right. We shouldn't leave the place in shambles. Do you want some lemonade?"

"No Mom. We're okay."

"I hope you brought supplies. Your sister's not exactly a neat freak. I have no idea what she has over there in the way of household cleaners; probably not much."

"That's okay Mom. We've got it covered."

After several more seconds of rummaging through the drawer, she turns to face them; key in hand and offers it to Mac along with a sad shake of her head. "Sarah, I still don't understand how you can choose to put those clothes on every morning without being sick to your stomach."

As she takes the key her mother offers, Mac's voice sounds weary to Harm. "We've been through this before. My decision to join the Corps had nothing to do with Joe. It was Uncle Matt's influence that inspired the choice; not his."

"And I still don't know what your uncle was thinking…"

"Mom, don't go there. Leave Uncle Matt alone." She warns with deadly calm.

She plows on; without regard for her daughter's admonition.

"I just can't fathom it; my own brother, encouraging such a choice. What possessed him to do this to you?"

Harm cringes as the fraying cord around Mac's tightly bound emotions finally snaps. Her voice has the same barely audible, dark tone of finality that it had two years ago when she'd walked out of his loft.

"You know what Mom? This is the last time I am ever going to have this conversation with you. You lost the right to condemn Uncle Matt's influence over my life the day you decided to leave me behind. Instead of complaining about it, you should be grateful for it. If it weren't for him, I'd be sitting in a bar totally hammered right this very minute. I'd be a pathetic slobbering drunk instead of standing here in these clothes that you so obviously hate, because I gotta tell ya Mom, as much as I hate the person I was back then, as much as I don't ever want to be that person again, right now; a bar stool sounds like an absolutely awesome place to be compared to that hell hole over there across the street. It's just a little too much like the hell hole I grew up in. But here I am! What I can't figure out, is you left me with him to give yourself and Casey a chance at something better. She never spent a day in her life with him. She never had to be afraid that one day he was going to lose it and beat her to a bloody pulp. She never had to hear him tell her that she was a worthless good for nothing tramp. Not once. Not one day in her life did she ever have to hear that; and yet she's the one in jail for busting a carafe full of scalding hot coffee over the back of some cop's head. The guy's got second degree burns on his head, face, hands, and arms. He's probably permanently disfigured. And do you know why? Because he was trying to help her! He was trying to arrest the sorry excuse for a human being who was beating the hell out of her. She was with you, Mom. You; not Joe! So, if you can explain to me how her life has been better than mine, then you can say whatever you want about my damn clothes and my military commission and I'll listen to it all without another word. If you can't explain that to me, then I'll thank you to keep your opinions about my life to yourself!"

Deanne O'Hara stands mute and motionless; rooted to the floor as her daughter turns on her heel and stomps out of the kitchen, back through the living room, and slams the front door hard enough to rattle every window in the trailer.

Part 6: Two People Did All This?

1228 HRS

Harm stands in Deanne O'Hara's kitchen with his back to the counter. Stunned, only for a beat in time, he's just as silent and motionless as she is. Unlike her though, he's able to recover much more quickly. He could chalk it up to the fact that he knows Mac so much better than her mother apparently does, and therefore, he was able to see what was coming. Unlike her, he saw the warning signs. He could just as equally chalk it up to a healthier sense of self. The woman before him can take little comfort in who she is, or the choices she has made in life. Unable to answer her daughter's questions, or even response, she stares into the middle distance seeing nothing; at least nothing that Harm can see. He suspects that she's lost somewhere in her memories of the past.

It doesn't take more than a few seconds before the unnatural silence left in the wake of Mac's angry exit starts to make him uncomfortable. He starts to speak, then closes his mouth. He has no idea what to say to this lost woman. For a moment, he's tempted to reach out and put a reassuring hand on her shoulder, but suddenly something in her eyes shifts and she is present again. She shakes her head and steps further away from him. He wonders, had he moved? Had he approached her in some unconscious but significant way? Then he remembers Laura's words, "Mimi's afraid of all men."

He shakes his head at the thought of it. "Ma'am," He starts in a normal speaking voice, and then lowers his voice to little more than a whisper when she jumps. "I'm not going to stand here and pretend that I understand what Joseph Mackenzie did to you, but I think I do understand what he did to your daughter. What's more, I don't think you do. Maybe you can't see far enough passed your own hurt to even consider hers. I don't think you know how hard she's worked to get to where she is in life, but I can tell you that if you hope to have any kind of peace in your relationship with her at all, then you have got to stop punishing her for what he did to you. Not every person in a military uniform is out to get you."

He stands still for just a moment longer and he watches her stare at him. His words obviously confuse her. It's as if she's not even aware of her own actions or biases.

"Excuse me." He whispers and calmly leaves the room.

By the time he catches up with Mac, her vacuum cleaner and toolkit with the bright pink handle are already on her sister's front porch. She has returned to the SUV to get the large plastic tote full of cleaning supplies. He watches her carry it to the porch as he crosses the street and then she returns to the car again for the mop, broom, bucket, and long handled dust pan. She moves with rigid posture and with angry, ground-eating strides. She jams the business ends of the mop and broom into the bucket and then, instead of picking it up, she turns and slouches dejectedly against the rear bumper of the vehicle.

Sprinting to her side, he sits down on the bumper beside her. Without touching her, he sits quietly and stares at the aging trailer with the boarded up kitchen window and the barely existent front lawn with its wide brown patches and sparse green grass. He stares at an object lying in one of the few green patches of grass about 8 feet from the covered window. It shouldn't be there. He doesn't really know what to say so, for a time, he says nothing at all. Then a thought occurs to him. He puts an arm around her shoulders. "You really want to go in there? I could take down the plywood. Then you could just toss a lit match through the busted kitchen window and be done with it." He offers; trying to sound serious.

At first she doesn't even look at him. After a few long seconds she does wrinkle her brow, and then finally she slowly turns her head to stare at him incredulously.

"Mac, I'm serious." He jokes. "Look at that thing!" He points at the dismal trailer with a lopsided grin. "It'll go up like a tinderbox!" he purses his lips and makes the sound of something blowing up while he demonstrates with his hands.

Finally, the darkness in her eyes lifts. Mac throws back her head and laughs until she collapses against him. She wraps her arms around him and snuggles close. He rubs her shoulder and kisses her temple while her laughter fades. He just holds her.

"Boy, Joe Mackenzie was lucky you weren't around when I was a scared, angry kid. The Marine Corps would've been really pissed off at him after I set fire to base housing! Because if you'd made that offer - oh say… 25 years ago - I probably would've taken you up on it."

She sits with him a moment longer and then stands up with determination. She hands him the bucket with the mop and broom in it, and picks up the dust pan. She slams the rear door of the SUV and heads for the porch.

Fishing the key out of her breast pocket, she tells him. "'I've got gloves if you want them. Don't push your hands in any cubbyholes, or dark nooks or crannies inside this place without looking first. Officer Raymond and his partner found drug paraphernalia. If I remember correctly, he said syringes, and latex balloons."

"Balloons?"

"Black tar heroin Harm."

"Lovely."

I could be wrong, but I really don't think it's Casey's. I know she drinks, but my understanding is that she prefers pills; prescription abuse. My guess is; it's Derek's, or maybe one of her other charming friends." Mac says dryly. "The cops cleaned out what they could find and they gave me permission to be here, but be careful. "Oh," she says. "Just so you know, it looks like a roadside bomb went off in here."

She turns the key in the lock, but to his surprise, she turns the knob and simply puts her fingertips against the door and gives it a slight push. Instead of swinging open on its hinges, door simply crashes to the floor. Walking in, over the fallen door, she looks back at him and says sarcastically, "Don't be shy. Come on in. Make yourself at home."

The first thing Harm notices is the smell of week old garbage. Then, he looks around at the detritus. "Two people did this? Only two people? Mac, it looks like five roadside bombs went off in here, and I thought the skillet laying in the front yard looked out of place." He shakes his head.

Mac gives him a moment or two to do nothing but stand, turn a circle, and take it all in. She knows he's going to need time to get acclimated. She on the other hand, is already in motion. Watching where she steps, over broken glass and furniture, she moves toward the kitchen opening windows as she goes. She also turns on ceiling fans and window air conditioning units trying to air the place out. Then she reverses direction and heads back through the living room and down the hallway toward the two smaller bedrooms, doing the same things; ceiling fans, windows and window units. Before returning to the living room, she snags the trash can within easy reach of the bathroom door. She carries it out to the front porch and leaves it sitting there against the outer wall of the trailer while she returns to the kitchen and other rooms to repeat the process. Halfway through the process of her garbage collection, she passes Harm for the third time.

"If you find anything broken that you can fix with what is already here, you can start there. No trips to the hardware store. If it's broken, and you can't fix it, it goes in the garbage; period. I'm paying to replace the window in an attempt to protect what meager possessions she does have. We will not pay to repair or replace anything in the way of personal possessions because she and Prince Charming can't figure out how to have an argument without destroying everything within arm's reach; including each other. There's broken glass and splintered wood everywhere. Be careful where you put your hands. The worst of the mess is here in the living room, the kitchen, and the master bedroom off the kitchen. Down the hallway there are two bedrooms and another bath. It looks almost normal back there; if you want to start back there and work your way forward. Give me a few more minutes, and I will start sweeping up where possible."

He nods mechanically. She walks out the front door again with the last of the trash collection. He turns, picks up the fallen front door, and leans it against a wall so they won't have to walk over it. He steps out onto the porch and joins her in tying overflowing trash bags closed. They start a pile at the end of the drive. He notices that beneath the trash can liners most of the trash cans are filthy. Wrinkling his nose at the grime, he looks around for a water hose. Finding one not far from the shattered kitchen window, he starts carrying the trash cans over. Mac understands, and grabs a few more; following him. When all the cans are lined up within easy reach of the water hose, she leaves him to spray them clean and up end them to dry in the grass.

A short while later, when he returns to the living room, he finds her walking the interior again, this time with a laundry basket perched on her hip; collecting dirty dishes throughout the various rooms. While she puts a portion of the dirty dishes in the sink to soak, he begins walking through the living room picking up pieces of busted furniture. He estimates that the equivalent of one chair, the coffee table, a flat screen TV and a bookshelf are beyond repair. He starts hauling it outside to the curb one piece at a time. When he gets to the larger pieces, he finds that no matter what she's doing, Mac will suddenly materialize at his side. Without comment, she helps him carry the heavier debris out and then returns to her own work until she is needed again.

While he is busy removing a busted light bulb from a lamp, she walks through again carrying the same laundry basket. This time, she appears to be collecting dirty clothes from all the rooms in the trailer. It occurs to him at this point that he hears the noisy dishwasher churning away in the kitchen and a few minutes later he hears what he assumes is an antiquated washing machine starting up. He's busy trying to repair the damaged electrical cord on the same lamp when she walks through again with a glass of lemonade for him and disappears again just as quietly she came. Her silence starts to worry him, and the lamp shade is toast. He tosses it out the front door in the general direction of the heap of trash bags and goes after her; broken glass still crunching underfoot.

Before he can make it to the kitchen, she comes running out and nearly collides with him; carrying the most rank smelling trash can of all. He takes it from her and hurries for the front door. "Found another one; huh?"

She follows him. "No. I have emptied that one twice already, but I just opened the refrigerator door." She breathes through her mouth and looks like she's going to be sick. "I think it's what's left of peas and maybe a ham, but I'm not certain of anything except that it's nasty! There's nothing else in there except for a can of olives and a stick of rancid butter."

"Go back in. I'll take care of the trash can."

When he's done emptying the trash can, he returns it to the kitchen. He finds that a small door opens beneath the countertop of the breakfast bar and reveals a liquor cabinet. Mac is at the sink pouring the contents of a bottle down the drain and there is a trash bag in the corner of the room filled with the empty bottles. "Want me to do that?" he asked noting that there are several more bottles waiting to be emptied."

She shakes her head. "I'm okay here Harm, but the step stool is broken. The arm that's supposed to lock it in place when you unfold it is missing a screw."

Harm squints while nodding; not really sure what a broken step stool has to do with the disposing of liquor. Mac points to the low ceiling overhead. Harm glances up to see the shadow of a small bottle of liquor resting against the upper side of a frosted glass rectangular light fixture.

"What the hell?"

"Drunk behavior." Mac declares grimly. "You sort of have to be one to understand it. My guess is that at some point in the recent past, she tried to quit but didn't have much luck with it. You don't keep bottles in the usual places, but you hide them from yourself so that when it gets so bad you can't stand it anymore you can go find them. I found one in the washing machine and one in a zip-loc bag in the fish tank in the master bedroom."

Harm can't help but laugh. "She's one broken bottle away from drunken fish."

"Yeah. Gives a whole new meaning to the words drink like a fish."

He reaches up, grabs the bottle and then lets it go. "Damn, it's hot."

"Well yeah! It is lying up against a light bulb Harm." She tosses him a dish towel.

He tries again, using the towel to protect his skin. With the bottle in his hand, he crosses to the sink and uses one corner of the towel to unscrew the cap without burning himself. When its contents are down the drain and the bottle is in the trash bag, he returns to her and wraps his arms around her. "How're you doing; really?"

"I'm okay, as long as I keep moving, as long as I don't stop to think. Wish I could find a radio. I'm going to sweep and mop in here. Then I'll start on the living room floor. This room is nearly done, except for that wall paper over there." She points. "I tried scrubbing it. It didn't work. You have a pocket knife on you?"

Harm walks around the overturned kitchen table to the wall she pointed at and looks at the deluded stain she tried to scrub away. "Is that blood?"

She nods. "What's left of it anyway. If anybody had tried to clean it up Saturday night the stain might have come out, but it's set in now."

He takes the knife from his pocket and cuts out a square of wallpaper only to find when he peels it loose that the stain had seeped through to the wall behind it. He shrugs. "She can cover it after she gets home." He pitches the scrap of wallpaper into the trash bag with the empty bottles. Since he's already there, he gets rid of what's left in the liquor cabinet while Mac starts to sweep. At one point, she stops, leaves the room, and when she returns she's carrying the heavy cast iron skillet that Harm spotted lying in the grass outside.

"How did she stand in this room and hurl that enormous skillet through that window and 8 feet away from the trailer."

"She didn't. Derek had to do that. She's scrawny. She weighs 103 pounds and she's taller than Mom. She couldn't hurl a skillet this size that far no matter how pissed off she was. This is one of the larger ones. I threw one of the smallest ones several years ago. It's not easy. Takes a helluva lot of adrenaline. Certainly more than Casey can manage. Saturday night she was too drunk to stand up straight, much less throw this 30-pound bad boy out that window.

"You threw one of those?"

"Not one of these. The one I threw might have weighed ten pounds; probably eight."

"But why?

"I threw it at Chris's head." She admits quietly. "Fortunately for him, I missed, but not by much." She says without answering the question. "Help me upright the table so I can finish sweeping in here. The guy who's going to replace the window is here. He just pulled up when I was outside."

Eyeing her with concern, Harm decides it might not be wise to press for an answer to his question; at least not at the moment. They set the overturned table right again, and she wipes it down with a dish rag that smells of bleach while he tends to the overturned chairs. "Mac, leave the floor in here until the window guy is done. He's probably going to make a mess anyway. Come to the living room with me. Hold the front door for me while I see if I can put it back on its hinges."

She nods and follows.

With her supporting the door, and the use of the tools, Harm does manage to set the door back on its hinges, and with some minor tinkering he is able to realign the doorknob properly so that the door will latch.

Halfway through the process of fixing the door, the repair man comes in and she points him to the kitchen. The man quietly sets to work. That name patch sewn on the pocket of his shirt reads 'Quinn.' Much to Mac's surprise, Quinn asks no nosy questions about the state of the trailer and she is grateful for it.

Returning to their task with the front door Harm murmurs, "I guess this is not the first busted window he's fixed."

"It's quite possible that it's not the first busted window he's replaced in this trailer." Mac says warily.

While the repairman works in the kitchen, Harm and Mac take time sweeping, mopping, and vacuuming the floors in the rest of the trailer. When that is done, she strips the sheets from the beds, and walks the rest of her sister's dirty laundry over to her mother's trailer to be tended to there. While she was there her mother responded when asked direct questions, but otherwise did not talk to her.

When she returns, she scrubs the bathrooms while Harm sets to work cleaning the kitchen floor as best he can with the repairman in there. When he returns to the living room, he finds Mac closing the windows and shutting off the window units and ceiling fans. He brings the trash cans back in and leaves them stacked, one inside the other, in a corner of the kitchen. Mac unplugs all the kitchen appliances including the refrigerator, opens the refrigerator and freezer doors, sets a box of baking soda inside both and leaves them that way. She asks Harm to go outside and shut off the gas coming into the trailer since no one will be there.

"I take it Derek doesn't live here." Harm asks.

"Not anymore." Mac says wryly. "It was an on again-off again sort of thing. I have no proof of this, but my gut tells me he's married and that he only stayed here when he was not getting along with his wife. I'm padlocking both the front and the back door when we leave. Casey doesn't have much. If he does have a key, I don't want him in here stealing what little she does have in her absence. I'll call the power company tomorrow and have them shut off the lights. Can you get the drill and attach the hardware for the padlocks to the door frames. There's only one thing more I want to do here. I'll be out in a few minutes."

Several minutes later, when he has padlocked the back door and left the padlock hanging ready on its latch at the front door, she has not joined him so he returns her cleaning supplies and tools to the back of his rental. Still alone, and with nothing left to do he goes in search of her.

"Mac?" he calls from the end of the hallway.

"I'm back here. In Laura's room." He finds his way to the small bedroom obviously intended for the little girl. In spite of all her little girl things, somehow the room is colorless and does little to reflect her vibrant personality. He finds Mac on the floor in the drab little room; rolling up a sleeping bag.

"Planning a camping trip?"

She shakes her head, without further comment, so he kneels before her and waits. When she finally glances up to meet his gaze, he sees angry tears for the first time since their arrival.

"No. I'm putting it up. She's not going to need it anymore."

Harm doesn't understand, but before he can ask for a clarification, she explains softly,

"It was on the floor in the closet with a pillow… And Rosie. The confined space of the closet… It probably gave her a sense of security; albeit a false one. She hid there; slept there… when things got scary."

Harm mentally kicks himself. It hadn't occurred to him that the hardest room to deal with here in this place would be the one least touched by destruction. As he watches, she ties the bedroll's straps with a vengeance; her movements agitated. She picks it up and steps to the closet, but she seems to change her mind. Instead of placing the sleeping bag on the shelf; she tucks it under her arm. On her way out the door, she retrieves a small backpack, and a rag doll in a faded yellow dress from the foot of the twin size bed. She tucks the rag doll into the front pocket of the backpack. She zips the pouch shut enough so that the doll won't fall out, despite the fact that her head and arms are outside the pocket. Mac slings one strap of the pack over one shoulder. Then she reaches for his hand.

"Get me out of here." She whispers; sounding hollow and scared. He clenches his jaw wondering how often she hid out in tiny, cramped, closets. She holds tight to his hand even when she's ½ step behind him in the narrow hallway and he leads her out; not stopping until she steps out of the trailer

On the front porch, she pays the repairman, barely glancing at the new window, then she waits while Harm locks the door and snaps the new padlock into place. She watches the repairman drive away and then Harm finds her hand in his again. She clings to him and sprints to the end of the drive. When she gets there, she drops the sleeping bag on top of the trash heap.

With absolutely no desire to talk to her mother again, or to even see the woman. Mac steps across the street and leaves the key to her sister's front door along with copies of the keys to the new padlocks in her mother's mailbox.

She climbs into the front passenger seat of the SUV and places the little backpack in the back seat. With 30 minutes left before they have to pick up Laura, Harm climbs in behind the wheel, puts the vehicle in gear, and heads for anywhere but there.

Part 7: She's Being Sassy!

18:07 HRS

"Hey Harm! Did you move my book again?" Laura calls out loudly, starling him, and causing him to splatter hot vegetable soup all over the stovetop. Chagrined, he drops the ladle back into the pot as he turns to look over the breakfast bar that divides the kitchen and the small dining area in Mac's little waterfront hideaway.

Laura is standing at the small dining table looking equally peeved. The chair beside which she stands is empty.

He shakes his head. "Sorry Sweetheart." He steps back into the kitchen and opens the cabinet above the telephone. Taking out the Yellow Pages for the greater Los Angeles area, a phone book several inches thick, he returns it to the seat of the chair in question then picks her up and gently plops her down on top of the book. "There, is that better?"

"Yeah, that's better, but stop moving my book, okay?"

"Sorry. I didn't know it was a booster seat the first time I did it. I just thought it looked out of place."

"Aunt Mac doesn't like for me to sit on my knees." She explains, and then squeals, "I'll get it!" when a knock sounds at the front door. She scampers down awkwardly and then moves as fast as she can in the direction of the front door. "I'm coming!" she yells happily.

Harm returns to the kitchen to wipe up the mess on the stove calling out, "Make sure you ask who it is before you open the door."

"I know." She calls back to him in a tone that clearly says, "I'm not stupid." Then, seconds later, she calls out glibly, "Am I allowed to let Aunt Mac in?"

Harm leaves the kitchen at a trot, shaking his head again. As he approaches the front door he hears Mac's response from the other side of the door. Laughing, she says, "The answer better be yes!"

He lifts Laura off the floor with one arm and unlocks the front door at the same time. Opening it, he smiles, "Sorry, somebody's being sassy with me." He explains, hugging the girl a little tighter.

"Hey, how come you knocked on your own door anyway?" Laura wants to know.

Mac pushes her bangs out of her face and then kisses the girl's cheek. "Because it was locked. And I don't have my key. I gave it to Harm, so he could run errands while I was out."

"Oh yeah, we went to the grocery store Aunt Mac."

"I can tell. Something smells divine."

Harm sets Laura's feet on the floor and repositions her walker for her. "Go back to the table kiddo. We'll eat soon."

They both watch her until she is out of view. "She's being sassy?"

"I got on her nerves. I moved her book again." He grins sheepishly.

"Well stop doing that Flyboy!" Mac scolds lightly offering him a quick kiss.

"How'd the teacher conferences go?'

"Okay."

"Just okay… Or is our trip to your sister's still bothering you?"

"Yes and yes. I'm sick of this day Harm." Mac leans into the embrace he offers. Just a couple more hours; I can put her to bed and relax a little." She sighs. "Last school year she did well. She did exceptionally well at reading, spelling, and language comprehension. She needs help with math. She gets in trouble for talking in the classes where she does well. Teachers seem to think she's bored because she finishes her work before everybody else. She's bright, which I knew, but doesn't always turn homework in. It's not surprising. I imagine she gets very little supervision when it comes to homework. Apparently Mrs. Edmund, her teacher last year, tried to talk Casey into putting her into an advanced placement reading class. Casey wouldn't do it. Something about worrying that the older kids would pick on her too much."

"Does Laura want to be in the advanced class?"

"I have no idea. This is the first I've heard of it."

Laura calls out. "Hey people; hungry kid in here. Somebody come feed me!"

"God, she has your stomach!" Harm rolls his eyes. "Come on let's go ask her."

Chapter 3: Thursday, August 23, 2007

Part 8: Confessions

Author's Note: This chapter is, at least in part, dedicated to reader Jeanmary. You absolutely cracked me up when you called Clayton Webb the major stupid spy! By the way, you guys might wanna find something sturdy to hold onto. You had to know that Mac and Harm were going to get into a fight at least once!

Thursday, August 23, 2007

08:52 Hours

Harm opens one eye when a small hand tentatively touches his bare shoulder. Laura pulls her hand away quickly and whispers, "Good morning. Aunt Mac said it's time for you to get out of bed, lazy bones."

He groans and pulls the quilt over his head. He hears no movement to indicate that she's leaving the room. He waits 10 seconds and then peeks out from under the quilt. Mini-Mac is still there; patiently looking at him with the same wide dark eyes.

"Where is Aunt Mac anyway?" he asks, his voice still husky with sleep.

"She's sitting on the back porch watching the beach. She told me to tell you she's drinking your coffee and if you don't get up soon, she's gonna eat your oatmeal too."

Harm covers his face with a pillow. "I'll make more." He mumbles.

"Na uh! She says you're not allowed.

He moves the pillow. "I'm not allowed?"

She shakes her head emphatically, "Aunt Mac says no!"

"Laura, Sweetheart, go tell that jarhead that this squid said to stop drinking his coffee!"

She chews on her lower lip for a second and then smiles pensively, "Okay Squid. I'll tell her to stop drinking your coffee, but I'm not calling her that. No way; Uh uh."

Harm waits until she leaves the room. When he's certain she's not going to double back, he throws off the bed linens, sits up, and picks his boxers up off the floor. Slipping into them, and reaching for his pants, he sighs tiredly. Mac kept him awake most of the night, now she is adamantly requesting his company for breakfast, and he likes it just fine, or at least he would, if she'd had a more peaceful night. Wondering how she's doing this morning he shuffles for the bathroom and turns on the shower; waiting for the water to get hot while he brushes his teeth.

They had stayed in the living room only ½ hour after Laura had gone to bed the night before. Harm hadn't expected it, given the day she'd had, but they made love and then fell asleep watching the tide roll in and out. What little sleep she'd had was fretful. It seemed no sooner than she closed her eyes she had begun to dream unpleasant dreams. She murmured, tossed, turned, and even kicked in her sleep. Sometimes a reassuring touch would quiet her, other times she pushed him away, all without waking. When she did wake, she stubbornly refused to talk about her dreams though she would cling to him fiercely; their proximity to one another in the small bed always managed to reignite passion. After the first recurrence, he wondered if he should feel guilty. Obviously she was having a bad night, no doubt, brought on by memories their visit to her sister's had unearthed. He didn't want to take advantage of her distress, but when he tried to resist, it seemed to upset her even more; it even seemed to frighten her. After each bout of lovemaking, one of them rather aggressive, she would fold herself into his embrace and be calm until the dreams started again. He noticed, when he gave up trying to resist, that she slept longer between fits. He hated what was happening to her, but if having him there in that way helped her at all, gave her any peace at all, then he'd be there.

While in the shower, it occurs to him that Laura's placement hearing scheduled for tomorrow morning is little more than one day before he is to leave. He expects it to go in her favor. In fact, he can't imagine why it wouldn't, but what if it doesn't? He asks himself. He tries to imagine what her sleep will be like then. He cannot leave her. As soon as he is out of the shower he heads for his laptop and his e-mail. He will request more leave time. He will do it now. He doesn't care if she eats his oatmeal before he makes it to the back porch. He types and sends the e-mail.

When he does make it to the back porch, he finds her, sitting barefoot on the steps; sipping coffee and watching Laura play in the sand. Laura had been wearing only a nightgown when he'd last seen her. She is now dressed in shorts and a bathing suit. The little girl is filling a red plastic bucket with sand that she scoops up with a green plastic shovel. No sooner than the bucket is full, her dog turns the bucket over. This does not seem to upset her, in fact, she laughs and starts filling the bucket again. The dog sits and waits. Apparently, they are playing a game.

Harm joins Mac; sitting down beside her on the wide porch step. She offers him the cup of coffee she is holding along with a tired smile. Without comment, she picks up the breakfast tray at her other side and enters the house.

He stays where he is for a moment, watching the game with the sand bucket. This time, Candy overturns the bucket, dumps it out, then picks it up by the handle and runs away with it. Laura watches her for a moment and then simply shrugs and amuses herself with the sand shovel. After a few long seconds the dog returns looking sad. Harm imagines that she wanted Laura to give chase, not getting what she wanted; she drops the bucket in the sand and waits for the game to begin again. Laura obliges her.

Just when Harm is about to get up and go inside, looking for Mac, she returns and the tray she carries is loaded. She returns to her place beside him, balancing the tray carefully, and once she is seated she places the tray over his lap.

"Somebody told me you were going to eat my breakfast."

"Meh." She shrugs. "I lied!"

"Mac! It's not nice to lie to little kids," he laughs.

"I just wanted you to get out of bed. We have to leave in a little while to meet with her doctors and I wanted to see you first. You want to go with us, or do you want to stay here and sleep?"

He bites into a piece of toast before answering. "I'll go with you… Unless I can talk you into staying here and sleeping with me… You didn't get much last night."

She nods. "I wish I could stay. I would if this weren't so important. I knew I wasn't going to sleep well last night. That happens sometimes; though it's nowhere near as bad as it used to be. If you hadn't been here, I wouldn't have gotten any sleep at all. I would've been up, prowling the house, looking for something, anything to do. There's nothing quite so much fun as drunk dreams." She adds the last bit sarcastically.

"Drunk dreams?"

"Yeah, dreams of all of the bad stuff in my life; Joe, Eddie, Chris, Sadik Faud, Clay all mixed in with the images of things I can't remember doing, but probably did do; I just wasn't sober enough at the time to either know about it or care about it. Last night was the worst in a while; a few years actually. Being at Casey's, that's what did it. She thinks we're so different. The scary part is we're actually a lot alike." The only real difference is that I didn't drag a kid through it with me. Harm, she's not going to make tomorrow easy."

He sets the tray aside and reaches for her hand. "Mac, you're too hard on yourself. The fact that you didn't drag a kid through it is what makes you different. One of the things. To the best of my knowledge, you didn't seriously assault anyone, or wind up in jail."

"Only because I had a few good friends who looked out for me; there were some close calls and you already know that."

"Mac… Can ask you something."

She nods.

"That list you just rattled off; it's pretty gruesome. What made you stick Webb's name in there?"

"You mean other than the fact that I never should've gotten mixed up with him in the first place?"

"Is there something other than that?" He asks not sure he wants to hear the answer.

"Guilt I guess. I never should've gotten involved with Mic Brunby either. That was costly enough, but Clay was different. I could've lost myself with him. I walked a tightrope there, Harm. He brought out the worst of my personality. I don't think that relationship did me any good at all. With Mic, at least I have a few good memories. With Clay, I was flirting with disaster. If he hadn't pulled that stupid stunt he pulled, I'm not sure I would've left him; at least not before it was too late."

"Well, you did. There's no point beating yourself up for things that might have happened."

"I bumped into him a few months ago. He puts up a good front, but he's not the same man anymore. Mostly I feel relieved that he did disappear the way he did. It was harsh, but he did me a favor in a back-handed sort of way. And the fact that I feel that way makes me a little sad." She gives him a pained look. "I don't know if I ever said this or if it even matters to you, but… Harm, I'm sorry; for Paraguay, for Clay, for the hold damn mess!"

"It matters." He says quietly, folding her into a hug. "I'm sorry too. Mac, you weren't the only one there in Paraguay you didn't make that mess of all by yourself. It was my fault too. But something good did come out of all that. It set me on the road to Mattie. I don't regret that. I never will."

"How are you doing with that?"

"Probably not as well as I should. I went to the cemetery a few days ago. It was awful. Harriett says I need to find a way to be with her that doesn't make me edgy."

"Harriet's smart. You should listen to her." She lifts her head off his shoulder. "What about flying? You two met and bonded because of that."

"I haven't flown, at least not for pleasure, not since before her funeral… only for travel." He admits quietly; looking out over the water. When he makes eye contact again, it surprises him if to find tears in her eyes. "Hey" he objects lightly, "What's with the tears?"

"Harm, you let your flight status lapse?" She asks; sounding scared.

"No, I've done just enough to keep it, but that's it."

"Harm, you've got to get back in the air. You have to." She whispers; still sounding just as scared.

"Why does this bother you? You were never really comfortable with my flying anyway."

"Oh, who cares about that!" She thumps his chest with her palm. "This is not about me! No wonder you've been so unhappy in London. Whether I'm comfortable with it or not, flying…it's part of your soul Harm!"

"I encouraged her Mac. I encouraged her to take those lessons. I paid for them."

"And what? You think that makes her death your fault?"

"Doesn't it?" He asks, unable to look at her; staring out at the water again.

"Harmon Rabb!" She jumps up, leaving the steps to pace in the sand in front of him. "Of all the dumbass things I have ever heard you say! Matilda Grace died because a plane crashed. It had nothing to do with you. You weren't even there … and you probably couldn't have stopped it if you had been there, so don't even go there because I know that's what'll be next out of your mouth. And as for those flight lessons you paid for, if you hadn't, she would've found another way to pay for them. She was a stubborn kid…who loved to fly. Nobody could understand where she was coming from better than you! How many times Harm? How many times did you get in a plane knowing you might not land safely?"

He shrugs.

"She stops pacing and takes both his hands in hers. "You love it anyway." With fresh tears in her eyes she whispers, "Your dad was shot down… And still… You love it anyway. Do you think Mattie was any less passionate about it?"

"No."

"Do you think that she blames you, or that she wants you to blame yourself?"

"No."

"Okay, so what's it gonna take to get you airborne again? For reasons other than travel or qualifications."

"I don't know Mac." He admits in a defeated tone of voice that pisses her off.

Disgusted, she lets go of his hands "Well you just better think about it because you're getting back up there! It doesn't have to be today, or tomorrow, or even next month, but it does have to happen. I won't stand here and watch you let this part of yourself die!" She shouts.

"What difference does it make?" He shouts back as anger boils inside him; burning white hot instantly. What right did she have to be mad at him about flying, or not flying?

But then, as quickly as his temper had flared, it dies. He would have gone on shouting if Laura weren't suddenly there at Mac's side; clinging to her aunt's hand, and looking petrified. Ashamed of himself, he lowers his voice to a whisper. "What do you care? Why does this matter so much?"

She scoops Laura up in her arms and rubs the girl's back soothingly while she glares at him. "It matters!" She hisses.

"Why?" He demands again.

"Because I love you; you idiot!"

Mac stomps passed him, up the steps, across the porch, into the house, and slams the door.

Part 9: The Feeling Is Mutual

09:20 Hours

He sits there on the back porch step in a daze.

"Because I love you; you idiot!

Her words echo inside his head; going around and around. She's never said that before. Not even about other people. He asked her once what was between her and Brumby. Her reply had been simply, 'What do you think is between us?' He had also asked her if she loved Webb. Her answer that time had been, 'I told him I did.'

She was evasive about it. She never liked to answer the question directly. Because she couldn't, Harm thinks. If she'd been honest about it, to me, to anyone, to herself, then she would've had to deal with it.

Hell, I'm no better, he thinks. How many times had the women in his life asked him to define what was between himself and Mac. They have all asked, his various girlfriends, his mother, Mattie… And Mac. How many times has she alone asked me to define our relationship? I've lost count, he tells himself.

Why admit it so directly now? Because she hadn't meant to; he muses. People tell the most truth when they're either drunk or angry… She had told him some pretty harsh truths the day she was drunk too. But she hadn't looked angry today; at least not at first. Before the anger took hold, she looked scared. Why? She'd answered that too. Because she thinks part of me is dying. He answers himself again.

Oh hell! He berates himself. She told me she loves me, and I'm sitting here on the back porch in a fog like the idiot she declared me to be.

He's up, through the back door, and standing in the middle of the kitchen before he even knows that he has moved. The kitchen is empty. Where is she? He can see she's not in the living room either.

"Mac!" he yells. "Mac!"

He checks the bedroom, their room, he thinks. No Mac.

"Mac!" She's either in Laura's room or the bathroom. Those are the only places left. Why won't she answer him? He crosses her small living room at a trot in half a dozen steps. He's in the short hallway that's really more of an alcove between the living room and the master bedroom before he hears Laura through the bathroom door.

"Lock the door Aunt Mac, lock the door!"

Oh Damn! I'm still scaring the kid! He curses himself. Desperate to fix it, he makes things worse. When he tries to open the door, Laura yelps. The door doesn't open more than half an inch before in slams shut in his face.

"Just wait Harm!" Mac orders, sounding slightly frazzled, but not angry.

"Lock the door!" Laura pleads again.

"Baby, the door doesn't need to be locked. He hears her explain calmly. "Harm isn't going to hurt anybody."

"He's yelling!" Laura accuses; a pout evident in her voice.

"Baby he can yell all he wants." It doesn't mean he's going to hurt anybody."

"That's what it means at my house." Laura says stubbornly; unconvinced.

"Well, this is my house. We don't do that here. And besides, he's not yelling because he's mad, at least not anymore. He's yelling because something I just said to him finally sunk in." She chuckles, "He's just having a delayed reaction." Just for good measure, she addresses her next comments to him through the closed bathroom door. "Stop yelling Flyboy. You're scaring her!"

"Yeah, I can tell." He answers in a quiet voice. "I'm sorry Sweetheart. I didn't mean to scare you. I won't yell anymore… I promise. Can I come in?"

"No! You stay out!" Laura answers him. "Aunt Mac, lock the door!"

"Laura…" Mac starts softly.

"Mac." He says quietly." Just lock the door. If it'll make her feel better, lock me out."

He hears the lock slide into place and then he hears Mac. "See baby. He wants you to feel safe."

Harm presses his back to the wall opposite the bathroom door and squats on his heels to wait it out.

"He's not coming in?"

"No he's not." Mac answers her. "He can't come in."

"Good!"

"It's not good Baby. If you don't let him in, he can't apologize. He didn't mean to scare you. We just got a little excited, that's all. Laura, we got mad at each other. We've known each other a long time, and sometimes we argue. Sometimes we even yell at each other, but we never hurt each other… Not with our hands. We don't throw things at each other. We don't break things, and we never, ever hit. I might yell at him. If I do, he's probably going to yell back, but they're just words. Maybe loud words but he's never going to hurt me. I'm never going to hurt him… And we're never ever going to hurt you, I promise."

The bathroom is silent. Harm waits. After more than 30 seconds Mac asks, "Can we finish washing the sand off of you now. He doesn't hear the girl speak but she must nod, because soon he hears water running in the shower.

He waits.

"Let's take your swimsuit off, and get you dressed for your appointments." Mac says after a time. Harm guesses that she must have a clean change of clothes for the girl already with her and she's hoping that routine actions will help restore Laura's sense of security.

The bathroom is silent for several minutes except for the faint sounds of movement within.

Harm hears a sound he cannot identify until Mac says, "C'mere let's put this in your hair while it's still wet. He decides that what he heard was the sound of hair product; either conditioner, moose, or gel, being released from its container.

Laura is completely silent for a few more minutes. When she finally speaks, Harm can picture her little face scrunched up in a pensive frown. "Mom never tells anybody she loves them while she's screaming at them."

Mac's laughter is musical. "See. Told you we were different."

"I still don't like it Aunt Mac." The girl says seriously.

"Well, that's okay. You're not supposed to like it. I don't like it when we yell at each other either… And we shouldn't do that in front of you anyway. I'm sorry we did. We won't do that very often. But if we do, I meant what I said. We don't hurt each other, and you will always be safe."

Harm listens; knowing that the girl must look doubtful when he hears Mac ask, "Haven't you ever had an argument with Liam before? I seem to recall you telling me a few days ago that you two were upset with each other."

"Not no more."

"Not anymore." Mac corrects her gently.

"Not anymore." Laura acquiesces. "We made up."

"Right and you're still friends."

Harm can hear tears when Laura whispers, "I hit him once. A long time ago. He stopped talking to me after that for a little while."

"How did that make you feel?" Mac asks gently.

"Not good." She admits in a small voice. "I had a really bad stomach ache until I said I was sorry."

"I bet you did. You ever hit him again; after that?" Harm doesn't hear Laura's answer, but she must shake her head before Mac comments, "That's good, baby."

"Aunt Mac, how come Mom doesn't get a stomach ache when she hits people?"

"How do you know she doesn't?"

"You think it makes her feel bad."

"I do."

"Then why doesn't she stop?"

"Maybe she just doesn't know how to. Hitting people when you're angry; it's a learned behavior."

"Can she unlearn it?"

"Maybe; but she'll have to work really hard at it."

Laura's frown is evident in her voice. "Mom's lazy. She won't do it if it's hard."

"Maybe not, but we don't have to be lazy."

"Do you think Harm would get a stomach ache if he hurt you?"

"Laura, if you let me unlock the door, you can ask him that yourself?"

"You think he's still out there?"

"I know he is. He wouldn't leave without fixing this. He's probably got a stomach ache right now."

"Why?" Laura asks curiously. "He didn't hit anybody."

"No, but he's a big old softy compared to you and me. He didn't mean to scare you, and he won't leave or feel better until he knows you do… Can we go see him now?"

"Harm?" Laura calls out to him uncertain he will answer.

"I'm here Laura." He answers quietly.

"You really think it's okay?" She asks her aunt; still not completely certain.

"I know it is Laura, plus I really want to hug the guy."

Relief overwhelms him when he hears Laura giggle. "Aunt Mac; your weird!"

"Oh I'm weird; am I?"

"Yep, you're weird! First you yell at him, now you wanna hug him."

"Laura if you think that's weird, try wanting to hug him while you're yelling at him. That's a whole new level of weirdness."

"Oh man, you really are weird!"

"Laura, we need to get going. I have to open this door now. He's out there. Either we let him stay, or we tell him to go away. Which do you want?

"You think he would? Go away?"

"I know he will. If you ask him to."

"Open the door."

The door does open. For a moment, Mac just stands in the bathroom doorway with Laura nestled on her hip. The girl eyes him warily at first, and then curiously. "Harm; why are you sitting on the floor?"

"I'm waiting for you. I'm really sorry I scared you Laura. I didn't mean to. I'll try not to do that anymore… and no, it wouldn't give me a stomach ache if I hurt your aunt… it would break my heart… and she's right; I'll leave if you ask me to."

For a moment, Laura looks at Mac; needing reassurance. Mac nods, and Laura slowly turns her gaze back to Harm. When she does, her lower lip is trembling, "Please don't leave." She whispers pitifully. Still clinging to Mac with one arm; she reaches out for him.

Coming to his full height, he wraps an arm loosely around both of them. "Okay, I'll stay." He says quietly.

She gives him a tentative hug. Feeling somewhat braver afterward she tells him, "And stop yelling at her. She loves you!"

"So I heard!" Harm laughs; rubbing Mac's shoulder. "I'm really glad she does because the feeling is mutual."

Laura frowns. "I don't know what that means Harm; what's mutual?"

"It means I love her too." Harm clarifies, but it's not Laura he's looking at anymore.

Laura watches the two adults gazing at each other. She wonders what they look so happy about. "Well, why didn't you just say so Harm? It's much less confusing that way." Laura lectures.

"Laura." Mac gives that girl a gentle squeeze. "Give him a break! Some things are just hard to say."

Laura looks confused. "Really… What's so hard about I love you?" Laura folds her arms over her chest; waiting for an answer.

Close enough to kiss; but not doing so, Mac smiles at Harm and raises an eyebrow. "You want to field that one?"

"I don't think I can. Suddenly, I don't remember what's so hard about it. He kisses her then; a sweet, tender, and much too brief kiss - too brief because the little girl between them is not happy.

"Oh yuck!" Laura exclaims. "If you guys are gonna do that, put me down first!"

Mac gently breaks the kiss and bites her lower lip, then gives up the struggle and laughs. Turning away from Harm for only a moment, she bends at the waist to set the child's feet on the floor. "Laura, head for the car. Harm and I will be right behind you."

"Yours or his?" Laura needs to know.

Mac drapes her arms around Harm's neck before answering, your car seat's in the back of his.

Laura leaves them behind, muttering something about grownups being weird. Neither Harm nor Mac really hear her exact words.

Part 10: A Bit More About Laura

10:30 Hours

They sit in the waiting area of the building Charlie Waters called the POB. It is the professional office building behind the hospital. The place is geared for children. Not far from their seats, Laura plays with a child's activity table, content to entertain herself.

"I'm more than a little curious to meet this man." Mac tells Harm in a hushed voice. She sits in the uncomfortable vinyl chair beside him with her hand in his. "Laura obviously adores him. She hasn't stopped talking about him since I told her yesterday she was coming to see him, and when I got him on the phone Tuesday, he was a bit reserved at the beginning of the conversation until I told him who I was, my relation to Laura, and why I was calling. He was suddenly full of questions. 'How's she doing? How's her gait, her hip, her tone, her spasticity, her ataxia, her supination…"

Harm is interested in the conversation, but she can tell by his furrowed brow that he's a little lost.

"I know." She smiles. "I felt the same way. Truth be told, I still do, but he was great about it. I had to tell him to stop at that point. When I told him I didn't understand half the questions he was asking me, he laughed and said 'okay let's start slower.' and he did. I told him her gait was awkward and getting worse since I'm not allowing her to wear the brace. I told him that I intend to get her a new one, and he was thrilled. I also told him that her hip was okay as far as I knew and that he was going to have to explain the rest of it to me like I was three. He says, Laura has overdeveloped muscle tone in some areas of her body and underdeveloped tone in other areas. Basically, every time she moves her mind is at odds with her body. She wants to move. She thinks move, but her body doesn't always comply; at least not the way it should. She's always having to compensate for this with extreme focus on each movement; each step. Spasticity, and\or the lack of it, accounts for the rigid stiffness on some days, and her body's wet noodle limpness on other days. Ataxia just means she's unsteady on her feet, and supination refers to the way she walks; her ankles turn slightly outward and she bears most of her weight on the outsides of her feet rather than the ball. After my conversation with him, I found myself actually looking at her feet last night. She has no medial arch at all. It's usually undeveloped in children anyway, but Charlie says that it likely always will be for Laura. He says if we ignore these issues they'll only get worse and seriously impact her independence."

"Well that's no good." Harm declares; watching the girl play. As active as she is, as active as she wants to be, if she didn't need that walker we might have trouble keeping up with her; a lot of trouble. If she loses the ability she does have she won't be happy."

"Harm if she didn't need that walker Little A.J. would have trouble keeping up with her, and he's a human whirlwind."

Harm grins. "You think they'd like each other?"

Mac chuckles, "I think Laura would boss him around, the same way she does Liam. Sometimes I'm not sure why he puts up with it."

"I know why."

"You do? Harm you barely met the kid."

He shrugs. "He loves her… As much as his little eight-year-old heart can anyway. She bosses him around, picks on him for being a boy – something he has absolutely no control over, and she probably drives him crazy with all her questions; questions he doesn't really know the answers to, but he doesn't want to say so. He doesn't want her to think he's stupid; because he thinks she's awesome."

Mac raises an eyebrow, "Are we still talking about Liam and Laura?"

"Yes… And no." He adds more quietly.

Mac purses her lips and nods. "Ahh...well he shouldn't worry so much." She whispers; resting her head on his shoulder. "She knows he's not really stupid; even if she does call him a dumb boy sometimes and, to be loved wholeheartedly, no matter how old he is, that's more than enough… But you still have to get back in air, Flyboy. I'll go with you…if you want me to. You can go alone if you need to, but you've got to do it. It's too much a part of who you are."

Mac senses that his tightly wrapped emotions are near to unraveling. "I'll shut up for now." She says in a hushed tone only he can hear.

With an arm around her shoulders, Harm gives her a gentle squeeze. Before he can think of anything to say, a barrel-chested, bald man of about 30, who is a half inch taller than he, enters the room on silent feet.

Mac sits up a little straighter, making eye contact with the newcomer in dark purple scrubs and athletic shoes. The friendly smile he offers her is brilliant white, and then he puts a finger to his lips and lowers himself to one knee. His aqua eyes do not match his Caribbean skin tone but they sparkle with delight as he calls to Laura with his heavy Jamaican accent, "Hello there, Brown Eyes."

Both Mac and Harm watch as the little girl turns slowly to face him. Mac catches a glimpse of the brightest smile she's seen in weeks. The toy car Laura had been playing with slips from her fingers and tumbles to the floor. She takes a few halting steps and hurls herself into the big man's waiting embrace; squealing happily, "Charlie!"

Part 11: Therapy

11:10 Hours

Laura lies flat on her back on a raised therapy mat. Conversation between she and Charlie takes on a stop and go rhythm. Mac and Harm stand quietly by watching the therapist gently manipulate the girl's hips, legs, and knees, ankles and feet. He moves, turns, flexes and stretches her limbs; reacquainting himself with her and getting a feel for where she's at physically.

When he asks her to move a certain way that is easy for her she chatters on happily; telling him about Liam, Aunt Mac and her new friend Harm. She asks him about his cat named Pickles and about how his baby son, Jamison, is doing. She wants to know, is he still teething and drooling all over the place? They prattle on like old chums catching up after a prolonged absence from each other's lives.

When Charlie asks her to do something that is more difficult or requires concentration on her part, the conversation lapses while she focuses on the task at hand. At one point, he bends her left knee and places her small bare foot against the palm of his hand and tells her to push him away.

Laura complies, but not in a way he approves of.

"Oh child, your mama let you get lazy. Come on now, you can do better than that. Push me down!"

The adults watch Laura screw up her face in concentration and try with all her might to move his hand. Without telling her, Charlie lessens his resistance until she can manage it. They repeat process twice more and he teases, "Okay, we can stop now. You've worn me out!"

"Na uh Charlie; you're lying." She won't be fooled. "I get tired a lot now."

"Well now, that's okay. You haven't been to see me in a long time."

"I wanted to come." She pouts. "Mom said no."

"I know she did, but your aunt said yes. It'll be alright. It'll just take a little longer to make you strong again."

"Do I get to come back?" Laura looks from Mac to Charlie and back again.

"Yes you do." Mac says stepping forward and perching on one corner of the mat. She picks Laura's socks and shoes up off the floor and begins putting them back on the girl.

"But we have to go see the judge tomorrow, right? What if he says I have to live with Mimi?"

"Laura, even if that happens, I'm still going to pay for your therapy. I'll bring you to see Charlie myself. I don't want you to worry about that. You're going to be okay."

"Not without my brace. I need it back."

"Charlie and I are going to talk about making a new brace for you, one that fits properly, remember?"

"Do I still get it even if I don't come to live with you?"

"You do." Mac confirms, and then Charlie supplies, "It might take some time to order it, but it's coming. We'll have you ready to run races before you know it. Why don't you go over to the hospital cafeteria now with Cheryl and get a nice frozen yogurt? I want a few minutes to talk alone with your aunt." Charlie motions to Cheryl, a plump red headed woman in purple scrubs who is one of the therapy aides.

Laura looks worried as Cheryl approaches. "Am I in trouble?"

"Trouble? Of course not! You think I give yogurt to people who are in trouble?"

She smiles, and then chews on her lower lip. "Can I get chocolate and vanilla?"

"Of course. You tell 'em Charlie said to put a strawberry on top."

Laura giggles. "Okay, can Harm come too?"

"Absolutely! Your aunt will be along shortly."

With her shoes back on now, Laura rolls onto her stomach, pushes herself up onto her knees, and gives Charlie of fierce hug before crawling to the edge of the mat and reaching out for Harm.

Mac smiles at the girl as Harm scoops her up. "Save some yogurt for me." She teases as they follow the therapy aide out the door.

Charlie waits until they're gone before he speaks. "I'm afraid she's in pretty bad shape. She used to knock that little resistance test out of the park. I didn't want to say this in front of her, it would upset her, but she's lost quite a lot of strength and mobility in her left leg. "

Mac frowns, and then after a long second, she shrugs. "Okay, so what do we do to make it better?"

"First, she's got to have that brace. Without it, she walks less. Second, once she gets it, you'll have to force her to take it off every once in a while. She will wear herself out if you don't. I want to see her twice a week at least, for half hour sessions, as opposed to once a week for an hour-long session. Right now, it would be too much for her. Three times a week would be better if you can swing it. Before the brace comes, it would help immensely if you could buy the girl a decent pair of shoes. I've told her mother repeatedly that the $15.00 shoes she buys at Wal-Mart are not what Laura needs."

"What does she need?"

"She needs a good athletic shoe; a shoe made for walking. She needs arch support and most importantly ankle support. Once the new brace comes in, she'll need a new pair 1/2 size larger to accommodate for the brace. It doesn't have to be one of those ridiculously priced, top of the line shoes. Forty to sixty dollars should do the trick.

Mac smiles at the man. "That's not a problem. Shoe shopping, I can handle. She only wears the one brace. Does the right leg need one now?"

"No, I don't feel that's necessary at this point Ma'am, but without her brace on the left leg, she is putting strain on the right. We need to correct that as soon as possible."

"So" Mac theorizes. Once she gets the brace, she will need two different size shoes; the left ½ size bigger than a right. What do I do? Are there places to custom order shoes like that?"

There are, but one pair is so expensive that you'll do just as well buying two pairs of shoes identical to each other, one a 1/2 size larger, in any common shoe store."

"She's been with me since Saturday night, and she hasn't worn her brace very much in all that time. I am concerned about a pressure sore forming. So, she's worn other shoes; both of them the same size. I suppose that's what Casey did; just bought two pairs of shoes. I'm sorry to say I never really paid that much attention before now."

Charlie shakes his head. "I'd be thrilled if she had. She gets one pair of shoes large enough to accommodate the … Laura's right shoe, has always been 1/2 size too big for her."

Mac frowns "It seems to me that would be a stumbling hazard. Laura doesn't need any help stumbling and she walks around in those little canvas sneakers; Keds or a cheap knockoff. They're cute, but have absolutely no support."

"Cassandra didn't want to spend much on a pair of shoes for a growing child. She told me she thought it was absurd to spend any more than $20.00 on a pair of shoes that a child will outgrow in six months. And is not that I don't see her point. I do. It is just that; that is not what Laura needs. She needs something that will support her feet in the proper position; or at least in a better position."

"Okay, talk to me about the brace. What does she need?"

"I'd like to go with something a little less cumbersome than what she has now. That one is a dinosaur, that model isn't even manufactured anymore. Aside from the fact that it doesn't fit her any longer, it's just so heavy. All that metal on either side of her leg, the plastic enclosures, and the thick heavy padding. Trouble is, the lightweight stuff is the expensive stuff. Prices can triple easily. With therapy to get her strength back, I'm confident that she could handle something that offers a little less support than what she had previously. Contrary to what most people think… and if you've spent a week with her …then I'm sure you've seen this. The brace does not hold her up. That's not even what it's intended to do. It's meant to give her a little extra support so she can hold herself up. However, once she's up, she has to be strong enough to haul that heavy brace around with her. Her supination is one of her biggest problems, as far as walking goes, but she needs more than just an AFO."

Mac shakes her head and holds up a hand to stop him. "What's an AFO?"

"Sorry, I get use to the lingo."

"That's okay. If I said UCMJ, BOQ, or TAD to you, you might be a little lost too, but I promise you any Marine would know exactly what I'm talking about. You don't need to apologize; just fill me in."

He smiles. "AFO stands for Ankle Foot Orthonic. It's a lightweight, plastic foot brace that usually fits inside an athletic shoe. It can extend as far as just below the knee. They are made, molded to fit the wearer and offer various types of support depending on what's needed. Laura isn't quite ready for those yet. She needs support a little higher up. That old brace of hers has a lock at the knee that has to be manually manipulated. Those things are really outdated. First of all, walking with the knee constantly in a locked, unbendable, position, may give her the support she needs to reduce falling accidents, but she must compensate by swinging the entire leg from the hip joint. Not only is this awkward to watch, it's awkward for her to do. Laura is used to it. That does help some, but prolonging this type of movement will cause hip problems later in life as she grows and her weight increases. Fortunately, she's tiny. My five-year-old, is 5 pounds heavier than Laura and she's almost seven now.

"Yes, I talked to her pediatrician about that. I was worried about her. Laura has my appetite, and yet she stays so… tiny; like you said. I thought something might be wrong. The doctor examined her, then talked to me …and Laura as well… about the kinds of food she likes to eat. She said she'd run blood tests, and the like, if I wanted; but she thinks Laura's fine as far as her size goes. She's just small."

Charlie Waters nods. "I've seen a girl eat. There's certainly nothing wrong with her appetite, but based on that, I can see your concern. A part of her small size can still be attributed to her premature birth and the complications that came naturally with it. Don't cut down on her food unless she starts getting chubby. Just the simple act of walking across the room is difficult for her. She burns a lot of calories just doing uncomplicated things. When she says she's hungry; feed her. Just please feed her something healthier than frozen pizza and chocolate milk."

Mac chuckles, "Casey's not exactly a chef. Neither am I, for that matter but I can do better than frozen pizza and chocolate milk. With Harm around the last few days, she's eating really well. He still can't get her to eat broccoli though. She laughs at him. 'You eat the broccoli weirdo. Give me the carrots the peas …and the meat!" Mac mimics with enthusiasm.

"Ah, I take it he's a vegetarian?"

"Pretty close."

"I don't recommend a vegetarian diet for her, at least not right now. True, there are other foods that are high in protein, but her muscles are in such poor condition. You need to feed them. You might even consider getting her a supplement. Some of those protein shakes, if you can get her to drink them. Most of them taste awfully vile." He makes an unpleasant face just thinking about it.

"Back to the brace, she doesn't need an AFO right now, but what does she need?"

Charlie holds up a finger, indicating that Mac should wait a moment. He leaves the therapy room at a trot, enters a small office, and comes back with an enormous catalog. It is worn from repeated use, and It's also at least eight inches thick.

"Mac watches him flip through the catalog rapidly, guessing that he already knows the general placement of the brace he wants for Laura within its pages. "Is there more in that catalog than just leg braces?"

Charlie shakes his head; still flipping through.

"I had no idea there were so many." Mac comments, feeling a little dazed.

At a point ¾ of the way through the book he stops and points to one image. This one comes up high enough on the thigh that it will give her the extra support needed. But it's not quite as long as the one she has now. There are also no metal rods on either side of the leg, and no lock that requires manual manipulation at the knee. The knee will bend freely when she needs it to. It will lock if she's going to be standing in place and needs the extra support. The one drawback is that in order to lock it, a slight hyper extension of the knee is required. I'm not sure if she can manage that. I'd like to set up a demo appointment and have a representative from Freedom Orthonics come down, and bring a brace like this. It won't fit her exactly, but it will provide us with the opportunity to see if she can manage it. Hers will be custom fit. It's made mostly from lightweight plastic. It's durable, and resistant to impact. It has fewer moving parts, so it's less likely to need repair. It's less likely cause blisters from pinched skin. She'll be much more comfortable. She can even pick out a design to decorate the brace. Kids like that. If you have to wear leg braces, you at least want them to look cool. However, we should talk price. This model without any alterations starts at $700. With necessary modifications it could easily double in price. Most people can't afford that without health insurance. As custody is an issue, you can't yet put her on any health insurance you might have."

"I'm hoping that issue will be resolved about this time tomorrow. If not, don't worry about it. Even if I have to pay for it out of pocket, she's getting what she needs. Set up the demo appointment, so we can find out if she can manage the locking mechanism. Just give me a week's notice before the appointment so I can schedule leave from work. Do you mind if I look at my office calendar before scheduling therapy appointments?"

"Not at all. Just call me Monday morning."

Mac smiles and shakes the man's hand. "Anything else I need to know today?"

"I have copies of her records for you. They have detailed notes regarding her condition when she first came to see me, her prognosis, and her condition when I last saw her five months ago, and detailed descriptions of just about every conversation I've ever had with her mother regarding her needs. Take it to court with you. It certainly can't hurt, and I believe it will help. Before you go, I want to make notes about the conversation we've had today. Oh, and one other thing. When you bring her back for the demo appointment, make sure she's wearing long socks or tights. Socks hold up better. The putting on and taking off of the brace can tear up tights fairly quickly. The plastic construction of the brace, holds in a minimal amount of body heat in. It causes legs to sweat and after a while, that can be uncomfortable; sweaty skin stuck in plastic. So, either long socks or lots of talc."

Mac nods. "She already complains that her leg sweats behind the padding of the old brace. I started buying her long socks months ago. She likes the toe socks and very bright colors."

Charlie motions for her to follow him to the small office where she waits for him to make notations in Laura's thick file. He makes copies, and inserts the copies in an identically hefty file before handing it to her. "It's been a pleasure meeting you Colonel. If Laura needs anything, please don't hesitate to call."

Chapter 4: Friday, August 24, 2007

Part 12: He's Definitely Not 'into' Sisters

10:20 Hours

Laura is abnormally quiet. Harm watches her trying to decide if he should say something, and if so, what. Although she is quiet, she seems calm; sitting on the hard wooden bench beside him. She stays calm even after her grandmother arrives, although she does shift her gaze to look at him pensively.

He gives her a reassuring smile and drops his arm around her shoulders. "It's okay. Go say hello."

Laura glances across the wide courthouse corridor at Deanne O' Hara who does smile at the girl, but she also keeps her distance. "Do I have to?" Laura inquires.

"Don't you want to?" Harm asks quietly.

Laura looks confused for a moment as if she might say yes, but then she frowns and suddenly changes her mind; shaking her head vehemently. "Not if she says I can't stay with Aunt Mac."

Sitting proudly beside Laura, dressed in an olive drab canvas vest that clearly denotes her status as a service companion, Candy puts her big head in Laura's lap and whimpers quietly; picking up on the little girl's distress.

Harm nods. He's not really sure what to say, but he doesn't feel he should force the issue. That might only make her more uneasy.

Laura strokes Candy's head gently and stays quiet until her mother arrives in the company of a corrections officer, at which point she leaves her spot beside him on the bench and climbs onto Harm's lap. He sees a myriad of emotions doing battle for dominance in the little girl's anxious eyes; fear, love, anger, resentment, and worry, all tumble and swirl in their depths. "She is coming right?" Laura wants to be reassured.

Harm hugs her tightly. "Of course she's coming." He rubs her back. "Your aunt wouldn't miss this for the world. She just had something she needed to take care of. Don't you worry! She'll be here; promise."

"What if she's late? Won't the judge be mad?" Laura whispers in a small voice.

Harm smiles. "I've known Mac for over eleven years. The only times she's ever been late something was seriously wrong."

Before the last word is spoken Harm already knows he's made a mistake. This is confirmed when Laura's lower lip starts to tremble. "Hey, none of that." He whispers tenderly. "It's not time to worry yet."

"It's not?" Laura asks; a tiny spark of hope in her voice. "When is it time to worry?"

"I'll let you know when, but until I say so, big smiles okay."

Laura tries to comply but the smile falters when her mother approaches. "Hey sweet peas; it's so good to see you."

Laura frowns and crosses her arms over her small chest. "I don't like it when you call me that. I'm not a bowl of peas, Mom!"

Harm eyes the tall woman in handcuffs with dirty blond hair. In his opinion, she is anorexically thin. She reeks of cheap cigarettes and he doesn't trust the syrupy sweet quality of her voice. He likes her even less when she brushes her daughter's comment aside as if it were meaningless. Instead, she smiles at him like a cat stalking a canary and purrs, "Who's your handsome friend, baby doll?"

Laura smiles up at Harm, and then he is somewhat surprised when a repugnant scowl twists her sweet face. "This is Harm. You leave him alone! He belongs to Aunt Mac!" Laura nods once; bobbing her chin for emphasis.

Harm chuckles at the girl's turn of phrase; charmed. Her mother, on the other hand, laughs crudely; eyeing him with an even keener interest. "You belong to Sarah; do you?" She purrs again.

"Something like that Miss O'Hara." He answers coolly; almost as if he's bored.

"Oh Honey, do call me Casey; won't you?"

Still not impressed with the woman, and starting to feel uncomfortable in her presence, Harm thinks silenly; Mac, where the hell are you?

As if on cue, the woman on his mind turns a nearby corner in the corridor wearing a worried expression. When she sees the unhappy look on Laura's face she puts whatever it is that she is worried about into check and forces a bright smile. Observing her sister's posture and the uncomfortable look on Harm's face, the smile becomes somewhat brittle.

Harm says quietly to Laura, "Told you she wouldn't be late." He sets the girl on her feet, repositions her nearby walker for her, and then rises to his own feet. "Excuse me please… Miss O'Hara" He adds pointedly.

By the time he makes it to Mac's side, she has already scooped Laura up in her arms and the girl is hugging her tightly. "Harm said you wouldn't be late. He said it wasn't time to worry yet." Laura tells Mac as if she'd never been concerned.

"Me? Late? For this? Not a chance!"

"Everything okay?" Harm asks quietly out of the side of his mouth.

She answers him in much the same fashion. "I have a problem Petty Officer. Nothing I can't handle. I'll tell you about it later. I see you've met my sister."

"I'm afraid so." Harm tells her; still talking out of the side of his mouth. Before he can say more, a door opens and a court officer steps into the corridor. "All parties present to attend the placement hearing of Laura O' Hara, please step forward."

Part 13: Mac's Testimony

Friday, August 24, 2007

10:25 Hours

Mac picks up Laura's walker, only to have Harm take it from her a second later. "I've got this." He says; picking up the end of Candy's leash in the other hand. As they follow the court officer into an outer office the woman explains, "Judge Dubose thought it might be better to meet in chambers, as opposed to the courtroom. I'm Theresa Nelligan. Come right this way." She crosses the outer office and lightly taps twice against the judge's chamber door.

Laura gives Mac a very confused look. "We aren't going to court?" She asks as they cross the threshold.

"Yes, we are. The judge just wants to have court in his chamber instead of the courtroom. We're still going to do the same thing though."

"Aww man!" Laura protests. "I wanted to go to the courtroom! Wait… What's a chamber?" Laura asks a little nervously.

Mac lowers her voice as the judge rises to his feet behind his desk. "Chamber is just another word for a judge's office" She answers in a hushed tone and then gives her attention to him. "Your honor."

"Colonel Sarah Mackenzie; I presume." He asks taking in the sight of her uniform.

"Yes sir… and this is Laura."

As he greets her, Laura takes in the sight of the portly judge in shirtsleeves and tie with his cotton white buzz cut, and his polished cowboy boots. "Hello Laura. Everybody else in this room has to call me Sir or Your honor. You get to call me Wayne." He tells her with a crooked smile and a thick Texas drawl.

The little girl had been on the verge of asking a question but his announcement stops her. She looks from him to her aunt and then back to him again. "Are you sure? Aunt Mac said I had to call you Your honor… Or Sir."

"That's usually true Laura." Mac supplies. "But it's okay to use his name since he gave you permission."

Laura tilts her head to one side and stares at the man curiously. "You don't look like a judge." She declares with innocent honesty. "Where's your robe?"

He chuckles, and points to a coat stand in the corner of the office. I only wear it when I actually go into the courtroom. I don't like feeling like I'm walking around in a dress."

Laura giggles.

When everyone else has filed into the room, Theresa Nelligan closes the door behind them and takes up her post. She leans against the door frame crossing her feet at the ankles. For a moment, the judge turns his attention to the others in the room. "Sit, sit. Everyone take a seat." He orders; taking his own. "I'll get to you people soon. Right now, I'm going to take a moment to get to know Miss Laura."

It takes a moment or two of shuffling chairs around inside the small office to get everyone seated, when everyone has settled, the judge asks her. "So, how can I help you today, Laura?"

"You can say that I can go live with Aunt Mac." Laura states simply; coming right to the point."

The judge nods, folding his hands together and placing his two index fingers against his lips as if he's thinking. "The thing is Laura; I can't just say that. I have to do what's best for you. So, here's what's gonna happen. First, I'm gonna talk to everybody in this room and everybody's gonna have their turn to talk to me. We're all going to behave like nice civilized people. Anyone who doesn't behave that way is going to spend a night in jail; held for contempt of court. So everyone, especially the adults, had better behave. After everyone is done talking, if going to live with your aunt is what's best for you, then that's what I'll say."

Laura nods slowly; letting his words sink in. Harm wonders if the mention of contempt of court and a night in jail is troubling the girl, but she has other things on her mind. "Okay, but does it count if we don't go to the courtroom."

The judge chuckles. "I promise; it counts." He watches Laura frown for a second or two, and then the girl shrugs. "You're disappointed. You really did want to go to the courtroom; didn't you?"

Laura nods; her eyes going big.

The judge chuckles again and looks at his court officer who offers him a smile and an 'I told you so.' shrug. "Well that's what I get for thinking." He announces slapping his palms against his knees and coming to his feet.

"I don't understand." Laura tells him.

"Sometimes people your age are a little intimidated by my big old courtroom. I thought you'd probably be more comfortable here."

Laura wrinkles her nose and squints at him from her place in Mac's lap. "I don't know what that word means. What's intimidated?" She asks; pronouncing the word carefully.

"If something intimidates you, it makes you a little bit scared."

Laura shakes her head emphatically. "Aunt Mac talks to judges and goes to court a lot. She says it's not so scary. She says you just have to tell the truth; even if you don't like the truth."

"That's right." He affirms. You think you can do that?"

She nods; again with the same wide eyes.

"Okay. We'll go to the courtroom." He says; retrieving and donning his robe. "And on the way, will you tell me about your furry friend?"

Theresa Nelligan leads them out of the room as Laura answers, "That's Candy. She is my service dog. She helps me with stuff."

"Like what stuff?" The judge asks; falling into step beside Mac so he can maintain eye contact with the girl.

"If I don't have my walker, she'll let me lean on her. She'll walk with me and she picks up stuff I drop. I don't have to fall over trying to get it myself. If I get hurt, she'll stay with me and bark really loud until somebody comes to help. And she stays with me and keeps me company when things get scary."

Making an effort to sound casual, the judge asks, "When do things get scary?"

"When Mom fights with her stupid boyfriends."

"Does that happen a lot?"

Laura nods quietly.

Noticing her sudden silence, the judge returns to the safer topic as he approaches the end of the corridor. "So she's a very important dog. Think I can get me a dog like her?" he asks with a grin.

"No silly. The dog trainer said that if you don't need a dog like Candy, then you have to buy one, and they're really expensive. I got Candy for free, 'cause I need her. Aunt Mac helped me get her."

"Really? How did she help?"

"If you get a dog like Candy, you have to go to training, and you have to go to lots of meetings, and fill out lots of papers, and you have to promise to take really good care of her. Aunt Mac took me to training, and she filled out all the papers and she helps me take Candy to the vet so she doesn't get sick, and to the store, you know, to buy dog food and good girl biscuits for treats."

The judge nods as he pushes open a wide heavy door. "Well, here we are."

Mac steps into the room with Laura in her arms and watches the girl's expression shift from curiosity to wonder. It's not a fancy courtroom like the ones you see on TV. The linoleum floor is badly scuffed and in need of a good waxing. The wooden tables and chairs are old and battered. There is no formal jury box; only a row of uncomfortable looking metal chairs lined up against one wall. At the farthest point from the door there is the customary judge's bench, witness stand, and two flags; one for the state of California and one for the United States, along the wall behind the bench.

Despite the lack of mahogany paneled walls, or giant seal on the floor, or general splendor, Laura's awe is plainly evidence in her shining dark eyes.

"Laura, you pick which table you want to sit at." The judge says, making his way to the bench.

They all file in through the wooden gate that separates the court's gallery from the rest of the room. Laura looks around and selects the table on the left. That's where Harm and Mac come to stand along with Laura and her faithful sidekick, the two adults unconsciously adopting their familiar at ease posture from long years of habit. Having already been lowered to the floor in front of her own seat, Laura studies Mac's posture eagerly and tries to emulate her aunt as best she can; keeping one small hand on the table's edge for support

Deanne and Cassandra O'Hara take the table on the right by default along with Casey's lawyer. A social services caseworker remains in the gallery and Theresa Nelligan makes herself as comfortable as possible in one of the seats intended for jury members. Upon orders from the judge, the corrections officer removes Casey's handcuffs before taking her own seat in the first row of the gallery; directly behind Casey.

Judge Wayne Dubose's first order of business is a stern warning to Laura's mother who is already seated. As the judge begins to speak, her lawyer takes her elbow and silently but firmly encourages her to stand. "The removal of your handcuffs, Miss O'Hara, is a courtesy; not a right. Make me unhappy and you'll find yourself wearing them again. Cause any trouble in my courtroom and Officer Nelligan here has my permission to shoot you. Do you understand?"

"Yeah." Casey answers as if she's bored.

"I beg your pardon."

Casey glares at him with resentment in her eyes, but she stands up a little straighter and tries again. "Yes, Your honor."

"Good." He shifts his attention to the woman standing stiffly beside Casey. "I assume you are Deanne O'Hara."

"Yes Sir." She answers quietly.

"And your name, Sir? The judge shifts his gaze to the table across the aisle and gives an appreciative smile to the individuals there when he sees that they are still standing. "I appreciate the respect people, but this isn't a military courtroom. You can relax… A little."

"We'll try to Judge. It's habit. I'm Captain, Harmon Rabb Jr."

"I see. Are you her lawyer?"

"I am a lawyer. Colonel Mackenzie is more than capable of acting on her own behalf. I'm here as a friend of the family. Laura's welfare is of great interest to me."

"Very well." The judge says; pausing to give the militarycouple a speculative glance. "Be seated please."

There is a momentary clatter about the room as chair legs scrape the floor and people settle in. The judge waits the usual amount of time before clearing his throat and beginning.

"Now, I have reviewed what is already known about this case. The facts are as follows: at approximately 5:15 this past Saturday, August 18, 2007 Miss Cassandra O'Hara became involved in a domestic dispute while in her home with her boyfriend; one Mr. Derek Cardwell. The dispute became physically violent. The minor child, Laura O'Hara, was on the premises and phoned her aunt, Colonel Sarah Mackenzie, and asked to be removed from the residence in question. Local authorities were called and arrived in due time. When they attempted to arrest Mr. Caldwell for assaulting Miss Cassandra O'Hara"… He pauses to look pointedly at her. "Your response, young lady, was to assault the officer trying to assist you. Subsequently, he is hospitalized for the treatment of burns, and you are being held over, without bail, to stand trial for this assault. Does that about sum it up?"

"She had no right to take Laura out of the trailer, Judge."

"That's not an acceptable answer to the question I asked you, Miss O'Hara. Things will go a lot smoother for you here if you answer the questions you're asked, when you're asked. Now, are these the facts of this case?"

"Yes Sir," She replies sullenly.

"Very well then. That means it's my job to decide where your daughter lives during your subsequent incarceration; and possibly even after your release… So behave yourself. Is there anything you'd like to say about the proceedings here in this courtroom today?"

"Yeah. I don't think she should be allowed to show up here dressed like that. You said it yourself Judge; this isn't a military courtroom. Why did she show up in uniform? What? Is she trying to suck up to the judge?"

"Tread very carefully Miss O'Hara. Are you implying that this judge is so easily manipulated as to be swayed by nothing more than mere fabric?"

"I meant no offense Judge, but my lawyer told me she's on vacation …or leave; whatever they call it." Cassandra adds the last bit snidely.

"Colonel? Care to offer an explanation?"

"Yes, your honor. My sister is correct. Technically, I am on leave, but there was a situation at my office this morning that required my personal attention. As I had to go to my office in a professional capacity, I dressed the part. Things took a little longer than I expected them to. My options were to go home, change, and risk being late for court; or …to arrive, on time, as I am."

"That's good enough for me."

"Anything else Miss O'Hara? Anything important?" He adds in a stern tone.

"I still say she had no right to take Laura out of the trailer.'

"Miss O'Hara. The police department gave me photographs of what the inside of your trailer looked like after this little tete-a-tete. As I understand it, your daughter was hiding in her bedroom while all of this was taking place. It is completely inappropriate for you to think that exposing a child of her age, of any age, to this deplorable sort of behavior is acceptable! Even if she was not physically injured, have you any idea the psychological damage that witnessing something like that can do to a child. Stop acting as if your sister kidnapped your daughter. Prior to leaving your residence, she made certain that the police and child welfare officials knew exactly where Laura would be. Where is Pamela Jensen?" He asks looking around the room.

The social services worker in the gallery stands up. "I'm here, Your Honor."

"Were you given adequate information about Laura's whereabouts and care following her removal from the scene?"

"Absolutely, Your honor."

"Did Colonel Mackenzie attempt, at any point, to evade or obviate your authority?"

"On the contrary, sir. I'm quite use to that sort of behavior. Colonel Mackenzie was nothing but cooperative. Laura was already in the passenger seat of her car when I arrived at the residence in question. She gave me all pertinent information. She verified who she is, as did her mother, Ms. Deanne O'Hara. I visited her home the following Monday evening, at which point I was introduced to Captain Rabb. Hers is a small but comfortable home; more than adequate for the care of young Laura. I found Laura to be in good spirits, well fed, clean, and generally well looked after. She did seem a bit nervous, but that's to be expected under the circumstances."

"Just so I'm clear Ms. Jensen, to which circumstances are you referring?"

"Your honor, Saturday night was not the first time I've been called to the O'Hara residence. Laura knows me. She's a very bright little girl. She understands that my presence at her home is not a good thing. She knows it likely means that she will be staying in the care of Child Welfare. Laura has been removed from my mother's care three times in the past four years. She was first removed, immediately following her premature birth when her tox screen came back positive for narcotics. That was her longest stay with us. She was in foster care the first eight months of her life."

"So Miss O'Hara's neglect of her daughter is longstanding?"

"I've barely scratched the surface Judge."

"Ms. Jensen, if that's true, then why has Laura been repeatedly returned to her mother's care."

"Judge, Laura is not physically abused. She is neglected. There is no doubt about that. However, the child welfare system is overrun. By saying that, I'm not telling you anything you don't already know, but you may not know that this week alone I have one child in ICU with a badly fractured skull. His father hit him with a 20-pound weight because he left his bicycle out in rain the same night I went to Laura's home. I have another child, a little girl two years older than Laura, whose grandmother beat her with a hot clothing iron. There are too many children and not enough homes to place them in. The most critical cases get priority placement. It's a lousy argument sir, but we're doing the best we can."

"Your best is not nearly good enough." He says, not as a condemnation, but as a simple statement of fact.

"No your honor; it's not." Pamela Jensen concurs with a heavy heart.

She pauses before continuing, "I think you should be aware sir that Colonel Mackenzie got her niece out of the O'Hara residence before police arrived. She did it unassisted and with considerable risk to her own personal safety. Forgive me for this your honor, but it takes somebody with one hell of a backbone to willfully walk into a house in the throes of a domestic free-for-all. Her dedication to Laura's safety is paramount."

The judge's eyes dart to Mac's face. "Is this true Colonel?"

"It is sir."

"That was terribly risky."

"Yes sir. I'd do it again, your honor..."The air between them is heavy with the weight of her unspoken words.

The man on the bench raises a curious eyebrow. "Go on. Say whatever it is you're holding back."

Mac chooses her words carefully. "I know what it's like to be the little girl hiding in the closet when the world outside your bedroom door explodes."

He studies her quietly for several long seconds before he asks, "Your family has a history of domestic violence?"

"Sadly." is her simple reply.

"Have you ever been in an abusive relationship yourself, Colonel?"

"Not a physically abusive relationship." She answers; clarifying. "My relationship with my former husband wasn't exactly healthy - mentally or emotionally - but that was a long time ago. I've learned not to tolerate those kinds of relationships."

"Your sister has asked the court to place Laura with your mother. What's your opinion of this request?"

"Sir, I think granting such a request would be… ill-advised."

"Elaborate please."

"It is my opinion, your honor, that my mother is neither physically, emotionally, or financially capable of properly caring for Laura."

"Why not?"

"Because of her own health concerns, my mother lives on disability. Not that it's impossible to care for a child while receiving government assistance, but I believe the obvious financial constraint speaks for itself, especially when you consider that Laura has some very costly needs of her own. She already needs a new leg brace. She's outgrown the old one. It no longer fits, and is rubbing a pressure sore on her hip. The brace that her physical therapist recommends as a replacement will likely cost somewhere shy of two grand. Laura currently has no health insurance, although I have taken steps to correct this problem. Children her age usually have growth spurts. She could outgrow the new brace I'm getting for her in less than a year. If she does, it's also likely that she'll need a new walker as well. The one she has now is already set on the top height adjustment. Laura also needs intensive physical therapy to regain the strength that she has lost since her mother pulled her out of therapy five months ago. That too, will be costly. Then there are my concerns about my mother's physical ability to care for Laura. Laura often becomes tired because of her own disability. She often needs to be picked up, physically held, or supported. She's a small child. Yesterday at the pediatrician's office, she was put on the scale. She weighs 39 pounds. Her pediatrician and her physical therapist would both like to see her 10 pounds heavier. I question my mother's ability to carry her across the room now; let alone 10 pounds from now. Finally, my most pressing concern is my mother's emotional stability. She was married to an abusive husband for more than 16 years, and I'm not without compassion" Mac adds with tenderness. "But she hasn't been with Joe Mackenzie for 23 years and yet somehow he's still very much with her in spite of the fact that he died nearly eight years ago. My mother is the only parent Casey has ever known and she lives her life in fear. If you want to know what that will do to a child you need look no further than my sister. I want to stop this hideous cycle... for Laura. She deserves a home where she can feel safe. She deserves a home where she can be safe."

"Where exactly does Captain Rabb fit into all this." The judge wants to know.

Mac opens her mouth to speak, but stops short. She offers Harm a brief smile before addressing the judge again. "Sir, with your permission, I'd like to let Captain Rabb speak for himself."

Part 14: Harm's Testimony

Author's note: It's very short, but it took me a long time to get it this way. I need a box of Kleenex and a hug! Let me know what you think.

10:53 Hours

In the moment that follows Mac's testimony Harm takes command of the room; rising slowly to his feet. Mac recognizes his stalling tactic from long experience. As he steps around the corner of the table and perches lightly on the opposite edge, appearing to play to the crowd, what he's really doing is collecting his thoughts; choosing his words. For just a moment, he turns, offering Laura a smile and a wink. The little girl smiles back. He is the sole focus of every eye in the room. Even Laura's dog, who had been dozing lazily on the floor beside the table yawns once, picks up her head, and pricks her ears…waiting for something to happen.

God, Mac thinks, a slight smile gracing the corners of her mouth before he even begins, I miss watching him do this.

"If it pleases the court, Colonel, Sarah Mackenzie and myself have a longstanding and impenetrable friendship that we've only just recently allowed to become something more; something it should have become long ago. We've faced both peace and war together… and we've faced them apart. We've spent enough time apart to come to understand that neither of us cares for being away from the other. One week ago today I had no idea I'd be here, in a courtroom hoping to convince a judge to give Mac custody of a child I had never met. One week ago today, I hadn't yet begun to imagine the possibility of welcoming another child into my life. However, today, there's no place I'd rather be. Laura O'Hara needs a stable home life; one which I would consider it a privilege and an honor to be a part of. Furthermore, were I given the opportunity to choose any woman in this world to raise a child with…" Harm leaves his perch on the edge of the table and moves to stand beside Mac. With the unwavering attention of every soul in the room, he rests a hand tenderly upon her shoulder. "It would be this woman."

He pauses briefly, lending weight to his words as he swallows the lump rising in his throat before moving to stand behind Laura. With equal tenderness, he places both of his hands on either of her slender shoulders. "Laura needs compassion, attention, love, and guidance. She needs and deserves to have two parents who will show her that not every disagreement ends with tears, foul language, and bloodshed; or with someone who matters to her going to jail."

Harm pauses once more, letting his words take effect, before moving forward. "I believe Deanne O'Hara loves her granddaughter, but based on my experience with her, it's not in Laura's best interest to live with her. She needs many of the same things her granddaughter needs. It's foolish to think that she can give Laura the peace of mind that she herself doesn't appear to have. There is no one who better knows the road that Laura has been on than the Colonel, Your honor. Mac has already walked the long and difficult road that lies ahead of Laura. She has fought hard and earned the place in life she holds today. There is no one better suited than this accomplished Marine to show Laura the path to the healthier, happier, life she both needs and deserves. Laura couldn't possibly have a better role model or guardian."

As Harm moves to return to his seat; he concludes. "Laura needs her aunt. She needs Sarah Mackenzie."

Chapter 15: Laura's Testimony - Calamity Strikes

10:58 Hours

In the immediate wake of his testimony, no one speaks. Most of the adults in the room look slightly dazed, even Laura seems a little awe struck. Deanne O'Hara actually manages to smile at Harm; a small hesitant smile, but nonetheless a smile. Cassandra looks at her sister, bewilderment clearly present in her startled eyes; the younger woman looks slightly green around the gills. With her emotions caught in a stranglehold, Mac looks around the room and notices that Pamela Jensen, the child services employee and Theresa Nelligan, the court officer who earlier was given permission to shoot Cassandra if she caused any trouble, both look a little misty eyed.

Damn it! She thinks as unshed tears sting her own eyes. Just to keep the flow at bay, with a subtle movement that only the judge notices, she reaches out and lightly pinches Harm just below the elbow; inciting his raised eyebrow. As the judge clears his throat, Mac leans over and whispers, "I love you too Harm, but didn't anyone ever tell you, it's not nice to make a Marine cry… especially not in public!"

For a moment he doesn't breathe. Damn! He thinks; flashing his customary flyboy grin. She said it again!

Laura smiles wryly, shaking her head, and then covers her eyes with her small hands.

Noticing this, the judge inquires, "What's the matter, Miss Laura?"

"They look all dopey again Mr. Wayne. Like they're gonna kiss. They looked the same way yesterday… after they had a fight." Laura rolls her eyes.

In perfect harmony, both Mac and Harm respond; "Laura that was not a fight. That was a disagreement."

Giggling, Laura shrugs and ignores both of them. She tells the judge, "This is better. At least Harm didn't yell this time."

The judge raises an eyebrow and Mac groans inwardly. "Your honor, it was a minor disagreement that turned out to be very important because we scared Laura in the process. Harm and I both figured out that we just aren't going to be able to do that in front of her …at least not until she knows the difference between, and is comfortable with, our occasionally raised voices as opposed to the knockdown drag outs her mother seems to have a penchant for."

The judge pats the air with his left hand, indicating that she should stop. "Be quiet for a moment, Colonel." He turns his attention back to Laura. "They had an argument?"

Laura nods emphatically.

"What was the argument about?"

"Umm.." She wrinkles her nose. "I know I have to tell the truth, but is it okay it I say I'm not sure. 'Cause I'm not."

"That's fine Laura. Even if you don't understand what the argument was about, can you tell me some of what they said?"

Laura frowns and wrinkles her forehead; thinking hard. "First, Aunt Mac was yelling because Harm doesn't wanna fly anymore since his daughter died. I don't know why that's worth yelling about. And Harm yelled back. He said he didn't know why it was so important either. Then Aunt Mac told him she loves him and called him an idiot. It was really confusing and scary. Confusing because, Mom never says I love you when she's mad. She only says I love you when she wants something. It was scary because Mom never yells without hitting somebody. But, they don't act like Mom. When we went inside Aunt Mac slammed the door. Harm stayed outside for a few minutes, but when he came in he was yelling again. We were in the bathroom, and I told Aunt Mac to lock the door 'cause I was scared. She said I didn't have to be scared. She said he wasn't yelling because he was mad; not anymore, but I didn't care. Harm said to lock him out if it would make me not be scared anymore. She did and then she told me that sometimes they yell at each other, but they never hurt each other and they'll never hurt me. Then it wasn't so scary no more. It was kinda cool!" Laura bobs her head emphatically. "They yelled… And that's all! Nobody broke nothin', or threw anything. Nobody cried. Nobody got any bruises. They didn't even say any bad words." Laura shrugs. "It was weird…" so I said Aunt Mac could unlock the door. Harm even said he'd leave if I wanted him to, but Aunt Mac said she wanted to hug him so I said he could stay. He said he loves Aunt Mac too, and then they got all dopey; kinda like they are now. They're really weird Judge Wayne, I don't understand them, but I like 'em."

Judge Wayne Dubose had started chewing on his lower lip about the time Laura announced that they were 'kinda cool' when she concludes with 'I don't understand them, but I like 'em' he throws back his head and laughs with abandon.

Frowning, Laura tips her head to one side. "Hey! What's so funny? I'm being serious here!" which causes several people in the courtroom to join in on the laughter.

Trying to compose himself, the judge explains "Laura, darlin' we are all laughing because you're very charming. Try not to be so serious though. It's not really good for six-year-old little girls to be so serious."

Undaunted, Laura declares matter-of-factly, "I'm almost seven."

"Oh really? Well, that makes all the difference." The judge smiles lightheartedly. Adopting a more serious tone, he asks, "So what happened after they got all dopey?"

"Then we went to see Dr. Abigail and Charlie." She says happily.

The judge looks to Mac for clarification and she answers, "Dr. Abigail Pressman, her pediatrician, and Charlie Waters, her physical therapist."

"Is she ill?"

"No Your honor. I just wanted to gather as much information as possible about Laura so that I can make informed decisions about her care. In the last week, I've seen her pediatrician and her physical therapist. I've seen two former school teachers so that I can get a feel for where she's at scholastically. I'm also in the process of applying for health benefits for Laura, so that no matter where she is placed, she will have access to the health care and the equipment she needs."

"Colonel, can you verify all this?"

"Of course sir."

A wide leather briefcase sits on the floor at Harm's end of the table. He picks it up and stands it upright on the table. Mac releases the brass catches and has to reach into the case three times to remove all the paperwork inside it. She divides it all into three neatly organized stacks.

"Good heavens!" The judge exclaims. "Is that all for one little girl!"

Laura giggles. "Charlie says someday he's gonna write a book about me."

"From the looks of it, I'd say, he already has." The judge declares dryly.

"Which would you like first, your honor; her pediatrician's records, her therapist's records, or her school records?"

The judge waves both hands in a come-hither gesture. "Bring it all to me, and you people go get some lunch while I read the Book of Laura."

While Harm and Mac carry stacks of paperwork to the bench, Judge Dubose lightly taps his gavel. "Court is in recess for one hour."

Part 16: Court Is Adjourned

Author's Note: The following courtroom scene, like the ones before it, is extremely relaxed. Although I changed his name for the sake of anonymity, "Judge Wayne" is a real-life close personal friend. He tends to let children under the age of ten run the show in his courtroom...within limits of course. He usually does whatever it takes to make the tiny humans comfortable. With kids approaching puberty, he does stiffen up... a bit.

12:25 Hours

Settling into his seat the judge addresses his courtroom once more. "I trust everybody had a good lunch. Let's all try not to fall asleep now that our stomachs are full."

"My tummy's not full." Laura answers happily. "My tummy's never full!"

"Laura, doesn't your aunt feed you?"

She nods vehemently. "I had a cheeseburger, french fries, and a big bowl of vegetables soup for lunch. The yogurt machine in the cafeteria is broken, so I ate an oatmeal cookie and some pears for dessert."

Amazed, Judge Dubose stares down at her from his bench. "Is she serious? The cheeseburgers in the courthouse cafeteria are enormous."

"Harm chuckles. "Yes sir. She has her aunt's appetite. It defies logic. I can't figure out where they put it. If I ate the way either one of them does, you'd need a forklift to get me in here."

"Hey, I ate vegetable soup too." Laura objects and then asks, "Who goes next Judge Wayne? My new shoes are making my feet hurt, so I need to go home soon."

"Your feet hurt? Are your shoes the wrong size?"

Already taking Laura's shoes off, Mac answers," No, your honor. Yesterday, Charlie Waters told me that until Laura gets her new leg brace, it would help her tremendously if I bought her a decent pair of walking shoes. I bought her three pair yesterday evening. Part of the problem is that the new shoes support her better than what she was wearing before which makes her eager to walk more. However, her muscles are weakened from lack of therapy. Cassandra pulled her out of therapy five months ago. Additionally, the better quality shoes hold her foot in a more appropriate position. The muscles in her ankles are not use to this so, after a while, they start to ache. She just needs time to adjust and get stronger. The only way to slow her down in the interim is to make her take the shoes off and rest every few hours. It's a balancing act. I don't want her to overdo it, and at the same time, she needs to wear the shoes as much as possible to increase her stamina; especially before school starts. She'll need to be able to get through the day."

"Yes" He answers. "I saw several notations in her file. Apparently, he requested numerous times that her mother buy her shoes that would actually meet her needs." The judge eyes Laura's loud lime green high top sneakers. "Are those shoes better Laura?"

"Way better! It easier to walk, or even just to stand up! I got these, some white ones, and some ones that are orange and purple. Aunt Mac likes to shop for shoes; even if they aren't her shoes! She picked the kind that Charlie told her to get, but I got to pick the colors myself!"

"And I see you like bright colors"

Laura's happy eyes go wide and she nods with vigor.

The judge turns his attention to her mother. "Can you please tell me why Laura's therapist made notations about asking you to get Laura better shoes on eight separate occasions?"

"Are you kidding? Do you know how much those things cost? She's gonna outgrow them in six months. If my sister really bought three pair of those things she dropped 200 bucks. I can't afford that."

The judge shifts his eyes to the other side of the aisle again?"

"Colonel? How much did you spend on shoes for Laura yesterday?"

"Your honor, I didn't bring the receipt with me, but it was $140 and some change. Two of the pairs were part of a buy one, get one ½ price special."

"Miss O'Hara, you stink of cigarette smoke. How much do you spend every month on cigarettes?"

"I don't know." She answers sounding very much like an annoyed teenager.

"How much does one pack cost?"

"Almost $7.00."

"At one pack a day, you'd only have to go one week without cigarettes to buy your daughter a pair of shoes. Shoes, I might add, that she needs! If you smoke more than one pack a day, all you would need to do is cut back. Now, if you're so short on funds, please explain to me why this child doesn't at least have Medicaid. I'm quite certain she qualifies. Why is her aunt the one attempting to sign her up? This should already be done! Your daughter has some very serious needs that you clearly aren't capable of financing. So, why haven't you done this?"

"All that government assistance sounds great Judge. Nobody tells you that you'll drive yourself crazy trying to figure it out or that you'll spend half your life filling out paperwork. I don't have the patience for that crap!"

"Miss O'Hara, stand up!"

Cassandra looks shocked. "What for?"

"What for? Because I'm the judge and I said so!"

She complies nervously.

"Good! Now look at your daughter!"

Cassandra turns with the slouched posture of a bored teenager."

"Are you seriously going to stand there and tell me that your daughter isn't worth a little paperwork? Are you really going to stand there and tell me that this little girl isn't worth a damn airplane hangar filled, floor to ceiling, front to back, with paperwork and all the headaches that comes with it?"

Wordlessly, she shrugs.

"Sit down!"

"What?"

"Sit down Miss O'Hara! I am done with you!" He barks loudly, and then lowers his voice when he catches sight of Laura's wide eyed expression. "If I have my way about it, you won't get your daughter back even after you are released from jail… And you should know, it's a very rare occasion that I don't get my way!"

"Laura, darlin', it's okay. I'm done yellin' now. I just don't like it when parents don't take care of their kids. It makes me mad."

"That's okay." Laura whispers. "I get mad sometimes too." She shrugs as if she is okay with this, but then just to be on the safe side, she scoots out of her chair, and moves very carefully on the linoleum floor in her stocking feet. Without words, she gently pokes Harm below the shoulder a few times, and then waits for him to slide his chair back from the table and pick her up. Harm complies with nothing more than a smile. Laura looks at the judge, "I'm okay now. You can yell some more if you want to."

Instead of yelling, Judge Dubose turns his attention to Laura's grandmother. "If Laura is placed with you, as your daughter wants, how are you going to afford the things she needs?"

"I won't be able to without help." The woman answers quietly and truthfully. Cassandra wants her with me because I've known her longer than Sarah has… Well, that and to be honest, Cassandra doesn't particularly like Sarah. I think she resents the fact that Sarah seems to be doing so much better than her. She's also jealous of Sarah's relationship with Laura."

"Mom; shut up!" Cassandra growls ominously.

"Miss O'Hara!" The judge bangs his gavel and Laura jumps. "Well; damn it!" He says gruffly. "Theresa come here!" His court officer gets up and walks promptly but casually to the bench. When she arrives, he hands her his gavel. "Take this damn thing away from me!"

Laura giggles.

Theresa Nelligan walks to their table and lays the gavel down in front of Laura. "Here sweetheart, the next time he yells you give the desk a good whack!" With a wink and a smile, she leans in close and in a loud stage whisper she adds," It's okay with me if you throw it at him!"

Laura giggles again; shaking her head theatrically.

Returning to her seat, she intones "Lucky for you Judge, she's sweeter than that pack of hoodlums you had in here yesterday."

The judge ignores his court officer, and it's comically clear to both Mac and Harm that these two people have worked together for a very long time.

Without a gavel to bang, the judge glares at Laura's mother. "Young lady, you speak to your mother that way again in my presence and I will see to it that you spend three days in solidarity confinement!"

Cassandra O'Hara opens her mouth to speak but is cut off. "It was a statement Miss O'Hara; not a question. No response is required. In fact, it would please me greatly if you didn't speak again for the duration of your time in my courtroom." Breathing deeply; the judge addresses Deanne O'Hara once more. Calmly, he asks "Have you ever met any of Laura's teachers?"

She shakes her head.

How about her pediatrician; Dr. Pressman, or her physical therapist; Charlie Waters?"

"Just the pediatrician Judge; not the therapist."

"Ms. O'Hara, I've reviewed Laura's medical file. The Colonel highlighted several passages that were filled with pertinent information to make them easy to find. So, I know she's read the file. Have you?"

Again, she shakes her head.

"Can you define ataxia, supination, high tone pronation, or gross motor function?"

Deanne O'Hara shakes her head for the third time.

Mac stands up. "Your honor, with all due respect, sir, I didn't know what most of those words or phrases meant until 24 hours ago, myself."

"Colonel, I didn't know what most of those words or phrases meant until 15 minutes ago. When you handed me those files, I needed a medical dictionary just to get through page one. Your sister's argument is that your mother knows Laura better, because she's known her to longer. You've have Laura for six days and based on your notes in the margins of those files you could easily define every one of those words and a few dozen more. Your mother's had nearly seven years."

"Laura Honey, you're going home… With your aunt!"

Laura beams, giggles, and doesn't know who to hug first. She hugs Harm because he's closest and then scampers over the arms of chairs to get to Mac. No sooner than she has her arms around Mac, she's reaching for Harm again.

"You can't do that!" Casey screams; coming to her feet so violently that she turns both her chair and the table in front of her over. In the process, she nearly turns over her lawyer's chair. The man barely manages to get clear of her. "She's a drunk!" Casey's face is nearly plum-colored with rage. The room falls silent. The young woman's body appears to vibrate with the sheer force of her anger.

Even clear across the aisle, Mac and Harm crowd around Laura; keeping her small body between both of theirs and hugging her tightly.

Theresa Nelligan and the corrections officer who arrived with Cassandra are both on their feet instantly, closing the distance between themselves and her; pushing her to the floor.

When the noise dies, Mac is not surprised to see her mother in a far corner of the room; her back pressed to the wall, but before Mac can react to that, Laura whales.

"That's not fair, and it's not true either. She's lying!" The little girl looks to the judge who has gone to stand beside her frightened grandmother.

"Judge Wayne" Laura sobs. "Mom drinks beer every day; lots of beer! Aunt Mac doesn't drink any beer anymore. She stopped. She told me so."

The judge eyes Mac with concern. "Colonel?"

"Your honor, I haven't had a drink in nine years and five months." She says simply.

With her sister back in handcuffs and physically forced to sit in her chair by the two firm hands on her shoulders; the judge passes a long hard look between the two women. The one in handcuffs glares at him as if she might like to bite him. The full bird Colonel stands straight and tall. Rubbing her niece's back; she silently and calmly awaits his decision. The judge gives Laura one last crooked smile. "Are you still here darlin'? Take your aunt, and your friend Harm, and go home. Court is adjourned."

Chapter 5: Saturday, August 25, 2007

Part 17: The List

"Umm umm, don't move!" Mac hums sleepily and wiggles closer.

In response to this Harm picks his head up off the pillow and looks down at the top of her head awkwardly.

Playfully she smacks his bare chest with the palm of one hand. "You're moving!" She objects.

"What time is it?" Harm notices it's late enough for the sun to be fully up. It's probably after 08:00.

"I don't know and I don't care. I don't even care that I don't know. Stop moving!"

Harm chuckles and winds the fingers of his left hand into her hair. Is your clock on the fritz again?"

"It's your fault. Every time it resets itself, you come along and cause a power surge."

"Hey, it's not like you were screaming 'No!" He smirks.

"Course not." She murmurs. "Harm, anybody ever tell you that you make a lousy pillow. Be still!"

"Okay. Five more minutes and then we have to get up."

"Why?"

"We're going to La Jolla today."

"Not until lunchtime. I know it's not that late. Laura would burn down the house if she missed breakfast."

"And that's just one more reason we have to get up Ninja Girl. Mini Mac is going to want to eat… Probably soon."

"God Harm! Don't call her that. She'll take it as encouragement. The last thing anybody needs to do is to encourage her to be more like me."

"Oh, I don't know about that." He says; rubbing her shoulder.

"Seriously Harm. It's a miracle I found her when I did, before Casey managed to destroy her sweet tender little soul. She's already got my blood in her veins. That means some of her genes are angry, some of them are drunk, and the rest of them are probably so confused it's ridiculous. All she really wants is to be loved. Maybe we got to her in time. Maybe she won't grow up needing six men at one time to feel complete. Maybe she won't grow up terrified of being alone."

Harm picks his head up again. "How do women manage to walk upright under the crushing weight of all their maternal worries?"

Mac shrugs. "I don't know. Maybe because they have to. Ask your mother."

"I'm asking you."

"All I know is that if she doesn't wind up someplace better than where she started, it'll be my fault."

"You worry way too much. She's already someplace better than where she started; someplace monumentally better. All you have to do now is just do the next right thing."

"You say that like I know what the next right thing is."

"Well, we could start by getting up and making some breakfast.

Mac pulls the quilt tighter around them and tries to snuggle even closer. "Not yet."

"Mac, what's going on with you? You're usually the one telling me to get up."

"I'm being childish… But I don't care. The sooner we start this day; the sooner it's going to be over. I'm not ready yet!" She sulks.

"Oh man. I forgot to tell you!"

"Tell me what?" She asks; finally picking her head up off his shoulder to look at him.

"I'm not leaving… At least not today anyway."

She scowls. "Uh Harm, can you say AWOL? Can you say court martial?"

He grins at her.

"No…How about Leavenworth?"

"Simmer down Marine. Preferably now, you know, before you get yourself all worked up… I requested an extension on my leave."

"You did? When? Why didn't you tell me?" She asks in rapid fire succession

"I did. Thursday morning. I didn't tell you at first because I didn't know how to explain the reason without upsetting you. Then the whole disagreement thing happened, Laura got scared, and then it was doctor's appointments and shoe shopping. My request was approved. I got the e-mail yesterday morning while you were at the office. Then we had court."

"And after court Laura was just so happy… and full of energy." She fills in the blanks herself. "She wore herself out last night. I didn't think she'd ever go to sleep. Wait. What do you mean you didn't know how to tell me without upsetting me?"

Harm cups a hand around the back of her head and gently returns it to his shoulder. "I was worried about yesterday. I didn't want to leave you the day after… Especially not if things didn't go well… But I didn't want to say that either."

"And you say I worry too much! Even if she'd been placed with Mom, it's not like I'd never see her again. Who do you think was going to help Mom out financially?"

"I figured as much. But Wednesday was so hard for you. I figured Friday would be worse… If it had gone differently."

"How long do we have?" Mac changes the subject quietly.

"Until next Saturday evening. I figure we can spend the day with Mom and Frank, and maybe sometime tomorrow, we can sit down, and talk seriously about the whole address thing and how we're going to resolve it. I'm going to have to be the one to transfer. You can't leave the country with Laura… At least not right now."

"I know. I'm sorry Harm."

"For what? I hate London; remember? Besides, there's bound to be something in the area. Of course, things would go a lot smoother for us if…"

Suddenly they hear the sound of a small walker bumping their door with the intent to cause it to open. The door does open and a sleepy-eyed little girl peeks around it with a serious case of bed head. "Morning people. Get up! Feed me!" Laura orders them happily. She's gone just as quickly as she came.

"Told you so." Harm laughs. "…And, she doesn't knock either."

"Well, what do you expect? My sister's not exactly modest… You know, in case you hadn't noticed. We'll put that on the list."

"Oh, I noticed. The list? What list?"

"You know, the list. This week was for Laura; therapy, doctors, teachers, court… Next week we'll make a plan to resolve the address thing, and teach Laura to knock before entering; especially this room, Flyboy!"

Part 18: Arrival in La Jolla

La Jolla California - Shortly before lunchtime

"Trish, Honey, did he tell you that he was bringing a woman with him?" Frank Burnett asks his wife. His back is to her while he stands at the big window in their sprawling living room.

Harmon Rabb, Jr.'s mother puts her crossword puzzle down immediately. Not wasting a single moment, she quick- steps across the room to join her husband at the window asking, "Harm brought a woman… here?"

While Frank laughs at his wife's sparkling eyes, she stands on tiptoe, peering over his shoulder and nudging him out of the way.

"Oh Frank!" She exclaims. "Get me all excited, would you! That's just Mac."

"That's Mac!" Frank Burnett stares at the brunette in the robin's egg blue summer sundress who is getting out of the passenger seat of his stepson's rental. "Mac, the Marine? Are you sure? She don't look like no Marine I ever saw!"

Trish rolls her eyes and snacks him on the rump.

They stand, watching a moment longer as the Marine in question lifts a small girl from the backseat. She is saying something to the girl and the conversation is animated. Harm steps around the vehicle closing the rear door and coming into view while carrying a small walker. He is also rolling his eyes in response to whatever it is that the girls are talking about.

The two adults watching from inside exchange curious looks.

"No, he didn't say he was bringing Mac, or this girl."

Then, Trish answers a question her husband doesn't even have to verbalize. "I guess they're talking again. Thank God!"

Outside, the threesome stares up at the house. Mac says to Laura, "Don't break anything inside this house okay, baby?"

"How do you know there's anything to break inside this house?" Laura wants to know.

"By looking at the outside, and I mean it, please be careful. I can't afford the things inside this house." Mac tells her nervously."

"Mac!" Harm laughs; rolling his eyes as he slams the rear door. "Will you please relax? It's not like you've never met my mother before." He drops a light kiss on her lips and puts his free arm around her waist.

Still at the window inside, and only mildly astonished, Trish comments. "Well that's new… New, and long overdue."

Frank chuckles as he lets his wife pull him toward the front door. Her eyes are sparkling again.

As they make their way up the winding front walk, Mac quietly answers Harm. "Yes, but I haven't seen your mother in years, and the last time I did, you weren't short circuiting my internal clock at every possible opportunity."

Part 19: Laura Makes New Friends

Harm opens the front door just wide enough to poke his head in. "Anybody home?" He calls out in jest with a smile as he sees his mother entering the foyer from the living room.

"Nope, 'fraid not." Trish Burnett teases her son as Mac, with the little girl Trish doesn't know still in her arms, steps in behind him. "When you called the other day to say you'd be dropping in for lunch, Frank and I decided we'd jump ship today instead; go out for ice cream."

"Yeah yeah… You're a figment of my imagination." Harm chuckles as he wraps his arms around her. "Hi Mom." He breathes gently as he kisses her cheek.

She returns his warm hug for a long moment and then fusses, "Let me go. Let me look at you."

He lets her step out of their embrace and turns his attention to the man half a step behind her. He does his best to ignore his mother's inspection while he says, "Hello Frank." offering the man a firm handshake.

"Good to see you, Harm. It must be nice to be stateside again."

"That's no lie. I may be in trouble. It may take a Marine to get me back on the plane bound for London next Saturday."

"Oh, you're getting on the plane. I will not come visit you in the brig… especially not if I have to fly ten hours to do it." Mac comments dryly as she offers the older couple a smile.

"Mac, you already know Mom. This is Frank." Harm says gesturing his way.

Mac eyes the man with steel gray hair and merry blue eyes as she shakes his hand. "It's a pleasure to meet you Mr. Burnett." She says noticing that the man is less than two inches shorter than Harm. Trish likes them tall and good looking. She muses silently as Frank Burnett gently corrects her.

"Just call me Frank. Trish has told me so much about you over the years, we're nearly family."

"We are family." Trish corrects her husband as she drops an unexpected arm around Mac's shoulders and gives her a gentle squeeze. "And you've lost weight since last I saw you Harm." "What's the matter? Don't you eat over there across the pond?"

"Of course I eat, Mom." He chuckles, but Trish isn't particularly interested in his reply. Immediately after asking the question, she turns her full attention to the wide dark eyes of the little girl in Mac's arms who has been silently watching them all. "Harm, why didn't you tell me you were bringing Mac, and who is this sweet-faced pixie?"

Only momentarily quiet, because she doesn't yet know these people, Laura likes the smile Trish gives her and although Harm opens his mouth to answer, as is customary, Laura decides to speak for herself.

"I'm Laura!" she declares happily. "I live with Aunt Mac. What's a pixie, please? Are you really Harm's mom? He's taller than you!"

Charmed by the girl's boldness as much as her innocence and honesty, Trish laughs and concentrates on replying to all her comments and questions in the right order. "It's delightful to meet you, Laura. When did you move in with your aunt? A pixie is a fairy; like Tinker Bell. Yes, I'm really his mom, and darling, he's been taller than me since he was 13."

Trish watches the little girl hug Mac a little tighter as she answers the question she was asked. I've been with Aunt Mac for a week, but yesterday Judge Wayne said I get to stay with her 'cuz Harm told him I need her. Harm said there was nobody better to take care of me and that he would pick Aunt Mac out of all the ladies in the world to take care of his kids."

The woman's eyes go wide. She doubts the child knows how telling her statement is, and Trish doesn't miss the fleeting but warm glance that passes between her son and Sarah Mackenzie. "Well Laura, it sounds like yesterday was a very important day. Somebody better fill in the details for me; catch me up. I seem to recall Harm telling me that your aunt once made very similar statements about him."

"Okay. I can tell you all about it, but is lunch ready yet? I'm hungry!"

Mac laughs apologetically as Frank offers to take the little girl from her arms with outstretched hands. Not shy at all with these new friends, Laura immediately reaches for him. "Lunch isn't quite ready yet." He answers taking Laura into his own arms. "But you can split a banana with me if it won't spoil your appetite."

Harm laughs boldly. "Frank, you better give her the whole banana… and maybe half of yours too. This pixie has a Marine-size appetite."

Trish leads the happy bunch into the kitchen as Laura begins to fill Trish in as requested. "I can't live with Mom anymore. Mimi's nice, but it's no fun living with somebody who's scared all the time. Aunt Mac is better. She took me back to see Charlie again, and she's getting me a new brace too, which is really good, because I need one real bad."

Trish listens closely; hanging on the little girl's every word although she has no context for the conversation. Mac nods silently; in an 'I'll fill you in soon' gesture.

Part 20: It's Simple

They all listen to Laura chatter on about the events of the previous week with both Harm and Mac occasionally inserting pertinent facts that the little girl leaves out, but for the most part they let her tell the story from her own point of view. In the kitchen, both Trish and Frank hang on every word as all of the adults put the finishing touches on their meal preparation. When Laura is finished Trish comments. "You three have had a busy week. Harm, why didn't you tell me any of this when you called earlier this week?"

"It's a bit much to get into one the phone, Mom. The tale was better told in person."

"Well, I suppose that's true enough." Trish muses.

Mac stirs a healthy dollop of mustard into a large bowl of potato salad while Harm mixes salad greens and Trish combines ingredients for salad dressing. "How's this?" Mac asks, offering Harm a small sample from a clean teaspoon. "Too much mustard now?"

"No. The mustard's fine, but it needs a tad more onion."

Without comment, Trish stops when she's doing and moves to the refrigerator to extract what's left of a white onion wrapped in a sandwich baggie and hands it to Mac.

"About half that will do." Harm says.

Mac shakes her head. "You said a tad. You call ¼ of a large onion a tad?"

Harm laughs." Mac you never cease to amaze me. How can someone who likes to eat as much as you do, not know how to make something as simple as potato salad?"

Mac scowls but banters lightly. "Listen Squid!..."

Laura is sitting on top of the kitchen's breakfast bar munching on her banana. She cocks her head to one side; studying them. For a moment she looks a little tense, but after she assesses the situation she smiles at Frank, who sits on an upholstered bar stool with the little girl's feet, clad in bright orange and purple sneakers, in his lap. "It's okay." She tells Frank in a loud whisper. "They're not really mad. They just like to make noise. They're weird!"

Frank winks and nods conspiratorially at the girl as Mac continues, "Nobody ever taught me how to do this… Trish?" she asks; looking for an ally. "When would you teach a girl to do these things?"

Trish shrugs good-naturedly. "I don't know. I didn't teach him. He figured most of this out on his own, and anyway he's not a girl. If I had to guess, I'd say sometime after the age of 12 but before she left home."

"See! My grandmother died when I was 11. My mother split on me when I was 15. Who was supposed to teach me to do this? Joe? The man could barely boil water without setting fire to the kitchen! It's not my fault! I'm not Martha Stewart or Paula Dean, and after 11 years I think you should already know that Flyboy." She elbows him playfully in the ribs. "Don't use nondescript words like tad or pinch that are relative to an individual person's tastes or preferences. Give me a standard measurement like a tablespoon, ½ cup, or… ¼ of an onion. That, I understand." She declares as she begins to dice the pungent vegetable in question.

A moment later, Mac glances up from her slicing to catch a glimpse of that familiar grin, but there is something slightly different in it; something she can't quite give a name to. "And what's wrong with you anyway, Harm? You've been looking at me like that on and off all day. The first time was this morning. We'd just started talking about what it might take to get you transferred back to the States. Laura interrupted the conversation, wanting breakfast."

Trish continues mixing salad dressing and listens without comment; her interest piqued.

"Now I want lunch." Laura chimes in. "And you guys still don't know what you're gonna do."

"Baby there are four adults in this kitchen. We are all working to put your lunch on table." Mac smiles at the girl. "Have a little patience please… and finish your banana."

Harm gives Mac a noncommittal shrug as Laura rolls her eyes and has another bite of banana.

"Aunt Mac has to stay here. She can't leave." The girl reasons out loud as she swallows. "Not with me. Not even if the Marine Corps says it's okay with them. Harm, you have to come here."

Harm sets the bowl of salad aside and moves to stand nearer the girl. Placing his elbows on top of the bar and leaning on them, he comes face to face with her and smiles. "We know that sweetheart, but the Navy has to say it's okay too. There are a couple of different things we can try. We just have to decide on what approach we want to take."

Laura bites her lower lip and wrinkles her brow. "Why is that so hard? Why don't you just get married? The dumb Navy and the stupid Marine Corps can't make you live in two different countries if you're married…can they?"

After a beat Laura realizes that the room has fallen completely silent. None of the adults are speaking. They've all stopped moving too, in the middle of whatever task each one of them was performing. Everyone is staring at her. Everyone except for Trish, that is. She is busy looking back and forth between her son and the little girl's aunt with a bemused expression on her face

"What?" Laura demands. "What's the matter? All I said was you should get married." She shrugs.

Mac is the first person to recover the ability to speak. "Laura." She starts slowly and quietly. "Baby, two people can't just get married because it's convenient… or at least, they shouldn't."

"Duh! Who cares if it's convenient... whatever that means? Big people are weird! Why do you have to make it so hard? It's simple. Get married because you love each other."

Before anyone speaks again, Laura scoots off the bar into Frank's lap. "Come on Mr. Frank. Let's go outside now. I told Miss Trish and I wouldn't let you burn the chicken on the grill."

Frank Burnett rises to his feet, scooping the little girl up into his arms and leaves the kitchen without a word; motioning for his wife to follow.

Part 21: On One Condition

A palpable hush falls over the house when older couple and the small girl step out onto the back patio via the French doors facing east at one end of the kitchen. Mac moves in the opposite direction. She crosses her arms over her chest and stands gazing out a window that overlooks a beautifully manicured flower bed filled with a variety of brightly colored buds she does not know the names of.

The shift in her mood is no real surprise to Harm. Not that he knows what to say or do about it with any real certainty, but he does know it's too late to do nothing. He crosses the room to stand behind her. Placing a hand on both her shoulders, hoping to keep both himself and her grounded through touch, he offers quietly. "You're both right."

She does not speak or move but somehow he senses the question she doesn't verbalize.

"Both you and Laura. Nobody should ever get married for the sake of convenience, but she's right too. Who cares if it's convenient? Surely we aren't supposed to let that be the reason we don't do it. For just one minute forget about everything else Mac; the jobs, the military, our obligations… What if none of that mattered? If everything were in our favor… or even if the world was against us… either way, would you marry me?"

Without a single clue how to voice all the different things she feels, she opens her mouth to speak and nothing will come out because she can't even breathe. She turns to face him; hoping he will understand her struggle to find the words. She looks up at him and watches silently as something in his blue eyes shifts. Hope slowly begins to sink in their depths, trading places with dread and desperation and she doesn't understand why.

"Is the thought of marrying me really that horrible Mac?" Feeling as if he's been slapped, he tries to take a step back but she follows; reaching out for him.

Confused, and frustrated by that confusion, she shakes her head vehemently.

Harm interprets this action as an answer to his first question and becomes confused himself. He had expected that she might be hesitant. He hadn't expected an outright refusal. He doesn't know whether to stand rooted in place, or to flee.

Mac sees and understands his confusion. Willing her vocal cords to function properly, she grabs for him, clings to him; both of her hands on either of his arms halfway between his shoulders and his elbows. "Stay!" she finally manages to blurt out before she inhales raggedly.

He does stay; simply because she asked him to. Powerless to do anything else he watches her breathe. He hadn't realized that she'd stopped until she turned to face him. Maybe that's why she didn't answer, he thinks. Hope stops sinking, and when she tenderly touches his face, it slowly and tentatively, begins to rise again.

Mac wills herself to keep breathing and to not choke on tears. "It isn't horrible at all. Harm, It's… I guess I gave up thinking we'd ever get here." She adds quietly, "It's wonderful."

"Then why do you look terrified Mac?" He asks barely able to whisper.

"Do I? I'm sorry. I guess because I am."

"Why? It's not like you don't know me." He asks in a pinched voice. "It's not like we're strangers."

"Please don't be hurt." Her eyes plead with him for understanding. "I just feel like a freak here. Your family… They're just so damn normal. I don't fit here Harm."

He can't help but laugh. So she won't take it in the wrong way, he pulls her close and wraps her in a hug. "You fit right here in my arms, just fine." He tells her tightening his embrace. "And my family is far from normal. I've got a mother who's annoyed with me because she doesn't know what's going on in my life, a kindhearted stepfather I've only begun to treat fairly in recent years, a brother I barely speak to, and a dead daughter whose voice I hear almost daily. You call that normal?"

"Your mother's annoyed with you because she loves you Harm. She worries about you. She misses you. Your stepfather put up with you before you treated him fairly for the same reasons. Your brother barely talks to you because he's not interested in having the big brother you want to be. And you hear Mattie's voice almost daily because the love between a parent and a child isn't supposed to die. All of these personal interactions in your life come from a place of love. My family's different." She takes another ragged breath before continuing.

"My sister, who I didn't know existed for the better part of 22 years, is in jail for assaulting a police officer who was trying to help her. She can't figure out how to have a relationship that's not abusive. And she's just as abusive as the men she picks. Now I'm supposed to take care of her daughter. Not that I would have it any other way, but most days I don't have a clue what I'm doing with her. The only time my mother ever gets annoyed with me is when I say, or do, something that reminds her of my father. The rest of the time she couldn't care less. I can't even introduce her to the man I'm in love with without watching her fight the impulse to run away because she's just so… messed up." Mac sighs heavily. "And nobody knows better than you how messed up I am. Are you sure you really want to marry into all that?"

He rests his chin on top of her head and whispers. "Never been more sure of anything in my life, Sarah."

Her heart skips a beat or two as she continues. "I know you said it doesn't matter how. You've said it more than once, very convincingly… but are you sure? I know you want kids. You don't have to be stuck with me, Harm. You don't have to deal with my defective uterus. You wouldn't have any trouble finding somebody; some woman who can probably get pregnant just by using the same bath soap as you."

"Mac… first, I'm pretty sure it doesn't work that way. Second, I don't want anybody else."

"You might…if you tried." She says miserably.

Harm laughs again. "Mac, I tried for the better part of 11 years; Kate, Annie, Jordan, Renee. They all knew we were going nowhere. Renee married her father's mortician for God's sake. I'm tired of trying. If the puzzle is meant to fit together, you don't have to force the pieces into place. I want you. I love you."

She leans back in his arms so she can look up at him. He tenderly brushes away tears she hadn't known she'd shed. "When?" She inquires in a hushed tone.

He raises an eyebrow. "When what? When do I want you…love you? All the damn time; even when I'm mad at you."

She smiles. It's a watery smile, but it's a smile. "No Flyboy! When do you wanna get married?"

"If I could find a way to make it happen, I'd do it tomorrow; today even, but I guess it all depends on… Hey wait! Does that mean yes?"

It's her turn to laugh, and she snuggles close again before she answers. "Yes!" She breathes. I'll marry you… but... I do have one condition."

Harm tries to mentally steel himself for whatever comes next. "Oh boy!" He jokes before he silently counts to ten. "Okay. I'm ready. Lay it on me."

Mac smiles up at him. Coming up on tiptoe, she steals a quick kiss. "Before we can get married, you have to take me out to dinner."

Harm isn't sure what he expected, but it wasn't this; and it shows in the befuddled expression that quickly forms on his face. "Uh… Mac… How many times have we had dinner together in the last 11 years?"

"I don't know. Lots of times; but that's not what I mean. Harm, I want to go out on a date…with you. At least once before I marry you."

Hope has not only risen from its cold depths, but it's now soaring high in the clouds and the flyboy grin is back. "Okay. Is that all? I can do that! Uh, I mean we can do that! Where do you wanna go?"

Mac shakes her head happily. "Uh uh. You pick; and what exactly does our wedding date still depend on? You started to say something important before you got all excited."

He doesn't answer her right away. In fact, several minutes go by before he does. First, he feels compelled to kiss the woman nestled in his arms. It starts out sweet and tender, but by its end they are both breathless and clinging to each other.

With that done, Mac feels safe enough to let him out of her embrace and for one moment they simply stand still; each one gazing at the other.

From somewhere outside, they hear Laura's happy voice, but not quite clearly enough to make out her words.

Harm smiles. "She's gonna revolt if we don't feed her soon."

Mac nods. "Let's set the table." She moves to the counter and picks up the large bowl of potato salad as Harm steps to the door leading out to the patio. He stops and points to another door leading out of the kitchen. "Not in here Mac." He says nodding at the small kitchen table. "The dining room table. Mom will want it that way."

Mac nods again and shrugs. "Okay."

Opening the exterior door that he's closest to, Harm peers out onto the patio. "Hey people? Did you finish grilling the poor chicken yet? You can come in now." He leaves the door ajar and moves to a cabinet and then to a drawer for china and silverware.

An anxious hush permeates the Burnett's dining room. As serving bowls are being passed around the table Mac prepares Laura's plate and her own, all the while doing her best to ignore the restless uncertainty of her hosts. She wonders exactly what Harm is waiting for as she resists the urge to kick him under the table. She concentrates on cutting Laura's chicken into small bite size pieces as she realizes that even Laura is abnormally quiet. Harm sits directly opposite her at the table and every time she glances his way he gives her that smile; the one that has always made her knees quiver like Jell-o – even long before she would admit it.

Knife and fork in hand, she flashes back to the very first night they'd ever spent in each other's company.

Driving in the desert in an old beat up truck they'd rented at a gas station for $200, through a rainstorm that would likely cause flash flooding - some twangy country western song playing on the only station the radio would receive. "That's a very nice smile you have, and I'm sure most of the time it gets you what you want but I don't know you Commander, so if you don't mind, I'll keep my personal reasons to myself."

That night she'd sooner have wrestled an alligator than tell him how much that smile had affected her. That night, she had mistaken his self-assurance for blatant arrogance. She had no clue that she would ever be sitting here having lunch with him in his parents' dining room; no clue at all. Being attracted to the man was one thing. Falling so irrevocably in love with him was something she hadn't foreseen that night.

"Aunt Mac!" Laura complains. "If you cut that chicken any smaller I won't need to chew it."

"Huh… oh… sorry, baby. Here." Mac hands over the girl's fork. Looking around the table, she realizes that all eyes in the room are on her. A small part of her mind still revisiting the past, she forces herself to return completely to the here and now, and offers Harm a smile of her own.

"Welcome back Marine." He jokes. "Where'd you go?"

"Yuma, Arizona… 1996"

"Na uh, Aunt Mac, you didn't leave the table." Laura objects with a confused frown. "You stayed right here beside me."

Harm nods, understanding far better than anyone else at the table while Mac pats the little girl on the back. "Someday you'll understand. In the right setting, with the right person, it's quite possible to go far, far away without ever leaving you chair."

Laura continues to frown; possibly even more puzzled than before.

Having some experience with life, the older adults are somewhat less confused, and they smile quietly and wait; albeit impatiently.

Still trying to figure it out, Laura looks from her aunt to Harm "Harm, how far away is Yuma, Arizona?"

He smiles at the girl. "Laura, Yuma is almost 180 miles due east of here. It takes almost 3 hours to make a one-way trip by vehicle."

Laura shakes her head enthusiastically." Aunt Mac, I know you can tell time without a watch, but you didn't go all the way to Arizona, and definitely not in a different year. Time machines aren't real. They're only on TV and in books."

"I know it's hard to understand baby, but in their minds, people can go anywhere they can imagine; or anywhere they can remember. Harm and I can sit right here and just as easily go back to the same year and the White House rose garden to the very moment we met. When I met him, for a second I thought he was afraid he was gonna get Marine germs or worse; maybe even girl germs."

Harm chuckles, "I was a little old to be worried about girl germs Mac." He winks at Laura, telling her in a stage whisper. "The Marine germs were of a far greater concern."

Laura giggles as she skewers a small piece of chicken with her fork.

"Seriously Harm." Mac replies. "For a moment there you looked like you thought I might bite you. The scariest part was, for a flicker in time you looked like you might want me to."

"Mac!" Harm hisses uncomfortably.

"What? Was I not supposed to tell anybody that?"

"No, you definitely were not supposed to tell anybody that!" He continues to hiss even as he grins."

Mac shrugs nonchalantly. Offering him one of her rare perky smiles; she teases. "I don't know why you're being bashful now. I would've been a whole lot more comfortable with your mother standing there beside us in that moment than I was with the admiral standing there. That.. was unnerving Harm."

"I don't understand." Laura announces plainly. "That's silly. Why would he want you to bite him?"

Trish Burnett very nearly chokes on her sip of iced tea. Clearing his throat, her husband makes an effort to calmly reach across the narrow dining table and take the glass from her hand and return it to its place beside her plate without spilling it as he tries very hard not to laugh aloud.

Mac turns to look at the little girl and is momentarily speechless. Having been about to take a bite of potato salad, she returns her fork to her plate and chews on the inside of her lower lip for a second or two before answering, "That's one of those questions that you'll have to save for when you're older… And we really shouldn't talk about it at the dinner table either."

Laura squints at her aunt. "You started it." She says simply and honestly.

"You're right. I did. I didn't mean to. It's just that the memory's still so clear in my head. It was the one and only time I've ever had a man nearly refuse to shake my hand."

"How come?" Laura passes a look between the two of them again.

"She use to remind me of someone."

"Use to? Not anymore?"

"No, not anymore. Not really. They still look an awful lot alike. They look so much alike that when I first saw your aunt, she kinda spooked me…for a few seconds anyway. That's why I almost didn't shake her hand. I got over it eventually. There really is no comparison. Your aunt is her own woman."

Laura nods slowly, munching on a piece of dinner roll as she studies them yet again. After a long moment she asks, "So are you guys gonna get married, or what?"

This time Frank does laugh. "Yes. One of you needs to answer that question before my wife has a stroke. Not that the current conversation isn't delightfully entertaining, but… "

Harm reaches across the table, silently asking for her hand and Mac complies; placing her right hand gently in his left. "Take a deep breath Mom. Please don't have a stroke. I'd sort of like to have you there… at our wedding."

Reaching to her right, Trish swats lightly at her son's arm over the sideways manner in which he chose to make the announcement, but in the next instant she happily throws her arms around him.

Laura squeals. "Yay!" and nearly topples out of her chair trying to hug Mac.

In the moments that follow, Laura is in Mac's lap one second and Harm's the next, though Mac doesn't see her cross the room. She, herself, is passed from one family member's embrace to another's.

Frank catches her slightly off guard. With little warning, she finds herself wrapped in his big embrace. It's not something he does with half his heart. He's big and warm and she likes him even more than she did upon meeting him, but she barely has time to return the hug before she finds herself being turned into Trish's embrace. As Trish hugs Mac she tells her quietly. "I know he took his time about it. Thank you for waiting."

Mac shakes her head. "I wasn't the only one waiting. For every second he made me wait. I made him wait three."

"Good. He needs somebody to slow him down. He's always been in a hurry; his whole life."

"That might be a good thing. If he hadn't, he probably never would've been able to keep up with me."

Before she can say more, she looks down to find that Laura has returned to her side and is clamoring to be picked up. Trish lets Mac go only to turn her, once more, into another waiting embrace and then the older woman scoops Laura up herself before moving to her husband's side. "Go see if you can find a bottle of cider in the wine rack." She tells him quietly. "If not, we'll just do without."

Happily, if mildly dizzy, Mac leans back just enough to find herself wrapped in Harm's embrace. "Oh. It's you."

He chuckles. "Yeah, it's me."

"Hi you." She leans into him.

"Hi yourself."

"I sort of got lost for a few seconds. They just sort of passed me around. They're sort of… effervescent."

He smiles down at her and then kisses her lightly. They're sort of… happy Mac."

"Me too." She whispers, settling deeper into his embrace.

Breaking into their quiet little conversation, Trish's looks at Mac and asks, "So when is the big day?"

Mac half turns; still caught in Harm's embrace. Laughing a little nervously she admits, "Ask your son; I have no idea."

Trish's raises a curious eyebrow.

Smiling, Mac adds. "I asked him the same thing. He said it all depends on… and then, he realized that I said yes. He got all excited and the conversation never went any further."

"Harm?" Trish inquires.

Well, you guys were waiting outside. We didn't mean to take over your kitchen. I didn't want to just leave you out there while we hashed out the details. That might take us awhile."

"Well you better get started, Son. Your plane leaves in a week."

"I know. I might have to go and come back later. It all depends on what Mac wants."

She squints up at him. "Exactly what do you mean Flyboy… what I want?"

"I mean, if you want some big lavish affair like the one you and what's-his- name almost had - It'll take some time to plan; certainly more than a week."

Still in her arms, Laura looks to Trish and scrunches up her little face. Who is what's-his-name? She asks, at the same moment that Mac groans.

"Oh God! Please no. I mean… If you really want a big huge wedding… I'll do it, but…"

"What? That's not what you want?"

"No. Not at all!"

Uh… Then I'm confused." Harm admits.

"Mic had some cockeyed notion about that being what every girl wants. No matter how many times I tried to tell him that I didn't want or need all that, he was bound and determined. I finally gave up and just let him do it the way he wanted to. I liked the dress, but it was way too expensive. We went into a shop when I saw it in the window. I just wanted a closer look. When I saw the price tag I put the dress back quickly. He paid for the thing. The church intimidated the hell out of me. That was a serious church; with its cathedral, it's balcony, its organ, and its bells. The first time I stepped foot in that place I was half terrified I was going to burst into flames…and the guest list was half the length of a football field. I swear he wanted to invite 200 people. I'd be perfectly happy to reduce that number by 190 or more."

Harm keeps quiet and let's her talk it out, deciding it would be better for him if he didn't express any of his personal opinions about Mic Brumby or his ill-fated wedding plans. When she stops he asks, "Okay, so what did you want? What's the idea wedding?"

She smiles offering him one last hard hug and then returns to her seat at the table motioning for the others to do the same. "Where'd Frank go?" She changes the subject.

Settling Laura back into her own chair Trish answers, "I sent him to the kitchen. Don't worry about it. He'll be back shortly."

Nodding, Mac plays with her fork idly; aware that Harm is watching her and waiting. She takes a deep breath and shrugs. "Turns out, we can't do it my way either."

"Why can't we?"

I always wanted a small quiet kind of wedding ceremony. I never had many friends growing up. I always assumed that if I ever did get married there might be six people at the ceremony; six people total. That includes the bride, the groom, and the minister Somewhere along the way I've accumulated more friends than I expected to. If we invite Bud and Harriett and all of our godchildren; well that's six people right there. Then there's your mom and Frank, and Laura and Chloe. That's ten. That's really all I care about. But that's already more than I planned on and we haven't even talked about who you want to invite yet. So that's one reason why."

"Mac, I don't understand. Okay, so you have a few more friends than you planned on, that's a good thing."

"We can't do it because with that many friends we'd spend on fuel what most brides would spend on a wedding dress.

Harm raises an eyebrow. "Fuel?"

She laughs. "Yeah. Fuel. When I was little I wanted to get married in the desert. Out there at Red Rock Mesa. At sunset. Maybe it's goofy, but it seemed like a good place to start out." I still can't think of a better place to get married than standing on top of a rock that's hundreds of years old; even time hasn't worn it away.

"Mac, that's not goofy. It's poetic."

"Yeah… But totally impractical. To the best of my knowledge, none of our friends are serious rock climbers Harm. We'd need a helicopter to get them all up there."

"Hence, the fuel."

She nods. "My Aunt Clara, Uncle Matt's wife, she made her own wedding dress. It's nothing fancy, at least not by popular standards, but I always loved it. Uncle Matt sent it to me during his trial along with the few other material possessions he cares about. I could have it cleaned… And my back yard would be much more convenient than Red Rock Mesa."

"Mac, there's an ocean in your backyard." Harm chuckles.

"Yeah, there is; along with a beach that's usually glorious at sunset."

Thinking it over, Harm nods slowly "That could work. If we can pull it together by Wednesday or Thursday, we'd even have a few days before I have to go back. Once I do, we can request spousal co-location here in San Diego."

Working a corkscrew into a bottle of sparkling cider, Frank returns. "What did I miss?"

Trish laughs and jokes. "Oh nothing much. They just planned 3/4 of their wedding!"

Shortly before 23:00 HRS

Mac lies perfectly still; watching the waves roll in the darkness beyond the big picture window in their little bedroom. She's going to have to do something about this tiny bed before he comes back from London. But she decides to worry about that some other time. Right now she is content to enjoy the touch of his hands. One is tangled in her hair and the other draws lazy abstract patterns against the inked flesh tucked into the intimate curve of her left hip. Somehow, at least one of his hands always manages to find its way there either during, or immediately after moments of passion. The rise and fall of his chest changes rhythm, indicating that he is resurfacing from the depths of pleasure following their most recent encounter. When she feels him lift his head off the pillow, she drops a light kiss on his bare shoulder.

He nuzzles her neck with his nose and lips and inhales deeply before asking," How do you always manage to smell different…every single time."

"Bath products" She laughs quietly.

"Do all your bath products smell like fruit?"

"What?"

"Yesterday it was tangerines and something else that I couldn't quite pinpoint. The day before that it was cranberries, and tonight I swear your hair smells like lemons and honey."

Mac twists a lock of her own hair around her finger and gives it a sniff. She shrugs. The label on the shampoo bottle said everlasting sunshine, but you're right. I hadn't realized it, but it does smell like a lemons and honey. I have bath oils that smell like the beach. Oh wait, that's coconut oil… So that's fruit too. Yep, I guess so. Why? Does it bother you?"

"No. Not a bit. Just curious. What about perfume?"

"Good perfume's expensive, and for special occasions."

"What qualifies as a special occasion?" He asks rolling to one side, taking her along with him, and propping himself up on one elbow.

"Hmm, let's see. Weddings" She smiles sweetly. "Baby showers, birthday parties, Christmas and other holiday celebrations, anniversaries… And date night."

"I see, and stolen moments after the little one goes to bed don't count as date night?"

"Maybe. If you plan date night that way…but not if you just tumble into bed like we did tonight."

"Ah, well I had no plan. I wasn't about to waste the opportunity. I can't believe she went to sleep without dinner."

"She was exhausted. She wore herself out as the self-appointed entertainment for Frank and Trish. They were so good with her. I wish I'd known they were this close the last two years. She needs stable people. And they desperately need a grandchild."

"Well I think they have one now. I think they've been claimed."

Mac laughs. "I don't know why your mother had an entire bucket of sidewalk chalk, but it sure made her happy. Did you see the look on her face when Frank got out of the swimming pool and dripped water all over her masterpiece?"

Laughter erupts from deep inside Harm. "For a second there, I thought she was going to push him back into the pool! And that scowl! If looks could kill. But then, he sat down with her and started showing her different ways to change the perspective in all her drawings and she hung on every word. Soaked it up like a sponge. Who knew a used car salesman knew so much about art?"

Mac playfully smacks him on the shoulder. He is married to your mother. You understand the woman owns an art gallery? As for Laura, she soaked it all up because she's starved for attention. I give her as much as I can, but with it being just me…"

"Well. That's about to change."

"It is. And I don't want to sound negative, but have we bitten off too much? I do have to go to work Monday. And at some point in the next few days we're supposed to get married?"

"Cold feet?" He asks. His fingertips still teasing the tattooed flesh of her hip.

She smiles happily. "Nope, absolutely not. I've had cold feet before. I know what that feels like; this isn't it. I just don't know how I'm supposed to do it all."

"Well you're not supposed to do it all. Not by yourself. It's supposed to be a joint venture. Tomorrow, before Mom and Frank get here for dinner, we'll sit down, make a to-do list, and split the chores in half… Or better still, ¾ for me and ¼ for you."

"Why is that better?"

"Because I don't have to go to work next week. Soon enough I will, and you'll be here by yourself, doing it all - at least for a little while. I'll take my turn, carry a bigger share of the load while I can."

She falls silent for several long seconds. He can feel her thinking. He stays quiet and waits her out; content to entertain himself with nothing more than the feel of her body so near his. When she finally does speak she says, "I know people who would call me nuts for this. The last time I let a man carry the bigger share of responsibility for planning a wedding, I wound up with no husband, a diamond on a chain around my neck, a wedding gown that's still tucked away in the back of the closet; never worn, and you, Flyboy… you put your plane in the drink. I may actually be nuts, but… Okay." She agrees quietly.

Chapter 6: Sunday, August 26, 2007

Part 22: Tension in the House of Mackenzie

0745 HRS

Still having no clue where she could possibly put another bite, Harm puts another serving of scrambled eggs on Laura's plate and then returns to his chair and his cup of coffee, noticing that she seems rather somber this morning.

"You feeling okay, sweetheart?"

She nods as she takes another bite of eggs and reaches for her orange juice. When she can she says, "I'm just hungry."

"You fell asleep in the car last night on the way home. You didn't have any dinner."

She nods and then frowns. "I woke up in my bed."

"Well, of course you did. You didn't think we were going to leave you in the car all night long?"

"I woke up in my jammies."

"Yeah. Aunt Mac changed your clothes for you."

"Mom woulda just dumped me on the couch in my clothes."

Harm nods. "Mac thought you would be more comfortable in your PJ's"

"I don't even remember."

"You slept through most of it. The only time you woke up, even a little bit, was when I nearly laid you down on top of your dog."

Laura nods. "She likes to lay on my bed when I'm not here. I don't know why."

"Because she misses you and your bed smells like you, and it's probably pretty comfortable too." He smiles.

"I like your mom and Mr. Frank. They're nice."

"They like you too."

"Even Mr. Frank?"

"Of course."

"You sure? I didn't mean to get mad at him. He dripped all over my chalk pictures. But… It was his house; and his chalk too."

"Ahh. I don't think you should worry about that. You didn't do anything wrong. For a minute though, I thought you were going to push him back into the water."

Laura looks of the table top. "I got mad." She admits quietly. I draw all those pretty pictures and he gets them all wet… But, when I get mad I say real quiet, just in my head, so nobody else can hear, don't be like Mom."

Harm tucks her hair behind her ear to keep it out of her plate. "That's good Laura. That's really mature."

"What's that word mean?" She slowly lifts her head, wearing a puzzled expression.

"Mature? It means grownup."

"You think so? About me; I mean?"

"Laura I know people in their twenties and thirties who wouldn't bother to control their tempers half as well as you do."

Laura shrugs. "Mom makes people sad when she acts mean. I don't wanna make people sad. She makes Mimi sad a lot."

"Maybe Mimi will get a break now."

"Maybe." The little girl chews on her lower lip. "Do you think your mom and Mr. Frank will let me go back to their house sometime? They were nice to me, even after I got mad."

"Of course. I told you; they like you."

Still not convinced, she gives him a worried look.

"Hey, if you don't believe me, ask them yourself. They're coming here for dinner tonight."

"They are?"

"They are."

"Is that why Aunt Mac's acting weird?"

"Is she acting weird?" Harm hadn't noticed her acting any differently than usual. She'd been sleepy this morning; with her usual mix of grumpiness and affection. He'd only been there six days and already he's used to it. Leave it to her to find a way to grumpy and cuddly all at the same time. Maybe it was a Marine thing, but he doubted it.

Laura simply stares at him as if she thinks he might have gone blind before she explains. "Harm, she's cleaning the house again."

"Again?"

"Duh. Harm, she cleaned the house yesterday. I know I'm a kid, but I'm not that messy! Besides, she barely ate any breakfast. All she had was coffee and a piece of toast! Now she's on her hands and knees, cleaning the bathroom floor with a washcloth instead of a mop! She's gonna starve to death if she cleans the whole house like that with no food in her tummy. Plus, she says later I have to clean my room; again! I just cleaned it yesterday! Harm, what's wrong with her?"

Harm chuckles. "I think I might have an idea about that." He says getting up from the table.

"Well, can you make her stop please?"

Harm kisses the top of Laura's head as he picks up his coffee cup. "Finish your eggs." he says leaving the room.

"Don't I always?" She calls after him sardonically.

Part 23: An Ill-tempered Marine

Author's note: Several of you have asked me the same question since last night, although it has been phrased in a number of ways. What's wrong with Mac? Is Mac nesting? Is she pregnant? The answer is, I don't know. She hasn't said so; at least not to me. I'd like to gently remind you all, that even though it's taken me forever to write this much of the story, story-wise only six days have passed since their reunion. I don't think, at that point, that even Mac would know if she were pregnant. Also, even if she is, I think it takes a little bit longer than six days for the whole nesting impulse to kick in. Look for another reason. I love you guys, but you're getting ahead of the story. Good things come to those who wait, my darlings.

07:52 HRS

Harm stands sideways in the bathroom doorway. Leaning against the frame, he sips coffee and watches her scrub grout with a toothbrush for a bit. It takes her several long seconds to realize she's being watched. When she does, she glances up and huffs. "Hi sailor." with cantankerous affection

"Hi yourself. What you doing down there?"

Mac sits back on her heels for a moment and looks up at him as if his hair has turned lime green. "I'm making a peanut butter and jelly sandwich." She declares, her words dripping sarcasm as she brandishes the toothbrush in his general direction.

Harm nods. "Laura told me you are using a washcloth to clean the floor, not a toothbrush."

"I started with a washcloth. Now I'm using the toothbrush; and if you knew what I was doing, why did you ask?"

Instead of answering her, Harm squats on his heels and asks a question of his own. "What color's the grout in my mother's bathroom?"

She scowls at him. "I have no idea. I didn't notice it yesterday. So, it's probably as spotless as the rest of her house. It certainly wasn't dirty enough to stand out."

"My mother has a housekeeper who comes in three times a week Mac; also before and after special occasions. I'm quite certain Stella was there the day before yesterday, if not yesterday morning, just before we arrived."

"Well, I don't have a housekeeper."

"And you think my mother's going to pay extra close attention to the grout in your bathroom? You mopped in here yesterday."

"I mopped. I didn't scrub."

"And mopping made it clean enough for everyone but my mother?"

"I don't know. I have no idea what soon to be mothers-in-law look for when it comes to their soon to be daughters-in-law. The last time I had a mother-in-law I was 18, drunk, and didn't care… And one of the drawbacks of living on the beach is that you never get rid of the sand; no matter how hard you scrub." She adds the last bit managing to look both chagrined and dismayed."

"Mac." Harm says quietly. "First, you aren't that person anymore. Second, there's not a trace of sand in here."

"There will be. You wait, just as soon as Laura goes out to play. The first time she comes back in, she'll have sand everywhere."

"You live on the beach, Mac. I think it's to be expected." His rationale seems to irritate her but he tries again anyway. "We aren't serving dinner in the bathroom. The floor in here doesn't have to be clean enough to eat off of. Neither do any of the other floors for that matter."

She ignores him. "She's your mother. You help. Go get the vacuum cleaner. Use the hose around all the baseboards."

"If I do will you please go eat something?"

"I ate."

"A piece of toast and a cup of coffee is not enough for your Mac. You're worrying Laura. She thinks you're going to starve to death."

"God, is that why she's so quiet this morning?"

"She's hungry this morning, and penitent over her little flash of temper yesterday."

"What? When she got irritated with Frank? I swear Harm that kid is going to give herself an ulcer!"

"She told me that when she's mad, she tells herself not to act like her mother."

Mac stands up and pitches the used toothbrush into the bathroom's trash can. Suddenly she looks angry enough to spit nails. "I'm somewhat familiar with that tactic. It's not fair Harm. She shouldn't have to do that. She's just a little girl! Just once, I wish she'd get mad and throw a fit, like a regular kid, but she can't, because she's learned not to take the adults in her life for granted. Happy, healthy, well adjusted, normal, kids do that because it never enters their minds that the adults in their lives might hurt them or abandon them."

"Give her some time with us. She may learn how to throw a - normal kid - fit. You may even regret you said that."

"I won't! As long as she's not 15, stealing cars, drinking, and sneaking out of the house to crawl into bed with her best friend because it's the only place she feels safe."

With sadness in his eyes, he reaches for her, but she's too agitated to allow herself to be held. With gratitude in her eyes she says, "Thanks, but no! Not right now. Now I'm just mad!" She snatches a bottle of tub and tile cleaner off the vanity, steps around the half-wall that separates the rest of the bathroom from the walk-in shower and attacks the tile in there with a vengeance.

Harm leaves her to it, not knowing which is worse, her being nervous about his mother's arrival, or her being pissed off at her father for her own ill treatment and her sister for Laura's. He goes in search of the vacuum cleaner thinking that it is probably best to go along with her and to allow her to work out her frustrations against the bathroom tile, lest she look for other outlets.

Part 24: Temporary Deafness

17:48 HRS

"Thanks for helping out today Harm. I know you think I'm being silly." Mac tells him as she puts the bread in the oven to warm.

Glancing over her shoulder, Harm checks the lasagna already in the oven and reduces the temperature another 50° before wrapping his arms around her from behind. "You aren't being silly. You're just nervous; unnecessarily. Mom loves you."

"She hardly knows me. That's what worries me. I think she's happy we finally changed things between us, but what if she gets to know me and decides she hates me?"

"Not gonna happen." Harm answers quietly, nuzzling the right side of her neck. "When she gets to know you, she'll understand why I love you. Besides, she knows more about you than you think she does."

"Oh God! What have you told her about me?"

"Bits and pieces of the truth, and more good than bad. Stop worrying. She knew this thing between you and me was serious long before either of us was willing to admit it. I told her I took you flying. What was it? Less than six months after we met?"

"Don't you sweet talk me Harmon Rabb. I'm not the only woman you've ever taken flying."

"No. But none of the others ever heard me say 'She's your bird.' I don't hand my stick over to just anybody."

She turns in his arms just in time to catch that familiar sexy smile accompanied by a raised eyebrow. "When I told Mom I let you fly - well, let's just say she got real curious real fast."

Mac pretends to ignore the flirtatious innuendo in the statement. "Did you tell her I got shot in the leg that same weekend?"

"She knows you've been shot. I didn't tell her it was that same weekend. If I had, I would've had tell her about the poachers. That would have upset her."

"Ya think? It still upsets me, and I'm the one with the scar on my leg. No, telling your mother that we were being chased by hell-bent, gun toting, poachers, and that I was pretty much useless in the way of covering your six… that wouldn't make her feel good."

"You weren't useless. When I told her you'd been shot, I told her you damn near outran me with a bullet hole in your leg. I told her I'd never met anybody so strong or determined. This was long before she ever met you face to face. Every time I've called her over the last few years and told her I was dating someone, she's sighed and said… "Okay" with barely concealed exasperation. I showed up at her house with you yesterday and the first time you left the room, she didn't look at me and roll her eyes; or even raise an eyebrow. In fact, the first time you left the room, she hugged me. So, I reiterate, you really need to relax."

'Most of your girlfriends elicited eye rolls from your mother?"

"Some of them even before you and I met, but especially those since then. She showed up at the loft once a few years ago, and the first time Renee left the room. She smacked me on the back of the head."

Mac tries to stifle the laughter that bubbles up inside her, but fails miserably. "I can just see that. I wanted to smack you, myself." She admits with a whisper."

"Oh?"

Mac nods. "Public relations was her thing, and I'll admit she did it well. Renee was all about presentation Harm. She knew all about making people look good in front of a camera. She knew all about making herself look good, but underneath all that pretty make-up was a very insecure woman. She thought she wanted you. She thought you'd bring some pretty picture in her head to fruition. She wanted to stand beside the poster boy she tried to turn you into; wanted to stand in your light for her own personal benefit. Trouble is, the guy who is worthy of that poster usually isn't the one willing to sit around posing for the shot. He's usually not interested in standing around looking pretty; but doing nothing. You did it for her once, and that gave her the wrong impression. She was aware that your service record looked good. She failed to see that the reason it looks good is because you've invested yourself in it. The reality of that investment kept getting in the way of her picture perfect world. When she finally accepted that you weren't going to leave it behind for her, she bailed. Well, that, and a loved one dying can make girl do crazy things." Mac adds with a touch of quiet compassion. "I'd bet good money that she and the mortician didn't mean to tumble into bed together the first time, but once they did; she had a mess to clean up – either that, or the reason she needed to leave."

Harm watches her face while she talks. "You really didn't like her at all, did you?"

"What I hated most, was the fact that I understood her. She wasn't all bad. She was messy, and human, and flawed, just like the rest of us. Mostly, I just wanted to drop kick her pretty little butt out of your bed... I liked her a tiny bit better than you liked Mic."

"I don't believe I'm hearing this. Are you actually admitting that you were jealous?"

"Well I don't think it was worth breaking Bud's jaw." She pauses to raise an eyebrow. "But, meh, maybe just a little tiny bit." She says holding her thumb and forefinger half an inch apart, and smiling up at him.

Harm has the good grace to look ashamed of himself. "Poor Bud. He really is too forgiving. I wouldn't have talked to me after that if I were him."

Mac continues to smile. "We've got to call them tonight and tell them we're getting married. We just might better tell him first. We may need him to peel Harriett off the ceiling after we tell her."

Chuckling, Harm nods in agreement the instant before his lips meet hers.

Several seconds later, Laura pokes her head out through her bedroom doorway. "Hey, is anybody gonna get the door?" When Laura sees why neither adult is responding to the knock at the door she rolls her eyes. "Big people are so weird!" She mutters to herself as she goes to the front door. She pushes the curtain that covers the narrow window to the right of the door aside and smiles happily at Trish and Frank waiting on the other side. She opens the front door slowly and carefully, moving her walker backwards one step at a time. When Frank and Trish are able to step through the door she says in a hushed tone, "Hi, come on in." She gestures toward Harm and Mac in the small kitchen and adds with a quiet giggle, "I think their ears stop working when their lips touch."

Part 25: Who's Nervous?

Frank Burnett holds his breath, struggling valiantly not to burst out laughing as he scoops Laura up and hugs her close. Smiling, his wife walks into the center of the cozy living room and loudly clears her throat.

Grudgingly aware that they have been intruded upon, Harm ends the kiss. Without breaking their embrace both, he and Mac slowly turn their divided attention to Trish, but just before they do, for a flicker in time Mac senses a nearly imperceptible trace of annoyance in Harm's blue eyes. While Harm chuckles quietly at the mild discomfort he can see in Mac's dark eyes.

Her discomfort is not strong enough to call embarrassment, but it is there. Of the two of them, when it comes to expressions of physical intimacy, Mac is, by far, the more uninhibited one. But his mother makes her nervous. Harm thinks it's oddly sweet.

"Frank? Mom?" Mac and Harm say simultaneously and somewhat dazed, and then they follow it up with, "What's so funny?" when the older adults give up the struggle not to, and laugh aloud.

"You two are." Trish answers in an affable tone that loosens some of the knots in Mac's stomach. "Apparently when the two of you kiss you experience temporary deafness. We knocked on the front door for at least a good 30 seconds before we heard Laura coming to let us in. She has informed us both that when your lips touch your ears stop working."

Completely at ease, Harm shrugs it off. As he crosses the room he says, "Thank you for letting them in Laura." To the adults he says, "Being temporarily deaf with her doesn't bother me in the least. We've come through much worse. Together we've been unable to see, unable to speak, unable to hear, unable to fly, unable to land, drive, move, sleep, tell time, or even get cell phone reception. No matter what we face, it seems that as long as we stick together we usually come through it okay." He takes a large bakery box, and what looks like a large, heavy shopping bag from his mother's hands.

Mac relaxes completely as she listens to him talk. "Harm, I'm not sure romantically induced deafness really compares to some of the adventures we've had professionally."

"On the other hand," She smiles at his parents. "He's right. We've done all that and more. If anybody else had been there but him at those times, I'm quite certain I wouldn't be standing here today. Your son is a walking wonder, Trish. Imagine, if you can, being temporarily blind and led around by a man who can't speak; can't call out to you. That was… Interesting." Mac finishes, mindful that Laura is hanging on every word.

"You seemed to understand me just fine." Harm interjects with the faraway look of recollection in his eyes as he settles his mother's offerings on the kitchen counter.

"A lot of it was guesswork and intuition, Harm… That and knowing you; knowing your playbook. It was certainly guesswork I wouldn't want to try with anyone else. I remember at one point in particular, you backed me up against a wall, pushed me down into a crouch while making sure I didn't bump my head on anything, then you patted my shoulder and I heard you walk quickly away. I interpreted all that to mean, 'Get down, be quiet, and stay put Jarhead.' When you walked away I could only pray I was right."

Harm flashes one of his smiles between Mac and his mother. "See, I couldn't even talk and she heard me just fine; loud and clear."

"Hey" Laura, demands a break in the conversation. Why couldn't you see?"

Harm winks at the girl, letting her know that it was nothing to worry about. "Ammonia doesn't belong in human eyes kiddo. Aunt Mac accidentally got some in her face, but everything worked out okay."

"What's An-monia?" Laura stumbles over the word.

"Ammonia is a chemical solvent. It's used for cleaning and for other things too. Harm wouldn't let the doctors even touch him; much less examine him, until they treated my eyes. Turns out he's stubborn as a mule; even without a voice."

"Why couldn't he talk?"

"A badly bruised larynx will render anyone quiet for a few days." Mac smiles. "Even him."

Laura frowns stubbornly. "Speak English! What's a larynx?"

Harm moves to stand beside Frank and ruffles the girl's hair. That's the part of your throat where your voice comes from. Mine got hurt, but it's all better now. "

"What's in the box Trish?" Mac changes the subject, hoping to distract Laura.

"Butterscotch brownies." Trish answers with a knowing smile.

Harm chortles merrily as both Laura and Mac's eyes light up. "The way to either of their hearts is through their stomachs Mom. They both like to be fed. For some reason, it makes them feel loved."

Laura nods vigorously as Mac supplies, "Anything but Harm's meatless meatloaf! However, chocolate baked goods are always a guaranteed win."

Laura passes an extremely befuddled look to all the adults in room. "Aunt Mac, how in the world does he make meatloaf with no meat?"

"Trust me baby! You don't wanna know! It's nasty!" Mac shutters in revulsion."

Still grinning, Harm rolls his eyes. Looking at Frank he says, this woman will follow me anywhere. She'd follow me all the way to Russia and back. Hell, she did follow me all the way to Russia and back… But offer her meatless meatloaf and she acts like I'm trying to poison her."

"Harm!" Mac interrupts. "As far as I'm concerned, that is poison, and I've followed you to places a whole lot scarier than Russia."

"I remember one very cold night in the desert. You followed me right into the middle of a free-fire zone."

They all watch Mac think about it for a second, and then each of them, especially Harm, is surprised when, she nearly doubles over laughing. "There we were." She chokes out. "Lying on the desert floor, freezing our sixes off in the middle of Afghanistan, staring up at the stars, and Trish… your son was telling me how wonderful it was to be so far from civilization and the usual ambient noises of a city… And then, all of a sudden…Ka-boom!"

"Hey!" Harm teases, "You didn't whine about being cold after that."

"First Squid, Marines don't whine! Second, I didn't mention being cold after that because I wasn't. I was too busy running to be cold!"

"Told ya I keep you warm; didn't I?"

"That's not what I was hoping for Harm!" Mac hisses playfully; elbowing him gently in the ribs on her way into the kitchen. "I'm putting on a pot of coffee." She announces.

Harm offers her a raised eyebrow in response to her first statement. "Really? Because two minutes before that you are trying to create some kind of barrier between the two of us with your pack. Something about wanting to give me my own space…in the middle of an enormous desert."

Mac shakes her head and waves both Trish and Frank onto bar stools on the opposite side of the kitchen counter before speaking. "I love him. I really do… But sometimes he's absolutely clueless!"

Trish purses her lips, eyes her son curiously, and then, returning her gaze to Mac, she nods silently.

"What?" Harm passes an uneasy look between the two women in his life; smart enough to realize that some silent conversation about him has just taken place between them.

"Nothing." Mac says sweetly; making him all the more nervous.

Trish laughs as the flesh visible above the collar of her son's shirt begins to turn ever so slightly pink. "Relax Harm." She reels him in slowly. "That's just Mac's polite way of telling me that she wasn't trying to keep you away from her… She was trying to keep herself away from you."

Harm looks back and forth between the two of them until his neck goes from pink to red. He points at Mac. "I liked you better when she made you nervous." He declares with an uneasy grin.

Part 26: Keepsakes & other Treasures

In absolute wonder, Trish Burnett stands in the middle of the small multi-purpose room and turns a slow circle; starting her assessment with a breathtaking view of the ocean and ending with the same. "This room is why you chose this place."

Stepping out of the closet, and leaning a guitar case against the wall to the right of the door Mac nods without comment. She listens to Trish ramble on idly as she returns to the interior space of the closet.

"Cozy library, small office space, gorgeous view… And you added the bed yourself. Though, I'd have turned the desk to face the window."

"If the desk faces the window, I get absolutely no work done Trish." Mac calls out from inside the closet.

"Ah." Harm's mother understands. "Too busy ocean watching."

"And it never gets old. I can't explain it. The waves roll in, the waves roll out. It's the same repetitive pattern endlessly. Yet, it's new every time. There's nothing monotonous about it."

Trish turns another circle; this time looking for evidence of Mac's personality; personal touches. The ceiling fan is newer than the door fixtures; added recently. Accents like curtains, throw pillows, and blankets are in soft, yet warm, earthy colors. The room may be small but it is well appointed and tidy. Nearly everything in a proper place; the only hint of disorder, a couple of file folders poking haphazardly from the top of Mac's briefcase on one corner of her desk, and another misaligned stack of folders on the opposite corner of the desk. On an end table beside the small daybed, Trish finds a book on Indian folklore, the most recent edition of the Navy Times and a magazine about paleontology, along with a well-used coaster. She notices that in this room, like most other rooms of the house, there are no clocks. In fact, the only clock she has seen in the entire house is the one that came with the microwave. "You live in this room don't you Mac?" She queries.

Bent at the waist, Mac grunts affirmatively as she slowly slides a heavy cedar chest out of the room's only closet.

Mildly surprised by the somewhat guttural sound, Trish turns to face the closet and then quickly steps forward apologetically "Goodness Mac. Why didn't you say something?" Mac shrugs as she continues to push the large chest through the closet doorway.

Trish takes hold of the two corners nearest her and tries to help by pulling from her end. She is immediately startled by the weight. "Mac stop! This thing is too heavy!"

Having made a little progress Mac comments, "It'll be easier to get into out here; rather than in there." Mac says hiking her thumb in the direction of the closet. "And the hard part's over now. The worst part is turning it around to get it through the closet door. It's got furniture sliders on the bottom of it. Now, all I need is a straight shot and a running start. If you step back…"

Objecting, Trish does step back. "Mac, that thing's got weigh more than 100 pounds." Trish glances over her shoulder at the open bedroom doorway. "Harm! Frank!" She calls out.

"Eighty-seven. With absolutely nothing in it."

"Umm hmm. Trish muses "And how many pounds of stuff do you have in it."

"At least another eighty-seven." Mac huffs with a smile as she sets her shoulders and pushes off against the floor with her legs; doing just what she said, getting a running start. By the time Frank and Harm poke their heads in through the doorway the enormous cedar chest is in the center of the room where Trish had previously stood.

"I was going to tell you guys to help." Trish laughs. "But I don't think she needs you."

Sinking to her knees and beginning to work the brass latches that secure the lid in place, Mac smiles up at Harm. "Oh, I wouldn't say that Trish."

Puzzled by the reply, Trish considers what she said for a moment. When Mac's comment falls into place she smiles, "That's not what I meant."

Before opening the lid, Mac tenderly fingers the intricate design carved there. "It's dusty. Harm, can you get me a damp dish towel from the kitchen. I don't want to scatter the dust over everything that's in here. "By the time she finishes the statement, he's already gone and on his way back again.

Handing over the towel, he kneels beside her and gazes down at the inlaid carving. Inside the outline of the five-point star, a sharp featured male sits cross legged, Indian style, with an enormous hawk's talons resting on his shoulder. Bird and man gaze at each other intently as if they're in the midst of some private conversation. "Impressive carving." Harm remarks, inciting the others in the room to take a closer look.

A slight smile graces the corners of Mac's mouth as Laura joins them and Trish comments," The detail is breathtaking. I can see distinction between layers of the bird's feathers, and actual definition in the man's face."

"It was a birthday gift from Uncle Matt." Mac says; wiping away dust. "He built this chest in Leavenworth's woodworking shop. It must've taken him months to do it."

The emotion in her voice leads Harm to gently place his hand on her shoulder. "Is there significance in the carving?"

"It's a likeness of my great- great grandfather. His Cherokee name, loosely translated, was - Sits among the Hawks." Some tribes believe that the hawk was the protector of Mother Earth; others believe that the bird was an omen of evil things to come. There's even some disagreement over the representation among the different bands of Cherokee tribes."

"I remember you mentioning your Cherokee heritage. I also remember you mentioning that your grandmother was Persian, and taught you to speak Farsi."

"My maternal grandmother was ¼ Cherokee. She married an Irishman."

"Hence the name O'Hara."

Mac nods. "Joe's mom was Persian. She married Virgil Mackenzie. She was barely five feet tall, but she had an uncanny knack for staring people down. She liked to wear my grandfather's old leisure suits; even though she had to cut them off at the knees and hem them to make them fit. She refused to wear the hijab or anything else the typical Iranian woman wears. She read me the Koran, and much to my father's horror, she tried to teach me to belly dance."

Trish laughs aloud at this piece of information, or perhaps it is the astonished look on her son's face that makes her laugh as Harm's mouth falls open.

"Really?" He gives Mac a speculative look." How come I'm just now finding out about this?"

"Because of the look that's on your face right now."

"What's that supposed to mean?" Harm asks, trying to feign innocence.

Mac shrugs. "I knew you'd look at me like that if I told you." She says simply. "Do try and dredge your mind up out of the gutter, Flyboy!"

Mac offers him a quick kiss before she stands and lifts the lid on the chest. She sets the lid as far back as it will go on its hinges and then sets the hinge lock to be certain that the heavy lid doesn't slam shut against Laura's small fingers as the girl kneels at her other side, peering inside the chest with the expression of someone who's about to discover treasure on her young face. "Aunt Mac, What'cha got in here?" she asks; sounding awestruck.

Mac rubs the girl's back. "Keepsakes. Special things. Let's see. My grandpa's dog tags are in that little box. There's a quilt my grandmother made. It's got the Cherokee Nation emblem on it. It belongs to Uncle Matt now."

Laura picks up a brightly colored silk scarf woven with fabric of deep blues, greens, and gold and gently presses it to her cheek. "That belonged to Grandpa Virgil's mother. She gave it to my grandmother, and my grandmother gave it to my Aunt Clara when she married Uncle Matt."

Laura carefully sets it aside, and picks up a small box; the kind one expects to find a shirt in. She lifts the lid, and pushes aside tissue paper, lifting out a long white negligee with delicate spaghetti straps at the shoulders. "Who's is this?"

Gently, Mac takes the garment away from her and tucks it back in its box. Replacing the lid, she answers. "That's mine."

Laura looks confused. "Why did you put your PJ's in here?" She asks innocently; bringing smiles to the faces of the adults in the room.

Mac smiles at her. "That's private. Ask me when you're 21. Maybe I'll tell you then."

Laura thinks this over before accepting it with a slight nod, and then she says, "Aunt Mac, the wedding dress is in the closet; in the back. I saw it once."

Harm looks toward the closet. As he starts to rise to his feet, Mac takes hold of his hand and shakes her head. "No, the dress I'm looking for is in here." She tells them as she begins to move photo albums and other keepsakes out of the way.

Laura watches her. "You have more than one?"

Mac nods. "The one I'm looking for isn't mine. It belonged to Aunt Clara. It's sealed in a box."

"How come the other one's not in here too?"

I told you." Mac answers sweetly. "This chest is for special things." She hugs the girl's shoulders.

Laura frowns. "Wedding dresses aren't special?"

"Most of them are…but not the one in the closet. It doesn't belong in this chest. I never wore it."

Laura's frown deepens. "Then why do you have it?"

"Couple of reasons. First, the shop wouldn't take it back. I almost got married once. We canceled the wedding at the last minute. I'd already had my final fitting, and the dress was paid for. So, it was mine, I was stuck with it."

"What's the other reason?"

"Self-flagellation." Mac answers honestly, drawing a curious look from both Frank and Trish as well as a painfully sad frown from Harm.

"Huh?" Laura asks with a scowl.

"Self-inflicted emotional torture." Mac simplifies; only managing to deepen Laura's scowl.

"Sorry baby." I'm making you nervous; aren't I? It's okay; that's just a turn of phrase. I only mean that I kept it to remind myself never to do that again… at least for a while anyway. When I didn't need it anymore, it made its way to the back of the closet. Harriet suggested I sell it on EBay. At the time, I just didn't like the sound of that. It seemed… I don't know… desperate. Now, I'm not so sure. In fact… now I think that sounds like a really good idea. I might just post it on E-bay and use the money to pay for your new leg brace. That dress might pay for all the leg braces you'll ever need. It was ridiculously expensive." Mac tells her with a smile; stretching her eyes wide in an attempt to ease the scowl off Laura's face.

"I don't think it worked Aunt Mac." Laura tells her; the scowl just beginning to fade.

"You don't think what worked?"

"You said you kept it to remind you not to get married again. So, I don't think it worked."

Mac chuckles at the misunderstanding. "I kept it to remind me to never again get engaged for the wrong reasons." She clarifies. "The reminder wasn't meant to keep me from marrying for the right reason." She glances at the people in the room; her eyes touching Harm's face last. "It's okay to get rid of it now. I won't be needing it anymore." She says more to him than to Laura.

The couple shares a tender smile as Laura chatters, "Liam's mom made curtains with her wedding dress."

Her eyes still locked with Harm's, Mac answers absent-mindedly. "Yeah I know. I have seen those curtains. Now they're divorced, and Beth looks at those curtains hanging in her living room every day. With her quirky sense of humor, she enjoys that. I would not."

"So, no curtains?" Laura giggles.

Mac shakes her head emphatically, laughing. "Laura I'd sooner set the thing on fire and then scatter the ashes at sea; a Viking funeral for a wedding dress!" Mac grins as she lifts a large box from the bottom of the chest.

Trish steps forward, offering help with the box. She is surprised at the light weight of the box. It's long and deep, but it's not heavy; just cumbersome. Both women moving toward the bed, she comments. "Well it's not 30 pounds of silk or satin."

Mac shakes her head as Harm interjects. "Thirty pounds!"

Trish smiles at his lack of knowledge on the subject. "Traditional wedding gowns are heavy Son; yards and yards of fabric. As Mac works the lid off the box Trish asks, "How concerned with tradition are you? Should he leave the room?

"Mac glances at Harm momentarily as laughter bubbles out of her. "Only if he wants to." She offers him a raised eyebrow in inquiry as she adds, "I couldn't care less about that particular superstition Trish. After everything we've put each other through the fact that we're still getting married speaks for itself. It's gonna take more than an old wives' tale about bad luck to spook me now."

Harm does think it over for a moment; giving tradition due consideration. In the end, he agrees with Mac, Besides, his curiosity wins. He stays put and watches her, along with everyone else in the room, as Mac tenderly lifts the dress from its box.

Part 27: The Dress

Author's note: Happy Thanksgiving one and all.

Released from the sealed box it has been in for years, the simple white linen dress hangs from Mac's raised fingertips on delicate spaghetti straps. Mac gives it a gentle shake, unfurling its length. Holding it up in front of herself, she walks first to a full length mirror then, unhappy with the lighting, she moves to stand in front of the big picture window several feet away, still in line with the mirror and able to see her reflection. The long form fitting skirt was made for a tall, slender woman and will hug all the right curves gracefully. The delicate lace from bodice to hemline adds a touch of elegance to the uncomplicated sheath. A neckline considered to be in good taste is counterbalanced by a plunging back.

Trish steps forward, eyeing the dress with appreciation and something else foreign and wonderful, that Mac can't quite identify until the woman speaks. "It looks almost as if it were made to fit you , darling. Oh Mac, it's simply stunning." She says with unmistakable maternal affection.

"You really think so?" Mac questions; touched by her emotion. "I'm a little worried about the top. I hope that it fits okay. Aunt Clara and I were close to the same size but I think the bodice may be a bit too tight."

"Can I?" Trish reaches out to gently tug at the fabric, but waits for Mac to nod first. Gently stretching fabric over the contours of Mac's chest before she checks the inner seam, she answers. "You're right. It may be a tiny bit snug now, but there's plenty of room to let it out, if need be."

Mac gives her a worried frown. Quietly and uncomfortably she admits, "I can't do that myself. I can break down two dozen different assault rifles; each one in under twenty seconds, but I'm a Marine. I'm not a seamstress. I don't want to mess up Aunt Clara's, dress and I can't trust it to a stranger."

Trish smiles patiently, "This is not a problem. I can do it. If you'll let me."

"Let you? You mean you wouldn't mind?"

Mind? Are you serious? Do you have any idea how long I have waited for this dear girl? Mac, I would be honored... As long as my doing it won't offend your mother. "

Moved, nearly to the point of tears, Mac suddenly laughs derisively. "Trish my mother couldn't care less." She whispers.

"Well now, I don't know your mother, but I find that very hard to believe." She says with a gentle smile.

Content to remain quiet until now, Harm occupies one corner of the room along with Frank and Laura; watching the two women forming their fledgling bond. "Mac, you are going to tell her? Aren't you? You are going to invite her?"

Mac chews on her lower lip for a long moment. Nodding, with a quiet sigh, she answers. "I will if you want me to, but you'd best prepare yourself for her absence." Harm can already hear the tell-tale hint of the disappointment and hurt in her voice that he knows she will never admit to.

"Hey, give her the chance to surprise you." He coaxes tenderly.

"Harm" She says with exaggerated patience. "How many of our friends are in uniform?"

"Most of them." He answers honestly.

"How many of them are male?"

This answer requires a brief moment of silent thought on his part. "Probably slightly less than half of them."

"My mother thinks anyone in a uniform is on a personal mission to get her, and she's terrified of all men whether they are worthy of such fear or not. She's afraid of you for God's sake." Mac adds incredulously. "You don't seriously think she's going to attend a wedding ceremony where slightly less than half the guests are men in uniform?"

Usually one to err on the side of optimism, he repeats. "She might…for her daughter. Give her the chance."

"Okay… if you want me to." Mac repeats doubtfully before returning her attention to the dress. She caresses the fabric tenderly, pressing in gently against her form.

Trish watches her and has to repress the urge to hug her in an attempt to sooth her. Somehow, even though it's what she wants to do, she doesn't think it's what Mac wants at this moment. Looking for something to ease the tension in the room, Trish walks a slow circle around Mac; eyeing the dress speculatively yet again. She's not quite certain if she's really seeing what she thinks she's seeing. Almost imperceptibly, in the sunlight streaming through the big picture window, the lace covering the bottom portion of the skirt seems to shimmer. It starts just above Mac's knees. The effect appears to gradually become stronger as it nears the hemline. "Mac? Is it just me…or does this dress shimmer in the sunlight… dark green and gold?"

With a genuine smile, Mac glances down at the skirt, and then spins, carrying the dress along with her. Dancing through sun beams; her movements do, in fact, cause the dress to shimmer subtly.

"Marine green and gold." she tells Trish with precision. "It was Aunt Clara's way of showing her support for Uncle Matt's career. She made it subtle on purpose. She wanted people to notice, not notice and cringe. She said she wanted to be ostentatious without being gaudy."

"What a lovely, and accurate, turn of phrase."

Mac looks thoughtful for a moment. "It's already got the white and gold. Now, I just need to find an unintrusive way to add a little Navy blue.

Trish smiles mysteriously. "Mac, I think I may have just the thing." she says quietly as Mac flashes Harm a flirtatious smile. "What'cha think, sailor? Will it do?"

Harm doesn't say anything at first; in fact, he waits so long that Laura gives him a look of exasperation. "Harm, you're supposed to tell her she looks pretty!" The little girl hisses; trying to help him out.

"Laura, shush." Mac says gently." Let the man speak for himself." But Mac doesn't really need to hear the words emanating from his blue eyes. She gives him a sweet smile and then, careful of the dress's hem she marches toward the closet. "I'm going to go try it on." She announces.

Part 28: I Need Your Help

"Well now. It's not quite as snug as I thought it would be; most likely because it's backless." Trish says, working the two clasps at Mac's waist before glancing over the Marine's shoulder at her reflection in the mirror.

"No it's not." Mac agrees with a contemplative frown. "But is it possible to lengthen the shoulder straps just a little… without damaging the lace… ¼ inch maybe. I know it's supposed to be form fitting, but I don't want it to be so snug that it looks cheap. I feel just the slightest bit restricted too."

"You look like Cinderella." Laura smiles happily at her side as Trish begins to fuss with the shoulder straps on the dress.

Mac affectionately pushes the little girl's hair out of her eyes. "We need to get you a haircut… and a dress too."

"There's nearly another two inches on these straps Mac. Your aunt did this quite well."

Mac comments, "I don't think we need that much. Do you?" as Laura becomes excited. "I get a dress too?"

Trish smiles at the girl and then answers. "Mac, I think ½ inch would be better than ¼ inch, but no, you're right, we don't need two inches." While Mac answers Laura, "Well of course you get a dress too. You are going to stand there beside me at the wedding; aren't you?"

Laura's wide eyed enthusiasm is contagious as she nods passionately. "What color dress do I get?" She wants to know.

"What color dress do you want?" Mac chuckles.

"I would suggest a color that will complement your dress. Especially with the shimmering effect you've got going on here. You two don't want to clash." Trish offers. "Maybe a pale green or a soft yellow. You could go with gold if you want, but in my opinion, gold is really an inappropriate color for someone Laura's age. I'd also go with an uncomplicated fabric given the simplicity of this dress."

Mac wrinkles her nose, "Every time I think of gold dresses I think of something a Vegas showgirl would wear. I agree, that's not appropriate."

"Can I have a dress that's yellow and green?" Laura questions hopefully.

"Maybe. We'll have to see what we can find. If we can find a dress that's both yellow and green, and it fits you…"

With one hand on her walker, Laura bounces happily on the balls of her feet.

"Don't do that, baby. You'll fall."

"It's okay. I got my new shoes on! I won't fall. Hey, where did Harm and Mr. Frank go?"

Mac and Trish exchange a silent smile in the mirror before Mac answers Laura.

"Things were getting just a little too girly in here for them. Besides, Harm may have wanted to see the dress, but he is more of a traditionalist than I am. He might not care for the old wives' tales or the superstitions that bring the traditions about but things like customs, traditions, rites of passage - whereas most of them just get on my nerves; I'm not one for doing things the way we've always done them just because it's the way we've always done them – but, they're really important to him. Seeing the dress is one thing, but I know he's waiting for the wedding to see me in the dress. So, I'm pretty sure Harm went looking for a legitimate reason to leave the room, honey. I bet he took Frank with him. They probably found something to tinker with."

"God help you if they did." Trish laughs. "Harm's good at that stuff. He's a self-taught Mr. Fixit. Frank doesn't know a socket wrench from a light bulb. He tried to rewire a light switch one day. He damn near burned my kitchen to the ground, and when he was done the light still didn't come on; the dishwasher did!" Trish laughs again. "The man had the nerve to smile at me and say, 'I meant for that to happen.' See, he likes to think he's Mr. Fixit. Cars; he's good with those; but household repair…" Trish shakes her head. "That's why, if something in the house is broken, I don't tell him! I wait for him to go to work and then I call the repairman, whom I have on speed dial. And don't either of you dare tell him I said that!"

Laura giggles and Mac chuckles." I think you're secret and safe with us Trish. I'm not too worried though; not as long as Harm is with him. Harm won't let him set anything on fire."

Just as Mac had explained to Laura, Harm does find something to occupy his attention. First, he walks through the house collecting unattended glasses and cups that the five of them have left sitting about. He deposits them in the kitchen sink and then he detours through the garage in search of Mac's toolkit before walking around the outside of house to the front door. Moments later, as he kneels adjusting the knob because it is out of alignment and sticks badly. He glances over his shoulder to be certain they are still alone before telling his silent companion "Frank, I need your help with something."

"Doorknob giving you trouble?"

Having heard, on more than one occasion, his mother lament about Frank's lack of handyman skills, Harm shakes his head. "No. I've got this. I need your help with something else." He lowers his voice. "And you can't tell Mac..."

Part 29: The Importance of Family

After dinner, the five of them sit in Mac's cozy living room watching a rainstorm rage beyond the windows. Thunder booms, lightning flashes, rain pounds the roof relentlessly, wind howls, and overhead; the lights flicker sporadically. Candles are lit and perched in various places throughout the room. Flashlights are at the ready at one end of Mac's coffee table. Half-drained coffee cups, and one glass of milk, along with saucers that still contain brownie crumbs are also about the room.

"We should just go home before it gets any worse Frank." Trish tells him.

"No!" Harm objects. On the sofa beside him, Mac shakes her head and finishes for him. "You two aren't going anywhere in this mess. We have room enough. It's late. You'll stay tonight."

"We didn't mean to stay for both lunch and dinner. I really did think it would let up by now. We're only 20 minutes away." She reasons. "How much worse do you really think it will get in just 20 minutes? Frank's a good driver."

"It's not Frank's driving I'm worried about Mom."

"It's all the nut cases out there." Mac chimes in again. "For reasons passing my understanding, weather like this brings out the crazies. It also makes typically smart people do stupid things."

Lying on the floor, and drawing on a long sheet of butcher block paper with the new art pencils that Frank and Trish brought her Laura offers, "You can have my bed. It's big enough by two people. I'll sleep on the couch." She grins with enthusiasm.

"Ah yes. This isn't any of my business. Trish tells them, but since she brought it up; I'm dying to ask. Why is the littlest person in this house sleeping in the biggest bed all by herself?"

"I don't sleep by myself. Candy sleeps with me!"

Upon hearing her name, the black lab picks her head up off her forepaws. She looks first at Laura and then at the rest of people in the room. When no one responds, issues a command, or offers a treat, she gets up and walks over to stand in the middle of Laura's drawing paper. As she starts to lie down on top of a section of artwork Laura says, "No! Not there dog! You scoot over. Candy scoot." She nudges her furry friend gently until the dog gets up, walks to one corner of the paper and lies down again where she continues to watch Laura draw.

Harm laughs and winks at Laura before teasing. "She has the biggest bed, because she's the person in control of this house and every living soul in it."

"Na uh!" Laura says grinning. "Aunt Mac is in charge Harm! I got the big bed because she likes the little one better. Besides, I like the big bed. I never had a bed that big before. You can use it tonight if you stay." She looks at both Frank and Trish hopefully. "Please stay."

"I promise to change the sheets and all the blankets. You don't have to sleep in a nest of dog hair." Mac says.

The two older adults look around the room and then at each other. Trish raises an eyebrow and Frank responds, "I think we're outnumbered." So she nods; consenting.

"Good then. It's settled." Harm stands up; headed for the kitchen. "Frank, you want a beer?"

Frank nods.

"Mom? Glass of wine?"

Trish squints. "I'm not sure that's very polite of us Harm." She says, casting an uncertain glance Mac's way.

"As long as it's your drink, it's not a problem Trish. We only have a problem if it's my drink. Harm assures me he picked up a nice Riesling. Have some if you like. He won't drink the whole bottle himself."

She nods still somewhat uncertain and notices that Laura watches Harm cross the room with an odd expression on her young face. To Mac she says, "I guess I thought it would be too much temptation for you to have liquor in the house."

"First, an alcoholic doesn't need a reason to drink. There doesn't have to be temptation. However, there rarely ever is liquor here." Mac tips her head in Harm's direction. He likes a good beer or an infrequent glass of wine. Anything harder, for him, is rare. I never really liked the taste of either. It was bourbon and/or vodka that got me into trouble. In all the time we've known each other Trish, I may have seen him buzzed once or twice, but he never overdoes it, and that's where the big temptation really hits me. I see people having too much fun and I'm tempted to join in. As a teenager, I ran around with troublemakers who drank to loose control and to escape because losing control at home was never an option, and we all wanted to escape. There's not a lot of temptation with Harm around. In fact, he's seen me loose control. He didn't care for it. He can make a girl rather determined not to show that side of herself again. He's good for me that way. Your son does not like to loose control." Mac says, aware that Harm is listening.

"Tell me about it! His dad was the same way. Drove me crazy! Always so buttoned up; squared away."

"Nice to hear he was human. Harm's better than he used to be, but his dad's still pretty far up there on that pedestal." Mac smiles in his direction, and then suddenly casts an uncertain look in his mother's. "Uh… I didn't mean to imply that he was unworthy… Just that sometimes I suspect Harm's memory may be a little rose-colored."

Trish smiles warmly, putting Mac at ease again. "Oh, it is. Not that he didn't deserve to be loved and respected the way a father should. He certainly did, but all five-year-olds think their fathers are heroes. Harm's vision of his father, while it certainly wouldn't have changed completely, might have shifted slightly if Harmon had been around when he was a teenager. By the time he was, all he had left of his father were a few possessions, memories, and his looks. It's awfully hard to strip the hero of his cape, or in his case, clip his golden wings, when that's all that's left. I didn't even have the heart to try. It would've been cruel."

Mac nods. "I agree, on all points but one. Not all five-year-olds think their fathers are heroes; sometimes not even if they wear Marine green. Part of me use to be a little jealous. I think I even resented him for it on some level. I'd rather live with the memory of a gone, but never forgotten, father who loved and cherished me than the reality of growing up with the one who terrified and degraded me."

Wanting more information, and not just about her feelings for Harm, Trish asks with no judgment; only curiosity. "You resented him?"

Mac nods sheepishly. "Only for a little while. I tried really hard not to like your son. He just refused to stay unlikable." Mac playfully hurls one of the sofa's throw pillows in his general direction. It sails over the counter that divides the kitchen from the living room, but Harm sidesteps it, grins, and rolls his eyes. "I was really annoyed with him about that for a while. Then it got even worse! Then I started to care about him. It's awfully hard to resent people for the good things in their lives when you care about them. Falling in love with them doesn't make it any easier. In fact, the opposite starts to happen. It'll almost make you glad you were the one with the lousy parents, because as bad as that is, it's better than thinking about the possibility of him not having good parents. I've come to realize that his slightly rosy view of his father is really a wonderful thing… or at least the fact that nobody ever proved him wrong is."

"Maybe someday someone will look at him through similar eyes. I still miss the way his whole face would light up when he heard his father's car in the driveway. I don't know what your plans are, but I wouldn't mind seeing that look again on a new face."

In response to the sudden uncomfortable look on Mac's face, Frank Burnett says, "Honey, let them get married before you start lobbying for grandchildren."

"That would be a really good idea." Harm says, joining them again. He hands his mother a glass of dry wine, and Frank takes one of the two open beer bottles clasped between the fingers of his outstretched hand before he settles on the sofa again and drapes a comforting arm around Mac's shoulders. Giving her reassuring squeeze, he also offers her a raised eyebrow. She is both still and quiet for a moment before she nods; consenting to his unanswered question.

"What?" Trish asks aware of, but not understanding, the silent communication that passes between the two of them.

"It's going to happen Mom; just not in the usual way."

Both Trish and Frank wear puzzled expressions. "The usual way?" Trish queries with uncertainty. "Is there more than one way?" She smiles, teasing her son, but instantly regrets it when Mac responds.

"Thank God there is." She says quietly; squeezing Harm's hand to indicate that he should fill in the blanks.

"Mac has a condition... a severe case of Endometriosis. It causes a thickening of the uterine lining. Scar tissue forms. It's going to make conception next to impossible for us… At least without medical help. There are procedures we can try. There's also surrogacy but Mac really wants to carry a child." He rubs her shoulders. "We may have to adopt. However it happens, it's going to happen."

Mac and Trish exchange sad smiles. "He keeps telling me that; like he knows for sure."

"I do."

"I know you think it comforts me, but it doesn't Harm. It scares me. You say that, and all I can think about is the fact that I'm probably going to let you down." She tries to get up off the sofa, eager to leave the room… eager to be anywhere else, but Harm holds tight. Shaking his head, he won't let her go. For a moment, irritation flashes in her dark eyes. It burns hot and quick, and then dies just as quickly. Giving in, she rests her head on his shoulder and settles into his embrace; letting him quiet the panic rising inside that threatens to strangle her.

"It will all work out." He says quietly.

"You've already got me." Laura says, sounding small and scared. It isn't until that moment that Mac realizes the girl has come to stand beside her. The sad look on her face leads Mac to slide out of Harm's embrace and pick the girl up.

"Yes we do, and we love you." She cuddles with Laura affectionately, but when Harm tries to join in, she pulls away from him timidly. She retreats into her aunt's embrace and when that is still too close for comfort, she tries to leave the sofa.

Confused by this, Harm looks slightly stung. Even his parents look surprised as Laura's shocked aunt stammers, "Laura what's the matter with you?"

Mac holds on to the silent girl, waiting for an answer. Outside, thunder rolls and lightening splits the sky. Mutely, Laura jumps, shakes her head vehemently, and stares wide eyed at a point somewhere beyond Harm's left shoulder.

"Hey sweetheart, what's wrong?"

This confuses Laura. The tenderness in Harm's voice makes her want to hug him, but she won't. She frowns and offers Mac a pleading expression.

"Baby, you have to tell us what's wrong." Mac coaxes as Harm notices the fixed stare again. He follows her gaze to the beer bottle on the end table.

"Ah okay, I think I understand. I'm sorry sweetheart. We didn't even think about it. Did we?"

Laura's frightened eyes flick his way and then return to the bottle.

"Will it make you feel better if I throw that away?"

Laura nods silently.

He starts to get up, but as she begins to understand what's happening, Mac reaches out and catches him by the hand. "No Harm." She hugs Laura tightly. "Finish the drink."

"Mac, look at her face!" He says stunned by the request.

"I know. I know exactly how scared she is. That's why you have to do it. Harm, she needs someone to show her that not every person who enjoys a beer turns violent and ugly. We both know I can't do it. Please. I don't like that she's scared any more than you do, but I don't want her to be scared for the rest of her life."

Mac scoots away from him, as far as the sofa will let her go, taking Laura along with her. She holds the girl tightly and promises, "It will be okay. Harm's going to finish his drink, and when he's done, he'll still be the same guy. Not everybody gets mean Laura. I promise, you'll see."

Laura is caught somewhere between her fears and wanting to believe her aunt. She scowls more scared than angry, but crosses her arms over her chest anyway. "I don't want to sit here." She declares, but not with her usual vigor.

"Okay. You don't have to sit here if you don't want to. But, we're not going to hide in any closets or lock ourselves in the bathroom." Mac lets her climb down.

When she is down, she stands looking at Mac, "Will you come draw with me?"

Mac scoots off the sofa and slides over to the long piece of paper on the floor. Picking up an art pencil, she pats the floor beside her, inviting Laura, and offers Trish a grateful smile when she silently joins them.

Part 30: Things Unsaid

When he comes back into the dimly lit room, she offers him a sleepy smile in the glow from the hurricane lamp and waits for him to settle in beside her. "She okay?" Mac murmurs.

"She's fine." He whispers, sliding beneath the quilt. "She wouldn't say so, but I think she just wanted a hug. She wanted to know we're still okay after what happened tonight. As soon as she got one she crawled back under the sheet and curled up in your sleeping bag." Harm says; referring to the sheet draped across the backs of dining room chairs –a makeshift fort for Laura to sleep in. "However, she's still a little peeved about the fact that you threw her sleeping bag away Mac." He grins at her.

Mac snuggles close. "I don't know what possessed me to tell her about that. I should have known better. She's just scared she's going to need it again at some point. She'll be alright. It's just going to take a little while to convince her. She sure likes the tent in the living room."

"Well of course she does, and it's not just a tent, it's a fort, Mac."

"Oh, I'm sorry." She laughs. "I didn't mean to offend your architectural sensibilities."

"Oh come on. Didn't you ever do that?"

"What? Make a tent in the living room using old bed linens and my mother's dining room chairs? No, I never did."

"Well, we'll have to do it again before I leave, so we can join her. You don't know what you missed out on." He says in a hushed tone before dropping a light kiss on her temple.

"Harm?"

"Hmm?"

"Why are we whispering?"

"We're whispering because this is a small house and my mother's in the next room."

"Your mom's in the kitchen?"

"Uh huh."

"It's after 23:00. Is she okay?"

"As okay as can be expected. I don't remember storms bothering her when I was at home. Frank says in the last few years she doesn't sleep at night when a storm blows through."

"First, I know why. I hope you gave her a hug too, Flyboy." Mac lectures; still sounding sleepy and mildly annoyed.

"You do?"

Mac nods against his shoulder and keeps her voice low. "I'd bet the whole of my next paycheck it has something to do with her son putting a plane down in the Atlantic on a night like this. She almost lost you. Keeps me awake on stormy nights too."

"Could you not say that as if I did it on purpose? It wasn't exactly a Sunday drive through the mountains for me either."

Mac rubs his chest, letting her fingers come to rest beneath the thin fabric of his sleeveless white tee shirt just over his heart. "Yeah, I know." She says, the steady two-part rhythm of his heartbeat comforting her only a bit. "I'm sorry." She shivers, suddenly chilled to the bone despite his warm embrace."

"You're cold?"

With the far away note of painful recollection in her voice, she misinterprets the question for a statement "So were you. "I've never felt such cold. You were freezing to death. Literally hypothermic. If I ever have to feel that again, I hope it's me, not you."

Confused and alarmed. He raises his voice. "Mac, what are you talking about?"

"Shhh…" Mac places a fingertip against his lips. Removing it, she offers him a quick kiss. "That's the other thing I was going to tell you. First, I know why she doesn't sleep on stormy nights and second, if she's in the kitchen, she can hear any noise above a whisper through the air vent this room shares with the kitchen."

He whispers this time. "You can't be in both rooms at the same time. How do you know this?"

"Sometimes I stand in the kitchen and listen to Laura talking to her dog in here. They have very entertaining conversations."

"Mac! That's eavesdropping!"

"Didn't mean to! At least, not the first time. It was just so damn cute. I used to talk to my dog too. No worries he was ever gonna tell a soul any of my secrets." She pulls the quilt up around her shoulders still trying to chase away the chill that invaded her from the inside out.

"You are cold." He says quietly; rubbing her back.

"It'll go away in a minute. It has nothing to do with the temperature in this room."

"Mac, what were you talking about?"

"It happens whenever I think about that night. I shouldn't have brought it up."

"Well, you did. So spill it. C'mon Mac, talk to me."

Clinging to him in the dark as if he is a lifeline, she whispers hesitantly. "Chloe asked me to try and… locate you. It was her idea for me to attempt to get a read on you. I was terrified it wouldn't work. It's the one and only time it ever has worked when I'm awake. Since it first happened with Chloe, anytime I've found someone that I could connect with, it has always just been by using my memory of the dream I've had previously. I don't know for sure why this one was so intense. Maybe because I was awake, although that doesn't fit with my previous assumptions about the dreams. I've always assumed that the reason I saw things in my sleep was because it was the only time my unconscious mind could breach my consciousness. Maybe it has to do with the strength of our bond. Maybe it's a little of both. Maybe it had to do with my own heightened emotional state at the time; but I guess that leads back to our bond. Before that, I'd seen things that confused, or even frightened me. Physical sensation… Shared physical sensation, was never a part of it. Not before that night, and not since, thank God. Don't get me wrong, I'd do that again for you, for Laura, or for Chloe. But I don't want to do that for just anyone who walks through my dreams. For hours after that, my ears wouldn't stop ringing. There were moments when I had to stop and catch my breath. I couldn't get warm no matter how hard I tried. After that night, Harm I'm convinced; there is no fire in hell. Hell it is as frigid and wet as the storm-tossed Atlantic. It invades the soul. I've never felt so tired. I felt weighted down; like when your clothes are wet. It made simple movement exhausting. It felt as if going to sleep forever would be the easiest thing in the world to do. Like all you had to do was surrender and it would be over. By the time I found you, I could feel all that; and I think you may have had a headache too, from the concussion. I certainly had one for the rest of the night. You were hanging on by a fraying thread when I found you. That was the only thing that kept me from collapsing when the vision ended. I nearly did collapse. Beyond getting you to safety, all I wanted to do was find a dark corner, curl into a ball, and wail."

"Why didn't you tell me?" He whispers.

"What? I was supposed to tell you how bad it was for me? That's kind of selfish; isn't it?"

"Mac, you're the only other living person who knows exactly what I felt that night. You should have told me."

"It's hard to tell you even now. I get cold just talking about it. Besides anybody else would've thought I was ready for a rubber room. Moments when I really struggled with it, I noticed that The Admiral kept an eye on me, he was almost nice. He never asked, but I think he knew there was more going on with me than I wanted anyone to know."

"You should have talked to him."

Mac shakes her head. "I wanted people focused on you; not me. If just one person had been less focused; you might not be here. Besides, he did help me. I told the search team to go back to a place that they'd already been. They missed you. They didn't want to go back. I still remember the Admiral saying that he wouldn't pretend to understand my ability, but that he wouldn't doubt it either… or words to that effect. They did go back, on his recommendation… Actually" Harm feels her smile against his shoulder. "It was more of an order, than a recommendation, but it helped me. I didn't feel quite so 'paranormal' after that."

"I know you don't like it much, but it's saved my hide more than once, and I'm damn grateful for it Mac."

"I'm just grateful you're safe."

"I should have said thank you." He whispers.

"You did."

"I did? I don't remember that."

"First time I came to see you in the hospital. It was the first thing you said to me. You don't remember?"

"No."

"Well you did. You also had a concussion, I'm not surprised things are a little sketchy in your memory. While you're busy saying thank you's I think you should send one up your dad's way."

"Oh?"

Everybody in the room was staring at me that night. There's nothing quite like having an audience while you do something that nobody understands; including you. It made it extremely hard to relax, but I have to in order to get to the place I have to be in. When I'm trying too hard to figure out or interpret a dream of the same nature, it's like somebody's finger is on the pause button. I have to relax. Go with it; not work against it. So there I was, trying desperately to relax and focus on you. Thoughts of your dad kept popping into my head. At first it was incredibly frustrating. I kept trying to shut him out and refocus. It probably only took me a few seconds, maybe a minute, but it felt like an eternity. Finally, when I quit trying to close the door on him, he took my hand, and… There you were. I could see you. I felt what you felt. And inexplicably, I knew just where to point to on the map; latitude and longitude. It flies in the face of logic Harm, but I wouldn't have known your location; not without his help. I know it sounds insane, but he still watching over you."

He kisses the top of her head when he feels a teardrop soak through the front of his tee shirt. "It's not insane. You both were on my mind that night. At one point I thought you both were there with me. Until now, I had assumed that it was a hallucination brought on by hypothermia. It was just a couple minutes later; they were pulling me out of the water. I was barely conscious, but I do remember thinking. She's gonna kill me! I just shot the hell out of her rehearsal dinner!"

Mac laughs aloud and reflexively covers her mouth. "Good thing you did. Just don't do it this time around!" She hisses.

"Not gonna happen! I promise I won't miss this one… or mess it up!"

"Harm, we don't have time for a rehearsal dinner."

"Probably not. We'll see."

"Harm, you're being cryptic."

"Am I? Go to sleep Marine. You have to go to work tomorrow."

"And shopping too. Your mom and I are going shopping on my lunch break. We're taking Laura to find a dress for the wedding. Oh, and we have to see about getting a license soon. There's no waiting period in California, but we better get moving; especially if you want us to get married a day or two before next Saturday."

"I've got it covered. I'll let you know tomorrow when you get home when we're going to get the license."

Mac lifts her head off his shoulder. "You've got it covered, huh?"

"I do." He whispers suggestively flashing his flyboy grin as he reaches out to extinguish the flame in hurricane lamp on the bedside table.

"Harmon Rabb what have you got up your sleeve?"

"Go to sleep Sarah."

Chapter 7: Monday, August 27, 2007

Part 31: Shop Til You Drop

Author's Note: This has nothing to do with tonight's chapter, I just have to say, last night I watched Heroes from season three. You know, the episode where the seal who was HIV positive committed suicide by stepping into the line of fire. It was also the well-known episode where Harm fires a gun into the courtroom ceiling. I'm sorry if anyone disagrees with me, but this was one of the stupidest episodes!

This was one of those episodes where I didn't like Harm or Mac! As far as I can tell, DPB had an idea where he wanted the episode to go and he was determined to make it go there no matter how badly he had to botch the show or butcher his characters.

First, I'm not in the military, I'm not a ballistics expert, and I don't spend a lot of time in courtrooms. Although I know physical evidence is sometimes allowed in the courtroom, even weapons, I sincerely doubt that loaded weapons are ever permitted in the courtroom; except in the case of court officers and the weapons they carry.

Furthermore, I know Harm is passionate, sometimes to the point that it gets him into trouble, but I can't see him recklessly endangering the lives of everyone in that courtroom; no matter how fired up he was. And what? The only punishment he received for such reckless behavior was paying for the damage? Again, I'm not in the military, but somehow I doubt this is realistic. I think the military holds its people to a higher standard than that.

As for the way he misled Mac with regard to the ammunition, I didn't like it. That said, I also understand it. It was a lawyer's ploy; nothing more. Was it slightly underhanded? Yes, but in my opinion Mac blew it totally out of proportion! Even if, as Harm suggested, the guy had been hit by a ricochet; Mac is certainly smart enough to realize that he wasn't hit by multiple ricochets.

I also understand her initial anger when she realized that she'd been tricked. However, it went on for far too long. At some point, a rational adult realizes that the reason they are ticked off isn't because they were tricked, it's because they're embarrassed they fell for it. The scene where she refused to walk through the door that Harm was holding open for her was just childish. While she can occasionally be childish, Mac isn't one of those huffy feminists who get ticked off at a guy for opening a door for her. She likes that kind of attention, sometimes a little too much.

And finally, the scene where Harm throws the drink in the seal's father's face…excuse me if this is sexist… but that's behavior I expect from a woman. Not that I have done this myself, but neither have I ever seen one man do that to another man. How about it gentleman? Any thoughts? I understand what motivated Harm to do it, but as a woman, even I didn't want to throw a drink in the guy's face. I wanted to knock the man's teeth down his throat. I know Harm couldn't do that either. It certainly would have been called conduct unbecoming at the very least, but the drink in the face… Just felt…way off!

Anyway, that's my rant for the day! On with the story!

"I want yellow and green!" Laura shakes her head in response to the yellow dress Mac is holding up.

In, Lollipops & Lace, a ridiculously frilly boutique for little girls, Mac answers "I know you do baby, but this is the fourth store we'd been in and it's the last we're going to visit. I have to go back to work soon. Harm and I would like to get married sometime within the next three days. We're a little pressed for time. I think it's going to have to be either/or; not both."

"I want yellow and green!" Laura repeats, crossing her arms over her small chest stubbornly, and pleading with big eyes.

Mac chews on her lower lip as she glances at rack after rack of little girl's dresses. Debating with herself she wonders, should she put her foot down now or give it ten more minutes? She kneels in front of Laura's walker. "Laura, pick out a yellow dress and the green dress. We'll carry both with us while we look one more time. I'll give you eight more minutes. If we don't find a dress that is both yellow and green in eight minutes, then you'll have to choose one of the other two; deal?"

Pouting, Laura acquiesces, "Okay." She says unhappily.

"Atta girl. Roll your bottom lip back in before you trip over it." Mac pushes her bangs out of her face "Pick which two you like best."

Mac holds up dresses one after the other according to color. Laura either points in the acceptance or shakes her head in denial. She chooses a short mint green dress with a layered skirt and a dozen tiny buttons up the back as well as a sleeveless pale yellow dress with an ankle length A-line skirt and a soft satin sash that ties in the back.

"Thank you. Those are nice choices. Let's go find Trish and see if she found anything good on the sales rack in back"

Laura takes off; moving as fast as she can.

"Slow down kiddo. Stay where I can see you." Mac says, hurrying after her.

In a matter of seconds, Laura gives up trying to peer over the abundance of clothing racks; all of them taller than she is. "Miss Trish, where are you?"

"Stay where you are darling. I will come to you."

Mac catches up to Laura at the same moment that Trish rounds a corner holding up the only garment to bring a smile to Laura's face in nearly 45 minutes.

"Yes! You found it! I want that one!" She points emphatically at the sweet cream yellow dress with the pleated skirt that is covered in a fine mossy green lace.

Mac hangs the two dresses she's already holding on a nearby rack. "Hang on. We have to see if it fits."

"It should." Trish confirms; motioning them both toward a fitting room.

Minutes later, Laura looks at herself in a full length mirror. She nods her head with enthusiasm. "Can I have it? Please?"

Mac checks the price tag and is surprised to find that the dress is marked down 70%. She looks it over one more time; just to be sure she didn't miss any damage. "Is there anything wrong with it?" She looks at Trish.

"No, the store owner decided to stop carrying merchandise from this designer. She wants to get rid of it."

"Sold!" Mac smiles at Laura. "Take it off. Let's go pay for it."

Another rushed two minutes go by and they exit the fitting rooms.

"They've got hats and hair bows to match. Laura, will you wear a hat?" Trish asks.

Hurrying passed at Mac's insistence; Laura glances at a display of fussy looking hats on a nearby wall. She frowns and wrinkles her nose. "Those hats are for girls who are afraid of dirt! Mom and Mimi always try to make me wear those stupid things… And those stupid shiny shoes too; they hurt my feet. And then, they say 'Sit there and don't get dirty!' It's no fun!"

Trish laughs merrily at the girl's declaration while Mac simply smiles; remembering all too well.

"Ah well, no hat then." Trish says; sounding equally amused and disappointed. She purses her lips in thought, how about a yellow hair bow with a green lizard on it… or maybe a dragonfly?

"Dragonfly!" Laura exclaims with certainty. "I've got lizard barrettes at home already."

"Now, what do we do about your shoes?"

"Laura," Mac intercedes. "You can either pick a dress shoe that will go nicely with the dress… but you won't be able to walk in them very well, or you can pick a shoe that will fly in the face of fashion, and keep you upright at the same time." Mac looks at Trish. "Sorry, I know you're having as much fun as she is, but little girl's dress shoes aren't going to give her the support she needs."

Trish nods and shrugs. "She's not yet seven. She's allowed to make her own fashion statement."

"Dress flats that will make you feel tired and slow you down, or matching yellow high top sneakers kiddo?"

"Sneakers!" Laura proclaims as if it should be obvious.

Mac nods. "That's what I thought. It's probably the best choice too. Our wedding day might be a long day for you. The lime green shoes you already have are a bit loud for this dress. Let's see if we can find a softer yellow. With all that green lace, we could tie a pink bandanna around your leg and call you Punky Brewster."

"Who's Punky Brewster?"

Before answering Mac says, "Walk this way. We need to hurry… She was a very colorful kid on a TV show way before your time. I think she tried to wear every color of the rainbow every day. You would've liked her and all her bright colors. She was an orphan adopted by an old man named Henry. Henry was grouchy, but he took good care of her."

"Punky's a funny name." Laura says, following along.

"I think her name was Penelope, but she didn't like to be called Penelope. She chose Punky instead."

As Mac sorts through shoes looking for the right color and size Laura inquires, "Why was she an orphan? What happened to her parents?"

"I don't remember if the show ever mentioned her dad. It was a long time ago, but I think her mother abandoned her in a grocery store."

"That sucks! Was Henry nice to her; even though he was grouchy?"

"He was really nice to her; even though she had a knack for getting herself into trouble… How about these?" Mac asks, holding up a pair of sneakers the same shade of yellow as the dress.

Laura nods happily.

"Okay, now we really do have to go. We've got to get you back home."

"I want to stay with Miss Trish." Laura says matter-of-factly.

Mac laughs nervously. "Laura, Trish probably has things to do today. You can't just invite yourself along; it's rude baby."

"I didn't invite myself. I just said I wanted to. She can still say no. That's not rude. Is it?" She looks back and forth between the two women; slightly concerned. "I didn't mean to be."

Trish offers Laura a warm smile. "She's absolutely right Mac. I can still say no… but I won't. I'm going to get my hair done. She needs a haircut anyway, and I'd love the company. Laura, how would you like to go to the salon with me?"

Laura nods emphatically; her eyes pleading with Mac.

Trish is also waiting expectantly.

Stepping up to the cash register, Mac surrenders. "Oh alright."

"Good!" Trish declares. "After the salon, on our way home, we'll stop at the gallery for a few minutes. I'll show you all the pretty art. Harm can pick you up at my house this evening in time for dinner."

Laura nods again and Mac looks concerned. "Trish, don't give her any art pencils while you're at the gallery. She will likely decide that some of the artwork needs to be embellished."

As the sales clerk takes Mac's things to ring up the total Trish whispers," Some of it could use some embellishment."

While Mac is busy paying for purchases Trish asks Laura, "Other than art pencils and sketch paper, what else do you like? What are your favorite toys? I don't have any Barbie dolls at my house. Do we need to get one?

With a sour expression Laura announces, "Barbie's head is hollow! You got any toy cars, trucks, airplanes… Things like that?"

Listening in, even though she's busy, Mac bursts out laughing. Understanding her, Trish joins in.

"What's funny?" Laura demands sweetly. "She asked me what I like to play with. I didn't say anything funny."

Still laughing, Mac answers. "Cars…trucks… airplanes. Laura, something tells me that Trish probably has an entire truck full of toy airplanes!"

"Oh, I do! Harm's old toy box may be buried under 30 years of dust, but I promise you Laura, you'll have more airplanes than you'll know what to do with. Airplanes, fighter jets and carriers to land them on, helicopters, space shuttles, and even a few flying saucers; basically if it was meant to fly, I've got it."

Laura watches Mac pick up their shopping bags from the counter, and then glances at Trish. "Okay then! I'm ready; let's go!"

Part 32: Making the Announcement

Author's Note: Okay, I watched the Straits of Malacca; the episode in which the Roberts' twins were introduced. Although there is some disagreement about this, even within the confines of my own mailbox, it is my belief that the little boy's name was Nicky as in Nicholas. No name was mentioned for his sister. I chose her name in honor of another JAG character for the part she played in saving Bud's life. The credit for this decision goes to reader, jpstar57 as he is the one and gave me the idea. He also mentioned that the idea came to him secondhand, by way of writer mkim 5. Many thanks to you both.

On with the story!

Surprised to find her house empty, except for Laura's furry friend, Mac lets the dog out. While she's gone, Mac sets out fresh food and water for her. She looks around the kitchen and living room. No Harm, no Laura, no note. Maybe Harm went to pick Laura up. She shrugs it off and goes to change out of her uniform before re-entering the kitchen and walking to the refrigerator.

Half an hour later, she is setting aside a portion of the marinara sauce on the stove for Harm before adding ground beef to the larger portion for herself and Laura when she feels a pair of strong arms slide around her waist from behind. Only mildly startled, she leans into his embrace.

"I didn't hear you come in." She murmurs.

"I'm not surprised. With the exception of the smell of dead animal frying, it smells pretty good in here. Your mind is probably focused on your stomach."

"Be nice Squid, or you don't get any. Where's my niece? Mac asks, looking around the room; confused by Laura's absence.

"She's at Mom and Frank's."

"Still? My understanding was that you were picking her up this evening in time for dinner."

"That was the plan. Plan got changed. I went to get her. When I got there, she was sitting at the kitchen bar in Frank's lap. She was eating barbecue chicken, mashed potatoes, and steamed asparagus." Harm's mouth stretches into a wide grin and one eyebrow arches curiously. "She was also telling Frank how to play chess."

Mac raises an eyebrow of her own. "I take it Frank doesn't know how to play chess?"

"Frank loves to play chess, and he's exceptionally good at it."

Mac chuckles. "But Laura was telling him how to play?"

Harm nods, holding back laughter. "Yes, according to her own rules, and I think she was making them up as she went along." He mimics Laura. "You can't move that direction you have to go this direction. My castle stays here! Your horsey can't have my lady!"

"Was Frank even trying to teach her to the proper way to play?"

"Apparently they take turns. They play one game by his rules and then one by her rules. Mom was making dessert and watching all of this with the sappiest smile on her face."

Mac laughs. "That doesn't surprise me at all, not after our shopping trip today. Harm, you should've had a sister. Your mother loves having a little girl around."

"So I gather. Laura has a new haircut, a manicure and a pedicure. She has pink fingernails, and flame orange toenails, along with a purple streak in her hair."

Not in the least bit fooled, Mac shakes her head. There is no way on this earth that a class act like your mother let Laura dye her hair purple."

"Well it fooled me at first. It's artificial, it fastens into her hair by a barrette, and mom told her she wasn't allowed to wear it in public; but when I walked into the kitchen, there she was, a fork in one hand, a model tomcat in the other, orange toes, purple streak in her hair, and refusing to let Frank play a proper game of chess. All this, and my mother was grinning like the Cheshire cat from Alice in Wonderland. She never let me bring toys to the table when I ate."

Mac laughs at the wounded note in his voice. "Probably because if she had; you wouldn't have eaten. You'd have been too busy playing. Laura doesn't have that problem. Even bossing Frank around won't come between her and a meal."

"Mom says they'll bring her home before bedtime. How long before this is ready?" He points to the stove.

"We can eat now if you hungry enough. If you can wait, it'll be better if we let it simmer for half an hour."

In response, Harm turns the heat on the stove down; nearly all the way. "I can wait." he whispers suggestively.

Mac turns in his arms to face him. "What'd you have in mind?" She breathes; sure she knows the answer.

Drawing out the suspense, Harm offers her a series of quick kisses that start with her lips and end in the hollow of her neck. Just when he senses her surrender, he stops, and takes hold of her hand; pulling her across the room. "Come on." He smiles wickedly. "Let's go call Bud and Harriett!"

Mac throws back her head and laughs. "Harm!" She objects, but follows after him anyway; wrapping her arms around him from behind.

A minute later the young voice of the Robert's eldest son comes tentatively through the phone line, "Aunt Mac?"

Mac smiles at Harm as she answers the boy. "Hi A.J. How did you know it was me?"

"Cuz, the caller ID says S. Mackenzie."

"Ah, it's getting late in DC. Are you up passed your bedtime?

"I gotta B+ on my spelling test. Mom said if I got better than a C, I could stay up and watch one Star Trek with Dad."

"Oh, well good job! I'm proud of you. I need to speak to your mom and dad. Can you get both of them for me?"

A.J. sounds more curious than worried. "Is it something bad or something good?"

"What?"

"If you wanna talk to both of them at the same time, it's either about something really bad or something really good."

Chuckling, Harm leans a little closer to the phone. "Hey champ. It's something really good."

"Uncle Harm? Is that you?" He can hear A.J.'s excitement ramp up another notch.

"Yeah, it's me. Go get your mom and dad, okay pal?

They hear him set the phone down. They hear his little feet pounding the floor as he runs from the room yelling as loud as he can. "Mom! Dad! Come quick; hurry!" They hear Bud and Harriet's muffled responses; mingled with mild alarm. "Aunt Mac and Uncle Harm are both on the phone. They wanna talk to both of you and it's not bad news!"

Before the Roberts pick up the phone Harm tells Mac, "That boy belongs to his mother!"

A moment later, Harriet is the first on the line. "Well it's about time you called, sailor! You left here a week ago and I haven't heard a peep from you! … Hello Ma'am." Harriett adds when she's through chastising Harm.

In good humor, Mac rolls her eyes. "Harriet, what happened to calling me Mac?"

"Sorry, old habit. So I guess you two made up?" She asks hopefully, and then covers the phone's mouthpiece with her hand, "Oh for Heaven's sake Bud, will you hurry up."

"I'm coming Honey. Jenny's got gum in her hair again!"

"Well I told you not to give her anymore gum didn't I? Jennifer Coates Roberts, you spit that gum in the trash this instant."

"Harriett it's already in the trash." Bud answers. "Well, at least the part that's not in her hair." He clarifies; trying to remove gum from his own fingers as he comes close, "Okay, I'm here now. Hello Sir, Ma'am; what's up?"

"Bud, I hope you're not covered in bubble gum. You might want to put your arm around Harriet."

"Why would I want to do that?" Bud asks absent-mindedly and then grunts when Harriett apparently elbows him in the ribs.

"Aww Harriet, you know what I mean!"

Before they can continue Mac answers, "Yes Harriett, we did make up."

"No more cold war?"

"No more cold war." Mac confirms.

"Thank goodness." Harriet says with her usual zeal. "You two were really starting to break my heart."

"It gets better."

"Oh? Better how?"

Mac nods at Harm, and then moves the phone away from both their ears in anticipation.

"We're getting married. That's how." Harm tells her.

For one brief moment in time no sound at all can be heard over the connection, and then a shriek of happiness loud enough to nearly make their ears bleed travels through the phone line.

Bud objects loudly and Harm can picture his friend with his finger stuck in his ear. "Keep squealing Honey. I've already got a prosthetic leg. I guess having a hearing aid too won't be a big deal. It's not like I actually need to hear."

"Oh Bud!" then Harriet immediately turns her attention back to the couple on the other end of the phone. "When's the wedding? Do you have a dress yet? Do you have a license yet? Where are you getting married? Where are you going to live? What can we do to help?"

They both laugh. "First, slow down Harriet, take a breath. Second, Harm has to answer your questions. He's the official wedding planner. I have to go answer the door; somebody's knocking. I'll be right back."

Part 33: Conversations

Author's note: I'm pretty sure I got A.J. Roberts' age right for the story's timeline. If he was a week from five when the Admiral retired, and six when the show ended, I think eight is about right. I guessed about Jimmy's age. If mistakes were made, I do apologize. On with the story!

Washington, D.C.

Eight-year-old A.J. Roberts leaves his happy parents on the kitchen phone and returns to the den where his younger brother Jimmy is lying on the floor. With his chin propped on the heel of his right hand, he stares at the TV screen; watching as Lieutenant Commander Data strokes his cat, Spot. Without so much a shifting his gaze A.J.'s way Jimmy asks, "What's Mom happy about this time?"

A.J. flops on the floor beside him. "Uncle Harm and Aunt Mac are getting married."

"No, seriously A.J."

"Seriously dork!"

"Shut up dufus! Just tell me why Mom's so happy. I think people in New York heard her scream."

A.J. rolls his eyes at his little brother. First Jimmy, make up your mind. It's not possible to shut up and answer your question at the same time. Second, you don't even know where New York is."

"Do too!"

"Oh yeah? Where?

The kindergartner thinks about it for a second before answering, "New York is… not in Washington, DC.

"Good answer; worm breath."

Jimmy playfully slugs his older brother in the arm "A-Jay!" he says theatrically, "Are you gonna tell me; or not?"

"Jimmy, have you got jelly for brains? I already told you. Aunt Mac and Uncle Harm are getting' married."

Realizing that maybe his brother isn't kidding, Jimmy decides that there must be something else he misunderstood. "To each other?"

"No stupid! They're gonna marry the Power Rangers."

Jimmy stares at A.J. "You're serious? They're getting married?"

"Umm, yeah… That's what I'm saying."

"Aww man! You know what that means?"

"Yeah I do." A.J. confirms. The two boys look at each other in utter disgust. In unison, they groan. "Mom's gonna make us get dressed up!"

San Diego California

When Mac leaves his side to go and answer the knock at the front door, Harm quietly fills Bud and Harriett in on the wedding details they need to know about. He also makes certain that they are aware that Mac is not privy to all the details; lest they should let anything slip. "Harriet, I'm counting on you to be quieter than you have ever been. I really want this to go off without a hitch, so please; mum's the word."

The happy blonde giggles with nervous excitement. "Wild horses won't drag it from me, Captain… I promise! What can we do to help?"

"I think all we really need you to do is show up. That's asking enough."

"I wouldn't say that. Sir… I mean, Harm, I really think Harriett and I can manage more than that." Bud sounds a little ill at ease through the phone line.

"I have no doubt you could if you were here Bud, but I'm asking you to fly six people nearly 3000 miles and I'm giving you ridiculously short notice. I might feel differently if four of those six people weren't children under the age of ten. If you can manage to get yourself, your wife, and all my godchildren to the appropriate place at the appropriate time without spilling the beans, that will be extraordinary. If it's okay with you, I'm going to pass your name and contact information on to my mom and Frank. They're helping me with all the planning and I may not always be available if you have questions."

"That's fine. We'll look forward to talking with them."

"And don't you worry about us." Harriett adds. "Assuming Bud can get leave, we're used to traveling around with four kids. Are you sure you're ready for us?" She asks; still giddy with excitement.

"I'm more than ready Harriett. Oh, and Bud… There is one other thing I need; if you're interested."

"Just name it."

"I need a best man."

Bud Roberts opens his mouth to speak, finds himself at a loss for words, regroups and answers. "You've got one, Harm."

Hearing Mac approach, talking with the bearer of another familiar voice Harm says, "See you soon… And remember Harriett… Not even wild horses…"

Before Harriet can respond, Harm hands the phone to Mac and smiles at their guest.

He vaguely listens to Mac as she begins a conversation with Harriet. The sound of another squeal of enthusiasm escapes the handset as Harm drops a friendly arm around the shoulders of Jennifer Coates and ushers her out onto the back porch. Once the door is closed behind them he asks, "Why does she think you're here?"

"I told her I was bringing you copies of some old photographs I found of Mattie." Just to make good on the excuse, Jen reaches into her handbag and pulls out a small Manila envelope and hands it over.

"Did you have any time today to do what I asked when I called you this morning."

She nods. "I found him. At the moment he's in France. When I told him why I was calling, he said, and I quote, 'It's about damn time!"

"Sounds like him. Is he coming?"

"I told him that his presence was requested, and then I told him why."

"What'd he say?"

"Again I quote, 'Coates you tell Rabb I'll be there even if I have to bum a ride in the back seat of an F15."

"Well, let's hope he doesn't have to go to that extreme… And the other thing?"

"He says it's not a problem. Even if he has to call in a favor or two, he doesn't mind playing currier."

Harm nods. "I'd just about decided that I was nuts to even attempt this, but it looks like we may just pull it off. Thanks Jen."

"Thanks for asking me. After the debacle of the Admiral's failed wedding plans, I never expected anyone to ask me to help with this sort of thing again."

"Jen, that wasn't your fault. If memory serves me correctly, the bride-to-be, in that case, was somewhat… capricious."

"Well, I don't think you'll have that problem. This morning before staff meeting, the Colonel was humming. She tries to hide it. Probably because she thinks it's not very Marine-like, but she's about as close to bubbly as I've ever seen a Marine get."

Harm smiles. "We better get back in there before she gets Harriett off the phone and comes looking for us. Will you join us for dinner?"

"I'd like that; if it's not an imposition."

"We're having spaghetti with marinara sauce. Do you want yours with or without dead animal?"

Chapter 8: Tuesday, August 28, 2007

Part 34: Day Planner

05:47 HRS

Mac breezes passed Harm at the stove, helps herself to his coffee cup, and when he scowls, she kisses him quickly.

"Mac, I know you trying to get to the office ahead of everyone else, but do you think you could slow down for just a second."

He drops hot bacon, fresh from the skillet, on a plate covered with paper towels and she quickly snags a piece, holding it lightly between two finger tips to avoid burning herself.

She flashes him a seductive smile. "For you, I can slow down for 3 seconds. What's on your mind, Flyboy?"

"Bad news."

Mac stops trying to cool the piece of bacon in her hand by blowing on it. "We still going to get the license at lunch today?"

"Yeah, but the quickest I can get everybody here for the wedding is gonna be Saturday morning. I just can't make it happen any faster than that. I'm sorry."

Chewing on bacon, Mac mulls this over. "Bit tougher than you thought, huh?"

"Yeah it is."

"Any chance I can talk you into scaling back whatever it is you're planning?"

"I'm not planning anything out of the ordinary." Harm tries.

"Yes you are! I know you are. I also know you're not going tell me about it. I'll let you have your way, but don't insult my intelligence." She says lightly.

"What makes you so sure?"

"Harm, Frank called three times yesterday evening. Before we started planning to get married you probably talked to Frank three times in six months. Is that about right?"

"Four times in six months." He says with a grin; just to be contrary "And the truth is, at this point, it would be even more work to scale it down."

"You have to leave Saturday evening. That's not what you wanted Harm."

Harm shrugs. "It's the best I can do. We'll just have to have the honeymoon before the wedding."

Giving him his cup of coffee back, Mac throws back her head and laughs. "Sure, why not. We do pretty much everything else our own way, may as well do that our way too."

"Good." Harm says; relieved she took it so well. "You wanna go somewhere?"

"On a honeymoon? First, we don't have time for that. Second, the beach is right outside our bedroom window. Why do we need to go anywhere else? People spend thousands of dollars going on honeymoons Harm. They get some splendid hotel room with a splendid nightly rate in some faraway gorgeous place and then they never leave the room. They just lay around half naked for a few days. You don't have to spend money to do that. We can do that right here. If you really want a getaway, we'll pick a weekend after your transfer is official. We'll go any place you want."

"Mom and Frank say they'll keep Laura Thursday and Friday night."

"Oh, she'll be thrilled!

"Date night's Friday."

"Now I'm thrilled! Where are we going?"

He shakes his head. "I'll tell you Friday. It's a secret."

"Another secret? You're going to drive me mad, Mr. Rabb."

"You'll like it… Promise."

She smiles at him as she picks up her briefcase. "Harm you look like a kid waiting for Christmas morning. See you at 12:30?"

"At the courthouse." He nods. Laura and I will be there."

Part 35: Harm Enlists More Help

12:51 HRS

Standing at the window to the County Clerk's office beside Harm, Laura grins happily while trying to stand on tiptoe to peer over the edge of the tall counter at the window. She can manage it alright as long as she hangs on to the elbow Harm offers her along with his smile. He is busy filling out paperwork that Laura doesn't really understand. She knows people need licenses to drive and something called a permit to own a gun, but she's not sure why people need papers to get married. While she mulls this over the gray haired lady at the window offers her friendly smile.

"Hi Honey. Don't you look pretty in that pink dress? I bet you're excited about Mom getting married, huh?"

Confused, Laura wrinkles her brow until she sorts out the misunderstanding in her mind, and then she smiles brightly; showing off the gap in her smile from a missing baby tooth. "That's not my mom. That's Aunt Mac!"

"Oh I see. So, are you excited about getting a new uncle?"

Laura appears to give this question serious thought; the furrow in her brow deepening. She looks first at Harm, and then at Mac. "I never had an uncle before."

Mac walks around Harm and kneels beside Laura to tie her loose shoe lace. "Well, you will have one by this time Saturday. That's what you call the guys who are married to aunts; uncles… And you do have a great uncle. Mimi's brother is your great uncle Matthew. You've just never met him."

Laura studies Harm seriously for a long quiet moment before she looks at the clerk again and nods with enthusiasm. "He's pretty cool; even if he doesn't eat meat. He still cooks it for me and Aunt Mac."

"That's awfully nice of him." The clerk says, taking papers from Harm and looking them over for errors or missing information.

Harm musses Laura's hair affectionately as Mac returns to the counter to complete her portion of the paperwork. When she is done and affixing her signature, she glances over at the man quietly approaching behind Laura. She offers him a quiet smile the instant before he taps Laura on the shoulder. Turning around, a curious expression in her eyes, Laura squeals with delight when she sees the person vying for her attention.

"Judge Wayne!" She turns, let's go of her walker, and wraps her arms around his belly in an exuberant hug.

Touched by her affection, the portly judge clad in black robe, boots, and a string bow tie, lowers himself onto one knee and returns the hug. "Hey darlin' what are you doing back here?" he teases. "I sent you home four days ago."

"Getting a marriage license!"

"Already? Aren't you a little young to be getting married?"

Laura giggles. "It's not for me, silly! It's for Aunt Mac. She and Harm are getting married. He's gonna be my uncle now… Well, on Saturday."

"You don't say! Well, that sounds like a fine idea."

"You wanna come to the wedding?" Laura looks at him with hopeful eyes. She turns her attention to Harm and Mac. "It's okay if he comes, right?"

Harm exchanges a look with Mac who, in turn, nods at him before he says, "Actually, we still need someone to officiate; if you're interested, Judge."

"Hey now, that's something I don't get to do every day. It would be my honor."

"Good. I can cross that off my list."

"Is there room for a plus one? Maggie likes to go to weddings."

"Who's Maggie?" Laura wants to know.

"Maggie is my bride. She has been for 34 years."

"Whoa! That's a long time to be married."

"It's not as long as you think it is Laura. Not when you married to the right person. What's impressive is that after 34 years, she still likes me!"

Laura giggles again and notices and that Harm is looking at her in a funny way. He tilts his head ever so slightly in Mac's direction. Understanding, Laura smiles and kisses the judge's cheek before leaving him to go and stand at Mac's side where she gently tugs on her hand.

When Mac glances down at her, Laura motions for her to lean down closer and whispers in her ear. Mac listens and then asks quietly, "Now?"

With wide expressive eyes Laura nods beseechingly.

"Can't you wait just a minute?"

"Laura shakes her head emphatically."

"Okay." Mac scoops her up. "Gentleman if you'll excuse us, please." Lingering, she lets her hand rest on Harm's shoulder for just a moment. "We'll be right back. Don't leave without us." She'd teases before she smiles at the judge, "Bring Mrs. Dubose along to the wedding. It's only going to be a simple affair, but you're both more than welcome."

"As Mac sets off in search of the nearest lady's room with Laura in her arms, the girl glances back over her aunt's shoulder and smiles at her soon-to-be uncle when he winks at her and gives her the thumbs up sign.

Harm waits for them to disappear around the nearest corner before turning his full attention back to the judge. "Thanks for meeting me."

"How could I not? Your call was most intriguing. Maggie and I are on board, and I've also called my friend, Judge Dana Kerrigan. It's all arranged, she looks forward to speaking with your mother and stepfather. Is there any other way I can be of service?"

Harm shakes his head as he shakes the man's hand. "You've done more than enough already Judge."

"Nonsense! This is a hoot! I've never been party to a clandestine wedding before! We'll see you there."

The judge starts to walk away, and then seems to rethink his decision and turns to face Harm again. "My wife told me to remind you, you'll need a cake."

A look of mild panic crosses Harm's face and the judge chuckles in response. "Not once in 34 years has that woman ever been wrong… Not even on the rare occasion that she is. She said you'd forget. I tried to remind her, that she doesn't know you. She waved the comment aside, 'Of course he'll forget, you men never remember these kinds of things.'… or so I've been told."

"I'm afraid she's still not wrong, Judge. Now I have to figure out what to do about cake!" Harm sighs. "I think I've lost my mind."

The judge laughs heartily. "Just give Maggie a call. She runs The Sweet Spot bakery. She'll fix you right up. Just tell her what kind of cake the Colonel likes best, and how fancy or plain it should be."

"Oh well that's easy. Chocolate… and simple, nothing too fancy."

"I'm no expert, but my wife does run a bakery. I think, customarily, the groom's cake is chocolate."

"Wait. There are two cakes? Why?"

"Hell if I know. One seems like more than enough to me. But then, I don't really like cake."

"Does there have to be two?"

"My wife will tell you there does, but don't let her bamboozle you. I say it's your wedding. Do what you want… I've gotta get a bite of lunch before court resumes."

Harm shakes the man's hand again and, watches him walk away thinking silently "What's next!"

Part 36: Awestruck

Author's note: To the guest reader who wrote of missing Laura so much that it made you grumpy while my Internet connection was down, I hope this chapter will cheer you up.

13:20 HRS

When they leave the courthouse and Mac heads in the opposite direction; returning to work, Harm finds himself sitting at a red light lost in thought about all the things that need to be done in the next few days when he hears a young voice calling out to him from the backseat.

"Harm, how come people need papers to get married?"

He glances in the rearview mirror. "You mean a marriage license?"

Laura nods, her expressive dark eyes filled with curiosity.

"It's just the county and the state's way of keeping track of who's married and who isn't."

"Why does the county or the state need to know?"

Harm shrugs; this is something he's never even thought about and he wonders why he hasn't, but the not-quite- seven-year-old in the back seat has. "For taxes; I guess."

"Harm, what's taxes?"

"Money that citizens pay the government. Married couples are taxed differently than single people."

"What does the government do with tax money?"

Harm bites back the glib answer that forms on his tongue. "Taxes pay for schools, roads, military equipment and training, and lots of other things too."

"How come your taxes are different if you're married?"

"Because somebody decided they should be."

"Who decided?"

"American citizens."

Laura is quiet for a moment before she asks, "Who decided the government should get to know if you're married or not, or who you're married to?"

"I guess the same people. What's with all these questions?"

"I don't think you should have to fill out papers to get married. That's dumb. Big people are weird, but if they wanna get married, then they should just get married. I think the government is nosy."

Taking his foot off the brake and pressing gently on the accelerator, Harm leaves the traffic light behind and has to watch the road carefully as he laughs at the plainly stated declaration from the backseat.

"Hey, what's funny?"

"Such big opinions for such a little girl. I didn't even know little girls thought about those kinds of things."

"You were little once; right?"

Harm grins at her reflection in the rearview mirror and then nods. "A long time ago."

"What'd you think about?"

"When I was your age? Let's see, I thought a lot about my dad, airplanes, fire trucks, and what was for dinner."

"I always think about dinner." She says as if this is not a well-known fact.

"I know." He says trying not to laugh.

"I don't know who my dad is, so I don't know what to think about him. Fire trucks are okay but they're noisy, and I've never been on an airplane before."

"But you do think about marriage licenses?"

"Only 'cause we went to get one. Don't you think about them?"

"Not too much."

"Why not? You wanna get married don't you?"

"I sure do, but the license is just a piece of paper that says I can get married. I already know that. So, I guess I really don't spend much time thinking about it."

Well, you're not little anymore. What do you think about now?"

"I still think a lot about my dad and about airplanes too, but most of time I'm thinking about your Aunt Mac."

She smiles at the mention of her aunt's name. "I'm glad you came to see us Harm. I'm glad you're gonna marry Aunt Mac… and I really wanna tell her about the surprise."

"Hey now, you promised you'd keep my secret. Remember our deal."

"I know, but it's so hard Harm. She's gonna be so happy."

Harm reaches back and pats the little girl on the knee. "Just hang on for a couple more days Laura; please. It's not good to break promises, especially not when people are counting on you. I need your help to make this work, and I trust you not to let me down. You hang on for a few more days, and I'll take you to Francie's ice cream parlor for a banana split with anything you want on it."

No sound at all is heard from the backseat. After several long seconds, Harm glances back momentarily before quickly returning his eyes to the road. "Hey sweetheart, you doing okay back there?"

In a voice Harm can best describe as awestruck she asks, "You trust me?"

"Well, sure I do."

"You can keep the ice cream. I don't need it."

"You don't?"

"Na uh. Nobody's ever said they trust me before. That's kinda cool Harm. I won't tell."

Harm marvels at the kid in the rearview mirror.

Part 37: Pictures

17:43 HRS

"Okay Jen what's next?"

"That's it Ma'am. That was the last one."

"That's it? You sure?"

"Yes Ma'am. That was the last report."

"Good. Jen, I'm going home!"

Jennifer Coates smiles at her commanding officer. "I thought you might."

"I suggest you do the same. You've had a busy couple of days, between work here and whatever Captain Rabb has you working on."

Coates plasters a befuddled expression on her face. "Colonel, I'm not sure what you mean."

Mac smiles and nods knowingly. "Don't tell me. Don't spoil his plans; he's having way too much fun with this. Just promise me he's going to keep the guest list under 30."

Coates eyes sparkle and she chews on her lower lip. After a long moment she says, "Well… It's not as if you don't know you're getting married. I guess it wouldn't hurt to answer that. He plans to keep it under 25. He says any more than that and he's afraid you might run for the hills."

"And how far under 25 is he?"

"Actually." Jen pauses to do the math in her head. "With the two you added today. We have a grand total of 23 that includes you and he and…uh… whoever officiates Ma'am.

"That would be Judge Wayne Dubose; the judge who handled Laura's placement hearing."

"Right… Now; does Captain Rabb know about the two people you added today?"

"No, and don't you dare tell him! Two can play this game. Just tell Frank and Trish, or whoever's coordinating the effort to get everyone there." Feeling quirky and a little bit confused Mac laughs and shakes her head. "This is ridiculous! Jen, if you manage to keep all this straight, I'm going to nominate you for some kind of metal."

"I don't mind Ma'am. This isn't so bad. I've seen worse."

"Aw yes, you've done this before. I forgot. I'm sorry if we're driving you crazy."

"The hardest part is remembering who knows what. Beyond that… Well, at least you two are in agreement about what kind of wedding you want. With respect to the Admiral, Ms. Cavanaugh couldn't seem to make up her own mind what she wanted, much less agree with him. Just between you and me Ma'am, I hated the way it ended. I felt really bad for the Admiral, but I was glad it did end. I suppose it's none of my business, but I don't think he would be very happy if they hadn't called off the wedding."

"No. He wouldn't." Mac confirms, with certainty."

"I guess you would know a little something about that."

"Yes. I would. It's a shame what happened to Judge Delaney. I think she would've been good for him."

"Judge Delaney, Ma'am?"

"Oh, she was before your time a JAG."

"What happened to her?" the junior officer asks as Mac begins putting files into her briefcase."

Mac opens her mouth to tell the story but then changes her mind. Feeling protective of the Admiral's privacy, she answers more simply. "She died."

"Was the Admiral in love with her?"

"I'm not sure; maybe. You know how closely he guarded his private life. That made it difficult to get a read on his feelings for her but I do believe he cared for her; perhaps a great deal."

Jennifer Coates looks somewhat forlorn; nearly stricken. "It just makes you want to go home and hug the people in your life."

"It does do that." Mac says in agreement as she snaps her briefcase closed. "Are you bringing someone to the wedding?"

"I haven't decided yet Ma'am. I'm seeing a couple of people, but I don't know if I'm ready to bring either of them to a wedding. That's kind of…"

Mac smiles as, at a loss, Jen falters. "That's kind of… intimate." Mac finishes for her.

"Yes, exactly. Who are you supposed to invite when you're not ready to bring either guy you're seeing but you're not ready for either of them think your interest lies elsewhere."

"Don't ask me." Mac chuckles, "I'd advocate for your best friend, but the last time I tried that, mine crashed his plane into an ocean!"

"I'm not sure that's true Ma'am. Technically, doesn't getting engaged count as inviting someone to a wedding?"

"Touché, and once again we're back to advocating for the best friend, but with or without a date, you're on the list; right?"

"Are you kidding? I'll be there."

"Good. If you're going to work this hard to organize someone else's wedding, the least she can do is save your dance with the groom. Oh, and whatever else you two were up to last night, thanks for bringing by the pictures of Mattie. He appreciated that, probably more than he will ever be able to say."

"It didn't make him too sad?"

"It did, but it made him happy too. I thought he'd laugh until he cried when he held up the photo of Mattie holding up a small dry erase board… A sign that read 'Mattie says sleep!"

Jen offers her a melancholy smile, "That was when he lost his hearing Ma'am. She ran back and forth between our two apartments; fussing over him like a teenage mother hen. I think she drove him half-mad taking care of him."

"I can see that happening. Harm does not like to be taken care of. He thinks it's his job to take care of the people he cares about; not the other way around." Mac heads for the door. "Secure for the day, and go home Jen. I'll see you tomorrow."

"Aye aye Colonel."

Two hours later, Mac settles on the couch beside Harm with a steaming cup of herbal tea as he flips through an album containing more photos, but this time, it isn't Mattie he's gazing at. She sips the hot brew cautiously as she tucks her stocking feet beneath her body and snuggles close "What ya doing with that dusty old thing?"

"Just looking. Where's Laura?"

"Harm, you won't find pictures of Laura in that album. That book was full long before Laura was even thought about."

"No Mac. I mean where is she right now?"

"Oh. Sorry, she's decorating the walls in her room."

He raises an eyebrow. "Decorating the walls how?"

Mac chuckles at the concern in his voice. "She really likes those art pencils your mom gave her, and yesterday Trish took her to the gallery for a little while. Laura said she wanted to draw on the walls too, so I hung some of that butcher block paper. I covered the walls and told her to go for it. Don't worry though; we had a serious talk first…only on the paper!"

"She wanted to draw on the walls too?" Harm repeats curiously.

"Apparently, while at the gallery yesterday, she gave her opinion of the artwork very freely."

Harm chuckles. "Now why doesn't that surprise me?" Then he answers his own question. I'm getting the impression that Laura's opinions are always given freely."

Mac raises an eyebrow of her own. "Why? What has she been saying to you?"

"Just today I got an earful regarding her opinion of government."

Mac laughs, more curious than surprised. "Oh, do tell."

"Okay." He says turning a page in the photo album. "But first tell me about the artwork."

"Trish reported last night that Laura liked some of the artwork; but not all of it. She seems to like oil on canvas but she complained to Trish but some of the paintings didn't look like paintings at all. Instead, they looked as if the painter had simply stood in a room and threw paint at the walls. Apparently, she didn't care for that. She likes a little more structure in her art; a little more definition, as your mother put it."

"That surprises me a bit. With her flamboyance and her love of bold colors…"

"Yes but she does like for things to sort of match up, at least as far as most of her clothes go. Vibrant? Yes, but she's rarely ever mismatched. Well, except for her socks. The girl will wear two different socks deliberately. Other than that, she likes a little order. Using that very serious tone she has perfected, she told your mother with regard to one painting in particular, and I quote, 'That's not a painting! That's just making a mess!"

Laughing with her, Harm cradles Mac against his side. "Uh oh." He says when he can control his laughter. "Did Mom seem offended?"

"I asked her if I should apologize for Laura's behavior. Laughing, she waved me off, and informed me that she agreed wholeheartedly with Laura about the artwork in question."

"Oil on canvas, huh? Do we have the next Rembrandt on our hands?"

"I sincerely doubt that. Have you ever seen Rembrandt's work? His canvases frequently depicted religious scenes, and some of it was more than a bit unsettling. Belshazzar's Feast comes to mind. Your mom said Laura was more drawn to depictions of nature. I think Monet would be more her speed. I wonder what she'd think of the Water Lily series."

"I wouldn't know a Rembrandt from a Cezanne. Mom's artistic side didn't rub off on me… And when did you last see with any of Rembrandt's work?"

"I haven't seen the real thing Harm; just prints in books, but maybe we should let Trish nurture this side of her. It might give her a creative outlet for some of her anxieties. Now tell me, what exactly is her opinion of the government?"

"Mac, she told me this afternoon that" Using his fingers, Harm forms quote marks in the air. "The government is nosy because they want to know who's married, who's not, and who's married to whom. That's dumb; and she still thinks big people are weird. Oh, and even if big people are weird; if they want to get married, they should just get married. They shouldn't have to fill out papers first."

Resting her chin in her palm, Mac covers her mouth with her fingertips and laughs. "God help them if anybody is foolish enough to ask for her opinion on serious topics like the death penalty or global warming. They might have to explain those things to her first, - and she's certainly not shy about asking for explanations- but once they did, I'll bet she'd offer an opinion."

"I'm sure she would." Harm concurs as he flips yet another page in the photo album.

Given their proximity to each other, the album has been shifted and is balanced between their two laps. "Who is this here?" Harm points.

Mac looks at the indicated photo over the rim of her cup of tea. "That's Grandma O'Hara. If you look close, even though Mom is heavier, you'll see they had the same facial structure."

Harm studies the picture for a moment before turning the page again. In an offhand way he asks, "Tux or uniform?"

In sync with his thoughts, Mac doesn't hesitate before she answers. "Do you even need to ask? I don't need or want all the other pomp and circumstance of a military wedding, but definitely uniform! Don't get me wrong, you in a tux, would be almost as good…almost!"

Chuckling, he kisses her temple. "Okay then, we have a minor problem. I'm on vacation. I didn't bring a uniform with me."

"I anticipated as much." She informs him with pluck.

"Oh you did?"

"Harm, the first night we ever worked together the only civvies you had packed were a T shirt and a pair of baggy shorts. I knew right then that you didn't know how to pack, Squid. I told you, Marines are always ready!"

"Mac, when I left London I was just hoping you'd talk to me. I didn't anticipate getting married or needing the clothes one might get married in."

"That's okay!" She announces with a playful smirk. "I've got you covered. I stopped on my way home and took care of it. You can pick it up Thursday morning, or I can pick it up Friday afternoon on my way home. I suggest Thursday though, in case there's a problem."

"Speaking of wedding attire; where's the dress? It's not hanging up back there."

"Your mom took it to be cleaned; a place she trusts. She swears they'll take good care of it. She's going to do some minor alterations after that."

"It didn't fit? You said you thought it would."

"I did think it would, but I forgot about something."

"What did you forget?"

Turning his hand palm up and using it to hold his place in the photo album, Mac flips back in the book until she finds a photo she wants. She extracts it and then flips forward again. This time going beyond the point he has reached in the book. From one of the last pages, she extracts a second photo and holds them up together side by side. The same woman is the focal point in both, and a time gap of several years is evident between the two photos. Mac sets down her cup of tea on a nearby end table to free her other hand. She points to the first photo. "This was Aunt Clara, taken a few weeks before she married Uncle Matt. The second photo was taken…" Mac flips the photo over searching for a date. "Two years before she died. Can you see the difference?" she asks, rotating the photo again and returning it to its place beside the other.

The difference is obvious, but Harm isn't sure he should admit it; at least not too quickly. He hesitates briefly before answering. "She's a bit heavier in the second photo…by about two cup sizes."

Grinning, Mac shakes her head. "It's a tiny bit scary how good your eye is Flyboy."

He grins at her and shrugs. "You asked."

"I know. It's okay; I just wasn't expecting quite such a precise answer. I forgot about the surgery. I got so used to seeing her the way she was in the second photo. She and I, we were built similarly in every other way even before Grandma O'Hara died."

Harm squints. "What did your grandmother's death have to do with your aunt's chest?"

"When she got sick, she told Aunt Clara she was going to leave her some money. At the time, Aunt Clara didn't want to talk about it. No one in the family did. But Gram had a knack for making people listen to her; even when they didn't want to. I remember her telling Clara that she was not supposed to be responsible with this money. She wasn't supposed to pay bills with it. She was supposed to do something fun with it, something she'd always wanted to do, or buy something she'd always wanted." Mac giggles at a memory. "I remember, about a year later, Aunt Clara joking about it. She'd taken me shopping for some new clothes, and when a blouse that she had picked out for me wouldn't button properly over my chest she laughed and said 'God bless your grandmother.' I didn't understand the comment. It came out of nowhere, or so I thought. Then Aunt Clara laughed at the expression on my face and explained. You inherited your boobs from her and I inherited the money to buy mine!"

Laughing, Harm hugs her close. "It isn't just Laura. All the women in your family apparently like to make bold speeches that turn heads and cause jaws to drop."

Mac nudges him with an elbow, but only gently. "Ever think maybe it's not the women in my family? Maybe the men in my family just like their women that way. Well, except for Joe. Neither of my grandfathers seemed to mind being married to outspoken women; neither did Uncle Matt. Anyway, the dress is a little bit too snug. I'd never get into it if it weren't backless. Your mom's going to fix it for me; lengthen the shoulder straps and let the seams out a bit. She promises it will be ready in time, and so will your uniform."

Mac tucks the photos back into their appropriate places and then flips back to Harm's place in the book as he muses more to himself than to her, "I can't believe it was less than two weeks ago; we weren't even talking to each other."

Mildly concerned by the wistful note in his voice Mac quietly asks, "Are we going too fast? Should we slow down?"

"Uh uh." Harm mutters and gives her shoulders a tender squeeze. "It took us way too long to get here, Mac. Now that we are, I'm not slowing down for anything… unless you want me to." He raises an eyebrow.

"Better not!" She sasses. "Not unless you want me to kick your six."

He shakes his head. "I'd rather just sit here on the couch with my arms around you and look at old pictures. It's nicer snuggling with you than arguing with you Mac." He smiles at her. "Besides, I'm still trying to figure out who it is you look like. It's not your mom, and I remember you telling me that Casey looks like Joe. She looks nothing like you either.

After a flicker of hesitation, Mac seems to make up her mind about something. She repeats the same process as before. Once more, she turns his hand palm up in the book to mark his place, flips through the heavy album, and extracts two more photos. This time, they are photos of two different females. The first is a photo of an old woman; the second, the photo of a young child with melancholy dark eyes that belong to an older soul. If the photo's aged condition didn't clearly outdate her tender years, Harm might instantly name the girl Laura. Knowing that can't be, he studies it quietly for a long moment then, somewhat spellbound; he turns his gaze to Mac and gently caresses her cheek. "You've always been beautiful."

Mac smiles awkwardly and then rolls her bottom lip in and bites down on it. She shrugs. "I look at Laura and I see it. I look at this picture, and all I see is a scared kid." She admits with a catch in her voice.

"Mac, that doesn't make this girl any less beautiful. Your vision is colored by your memory. You were telling Mom the same thing about me two nights ago. Yours is a different situation yes, but the same response. Give yourself a break. When somebody pays you a compliment, just say thank you. It's okay to accept them. You deserve them."

Feeling self-conscious and uncertain, Mac ducks her head slightly. She is still for a moment before deciding to snuggle closer and hug him fiercely. "Thank you." she whispers.

"Better, now tell me about this one." He says holding up the other photograph; the one of the old woman. He notices that she too has the same wide dark eyes and the same sweet mouth.

"That's Grandma Mackenzie."

"The one who read you the Koran and tried to teach you to belly dance?"

Smiling again, Mac nods and says, "That's the one! I've never known a better woman. If I can get from this…" she touches the photo of herself. "To this." She caresses the photo of her grandmother. "Harm, then I can die happy."

"Was she happy?" Harm wants to know.

Mac nods; her head against his shoulder. "She was. Well, with the exception of Joe. He broke her heart. She didn't raise him to be such a hateful man. She looked for, and found her joy in other places, but she never quite got over that. I think she just did the best she could to move passed it. She was petite, almost tiny, but so strong Harm. She was larger than life; a force of nature. Laura reminds me so much of her."

Harm looks at the two photos again and then back at the woman beside him. In her, he can see both. She's caught somewhere between the frightened child and the old woman who found peace within herself. "Sarah, all I ask is that you take me along for the ride."

"You've got a deal Flyboy." She whispers in his ear just as Laura's bedroom door opens. They glance her way and watch her cross the room.

Joining them on the sofa, Laura gently pushes them apart. They make room for her and she settles in between the two of them. They watch her in fascination as she picks up the photo album. Placing it in her own lap, she looks at Mac and says, "Show me Uncle Matt. I wanna see what a great uncle looks like."

Chapter 9: August 29, 30, & 31 2007

Part 38: Preparation and Migration

The day is a busy one for Mac. Joint Legal Services in San Diego is positively hopping with activity. With seven cases on the docket in one day, most of her staff is flowing in and out of the bullpen on their way to and from court. The morning staffing only added to the load. At noon she shares a quick and quiet lunch with Harm and Laura in one of the small conference rooms. Harm bought a salad for himself and the much- favored dead animal on a bun from In & Out, a local burger joint, for Laura and Mac.

Harm notices that Mac is glad to see them but she's also preoccupied and only eats with half her normal enthusiasm. She leaves half her burger and most of her french fries untouched.

Mac notices that Harm too is preoccupied and in a hurry. Laura looks tired. In fact, after finishing her burger she asks him if they're going home next. Harm says no. Laura yawns. "Okay" she says. "You do wedding stuff. I'm taking in nap in the back seat. I'm sleepy!"

"I know, sweetheart. Just one more trip; maybe two and then I promise we'll go home. After that, I'll even take a nap with you."

Mac feels a pang of guilt. They are running themselves ragged planning her wedding and she's at work having only a slightly busier than normal day. "I'll cook dinner tonight. I'll even go to the store on my way home. You two finish your running and then get some rest."

"I want meat loaf." Laura votes without her usual enthusiasm.

"No. Not tonight, baby. You just ate nearly a third of a pound of beef on that burger. Tonight we're having whatever Harm wants for dinner."

Laura gives Mac an uncertain look. She's not exactly sure how to respond to this. At a loss, she looks at Harm curiously. Even Harm glances Mac's way with a look of surprise.

"What? We can go one night without beef, chicken, or pork on the table. It won't kill us, Laura. Harm's been chauffeur, and chef, general all around handyman, and wedding planner extraordinaire since he got here. That's not much of vacation. He needs a night off. How about it, Captain Rabb? What would you like for dinner?"

"Mac I'm fine." He smiles warily.

"That's not an answer to my question, sailor."

Uninterested in protesting further, Harm leans back in his chair and drapes an arm over the back of Laura's chair. He gives it some thought and then raises an eyebrow. "Grilled shrimp?

"Done. Salad and baked potato; veggies?"

Harm nods with a bit of a smile.

"I'll be home at 18:00; maybe 18:30 depending on how crowded the store is." She stands, and begins clearing their trash off the table.

"Mac, you didn't eat much. You feeling alright? I'm not about to have a sick Marine on my hands; am I?"

"I'm fine, just a bit edgy." She admits. "In a little less than three days, we're supposed to be married." She says, as if the words are foreign on her tongue. "Feels weird."

Harm shoots her a look of concern. "Weird how? Are we talking weird good; or weird bad?"

Done with the cleanup, Mac locks the conference room door and walks over to perch on the edge of the table beside his chair; opposite Laura. Leaning toward him, she offers him a sweet kiss. "Mostly weird good." She uses the pad of her thumb to wipe the faint trace of her lip gloss off his mouth. I just remember how much went into planning the last wedding I was supposed to appear at. I feel like I haven't done anything. It doesn't seem fair… and you do look tired Harm. You said only one or two more stops today. Stick to it. Go home, take a nap. If something doesn't get done, we'll just do without. It doesn't have to be perfect Harm. Don't kill yourself trying to make it the way."

"I want it to be perfect."

"Then all you have to do is show up. Anything beyond that… Well… It's just icing on the cake."

Smiling, he stands up and glances down at Laura. She wasn't kidding about being tired. Now that she's gotten food into her stomach, her eyelids are getting heavy. When he picks her up her arms find their way around his neck and her head finds his shoulder. He doubts that she will still be awake by the time he makes it to the parking lot. Using one arm to hold Laura, he picks up her walker with his free hand and drops another quick kiss on Mac's upturned mouth. "I'm not tired because I'm the one doing most of the planning. I'm tired, because somebody kept me up most of the night."

Mac walks with him to the door and opens it for him. "I'll let you sleep tonight." She assures him in a barely audible whisper that he answers with one of his own, "I didn't say I wanted that."

She walks as far as her office door and watches him leave her bullpen.

At the same moment that Mac returns to her desk in San Diego, Harmon Rabb's designated courier pulls to a stop outside the security gate at one of the world's most recognized addresses. The historian in the passenger seat beside him gives him a curious look. "Darlin, you could have told me we were coming here. I would have dressed a little nicer."

He glances briefly at the tailored ensemble she's wearing. "Rachel you look fine to me. Besides, if I'd told you we were coming here, you would have changed clothes again. I wanted to leave the hotel room before dark."

Only mildly miffed, she swats his arm playfully while using her right hand to remove identification from her handbag.

Once they are cleared for entry, they park, and are escorted directly to the office where they are expected. A brunette secretary of indeterminate age knocks on the office door, waits for an invitation, and then pokes her head in. "Sir, your 4:00 is here."

The tall Latino man half rises from his seat behind his expansive desk. His attention split between his secretary and a document he is reading, he pauses to look at his watch and then motions in an inviting manner. "He's right on time. Send him in… Oh, and Janie, coffee please; and make it strong."

Janie ducks out again with a polite "Yes sir." and leaves the door open for the visitors.

The historian smiles pleasantly when her companion motions her into the room ahead of him. Inside the office, the two men shake hands while the historian takes in their surroundings with equal parts awe and trepidation clearly visible in her eyes.

"Sir." The courier says.

"Let's not stand on ceremony, shall we? Please sit; make yourselves comfortable. He motions them to one of the two sofas in the room, and then nods in appreciation when the older man waits until he is seated in his own chair before taking the one offered.

After a moment of the usual silence, their host leans toward them in an engaging way as he says, "I'm aware of the reason for your visit. I received a most unusual request from my predecessor on Monday. He informed me that he owes you a personal favor and that you've come to pick up a most important gift for a very special bride. He also told me that I should give you the very best we have to offer. While I'm pleased to do it, I'm afraid that what I know about the quality of such a gift would fit inside a thimble. Therefore, I've tasked my wife to see that the request is carried out. She's much more knowledgeable about these things than I. She should arrive momentarily. While we wait, can I offer you a cup of coffee?"

At roughly the same moment, in Germany an attractive sandy haired male in his early forties boards an airplane headed for the States. He locates his seat and offers a smile to the pretty brunette stowing her carry-on in the overhead bin. She's in civvies but he can tell from her posture that most likely, she too, is military. He waits for her to take her seat and smiles when he realizes she will be seated next to him.

A small powder blue gift bag is currently in his seat. She moves it with the slightest of smiles and stows it under her own seat. "Oh sorry." She offers. "Didn't mean to take your spot."

"Nah, it's okay. I know what it's like trying to get settled in one of these things. I'd rather be in the cockpit." He tells her while taking his now empty seat."

She laughs. "Me too!"

Surprised, he is quiet for a second and then decides to play a hunch. "That bag; it wouldn't happen to have a wedding gift in it; would it?"

She nods. "A friend of mine is getting married… But how did you know that was his gift."

His smile is a tiny bit overconfident. "A friend of mine is getting married."

She smiles and chews on the inside of her lower lip. "The Mackenzie-Rabb wedding?"

"That's the one… If it happens." He smiles again.

"What do you mean by that? She laughs.

"Harm sure took his time. Frankly, I don't know why Mac said yes. She could do better." He declares in a tone and says he's half joking, half serious, and completely comfortable making such an announcement.

The woman in the seat beside him gives him an odd look. "I can't tell if you're the Captain's best friend, or his arch nemesis."

A little of both. We went to Annapolis togeth… Hey wait! Did you say Captain?"

"Yeah I did. Obviously you haven't talked your best friend in a while."

"I've been out of touch for a couple years."

She nods. "That's about how long he's been Captain. He's London's FJA."

The man beside her whistles. "Well, I'll be damned. That son of a… Oh sorry Ma'am. I never thought he'd make it to Captain. I figured Chegwidden would have to kill him first."

"You know the Colonel as well?"

"Mac, yeah. She and I spent a couple of days together in the desert once" He says in a suggestive tone and grins. "Hell of a woman."

His companion shakes her head, and her finger too. "Now you're telling stories."

Pretending to be offended, he raises his right hand." Hand to God. I solemnly swear. I spent two days in the desert with Sarah Mackenzie."

"Maybe, but your attitude and your devilish smile would seem to allude that there was something personal between the two of you." She shakes her head again.

"You don't think that's possible?"

"Plainly put? Not a chance in hell!"

"Oh, and why not?"

"First, you aren't her type." She raises an eyebrow and looks him over. "And second, forgive me, but you couldn't handle Colonel, Sarah Mackenzie."

He laughs loudly. "You might be right about that, but don't tell Harm." As the plane begins to move, he sticks out his hand. "Jack Keeter."

She accepts the hand he offers and shakes it firmly. "I don't have to tell Harm that. He already knows it. "Elizabeth Hawkes."

Thursday, August 30, 2007

16:52 hours

Jack Keeter and Elizabeth Hawkes exit the airport; both of them stiff and tired after 26 hours of travel.

Hawkes is in a noticeably better mood though. She slept better on the plane than he did. "Are you staying at the hotel, or do you have other plans?"

"Hotel for me."

"Wanna take the shuttle, or share a cab?"

"Not a bad idea! I'll split the cab fare with you to avoid the crowds." Squinting against the late August sun, He grumbles. "Which one of them decided to get married here of all places; and at the end of August?

"Don't be such a grouch! A girl only gets a perfect wedding once. The Colonel told me that she's not sure exactly what he's up to, but he promised her the perfect wedding. That's why she pulled so many strings to get us here… as a thank you. It's my understanding that he doesn't know we're going to be there."

"Well, if he thinks she's going to have the perfect wedding here, I hope he can take the ring back to the jeweler."

She takes his elbow and gently pulls him to the curb when a cab comes to a stop. Shaking her head, she inquires, "Tell me again… why you're his best friend?"

"Sorry. All I need is a hot shower and several hours of rack time. I promise I'll be in a better mood before the wedding."

"I certainly hope so!' She says wryly as the cabdriver hops out of the sedan and offers to stow their bags in the trunk."

Moments later, as the cab pulls into traffic, she takes her cell phone from her handbag and types out a quick text message.

Col.

I've arrived. Bumped into J.K. on the flight out of Germany. We'll be there.

~Skates

Before hitting SEND, Per Petty Officer Coates' instructions, she reads the message twice to be sure she gave nothing away.

Right around the same time that Mac, who is busy at her desk, receives the text message from Skates there's a knock at her front door a few miles away.

Harm opens the door and greets his mother with a light kiss on the cheek.

"Is she ready?" Trish asks full of vitality.

Harm doesn't have to answer. Laura does it for him. "I've been ready all day Miss Trish! I packed my suitcase before breakfast. We had lunch with Aunt Mac. I already said goodbye to her. I got my pillow, and my art pencils, but Harm wouldn't let me put my dress in my suitcase!"

"Well, I'm glad he didn't. A dress like that doesn't belong in suitcase." She drops a light kiss on the tip of the little girl's nose.

"Darling, if you'll put her things in the car, I'll get your uniform. Mac's things are already in the car. I picked up her dress this morning and she's already packed a small bag for me to take along."

Before Trish is through speaking, she's already in the little bedroom off the kitchen. Having been there several times over the last few days, Trish breezes through the house, knowing just where to find what she's looking for.

By the time Harm has Laura's overnight bag and walker in the trunk of his mother's car, and her dress neatly hung on a garment hook in the back seat, Trish is trotting down the front walk with his garment bag and overnight kit. While she stows them, Harm wrestles with Laura's car seat; getting it from the backseat of his car to his mother's. When he's done, he scoops an impatiently waiting Laura up and buckles her in. "Be good, don't let Mom and Frank stay up too late, and have fun! We'll see you tomorrow night."

She giggles and returns his hug.

"If you need anything, you just tell Mom or Frank and they'll call me."

"Harm, I'll be fine!" She says with a certainty that causes Trish to chuckle.

"Yeah Harm! It's not like I've never spent the night with a kid. She can't possibly get into any more trouble than you use to!"

"I know she'll be fine, Mom." He whispers after he closes the car door. "I just wanted to make sure she knew that."

"Ah, okay." She says, her mood shifting from one of levity, to one of affection for, and pride in, the man standing before her. She touches his face. "You're a good dad, and you'll make a good husband too."

He takes hold of the hand against his cheek and holds it tightly in both of his. "I hope she thinks so, too."

"Laura or Mac?"

He'd been referring to Mac, but he thinks about it for a second and shrugs. "Both."

"I'm pretty sure they already know that. All you have to do now is make sure you don't let them forget."

Letting go of her hand, he steps to the rear of the car. Before he closes the still open trunk, he asks, "You're sure you've got everything in here?" He gazes in, looking for anything that's obviously missing."

"I'm as sure as I can be. If I've forgotten anything, you just have to bring it with you."

"Call if you think of anything."

"We will."

"She'll be hungry in about an hour, if not before then."

"I brought snacks."

He walks with her around to the driver's side door.

She starts to slide in behind the wheel but then stops. "Have you had time to shop for rings?"

"We're going shopping tomorrow morning."

"Harm, I took the dress by her office this morning just to make sure the alterations were good. Mac thinks she's going to work tomorrow morning; at least that's what I gather from the conversation we had."

He grins. "Yeah I know. Haven't told her yet. Securing her leave without her knowledge was a bit tricky… but we managed it."

"We?"

"Jennifer Coates and I."

"Remind me to hug that girl! She helped you look after a daughter, and helped you plan your wedding too. Frank and I couldn't have managed it all without her."

She falls silent for a moment and Harm can see her choosing her words as emotions reveal themselves in her eyes. He waits another beat before gently asking, "What Mom?"

She smiles at him and reaches into the pocket of her white linen slacks. Drawing out a small black velvet box, she turns his hand palm up and places it there; gently curling his fingers around it, as though for safe keeping. "Give Sarah this."

Unfurling his fingers, Harm stares at the box for a long moment before carefully opening it. He knows what's nestled inside it, but the sight of the gold band and its modest diamond setting still brings moisture to the corners of his eyes. "You sure?"

She nods. "It's time somebody should wear it again; time for new initials to be inscribed on it."

Smiling, he lifts the ring from its box and turns it so he can see the dual inscription on the inside of the band.

AR + SH and HR + PJ

Anyone else would have to squint to read minuscule etchings that he committed to memory long ago and they bring a lump to his throat. With no small effort, he manages to speak. "I don't know, Mom." he says a bit thickly. "You really think we can squeeze in one more set of initials?"

"I think there's just room enough for one more set. Whoever wears it after that will have to be content with the initials of their ancestors."

Harm returns the ring to the safety of its box and then pockets the box before wrapping his mother in a fierce hug. He holds her tightly for a long moment before kissing her cheek one last time. "Go." he says holding her elbow as she slides in behind the wheel. "You'll want to be there before dark." He closes the door with his hands resting against the open window while she fastens her seat belt. "Drive safe. Call when you get there." He touches the rear window gently in response to Laura's smile. "I love you both."

His mother pats his hand and fires the engine.

He steps back and then stands in the driveway; watching until he can no longer see them.

Friday, August 31, 2007

10:41 HRS

Bud Roberts steps up to the front desk at the Radisson hotel. "Good morning." He smiles at the clerk with long hair the color of ginger. "Reservation for Roberts. We're here for the Mackenzie-Rabb wedding. I was told a block of rooms has been reserved. I believe, on the eighth floor."

She smiles pleasantly and begins taping away at her keyboard. "Good morning Mr. Roberts. Just one moment, please sir."

While he waits, Bud listens to Harriett, who is a few steps behind him. "Jimmy, hold A.J.'s hand and don't you two boys dare to wander off. You stand right here beside me. Nicky, Jenny…" Whatever his wife was going to say is forgotten and replaced by one of her happy squeals. "Commander Turner, Varese!"

No sooner than she can hug Varese, Harriet squeals again when a young voice calls out from across the lobby. "Harriet?"

Bud turns around and watches his happy wife clumsily try a hug two people at the same time; Varese and a girl – no… a young lady, he mentally corrects himself. "Chloe? Is that you?" Bud's jaw drops and he stammers. "My God. You grew up!"

Laughing, Chloe Madison steps forward and offers him a friendly hug. "Yeah Commander, I think that sort of happens to everyone." She says with the same spunk he remembers. She turns back to Harriett, and takes both of her hands. "I can't believe they're finally getting married! I have been waiting for this since I was ten!"

Chapter 10: Friday, August 31, 2007

Part 39: Ready or Not….

10:41 HRS

They walk out of the jewelry store hand in hand with a matching set of plain gold bands; not too narrow and not too wide. With her small hands, Mac hadn't wanted a wide band in the current fashion; concerned it would not sit well on her hand and therefore, would look out of place. However, the wider bands looked better on Harm's larger hand. They visited two shops and found similar rings in both. When he asked if she wanted to visit a third, she shook her head, and in the end, they compromised on something that would suit them both.

Happy with the choice they made, she sighs as she settles into the passenger seat of her Vette.

Climbing in, he shuts the driver's side door before turning to her with a smile. "Where to now?"

"I vote for home and bed. I'm sleepy."

"Still? He asks with mild concern."

"You're the one who kept me up most of the night, Squid. No more naps for you in the middle of the day, because now I need one. Besides, tonight is date night. I still don't know where you're taking me. I don't even know what to wear. So, I might need a nap and a bubble bath first."

"You've still got time for both, if that's what you want. Wear whatever you'd like. We're leaving the house at 16:00.

She squints at him, wrinkling her brow. "Date night begins at 16:00? Isn't that kind of early?"

"Yeah." He grins. "But it won't end early."

She shoots him another look. "Harm, there's an awful lot of room for interpretation in the statement 'Wear whatever you'd like." She tries to raise an eyebrow seductively but the effect is somewhat pre-empted when she yawns and then laughs at herself for doing it. "Care to narrow it down a bit? Are we going out in public?"

"You said you wanted too; at least a few days ago, and the answer is… sort of."

"I still do." She turns in her seat to face him and her eyes dance with excitement despite her sleepy smile. "Harm, what kind of answer is sort of? Either we're going out, or we're not. "

"The only one you're going to get, for now?" He informs her with a grin.

In resignation, she shakes her head while covering her mouth to conceal another yawn. "I can't believe you let me get up this morning and get half-dressed before you told me I was on leave Harm."

He chuckles. "I was going to tell you last night, but well… I forgot."

"You forgot? Harm, exactly how does one forget securing leave for his fiancée without her knowledge? It can't have been that easy."

"No, but it wasn't as hard as I thought it would be either. And, it's not my fault! I put dinner in the oven. I went to take a shower. I was going to get out of the shower and set the table. My plan was, we were going to have dinner with a little conversation and somewhere in there I was going to mention it. However, my plan got shot all to hell a short while later when I turned around and found a naked Marine stepping into my shower!"

Nudging him gently with an elbow, she'd teases. "You burnt my dinner too."

"The oven burned your dinner; not me. Damn thing needs an automatic shutoff like a toaster oven; especially if you plan on interrupting my showers on a regular basis."

"I might. I kinda liked that!" She announces happily.

Starting the car's engine, Harm laughs. "I kinda could tell you liked that… Put your seatbelt on."

As Harm and Mac head for home, Trish answers the knock at the door of room 8O2 at the Radisson and smiles at the pretty young woman standing before her clad in a vibrant green and blue swimsuit cover and matching sandals.

"Mrs. Burnett?"

"And you must be Chloe."

The girl nods. "Yes Ma'am."

"I'm glad you made it." As she's standing alone in the hallway, Trish asks, "Did you travel alone?"

"I did. Grandma's vertigo was acting up. She really wasn't in the mood for a cross-country flight and my boyfriend didn't want to come to a wedding for two people he's never met. He's kind of shy."

Trish nods. "Is your room okay?"

"It's fine. Actually, it's great, really nice. Thank you. I came by because Harriett told me that Laura is with you. Mac talks about her all the time. I've talked to her on the phone once or twice, but we've never actually met."

"I see, please come in, darling." Trish steps back from the door to allow Chloe to pass and calls over her shoulder, "Laura, you have a visitor."

When Chloe enters, the dark-haired little girl with Mac eyes is sitting cross legged on one of the two queen size beds in the room. All dishes have been removed from the breakfast tray over her lap, and she doodles with an art pencil with one hand and plays with a toy car with the other. The toy is a miniature replica of a green VW Bug with brightly colored flowers painted on its body. It has pull-back action and she drags it to one corner of the tray, winding its wheels and then lets it go; watching it zoom from one corner of the tray to the other, where it ricochets off the raised corner of the tray and changes direction before racing across her drawing paper. An episode of Scooby-Doo plays on the room's large television five feet from the end of her bed. In response to Trish's comment, she looks up at Chloe and cocks her head to one side; studying her before she offers a tentative smile. "Hello, who are you?"

Chloe steps into the narrow space between the two beds and takes a closer look at Laura's drawing. "I'm Chloe, and I like your artwork."

The little girl's face lights up. "I'm Laura. Aunt Mac is gonna be so happy you're here… And I like your necklace." she adds, spying Chloe's string of big clunky bright green beads that sparkle.

Chloe glances down at her costume jewelry. Planting one knee on the edge of the bed; she takes off the necklace and gently slips it over Laura's head. "Then it's yours."

"Really? You mean it? I can keep it?"

"Sure, I mean it. How's Candy?"

"She's good. I miss her though. Harm said she didn't need to come with us even though she can. He said she might not like going to the wedding. I don't know why she wouldn't like it, but he promised he'd take good care of her for me."

"Well, if Harm made you a promise; you've got nothing to worry about. She'll be one well cared for dog."

"How's your horse?"

"Drum's fine too. He definitely would not have liked coming to the wedding."

Laura giggles. "Course not, silly! You can't put a horse on an airplane all the way from Vermont!"

Chloe giggles too. "I bet you my fellow travelers would not have liked that at all. Hey Laura, can you swim, kiddo?"

Laura nods emphatically. "Aunt Mac paid for them, and she made me take swimming lessons before she would let me come to her house because she lives at the beach. Not just the beginner classes for babies. She made me take the intermediate classes, and when a new one starts; she's going to sign me up for the advanced class. She says swimming in the ocean isn't the same as swimming in a pool."

"It's not. In the ocean, you have to be strong enough to handle the waves and the currents."

"I can swim good." Laura nods and then adds with a trace of annoyance in her young voice. "But she still makes me wear a life jacket when I go in the boat to go fishing with my friend Liam."

"Aww well, sometimes she makes me do things I don't like too. But you know she's just trying to keep you safe, right?"

"Yeah I know. But it still sucks."

"Did you bring a swimsuit with you?"

"Uh huh. Harm told me to. I brought my pink and orange one."

"You wanna go down to the pool with me?"

"Yeah!" already excited, Laura sets her makeshift drawing tray aside. As she scoots off the bed she looks at Trish with big eyes. "Can I… Please."

Trish laughs at her enthusiasm. "Well, since you said please… but only if you wait for Frank and I. We'll get ready and come with you.

Grinning ear to ear, Laura grabs her walker. "I'm gonna go get my suit on!"

Twenty minutes later, the four of them get off the elevator in the lobby only to have Trish head back to the room because she forgot the sun block. Mere seconds after the elevator doors close behind her, Frank realizes that he has the room key.

"Girls, you go on to the pool. We'll be there shortly. He pushes the call button for the elevator and watches the two girls walk happily away.

They need to cross the lobby in search of a side exit to the pool but halfway across four rowdy teenage boys who are laughing loudly, causing a disturbance, and only paying attention to themselves, barrel into both Chloe and Laura. Closer to their size, Chloe manages to remain upright but a sudden outcry tells her that Laura wasn't so lucky.

"Ow!" Laura wails pushing her toppled walker away as Chloe shoves against the boy who bumped into her and complains. "Hey, watch where you're going, jerk!"

In the confusion, one of the other boys trips on Laura's overturned walker, and goes crashing face first into the polished marble floor. He shrieks in pain as blood spurts from his nose. One of his friends sinks to the floor beside him laughing, "Oh dude! You tripped on a little kid's walker!" In response, the boy groans and rolls onto his back as blood gushes through the fingers gently holding the wounded appendage in the middle of his face.

Laura sits up and examines the scrape on her knee before telling the boy with the bloody nose. "When you fall, you're supposed to put your hands in front of your face Dumbo. You know, so you don't hurt your head!"

The boy sounds funny with his messed up nose when he calls her a brat, but before Laura can retort that at least she's not the klutz with the bloody nose, a tall bald man who is carrying an ice chest approaches quickly and his voice roars "Damn hooligans!"

Laura watches silently as the man quickly hands the ice chest over to his companion, a tall blond woman in a pretty pink suit, before he kneels beside her. Gruffly, he shoves the boy with the bloody nose from his back onto his side so he won't choke on the blood. Moving the boy's hand momentarily, he glances at the nose to make certain the damage isn't severe. Satisfied, he roughly puts the hand back in its former position before he bellows. "What's wrong with you morons? Didn't your mothers teach you how to behave in public?"

Before Laura can even think to move away from him, he picks her up and settles her on his knee. "Are you okay, darlin'?" He inquires with a warm smile that doesn't match his big, loud voice.

For a second or two Laura just stares at him, not sure what to make of him. He's big and he's loud, but his eyes say he's friendly. She gently touches his face at the same moment that she feels a hand on her shoulder.

She turns to see Chloe kneeling beside them. "It's okay Laura. He's a friend. He scared me the first time I met him too." Laura watches Chloe smile at the man. "Hello Admiral."

Laura watches the one called Admiral stare at Chloe for a second before, with a smile that hints at both shock and delight in the young woman before him, he asks, "Miss. Madison?"

"Yes sir. Good to see you again. Glad you're here." She smiles back at him; grateful he didn't follow the question with 'You grew up!' or some similar exclamation. In the last few hours she's become familiar with both the look and the declaration. Most of the people here haven't seen her since she was thirteen but still looked like she was ten. Pleased, she glances at Laura again. "Laura, this is Admiral Chegwidden. He used to be your aunt's commanding officer."

In response, Laura studies him quietly. He, in turn, looks from Laura, to the walker, and then back to Chloe again. "Can she talk?"

Chloe laughs. "Yes, she can talk. You just scared her with your angry grizzly bear impersonation!"

"Hey!" Laura finds her voice at last. "I'm not scared! My knee hurts. That boy!" She points. "He made me fall down… And anyway, Aunt Mac says I'm not supposed to talk to strangers!" She bobs her chin in a 'so there' fashion for emphasis.

A.J. Chegwidden laughs and then glares at the boys. "Go on! Get out of here, all of you, and next time, watch where the hell you're going!"

One of the boys helps his buddy with the bloody nose to his feet. The four of them disappear quickly around a corner.

He turns his attention back to Laura. "Aunt Mac is right. It's not good to talk to strangers." He offers her his hand in formal introduction. "You can call me A.J. It's a little easier to say than Chegwidden."

Laura takes his big hand in her small one and gives it a good solid shake. "You can call me Laura." She says with spunk.

"Are you okay Laura? How bad does your knee hurt?" He asks looking at the scrape and deciding that it's minor, as it's barely trickling blood.

She nods. "I'm okay. It's hardly bleeding." She announces with the dramatic sigh, "I've done worse to myself."

Chuckling at her exuberance, He uprights her walker and tenderly sets her on her feet.

"Are you coming to the wedding?" She wants to know.

"Yeah I am. But if you talk to Aunt Mac, don't tell her that okay. It'll just be our secret."

She smiles at him. "It's okay. I won't tell. Me and Chloe are going swimming. You wanna come?"

"Maybe I'll come down in a little while. Rachel and I have got to get this ice chest to a freezer. It's got something really important in it."

Laura looks at the woman called Rachel and the ice chest. She whispers in the Admiral's ear. "I know what's in there too. Harm told me all his secrets."

The Admiral throws back his head and laughter booms out of him. "I certainly hope he didn't tell you all his secrets." Rising once more to his feet, he declares, "I'm sure some of them are not fit for little girls' ears."

At precisely 13:00, Mac opens her eyes and slides out from beneath the quilt. Quickly and quietly she showers and dresses in jeans and a summer sweater then she returns to the bed. Sitting down beside the sleeping man she loves, she is extremely careful not to disturb him as she sets the alarm in the watch on his wrist so that it will wake him in an hour.

In the kitchen, she leaves a note for him that she sticks to the refrigerator with a magnet.

Hey Flyboy,

Got some things to take care of. I'll be back at 16:00 on the dot, if not before, promise. So, be ready. I am!

~Ninja Girl

In the alcove by the front door she takes her handbag and car keys from the top of the credenza and slips quietly out of the house.

13:52 HRS

Unpleased but certainly not surprised by her mother's reaction to her personally delivered invitation to her wedding, Mac leaves the trailer. She knew it was pointless to come here, but Harm thought it was important and she had promised him she would. Her mother's one request as she crossed the threshold at the front door was, "Take lots of pictures…please."

Mac hadn't even thought about a wedding photographer. She had no clue as to whether or not Harm had. A bit more stung by her mother's refusal to attend than she wants to admit, she doesn't bother to tell her this. She simply nods and says, "We'll do the best we can."

Feeling the way she always feels when leaving her mother, she fires the Vette's engine, eager to get away. She has an appointment to keep, but part of her is tempted to simply go back home and climb back into bed with Harm. She leaves the trailer park. At the first red light she comes to she must decide which way to go. While waiting for the light to change, she reaches for her handbag in the passenger seat. With one hand on the wheel, she fumbles with the clasp and then extracts the fine linen envelope from The Healing Touch Day Spa.

The place has the ritziest clientele in town, and is far beyond Mac's budget, but yesterday Trish had come by her office with the dress to make sure the alterations would do. As she was leaving, she'd turned back as if she'd forgotten something and handed the envelope to Mac. With equal parts uncertainty and curiosity, Mac had raised an eyebrow.

Trish's parting words were. "A gift; from Frank and I. Use it for date night. Your appointment is at two." She had smiled and drummed her manicured fingernails against the door frame of Mac's office. She was gone before Mac could respond. She was gone before Mac even knew what was in the envelope. When she opened it and saw the gift certificate inside, she took an involuntary step backwards and sat down hard on the corner of her desk; knocking over her pencil holder and spilling its contents on the floor.

Still sitting at the traffic light, the driver behind her angrily honking because the light has gone green; Mac makes the decision. Waving apologetically to the unhappy driver, she heads for the spa. Her own mother may not be thrilled with her wedding plans, but if Trish's generosity is any indication, at least she can take comfort in knowing that her mother-in-law to be doesn't feel the same apathy.

An hour and thirty minutes after she walks into the spa she walks out again, feeling wickedly overindulgent, and loving it. After a massage, a haircut and style, a manicure, a pedicure, and makeup, she is relaxed enough to almost purr. As she slides in behind the wheel again, she catches sight of a dress on display in the window of the shop next door to the spa. Her interest piqued, she checks her internal clock…15:32. She can spare only twelve minutes. Getting out of the car again, she hurries into the shop. Delighted to find the dress on sale, she also quickly selects shoes to match and the necessary undergarments. She changes her clothes in the shop's fitting room. At 1543 Mac steps out of the shop in a dress reminiscent of the white one Marilyn Monroe wore when her image was forever captured and immortalized. The one distinct difference is that the dress Mac wears is Christmas red. Back in the Corvette, she tosses the shopping bag that contains her jeans, sweater, and running shoes into the passenger seat and she's off.

At 15:57 she pulls into her driveway and the sight of Harm sitting on the front porch step in black slacks and a charcoal gray dress shirt; unbuttoned at the collar steals her breath for an impossibly long 3 seconds. He is gorgeous, and what's more, he's ready; on time. She's stunned. She opens her car door as he steps her way. "Cutting it kind of close, aren't you Marine? Harm checks his watch.

Without answering, Mac steps out of the car.

"I hope you're not going to tell me that you'll only be a minute. You just want to run in and change your…" Harm looks up from his watch. "Whoa!" His smile, his eyes, they say everything the simple utterance does not. They say it all.

She smiles back at him and spins around once for his benefit then approaches slowly. Teasing, she says, "No, I wasn't planning on changing, but if you want me to…" She tries to move passed him as if she's heading for the front door.

"Uh uh!" He wraps both arms around her waist and hauls her up against him. "Please don't change!" He kisses one of her bare shoulders. He kisses the other shoulder, and then her neck.

"Okay, okay" She laughs. "I won't change. But are we still going… or are we going inside." She smiles wickedly.

For a moment, she leans back in his arms and watches him do battle with temptation. At length, he lets her out of his embrace and points to his rented SUV. "Let's go."

He holds the passenger door open for her. She starts to step into the vehicle. Offering him a quick kiss and standing so close that he can feel her breath on his neck, she whispers, "You sure… because you look utterly irresistible yourself."

He groans with carnal frustration. "Get in the car before I change my mind, Sarah."

She smiles and slides into the seat.

Part 40: The Drive

16:42 HRS

Harm looks at his watch. Twenty-nine minutes; it's been twenty-nine minutes since she last had anything to say. He's isn't sure whether this should make him nervous or not. "You okay?"

"Umm hmm." She hums.

Hindered by her seatbelt, she turns slightly in her seat to face him. She looks content enough. Actually, she looks almost placid… peaceful. The only thing that keeps her from getting all the way there is the tell-tale hint of eagerness in her eyes. Somehow, he thought by now she'd been prodding him for information about their destination. He knows she will eventually. He just hadn't expected her to hold out this long. So far, the only hint of impatience was when she shot him a curious look when they hit Interstate 8 about 15 miles back.

He turns on the radio.

Another 4 minutes go by before she says, "You know Harm, if this drive is going to be much longer we should have brought the Vette. It's a gorgeous day."

"Well, that was my plan. When you didn't show up by 15:45 I decided to load the SUV."

"Oh. I would've been there if I hadn't seen this dress in the window of a shop. You wouldn't give me a clue about what to wear. You said, and I quote, 'Wear whatever you'd like.' I saw this, and I liked it. So, I had to run in and grab it. I would've gone with something in my closet if I'd known you needed to load the vehicle."

"I have no regrets about you buying that dress Mac; and I never will." He tells her with a sideways glance. The view of her long legs thrills him. "How was the spa?"

She sighs happily." I want to move into that place; live there fulltime."

He chuckles. "That good, huh?"

She murmurs affirmatively. "Your mother's going to spoil me. It's a good thing I can't afford that place. If I could you'd never see m… Hey wait a minute! I didn't tell you I went to a spa. How did you know that?"

"Well, you're all prettied up." He tries, hoping a compliment will mollify her curiosity "I'm assuming you didn't do that before you left the house; not with me sleeping. You would've woken me."

"Uh uh Harm. I'm not buying that. You knew." She accuses with a chuckle.

With a sigh and a nod; he resigns the charade. "Mom told me about the spa Tuesday night, when I went to get Laura but she was busy teaching Frank how to play chess." Harm grins at the memory. "Mom asked me if you'd use the gift certificate if she got it. I guessed you would. I knew you had an appointment, but I figured you'd wake me before you left. It startled me when the alarm in my wristwatch woke me."

I didn't want to wake you."

"It's okay. Actually, it worked out good. It gave me the chance to take care of a last minute thing without thinking up a cover story first."

"You wouldn't have to do that if you just told me what you're up to."

"It's more fun this way. At least, I think it will be."

"You think. You're not sure?"

"Well, I was sure, at least until you got so quiet. I thought you'd be twisting my arm by now Mac; demanding details."

"Oh, I want to know. I really do… It's just… you seem to be having such a good time. I guess I decided to let you have it; for a little while. Besides, I like this part."

"What; riding as a passenger while I drive you to an unknown location. That doesn't sound like you Mac."

"I'm alone with you, with a relative amount of shelter from the world outside and we're going somewhere. That's what life is supposed to be about. Two people going somewhere. If only the rest of my life could be this simple; this perfect. Right now, I almost don't care what comes next... Almost. Of course, if this drive continues for much longer without some kind of explanation, I may hold you down and force you to eat dead animal!"

"Ahh, There's the Jarhead that I know and love. Hang on just a little bit longer Mac. You'll start to put the pieces together."

"You expect me to put a puzzle together tonight?"

"Not exactly; but you'll start to. It was either - drive you, like this, and let the pieces fall into place, or drug you, knock you unconscious, and kidnap you. Only trouble with that was, eventually you'd wake up, and I'd have one pissed Marine on my hands. I decided that was probably not the way to go."

"Smart Flyboy; good Flyboy."

Harm chuckles. "Do I get a reward now?"

"A reward?"

"Yeah, you talk to Laura's dog in the same tone of voice right before you give her a dog biscuit."

"Hmph, I really don't think you'd like a Milk Bone Harm."

He wrinkles his nose. "No thank you. But I would like a kiss"

"Tell me where you're taking me, and maybe you'll get one"

Grinning, Harm shakes his head, "I knew your patience wouldn't last much longer."

"Harm…please. This has been fun, but I really wanna know now. Where are we going?" Her happiness is the only thing that keeps her from whining.

"We're going to dinner."

Instead of kissing him, she lightly punches his shoulder.

They fall into a nearly comfortable silence; disturbed only by her growing impatience. They listen to the radio for a while. They talk about Laura for a while. Although neither one of them mentions the choice not to, they seem to have an unspoken agreement not to talk about work.

Although they never see the plane, they see the exhaust trail from one, and a moment later they spot a skydiver seconds before he chute opens; unfurling red and gold against the pale blue cloudless sky.

"There's a skydiving school a couple of miles from here. He must be in the drop zone." Mac says.

"I've never understood why people want to do that, I mean for leisure. I'd rather fly the plane than jump out of it."

"That's because you're a pilot. You've been hardwired to just fly the plane; no matter what. Whatever goes wrong up there, as long as you've got air under your wings, you're alive. Just fly the plane. Jumping out of the plane is what you do when there's nothing else you can do; when there's no other alternative except death and even then, you probably try a few seconds longer than you should. You eject and as you and your chute descend, and the plane slams into the side of a hill becoming a giant fireball, part of you is still thinking; I just wanted to fly the plane. I should've tried harder. In your thick head, needing a parachute means you failed at something."

Harm doesn't know whether to laugh or be offended. "Mac, do you know what a fully loaded F15 costs?"

"Yeah, I do. I also know that, in that moment, you aren't thinking about dollar signs."

"That's true enough. So, you're in favor of skydiving… For sport?"

"God no! But unlike you, it's not the thought of abandoning a perfectly good aircraft that bothers me. Free falling can be sort of pleasant. It's the sudden stop at the end that I object to. I'm supposed to jump out of an airplane, and trust my life to a few yards of nylon fabric and cords tethered to D-rings that are clipped to my body? Something goes wrong, and there's a very hard, and very wet, squishy thud when I hit the ground as bones break and organs rupture. Bye-bye Mac. No thank you! I only do that when I absolutely have to. But not everyone agrees with you and me. Some people think it's worth the risk. That's all I meant."

She falls quiet again and stays that way for a while. She watches their progress. As mile markers tic by she occasionally shoots him a curious look. A bit farther, and she gets fidgety. She can't hold still in the seat. If she's not playing with the seat controls, she's uncrossing and re-crossing her legs or fidgeting with the headrest, or the air conditioner vents

"Ah Harm… We are supposed to get married at 10:00 tomorrow morning."

"You aren't going to miss anything; I promise." Is his only reply.

"How much farther?"

He points to a road sign. They cross the state line. As they head into Yuma she gets excited. Bouncing and sitting up straighter in the seat, she alternates between staring hard at him for long moments, and staring out the window, happily watching desert scenery pass by. Her behavior is not unlike that of a nervous lap dog, prancing in the seat, eager to get out of the car. Finally, at length, she smiles. It's a soft, sweet, genuinely happy smile that he rarely sees. His arm is resting against the console between the two seats and she places her left hand in his right and goes completely still. She knows where they're going.

The rest of their drive is peaceful and quiet.

Approaching Red Rock Mesa she gets excited again, but it's a quiet excitement that radiates from her without the nervous movement that had unsettled her earlier in their drive.

When a helicopter passes overhead Harm checks his watch and Mac grins. Moments later, they pull off the road to find the helicopter has landed and is waiting for them at the base of the mesa.

The very moment Harm's foot hits the break Mac's door is open and she is out of the car. Getting out himself, he chuckles at her indecision. She immediately starts for the helicopter then stops, looks around, comes back to the driver's side and takes his hand. She walks with him to the rear of the vehicle as the helicopter's pilot climbs out. Harm opens the rear door of the SUV. Taking a black backpack from inside the cargo hold and slinging a strap over one shoulder, he hands Mac a small AM\FM radio and then picks up a large picnic hamper. Stepping back, he slams the rear door and takes Mac's waiting free hand in his. After only two steps, she lets go of his hand and wraps her arm around his waist. As they approach the helicopter, she whispers "Thank you" in his ear.

The helicopter pilot, a short stout man in his sixties and wearing coveralls, smiles affably and shouts "Going up?" over the air whopping and whine of the rotor.

Harm gives him a thumbs-up sign as Mac lets go of him to tend to her skirt. Harm briefly shakes the man's hand before stowing his gear and then offers Mac a hand as she climbs aboard. Once inside, with the doors closed, Mac leans forward from the first row of rear seats and shakes the man's hand.

"Jake Preston… And you're Sarah?"

"I am; and thanks for the lift."

"No trouble. Interesting place for a date though. I don't know too many girls that would have a yen to come out here."

Mac shrugs and smiles at him. "Most people wouldn't want to, but this place is in my blood."

Jake Preston nods without the curious or odd expression Mac would've expected. She thinks he might understand.

It takes them only moments to rise to the top of Red Rock Mesa and set down again. Before stepping out of the helicopter Preston reaches back and hands Harm a handheld shortwave radio receiver. "I'll be back in time. Just give a yell if you need anything. I'll be around."

Harm nods and then disembarks before turning and offering Mac his hand again. When she is standing beside him, he once again grabs the backpack and Mac reaches for the basket; stacking the little radio they brought along on top of it.

"Ugh, Harm, what have you got in here; as seven course feast?" She shouts over the noise of the helicopter blades

"Pretty close." Harm chuckles.

They step a safe distance away and watch the helicopter rise. It hovers briefly as Preston looks out the window and exchanges a salute with Harm, and then it is gone.

As he turns to smile at her in the early evening sunlight he drapes an arm around her. "C'mon. Let's find a spot."

Part 41: The Date

Author's Note: Okay guys, it's confession time. I goofed, majorly. When I decided where this story was going to end up, I kept thinking that in late August the sun sets at about 8:15 PM; and it does; where I live. Only trouble is, I don't live in Yuma Arizona. However, I've written too much of the story to go back and change it all now. This afternoon I checked the sunrise and sunset times for Yuma Arizona on the exact date, Friday, August 31, 2007. At 18:47 when Mac and Harm arrived at Red Rock Mesa, they would've been a grand total of 16 minutes away from sunset. My apologies. For the sake of the story please suspend reality and just assume the sun is going to set an hour and 1/2 after their arrival. One of my readers mentioned Murphy to me this afternoon. Well you were right Steamboat, good old Murphy did make his appearance; but let's not make Harm and Mac suffer for it. Thanks y'all.

Now, on with the story!

18:47 HRS

Mac picks their spot, less than 2 feet from the westward edge of the mesa. She sets down the picnic hamper and remains standing; her hands resting on her hips as she stares out at a view so magnificent only God could create it.

Harm lowers the backpack to the ground and removes a blanket from the largest of the zippered compartments; spreading it for them. He sits and opens the basket of food and as he begins to remove some of it he glances up at her standing there lost in the view. For a moment he is silent, not wishing to disturb her. When the basket is half empty, its contents spread across the blanket except for a place for her beside him, he says "I brought sunscreen too; if you want some for your shoulders."

"You thought of everything; didn't you?"

"I hope so."

She smiles down at him as he picks up the AM/FM radio; searching for a station. The variety of food catches her attention. "Harm! If your watch woke you at 14:00 there's no way you had time to do all this."

"Mom helped. We did most of it yesterday while you were at work. I left it at her house so you wouldn't see it and get suspicious. Most of it's meant to be eaten cold though. I wasn't sure about trying to start a fire up here. We've got crudités, a cold relish, and some tortilla chips, some fresh fruit, pea salad, some homemade sour dough bread, soft cheeses and even some chicken salad. It's all safe; I promise. It was in the freezer five minutes before it was in the car and there are ice packs in the bottom of the hamper. We've got water, and a bottle of cider. I think Mom even stuck a few candles in here. Ah, and the corkscrew." He says triumphantly; finding it tucked inside one of the wine glasses nestled in the compartment for such things.

"Your mom is amazing!" She declares, settling down beside him. "I couldn't even manage to talk mine into coming to our wedding. Yours helps plan the wedding, gets me ready for a date, and even helps make the food for the date. Oh, and just so you know, if we ever do this again, fires are okay. How do you think Uncle Matt and I survived up here for a month?"

"Oh. That makes sense. I didn't even think about it. I guess dinner's going to be a little low-key then."

Mac shakes her head before taking a long moment to kiss him. "Dinner is perfect!" She breathes when they part.

"You haven't even tasted it."

"Doesn't matter. Doesn't matter if it's awful. Doesn't matter if I leave here starving. This is perfect."

"You sure? I know you said you wanted to go someplace public. This isn't exactly a restaurant filled with people."

"We can go to a restaurant anytime. You only get one first date." She adds quietly, "Thank you for not listening to me."

Mac slips out of her shoes and nudges them aside while the radio plays soft instrumental music, and Harm begins preparing plates.

"Harm please tell me that's not actual china."

"Afraid it is. Mom said, 'If it gets broken, then it gets broken.' She said I wasn't allowed to feed you dinner on paper plates. I told her you wouldn't care, but she absolutely insisted."

Mac giggles. "Okay, but please tell me it's not… I don't know… Your great grandmother's china, or anything like that."

"No. This isn't the good china set. She assured me."

Mac breathes easier and sips from a bottle of water.

"I wanted to bring some fresh strawberries along, but the ones at the market were not impressive. So I brought oranges from the tree in Mom's backyard instead."

Her face lights up." Fresh oranges; that haven't been exposed to all those flavor-robbing chemicals that farmers spray on them before shipping them to stores?"

He nods.

"That's dessert." She declares happily. "Unless you have that in the basket too."

"Dessert comes later… I hope."

She studies him, thinking that perhaps he's referring to other, more intimate things, but his expression is devoid of explicit desire, at least for the moment. "What's that mean?" She decides to ask.

His only response is to hand her a plate filled with a healthy taste of everything the basket has to offer. "Here, eat your chicken salad."

"K, fine." She says, taking the plate happily. "Don't tell me. I don't care. Not now."

Side by side, with their thighs touching, they stare out over the desert sky as they eat their meal slowly and in near silence with the exception of an occasional comment on the food or the view. Harm's one question is in regard to a comment she made moments before.

"You mentioned your mother. You did invite her?"

Mac puts down her fork and nods quietly as she tucks her head and swallows a bite of food. "Today; before the spa." Lifting her gaze, she meets his eyes. With a shrug, she shakes her head. "Sorry. I know you wanted her to be there. I know you wanted her to surprise me. I tried. No such luck."

He watches her play with a piece of bread until he puts his arm around her and tucks her in against his chest. "Mac, I'm sorry. You shouldn't have put yourself through it."

She shrugs again, her shoulder making contact just below his. "It was important to you. That makes it worthwhile even though we didn't get the answer you wanted. The answer I wanted, I guess. And anyway, I promised you I would ask. So I did. At least now she won't be able to claim that she didn't come because she wasn't invited. She did ask for pictures though. I told her we'd do the best we could. Don't suppose you thought to hire somebody?"

"It's in the bag."

"Really? You got a photographer?"

"Mac, don't sound so shocked. I like pictures. I'd like to have a few of our wedding day… You know, 50 years from now."

"Fifty years from now! God Harm, do you know how old we'll be 50 years from now?"

He chuckles. "A couple of half-deaf, half-blind, recycled teenagers."

When she arches an eyebrow and shoots him a look of uncertainty, he laughs. "That's something my grandmother used to say – that senior citizens were just recycled teenagers. You would've liked her. She would've liked you."

"My gram would've liked you too Harm." She hugs him close, uncertain what else to say.

While they finish eating, a couple of hawks play on outstretched wings in the sky; soaring high then diving and chasing after one another. Harm watches Mac watch them. She puts down her plate, and leans back against her palms and gets lost in the simple beauty of their aerial acrobatics.

While she watches them, he peels an orange and splits it into sections. The fruit's sweet scent fills the air and she occasionally glances his way but always returns her eyes to the sky and the view beyond Red Rock Mesa. He drapes a linen napkin over her lap before holding a slice of orange to her lips.

"Here." He whispers and she bites down gently then laughs, trying to keep her mouth closed, when the sweet juice dribbles down her chin.

Picking up the napkin, she dabs at her mouth while she chews. When she can, she says, "That's a good orange; really good but when they're that good they're also messy; and sticky." She adds, still dabbing.

"Here, let me." Slowly pushing aside the napkin, he kisses her and then gently uses his tongue to lick away any trace of the sweet sticky nectar from the orange. The kiss becomes heated and threatens to burn out of control until, breathlessly, Mac gently pushes away. At first, Harm doesn't understand. He thinks something is wrong until Mac picks up a slice of orange and offers to feed it to him. He bites hungrily and then lets her subject him to equal treatment. They continue in this fashion, taking turns, until the orange is gone and their libidos are a whisper away from demanding satisfaction.

Mac pouts when she realizes the last bite of orange is gone. Then, offering him a smile she whispers, "You want to peel another one?"

"God yes!" He answers, his voice husky with desire, but he grits his teeth and makes a 'tsk' sound as he looks at his watch. "I'm afraid we can't though. Sorry, maybe we should have started with the oranges."

A waltz begins to play on the radio. He stands up quickly and pulls her to her feet. Caught by surprise, she laughs. "Why can't we? Date over? Are you meeting another girl?" She teases.

He chuckles wryly and holds her as close as he dares given their present conditions. "No, the date's not over, and what other girl? There are no other girls in my world. Dance with me, Sarah."

She complies wordlessly and falls into step with him; letting him lead her through the music. The fingertips of the hand resting on his shoulder gently caress his neck. "Harm, if the date's not over, why can't we have another orange?"

"Date's not over yet… but we might be getting close and there are some other things I need to do before it is. Whenever the date ends, we can always take the oranges with us."

"Oh, okay." She whispers, pleased by the thought. "What other things do you need to do?" She asks sweetly.

He smiles down at her. "God, but you are impatient!"

"You're just now figuring this out… After more than eleven years?"

In time with the music, he spins her around. "No, I've known it since day one, but sometimes you like to remind me."

She falls silent, because it's what he wants, and moves with him until the last notes of the waltz are played. When it ends she turns to face the view once more. He stands close, his arm around her.

"Do we need to pack up? When's Mr. Preston coming back for us? The sun's going to set in about thirty-five; maybe forty minutes"

"I know." He whispers and something in his voice causes her to look his way. She finds that he's holding a black velvet ring box in the palm of his left hand."

She offers him a curious smile and he opens the box. "You should've had this Saturday when I proposed. If I had planned that as well as I planned tonight, you might have. Dad gave it to Mom, and before that it belonged to Grandma Sarah. It even has their initials engraved in it." He turns it so that the rays of the late sunlight cast a gentle glow on the three sets of initials that circle the inside of the band.

AR +SH, HR+PJ, and HR2+SM

She watches him without a sound as he slips his family's engagement ring onto her finger. Transfixed for a moment she stares at the simple ring with its delicate diamond setting. It fits. It's irrational for this to make her feel so good, but it does. She wraps her arms around his neck, hugs him tightly, and then kisses him. The kiss is little more than a gentle caress before he's brushing tears off her cheek with the pad of his thumb.

"Will it do?" He wants to know.

She's already nodding, speechlessly before he can finish saying, "I know it's not new, or the latest trend."

She places the fingertips of her right hand against his lips. "Shh… hush. It's perfect. It's priceless."

He brushes away more tears and she finds herself returning the favor before they turn their eyes to the breathtaking view once more. After a long moment of silence, he catches her by surprise with an unexpected question, asked so quietly that at first she's not sure she heard him correctly.

"Think you can change clothes before the sun sets?"

When her look of confusion changes to one of incredulity he raises an eyebrow.

"Don't tell me you're tired of the dress already. I thought you liked it."

With his hands resting gently on her hips he shakes his head. "I don't like it. I love it. But, I was just thinking. Here we are… engaged… plus, you went out and got all prettied up this afternoon, and we're up here… Standing on top of a rock that's hundreds of years old. Even time hasn't managed to wear it away."

Her breath catches as she recognizes her own words repeated back to her. "Can you think of a better place to get married? I can't."

For one moment, he's never seen her look so happy, and the next moment the look crumbles and she's smacking his shoulder hard with the heel of her hand. "Harm, are you nuts? Have you lost your mind? Don't tell me the altitude's getting to you. We can't get married tonight!"

"Oh? Why can't we?" He challenges.

"Well for starters, we're the only two people up here!"

He shrugs. "I can fix that."

She goes on as if she hadn't heard him. "And second, twenty-one people are coming to my house tomorrow morning to watch us get married on the beach. Remember?"

He gives her that one of a kind smile. "Really? Are you sure about that Mac?"

She squints at him. "That's what you told me! Saturday morning; 10;00 HRS."

"What if I lied?"

In response to the scowl on her face, he holds up his hands in a defensive posture. "Only about the date and time; not about getting married."

The scowl fades into a worried smile "But Harm; all our friends."

He holds up his finger in the universal 'wait one moment' gesture and crosses the blanket to pick up the shortwave radio receiver Jake Preston left them with.

Mac stands with her hands on her hips, her back to a sky that promises a glorious sunset, watching him as if she thinks he's gone mad.

He holds the button down to transmit, and winks at her. "Frank, you got everybody down there yet?"

A second ticks by, then two, three and Mac shakes her head, but after the fourth second there's a moment of static over the radio. "We're all here, Harm."

"Okay. Hang on guys, your ride up will be here shortly." Harm changes frequencies. "Jake?"

Preston answers immediately. "You ready?"

"Affirmative. Everyone's here. We're ready and waiting."

"I'm inbound. Be there in less than two."

Harm puts down the radio. Unzips a pocket in the backpack and extracts a pair of binoculars. He crooks his finger; silently asking her to follow as he walks toward the opposite side of the mesa.

At the eastern facing edge, he looks through the binoculars for a moment and then hands them to her.

Mac looks through, and then bounces once on the balls of her feet at the sight of three large dark blue vans that bear the logo of the Radisson hotel in Yuma.

Part 42: The Guests the Goats & the Gift

19:50 HRS

Standing at the top of Red Rock Mesa with binoculars, Mac looks down at friends and family climbing out of the comfort of air conditioned luxury vans. When Jake Preston approaches from the east in his Sikorsky S76 and sets down for his first load of passengers, Mac hangs the binoculars around her neck and throws her arms around Harm. With her head on his shoulder she whispers, her voice thick with emotion, "You're insane, you're certifiable; and I love you! Thank you. You shouldn't have done this; but thank you."

He holds her every bit as tightly as she holds him. "Why shouldn't I have?"

"Harm, it'll take you years to pay for this. You didn't have put yourself into debt."

"I didn't. I was going to, but Frank offered to pick up the tab. He said to consider it a wedding present."

"Harm… It's too much."

He rubs her back. "Yeah, I told him you'd feel that way. That was when Mom started telling me about all her friends who have adult children who have gotten married recently and what they spent on the weddings. According to Mom, this is one inexpensive wedding. They're friends with Preston; so they got a break on the charter and that was the most expensive part. Chrysler reserves a block of hotel rooms at the Radisson for corporate functions. There was no dress to buy; not to mention clothing for the wedding party. All the girls started asking about wedding colors. I had no clue, so I referred them to Mom. She told them that Laura picked our wedding colors for us, yellows and greens; and classy but informal. We'll see what they came up with."

"Oh Harm, I don't care what they're wearing."

"I know."

Several yards away, the helicopter touches down. Tucked into Harm's embrace, Mac waits impatiently to see who will arrive first. Jake Preston climbs out and opens the rear doors. With his back to them, he listens to the people inside. There seems to be a discussion taking place for several long seconds and then he nods and takes the hand of a woman who momentarily is shielded from view on the other side of him until she gently shoos him out of the way. When he steps aside Chloe Masson can be seen kneeling just inside. Most of her face is hidden behind a large digital Nikon camera, and another camera is on a strap around her neck. Above the noise of the helicopter rotor, Harm and Mac cannot hear the camera's whine and click, but Chloe snaps a quick half dozen shots of the two of them locked in each other's arms before she rises, lifts the hem of her dress and bounds gracefully out of the luxury aircraft on nimble young legs and feet. On solid ground, she smiles brilliantly and motions 'Just one minute.' She turns, and walking backwards quickly, she snaps a lightning fast round of photos as Jennifer Coates steps out and turns back to take Laura's walker, and then Laura, from Trish's waiting arms. After Trish comes Judge Wayne Dubose and two women Mac does not recognize. She assumes one is the judge's wife, Maggie. These two women take turns assisting each other with getting two garment bags and a couple of overnight cases out as well. All of them are dressed to the nines; either in neutral colors, or veritable shades of brilliant green and yellow.

As soon as the last passenger is out Jake Preston mouths 'Be right back.' Harm nods and waves while Chloe finally gets a chance to release her camera. At which point she promptly throws her arms around Mac who eagerly returns the embrace; both of them laughing happily. They release each other only so Mac can hug Trish as well, but she addresses Chloe. "I knew you had a thing for that photo journalism class you're taking, but I didn't expect this!"

"That was last semester. I moved on to the advanced class. When Harm called and asked if I could do this, I said heck yeah! Sorry for the delay with the hug, but I wanted to get a few shots of people arriving. I mean, how often is there a helicopter at a wedding? It'll definitely make for a conversation piece; even years from now." Chloe goes up on tiptoe before she throws her arms around Harm and kisses his cheek with a spunky "Hey Harm." then she shoots Mac an aggrieved look. "Darn it! He's still thirteen inches taller than me! Teasing Harm, she scowls at him and demands to know, "Why can't you shrink some?"

For a moment, everyone laughs while Harm shrugs and accepts Chloe's good-natured exasperation.

"Why can't you grow some." He tosses back in fun as Mac steals a moment to whisper, "Thank you." in Trish's ear. Barely holding in tears, she wants to say more but Jennifer Coates is standing by smiling happily and patiently with Laura in her arms.

Laura, on the other hand, may be happy but she is not so patient. Having not seen her aunt for more than 24 hours she's definitely ready now. "Aunt Mac, you're getting married!" She declares as if this is not yet known; causing more laughter from the group.

Mac feels Trish's hand on her shoulder; a gentle squeeze as she takes Laura into her arms and offers Jen a hug. Deciding that she'll catch a moment when she can speak more freely with Trish, Mac turns in time to catch sight of the woman stepping into her son's embrace as she answers Laura. "Yeah baby. I sort of figured that out!" She hugs the girl zealously. "And you look beautiful!"

"I didn't even get dirty…yet."

"Well, see if you can hold out just a little bit longer." Mac notices a gift wrapped package in the girl's arms but before she acknowledges it, she shakes the judge's hand. "Thank you for coming."

"Are you kidding? The pleasure's all mine. I've never been part of a top secret wedding before."

Mac chuckles, as he introduces his wife in a sweet genteel way. "This is my Maggie."

Mac shakes the plump, pretty, redhead's hand as she offers congratulations with a Texas drawl that is somewhat softer and sweeter than her husband's; but recognizable nonetheless. "Trish and I decided it might be best to leave the wedding cake at the hotel. I don't think it would have fared well in that flying contraption. You two can cut the cake after we get back to the hotel."

"Sounds like maybe he really did think of everything. "Though Mac is talking to Maggie Dubose she throws a smile Harm's way. He shrugs and says "We'll see." before Mac turns and offers her hand to the one person remaining. "Sarah Mackenzie."

"Judge, Dana Kerrigan, Wayne is a friend of mine from law school days. He called and told me he needed a little help."

"Oh?" Mac raises an eyebrow.

"Yes. You two obtained a license to be married in California. This isn't California… But no worries, I'm here to take care of all of that. All I need is a couple of signatures, but we don't have to deal with that right now; just some time before midnight."

"Thank you so much for coming all this way!"

"What all this way? I live less than thirty miles from here, and I'm having a blast. I've never ridden in the helicopter before! Not to mention, I haven't seen Wayne this excited since he passed the bar!"

Mac laughs. Moving to stand between Harm and his mother she says, "Well thank you anyway. I'm glad you're having a good time."

Harm drapes an arm around her as she offers Laura a smile. "Hey baby, what's in this pretty package you're carrying?"

Laura's little face lights up. "It's a wedding present! Harm told me you needed these to get married. He said I could pick them out though. Here! Open it!"

"I will in little while. You're supposed to wait until after the wedding to open the presents."

"No! Aunt Mac, you have to open this one now! It's important!"

Laura's eyes plead as she holds up the package. Mac gives her a gentle squeeze and offers Harm a raised eyebrow."

"She's right. You should open it."

Looking back and forth between the two of them Mac purses her lips for a moment but then shrugs and passes Laura over to Harm with a quirky, "Okay, I'll open it. Here, you hold this."

Laura wraps her arms around Harm's neck while giggling over being referred to as 'this.'

Mac gives the package a gentle shake, noticing that it's the perfect size of a shoe box. She determines from the lack of noise that whatever is inside, it isn't a pair of shoes. She gives Harm another curious look and he shrugs. She smiles at the group of people around her and she rips pretty yellow paper open and finds, not to her surprise, a shoe box. Tucking the shredded wrapping paper under one arm, she sets the box in Trish's upturned hands and lifts the lid. Nestled inside a soft bed of plain white tissue paper, she finds two objects that cause her to squint in confusion.

Noticing this look, Trish chuckles. "Well, so much for my hope that you might be able to explain this Mac. Harm and Laura brought it over to the house. I wrapped it. He wouldn't explain this to me. I was hoping you could."

Mac turns her befuddled look to Harm. "Explain please Flyboy. What's the joke?"

Harm grins but in a way that suggests he's just been wounded. "You don't remember?"

Laughing, Mac shakes her head. "Sorry, afraid not."

"You…me… Along with Renee and Brumby… On the double date from hell. We went to see the Roches but they never showed."

"I remember the date… Just not the reason for the gift."

"Really, aww c'mon. You remember."

Mac searches her memory and shakes her head apologetically.

"Well, I remember! You were lamenting Mic's outlandish wedding plans... Saying that you would be happier with far less." He raises an eyebrow.

Mac squints for a moment and then looks of the items in the box and bursts out laughing.

The faces of the people around them all bear mystified expressions as Mac removes two small porcelain goats from inside the box and holds them up for display before cradling them to her chest. She then hands them to Trish and throws her arms around Harm. "You're insane!" She tells him for the second time in moments. "I can't believe you remember that!" Harm, I was joking… Well… sort of."

Harm wraps his free arm around her. "You sort of weren't joking."

"And you knew that; even than!" She says quietly; caught somewhere between laughter and tears.

"Yeah; I knew. Preston wouldn't let me put real goats in his helicopter. He didn't like that idea at all. I can't imagine why." Harm jokes. "I hope those will do instead."

Laughing, Mac thumps his shoulder with the heel of her palm. "Those will do fine! You didn't really ask him to bring goats up here!"

"I asked him what he thought of goats. He informed it that they are nasty troublesome creatures who will eat anything that's not nailed down. I figured persuading him to allow a couple on board would require an act of Congress; and I didn't have time to make that happen." Harm adds the last bit as if he's serious.

Still embracing him, Mac looks at the perplexed faces around them and explains. "On a double date once with our respective boyfriend and girlfriend, I was complaining about the rather lavish plans my former fiancé had for our wedding. I told everyone listening that instead of all the fuss, I'd rather get married on a hillside with goats in attendance. Part of me was joking. Part of me wasn't. Mic, my then fiancé and Renee, his girlfriend; they just laughed it off. Harm, on the other hand, shot me that one of a kind look of his. Even wrapped in a joke, he had sense enough to recognize the truth when he heard it."

"And now here you are." Maggie Dubose comments happily. "Though, I'm not sure this giant rock out in the middle of the desert counts as a hillside."

"No, but this giant rock is better than any hillside anywhere."

They all turn and watch as the helicopter sets down once more and Jake Preston climbs out yet again to unload his passengers. Harriett and her three boys climb out followed by Sturgis and Varese while Chloe returns to snapping pictures.

Harriet is as effervescent as ever! Squealing with delight she hugs and kisses both Mac and Harm as the three young boys clamor around Harm vying for their share of attention from their uncle. Harm speaks to each of them in turn before he and Mac both greet Sturgis and Varese. Immediately after that Mac turns to Harriett.

"Harriett, where are Bud and Jenny."

"They're still down there. Bud's trying to convince her. Jenny's a little scared of the helicopter."

Concern washes over Mac as A.J. declares "Yeah… Jenny's a big baby!"

Mac kneels beside him. "A.J. that's not very nice."

"Well who ever heard of being afraid of a helicopter?" He asks, making it clear that he thinks riding in a helicopter to his godparents' wedding was a grand adventure."

"Don't you remember when you were scared to ride your bicycle without the training wheels?"

A.J. nods a little sheepishly. "How did you know about that Aunt Mac?"

"Your mom sent me a video. You know what, your dad stayed with you the whole time until you could do it all by yourself without being scared, and nobody called you a big baby."

"Uh huh. Did too!"

"Who did?"

Not wishing to be the only one in trouble, A.J. decides to share the misery and points an accusing finger at his little brother, Jimmy.

Harriet chimes in. "Yes. And Jimmy got in trouble then too. Aunt Mac is right son, it's not nice to make fun of your sister. Not everybody likes to fly A.J. It can be a little scary for some of us."

Mac looks up at Harm. "Stop Preston. We'll just have to go down."

Harm looks shocked. Not that she offered, but that she offered without hesitation.

"We can't traumatize her Harm. We can't force her before she is ready, and you can't get married without Bud. It wouldn't be right."

Harm waves to Jack Preston; signaling for the man to stay the instant before liftoff. He opens his door and again, Harm signals 'wait'. Returning to the blanket he and Mac had shared earlier, he picks up the radio receiver. Returning to them, he calls down, "Hey Bud. You copy?"

It's Frank's voice that responds, "Hang on Harm."

An instant later Bud replies. "I'm here Harm. Well me and Jenny." then he says, "Here sweetie, talk to Uncle Harm." After another 3 seconds they hear Bud again. "Sorry, cat's got her tongue. She's being bashful, but she's right here. She can hear you. She just doesn't want to talk right now."

Harm grins. "Jenny, don't you want to come up here to the wedding."

"Honey, you have to talk. Uncle Harm can't see you shaking your head."

"No!" The 3-year-old girl finally says; loud and clear. "Don't wanna go up. Don't wanna fall down!"

"Aww. You're scared huh. Well, that's OK. Everybody gets a little scared the first time they fly. I did." Harm says as if he sharing a well-guarded secret. "But I've flown lots of times, and it's not so scary. Well, except for when I miss Mattie. Hey, I have an idea. What if I fly down there to you? If I come down there, will you come up with me?"

There's a long silence over the radio and finally they hear Bud say again. "Sweetie, you have to talk. Uncle Harm can't see you."

"Okay." comes the timid reply.

"I'll be right down, Jenny."

Harm quickly sets Laura on her feet. "Stay away from the edge okay sweetheart?" without waiting for a reply, he drops a quick kiss on Mac's temple and sprints for the helicopter, calling over his shoulder "I'll be right back."

They watch him climb into the empty seat up front beside Jake Preston. The two men talk for a few seconds and then lift off.

19:56 HRS

"You think he can convince her?" Varese addresses her question to the group at large.

Mac laughs. "Harm can convince any female to fly with him. I still fly with him, and the very first time I did; I got shot! Trust me, if there's anybody here who has reason not to fly with Harm, it's yours truly, and yet, I do it every chance I get. She'll be up here before you know it."

Far below them, Harm steps out of the helicopter. He spots his friend and his frightened goddaughter right away, but before he can reach them he spots two unexpected friendly faces and smiles. Shaking his head, he thinks "Aw Mac…" recalling that her numbers for the guest list didn't quite match up with his whenever she talked about it. He had assumed that she had been adding the two of them to the mix. On his way to Bud and Jenny, he stops only long enough to wrap Skates in a warm hug as he thumps Keeter on the shoulder.

"I would ask you what you two are doing here, but I suspect a certain Marine had something to do with it."

They both nod, and Keeter adds, "That's affirmative."

"I looked for you man! I couldn't find you; thought you dropped off the face of the Earth!"

"Brother, I was in a stinking hell hole that you don't even want to know about. I don't know what kind of favors your bride-to-be had to call in to get me pulled out of there, but I'll say this much for her, she's still got great timing."

"And you." He smiles at Skates.

"Yeah. I have to say, I was a little surprised by the invitation but see, the last time she invited you to a wedding, you almost didn't make it, in the worst possible way. Apparently, she still feels grateful I was there. Maybe she thinks I'm your good luck charm."

Harm flashes his smile. "She always will be grateful Skates. That goes for both of us; and if I did have a good luck charm, you'd be it."

He and Bud shake hands and then hug like men, thumping each other on the back, before Harm scoops the blonde toddler with eyes as bright and blue as her mother's up into his arms. "Hi Jenny. Why don't you come with me while I go say hello?"

Harm offers the Admiral his hand. "It's good to see you, sir."

"Good to see you too Harm" He answers gruffly, shaking the hand that's offered. "But if I'm going to attend your wedding like a member of the family, I think you better call me A.J."

"Fair enough, were you able to get it?"

A.J. Chegwidden gestures toward an ice chest sitting nearby on the ground. I got it… and then some."

"Thank you very much for that A.J."

Harm looks to the attractive middle-aged blonde standing next to A.J. and the older man supplies an introduction. "Harmon Rabb, this is Rachel Mc Graille"

"Nice to meet you Ma'am" He says warmly.

"Likewise, but all you military folks are so well-mannered. Don't get me wrong, I like it but I prefer you call me Rachel."

"Rachel, it is then." He gestures toward the helicopter and says with a smile. "Shall we fly?"

As they approach the helicopter with its loud rotor, little Jenny's arms and legs tighten around him. Harm drops a welcoming hand on Frank's shoulder and he motions for him to sit in the front with Jake Preston as he climbs into the back and takes the two seats next to Bud. When Harm lowers Jenny into a seat she immediately scampers for her father's lap and Harm kneels in the narrow aisle, folding in on himself to make room as the other passengers board.

"Hey big girl, you have to sit in your own seat, so we can buckle you in, but Daddy's going to stay right there, I'm going to sit right here, and you're going to sit in the middle. It's only going to take just a minute, and we aren't going anywhere until you say it's okay, deal?"

While Harm waits for her to answer he takes his seat and fastens his own belt. "See, just like the seat in the car." He pats the empty leather seat in the middle.

When the doors slam shut, she jumps but the interior is noticeably quieter with the doors closed and this seems to comfort her some. She looks around the small space at the people she came here with and then looks at Harm.

"Go fly?"

"When you say it's okay, but you have to put on a seatbelt first."

Jenny tips her little chin up placing the crown of her head against the wall of her father's chest so she can look at him upside down from her spot in his lap. "Seatbelt?"

"That's right monkey; seatbelt. Just like in the car, but you can hold my hand and I betcha Uncle Harm's got a hand you can hold too."

Harm offers her his right hand, and she chooses to slide into the seat between he and Bud.

"There now. If you get scared, you just squeeze my hand as hard as you can." Harm tells her while Bud works her seatbelt into place and then his own.

"We go up now?"

"If you're ready."

"We not fall down?"

"Don't you worry! Mr. Jake up there flies real good, and if he has any trouble, I'll jump up and go help him." Harm splays his big hand across her small chest and pats her gently.

"She thinks about this for a moment, before she nods. "Okay. We go up now." She holds two of Bud's fingers in one small hand and two of Harm's in the other and squeezes her eyes shut as tightly as she can.

Chuckling, Harm holds his left index finger up in the air and makes a quick circle, indicating to Jake Preston that they're ready for lift off.

Moments later, as Preston begins to power down the helicopter after they set down again, Jenny opens her eyes and strains against her seatbelt to look out the window over her father's shoulder.

Smiling, Harm points, "See Jenny, there's Aunt Mac."

She glances out the window very quickly but immediately turns her attention back to Harm. "It's over; already?"

"Yep. It's over. We're here. Wanna come with me; so I can get married?"

Jenny nods and fumbles with the buckle on her seatbelt until he undoes it for her. Harm scoops her up again and when the doors open she covers her ears with her hands in response to the decelerating rotor until they are out and a safe distance away. As Harm joins the group, Chloe snaps more pictures and Jenny reaches for her mother.

"We go up, we not fall down." She tells Harriett happily.

As she takes Jenny into her arms, Harriett and everyone else laughs heartily before she says, "That's really good. If you had fallen down, your Aunt Mac would've kicked somebody's six from here all the way to Antarctica!"

"You got that right!" Mac declares as, walking her way, Harm points an accusatory finger at her.

"You are one sneaky Marine. How in the world did you manage to get Skates and Keeter here?"

"I located them, I contacted them, I asked them to come, and then, I passed their information on to Jen." She shrugs as if it were child's play. "I knew she was your co-conspirator. Don't worry; she managed it all without revealing a thing."

"How many favors did you have to cash in or promise to get this done?"

"Does it really matter?" Mac asks, winding an arm around his waist as she watches the last of their friends disembark.

Mac goes into another round of hugs and warm greetings with Frank, Bud, Keeter and Skates. When that is done she turns to Harm. "I guess we better get dressed now."

"Not quite yet." He says quietly; moving to stand behind her and placing his hands on her shoulders."

"Why not… Oh Harm, no more surprises, okay?"

Without comment, he points toward the helicopter as Preston removes a large ice chest, sets it on the ground, and then offers his hand to a women Mac does not recognize. She is confused until the woman's escort steps lithely from the helicopter as if he's done it 10,000 times before.

She straightens her spine, willing at least some Marine bearing to remain within. Biting her lower lip and covering her mouth with both hands, and then dropping them to her sides, a single silent tear falls before she can demand otherwise. Mac waits for him to come to her.

Taking the unfamiliar woman's hand in his; he approaches slowly. "Hope you don't mind an irascible old Seal dropping in like this, but I heard you would be getting married. A few years back you bestowed upon me the privilege of giving the bride away. I never got to carry out the honor. Captain Rabb here thought I might like the chance to make good on that; if you're agreeable Sarah."

Hopelessly unable to form words, she nods vehemently; her eyes shining she stands stiffly before him.

With a wide smile he beckons quietly; the fingers of his right hand moving in a slight 'come here' gesture.

With the permission she needs, she wraps her arms around his neck and kisses his cheek whispering, "Thank you Admiral."

"No need to thank me… Just go through with it this time!"

Letting him go, she laughs. "Yes sir. That won't be a problem sir!"

"Glad to hear it... Mac, this is Rachel Mc Graille. Rachel, Colonel Sarah Mackenzie."

The two women shake hands and smile at each other.

"Am I supposed to call you Sarah or Mac."

I prefer Mac, but whichever you're comfortable with is fine; I'll answer to either. I heard the Admiral was in France."

"Yes, we were, but he got on the first available plane when Captain Rabb called."

Touched, she offers the Admiral another warm smile. "Thank you for coming. I hope his call didn't interrupt anything important."

"Nothing we can't return to." Rachel assures her as Chegwidden interjects, "Planes leave every day. We got on one to get here. We can just as easily get on another."

"Well, if you'll excuse us, Harm and I need to change."

"I was going to say." Chegwidden begins archly. "Mac that dress is lovely and it's wearing you… but, call me old fashioned, I just don't think red is an appropriate color for a bride."

The crowd of bystanders begins to chuckle, as Mac gives a slight nod. "Yes sir. This is a situation I intend to remedy in very short order."

"Well, before you do, walk this way. I have something for you."

Mac takes the arm that's offered her. Walking with him, she objects. "Sir, you didn't have to get me anything. Just you being here is enough."

"Nonsense! Who the hell shows up to a wedding without a gift? But I'm afraid this one isn't from me."

"Oh?"

"No. Your groom made a request. I'm just his courier."

Mac glances back at Harm, who is following closely. His only response is to smile.

"No more Harm! This is too much already."

Harm steps ahead of them to the ice chest. Kneeling and opening it, he comments dryly. "Well, A.J. did go out of his way just to bring it to you, but if you don't want it, we'll just pitch it over the edge," Harm removes a sealed white plastic box and takes a step backward toward the edge of the mesa; grinning ear to ear.

"Harmon Rabb, don't you dare!" Mac lunges a little, reaching for the box, but she doesn't have to try very hard. Knowing she would do this, Harm simply dispenses with the teasing. Placing the box in her hands, he watches her study it for a long moment.

Their crowd of guests moves nearer as Mac looks at the official government seal stamped on the surface of the box and the label that designates its contents as perishable. They all watch as Mac gives Harm a very odd look. "You had the White House send me something perishable?"

Harm moves to stand at her left side as Chegwidden removes a small envelope from his breast pocket and places it on top of the box.

Mac lets the box rest in Harm's upturned hands as she opens the envelope and scans the card inside.

Giving Harm a wide eyed look, Mac starts to palm the card so she can open the box but then she catches sight of Harriett. With her blue eyes dancing, and fingertips pressed to her lips, Mac's friend looks as if she's about to tip over with the strain of holding in her excitement. Mac passes her the card and chuckles as she squeaks with delight. Harriett reads the card to herself, squeaks a few more times, and then reads the card out loud for everyone's benefit.

Dear Sarah,

We most happily honor former President and Mrs. Bartlett's request that we send you this gift from our garden along with our warm and heartfelt wishes for a glorious wedding day and a blessed marriage.

Sincerely,

President and Mrs. Matthew Santos

Mac waits for Harriet to settle. Nearly vibrating with excitement, she calms ever so slightly when she feels Bud's hand on her shoulder. She reaches up and gives her husband's hand a gentle squeeze as Mac opens the box.

The bridal bouquet inside the box is comprised of a variety of different roses in soft pinks, corals, and whites and it leaves Mac absolutely breathless. The rosebuds must've been picked before they were even open as many of them are only now beginning to unfurl their petals.

With the utmost care, Mac tenderly lifts the delicate bouquet from its box and displays it for all to see.

After a moment of oohs and aahs, in which Chloe is quietly snapping photographs, Varese asks, "Captain, exactly who do you have to know to get flowers straight from the White House rose garden for a bridal bouquet?"

Chegwidden answers, "I imagine it helps if you met your fiancée there."

Her eyes go wide. "You two met in the White House rose garden?" With a story like that who wouldn't honor such a request."

"There's more." Chegwidden lets them know; nodding toward the ice chest. Harm's request was only for the bridal bouquet. However, Helen Santos decided that was simply unacceptable. Rachel and I waited for more than two hours while she and 1/2 dozen White House staff members gathered and arranged corsages for the entire bridal party."

Still breathless, and as such, utterly speechless; Mac turns and smiles beautifully up at Harm. In response, he lowers his head for a tender kiss. The kiss is short lived though when Judge Dubose clears his throat and complains, "Not yet boy!" eliciting chuckles from everyone. At this point Laura takes it upon herself to announce "They do that all the time!" Quiet chuckles become outright laughter.

Another round of ohhs and ahhs goes up as Mac distributes the corsages. There's one for Harriet, Chloe, Jen, and Laura. As mother of the groom, there's even one for Trish Additionally, there are single buds for the groomsmen's lapels. Mac carefully removes a tiny bud from her own bouquet and places it gently in Jenny's hair; earning herself a bright smile from the toddler. At the same moment, Mac hands both Harriet and Trish the single rosebuds meant for their husband's lapels. "I'll let you two have the honor." She tells them quietly. She herself places a rosebud in the Admiral's lapel, and also one in Jack Keeter's.

"Now, if you will excuse us, Harm and I really must change. We're running out of time."

Before Harm steps away to grab flashlights from the backpack he brought up with them earlier, Mac stops him with a gentle hand on his arm, and whispers. "I really didn't know for sure that Keeter would make it. That's part of the reason I didn't tell you. I didn't want you to be disappointed if he couldn't. Pull Bud aside. Ask him if he minds sharing the Best Man title. As far as I know, there's no law that says you can't have two."

Nodding quietly, Harm touches her face lovingly before he trots away.

With Trish and her bridal party following, garment bags in hand, Mac heads for the cave where she dried out, the same cave that once briefly held the Declaration of Independence, and in hopes of saving his life, Harm was temporarily held captive as her prisoner.

Author's note: I know Bill Clinton, or more likely his double, was featured on JAG at least once. However, for the purposes of this story, when Harm and Mac met; Josiah Bartlett from the West Wing was president. That series ended in 2006. If you aren't familiar with the show, it was stipulated that Matthew Santos was his successor.

Part 43: In the Cave

20:11 HRS

The cave is large and dark. While they choose not to wander too deeply into it, Harm and Mac opt for separate paths leading to different chambers within. While the chambers they chose make for rather rustic dressing rooms, the heavy duty flashlights Harm thought to bring along dispel the darkness inside adequately.

Getting dressed with his back to Bud and Keeter he listens to the faint sounds of feminine laughter. His mother's makes him feel now the way it has always made him feel; content, safe, and loved. Jen's laughter is musical; Harriet's is bright and bubbly as always. Laura's laughter is the sound of untainted joy. Chloe's is full of youth and vitality. He knows how much Mac cherishes the girl. So, having her here feels nothing short of right. However, at the same time, her presence is a gentle vice around his heart. Seeing how she has changed so much in the years since he last saw her, and yet somehow, remained the same, serves as a bittersweet reminder that he will never see these changes, this sameness, in Mattie. Wishing, not for the first time today, that she were here, he breathes deeply; focusing intently on the basic need for oxygen to ease the lump in his throat and in doing so he stalls the buttoning of his shirt as he pinches the bridge of his nose in a fruitless attempt to hold back the tear that slides down his cheek. Because of his bitter carelessness after losing Mattie, he'd nearly lost the woman whose laughter is heard just in time to gently sooth his emotions before they can engulf him. Mac's laughter is a sweet and singular gift that outshines all the others.

He chuckles quietly thinking that at this moment, he might well be the cause for the merriment among these women. Part of him wants to run and join them; eager to hear more than just their faint laughter. Part of him could stay right here, listening forever, while still another part of him is mildly trepidatious about whatever it is that amuses them. He takes one step closer to the pathway between the two chambers of the cave. Curiosity beckons in a come hither fashion as he wonders exactly what women discuss while dressing a bride.

Meanwhile, Mac hurriedly steps out of one dress as her bridal party discusses how best to get her into the other.

"It's going over my head. I'm not letting that dress touch the floor of this cave so I can step into it." Mac attempts to end the discussion.

"You'll mess up your hair." Chloe objects. "Besides, you can have it cleaned afterwards."

"If she messes up her hair, we'll fix it for her." Trish says simply. "I'm just glad it's not a traditional wedding gown that weighs thirty pounds and has to go over her head backwards and then be turned around in order to get it on her properly."

Chloe, Laura, and even Jen, make faces in evident confusion as Harriet nods her head. "Try holding one of those dresses up over the bride's head without wrinkling it. Once you get the skirt situated, then you have to turn the thing around with her in it. After that, you have to button her up. Then, you spend time getting the skirt to drape just right. You fuss with the bustle and the train. We'd never manage to get Mac dressed out here if she were the more typical bride."

"If Mac were the more typical bride" Trish comments happily. "I don't think we'd be standing in a cave, moments before sunset, in the desert. I certainly wouldn't be wondering if there are bats in this cave, and if there are, what time they come out to feed."

Lifting her arms over her head as the dress goes on; Mac chuckles wryly. "Yes there are bats in here. They'll be coming out shortly and they won't bother you if you don't bother them."

"Are there really?" Laura asks with excitement and wonder as Trish adopts a slightly uncomfortable posture.

"There really are, but with all the noise we're making, they aren't likely to come out until after we leave the cave. The helicopter probably has them all sufficiently spooked. They may not come out until after we leave the mesa."

"Well, that will be just fine with me." Trish declares.

Jen laughs a bit nervously herself. "They'd make a great addition to a Halloween wedding. Instead of goats, you could have bats."

Chloe's giggles. "Make it a theme wedding. Come dressed as Morticia Addams, Lily Munster, Elvira, or the bride of Frankenstein."

Mac laughs as Trish works the clasp at the back of her waist and Harriett tends to her skirt. "Morticia and Lily were okay but Gomez was revolting, and Herman… that poor guy was Frankenstein meets Planet of the Apes. He was a lovable oaf, but he definitely dragged his knuckles when he walked. I'd never live Elvira down. No self-respecting Marine would ever dress that way in public, and the bride of Frankenstein would scare away the groom."

Taking Mac gently by the shoulders, turning her around, and adjusting shoulder straps, Trish assures "I don't think even that would scare my son away… Although, if you're wrong about them staying put and the bats do come out, you just might have to have this wedding without me. The closest I want to get to any winged creatures is right here, standing next to you, and whatever it is you have tattooed on your hip."

"It's on your hip?" Harriet inquires. "Bud is, not so secretly, going to be disappointed, at least if I tell him. He's had the good sense not to say so, but I know he assumed it was elsewhere."

Mac laughs merrily. "I shouldn't be surprised, so did Harm." In response to confused looks on the faces of her friends, Mac clarifies "He assumed it was elsewhere."

"It has wings?" Jen wants to know."

Both Mac and Trish nod as Trish supplies, "That's all I could see. Her skivvies are in the way."

"Thank goodness!" Mac exhales with relief.

"What's the point of having a tattoo if you don't want people to look at it? Chloe inquires. "I might get one. I haven't decided for sure yet."

Mac shutters. "I wish you wouldn't. They're permanent; or at least very nearly permanent. The only way to get rid of a tattoo is to either go through that expensive and painful laser removal, or cover it with another one; which technically isn't really getting rid of it. Once you get them you're likely stuck with them; even after you outgrow them. But Chloe you're old enough to decide for yourself. If you give it serious thought, and you decide you do want to do it, let me know. I want to go with you. I want to make sure you pick a reputable place with a good artist who is safety and hygiene conscious. If you have to get one, make it something meaningful. And no matter what you do, never tattoo anyone's name on your body; unless they are the names of your children. Once you are somebody's parent, you'll always be a parent. That's forever; even if the child dies. Romantic relationships can come and they can go. If they do go, and you've unwisely tattooed that person's name on your body, not only are you stuck with it, but you'll cringe every time you see it. I thank God every morning when I get dressed that even 18 and drunk I didn't tattoo Christopher Ragel's name on my hip. He wanted me to. I objected, because it felt like his way of branding me. Don't brand yourself for anyone Chloe. Promise me! You are not somebody's possession, and anyone who wants to treat you like you are one isn't worth having."

Chloe's smiles and rolls her eyes. "You don't really think I'd let some guy treat me like cattle; do you?"

"Make sure you don't. Be smarter than me. It took me a long time to figure this out but, find yourself someone who listens; even to the things you don't say. If he listens to you, even when he doesn't agree with you; then he's probably a keeper."

"Did Christopher like the one you did get?"

"He didn't understand it. It wasn't meaningful to him." Mac says while stepping into her shoes.

"Okay, so it's got wings. What is it; the eagle from the Marine Corps emblem?"

"No. The tattoo came before the Corps; before I even thought about joining. It's a phoenix - the mythical bird - reborn from its own ashes. Its new wings are outstretched. There's a tear in its eye, and only one talon is fully formed; the other's still part of the ashes."

"Sounds like Fawkes." Laura giggles while Trish eyes Mac with quiet understanding.

Moving to offer her a hug, Mac explains. "Laura, baby, this phoenix has been on my hip since long before Harry Potter was ever dreamt about."

Harriett comments, "I'm too chicken to tattoo anything on my body. The truth is I think most of them are tacky, but every once in a while I see a truly pretty one. I also can understand why that one would be meaningful to you. I guess if you have to have a tattoo; that one wouldn't be a bad one to have… But the real question" Harriet smiles brightly. "Is what does Harm think about it?"

"He hasn't said a word about it." Mac smiles; attempting to dismiss the subject and turns her attention back to Trish. "How's my face? My makeup is probably shot. If I'd known, I was going to be doing this today, I would've opted for waterproof mascara."

"Your face is beautiful darling, and it'll stay that way as long as you don't cry anymore."

Chloe chimes in. "Her face is beautiful even when she cries; even puffy she's still pretty. Harm won't care, but I find it hard to believe he has no opinion about the tattoo."

Silently, Mac recalls the first time he saw it; the tender way he touched it, even kissed it, the raw emotion in his eyes. She thinks about the way his hand, whether they are clothed or not, always seems to find its way to her hip whenever they are alone together.

She offers Chloe a playful smile. "I didn't say he doesn't have an opinion about it. I said he hasn't expressed it verbally."

"Ohh.." Chloe says as if she's waiting for a juicy secret to be revealed.

"I have nothing more to say about this little sister." Mac declares with affection for the girl. "Don't you dare to go ask him about it either! You'll embarrass him if you do. His opinion and the response that came with it were rather intimate; and the details are none of your business."

"I have a hard time picturing Harm being embarrassed about much of anything."

Mac chuckles. Regardless of what you can or can't imagine, I meant what I said. There's a boundary there Chloe. Please don't cross it."

"Hey I gave up making shockingly inappropriate speeches and asking embarrassing questions before I was eleven thanks to you."

Mac lightly kisses her cheek. "I'm just making sure you don't relapse."

Laughter bubbles out of Harriet. "Jen you should've seen the look on the Captain's face. What was it, nine years ago, 10-year-old Chloe walks into the bullpen at HQ and tells anyone who is listening that she's Mac's daughter. The look on his face was priceless. 'Uh gee Mac, did you forget to mention something?"

Laughing, Mac drapes an arm around Chloe shoulders. "That was one of her least shocking announcements that day as I recall."

"Ugh!" Chloe groans dismally. "Can we please talk about something else? I was such a spaz; hiding out on top of the elevator!"

"We need to get going anyway." Mac says, turning to leave the cave.

"We can't!" Chloe objects. Not yet. What about something old, something new, something borrowed, and something blue?"

Smiling, Mac shakes her head. "Chloe, I don't really need all that."

"Yes you do."

"Really? Why?"

"Because you're getting married. That's what brides do."

Mac looks around at the expectant faces of the women with her. Rolling her eyes, she gives in. "It's going to take less time if I go along with you all; isn't it?"

"I'd say that's a pretty safe bet Colonel." Jen chuckles

"Alright, fine; but quickly." She smiles warmly at Trish. I think my engagement ring counts as something old."

"Indeed it does" The older woman returns her smile. I have your borrowed and your blue too. All you need now is something new."

Trish's smile leaves the younger women reaching for pockets they don't have and searching handbags until Jen steps forward with a bright shiny silver dollar.

"It's brand new Ma'am; this year's mint. Some people say it's good luck for the bride to place one in her shoe."

Smiling in thanks, Mac takes the silver dollar. "That's nice Jen, I hope you don't mind, but I'm not walking around with this in my shoe. That could get really uncomfortable out here."

"Just tuck it in your bra, darling." Trish waves dismissively. We won't tell anyone." She promises; inciting furtive giggles all around.

Following her suggestion, Mac carefully deposits the gleaming coin between peach colored lace and warm flesh. After checking to make certain the coin's presence isn't detectable, Mac hugs Harriett, Jen, Chloe, and Laura in rapid succession. "Check discreetly to make sure the guys are ready and then ask the Admiral to head this way. I'll meet him outside. Once they're gone." Mac takes a deep breath and faces Trish once more.

Stepping close, Trish removes the gold filigree and emerald brooch pinned over her heart. Opening a tiny clasp, she reveals the fact that the pendant doubles as a locket. Nestled inside on the left Mac finds a small photograph of Harm's father, on the right, a photo of Mattie.

"Harm already knows what's in here. I was going to wear it today for him, but I think it might mean even more to him if you wear it."

Mac stands perfectly still and wrestles with her emotions while gazing over Trish's shoulder as she carefully secures the brooch; mindful of the delicate lace that sheathes Mac's dress. When that is done and Trish starts to step away but Mac stops her with a gentle hand on her arm.

Sensing something important; Trish waits patiently while Mac struggles for words. Several silent seconds tick by before the Marine shakes her head and shrugs, "Thank you seems so inadequate." She whispers.

"Darling it's just a couple of pictures."

Mac shakes her head. "Oh no it's not! The brooch alone is more than I ever expected. You... you and Frank, you have both gone out of your way to help make this happen. I never expected anyone to be so supportive."

"I don't know why not. Parents are supposed to be supportive when their children fall in love and decide to marry."

Mac shrugs. "I guess I'm just not use to it. Experience has taught me that I don't fare well with moms. Christopher's mother blamed me for the choices he made. Mic's mom was completely apathetic. She wouldn't even get on an airplane to come and meet me, and Mrs. Webb… well, her precious boy deserved so much better than me, at least in her mind. She never said that, but she made sure I knew it; and well, I couldn't even talk my own mother into showing up. I admit, I hoped that you and I would get along better, but I never expected a welcome like this. I'm more grateful that I know how to say and honestly, I'm mildly uncomfortable with it. I'm out of my depth here. I'm not at all sure what to do with it."

"Well." Trish pats her shoulders and wrestles with the desire to hug her. "Just love him. That's all the thanks I really need. After knowing him for eleven years, you don't need me to tell you he's going to get on your nerves and make you a little crazy sometimes, but if you can love him anyway… I promise I'll try not to overwhelm you." Trish hands her a small box that contains the delicate item that meets the requirement of something blue." I recall you saying that you wanted to find an unobtrusive way to add a little Navy blue to your attire. I thought this might be just the thing."

Opening the box and lifting out a garter comprised of navy blue satin fringed with white lace on a soft elastic band Mac smiles at the letters in gold piping; USN. "It's perfect." She declares. "He'll get a kick out of this!"

Stepping away, Trish smiles; "I'll go hurry him along, if he's not out there already… and Mac… It's time for you to stop carrying around the notion that you don't fare well with mothers. Did it ever occur to you that the problem doesn't lay with you, but with them?"

Trish is gone before Mac can reply. Seconds later she stands at the entryway of another nearby chamber within the cave and watches her son fidget with his gold cummerbund. Folding her arms over her chest she orders quietly and with maternal pride, "Stop fussing. You already look entirely too handsome."

Harm flashes his smile but otherwise doesn't acknowledge the compliment. "Is she out there already? That's fast; even for Mac."

"Not quite yet, but if you want out of here first, then it's time we were going darling. I left her fussing over a last minute wardrobe addition."

Harm raises a curious eyebrow but otherwise, again, doesn't acknowledge the comment. How's she doing? Is she nervous? She's not about to bolt is she, Mom? Do I need to go talk to her?"

Trish chuckles and shakes her head when he starts in Mac's direction without waiting for an answer. "Harm, she's fine, and nervous it isn't the word I would use to describe her current condition. She's happy and she's relatively calm… for a woman who's completely overwhelmed. She's trying desperately not to show it though."

Harm nods at the last statement but asks, "Overwhelmed? Why?"

"She thinks we've all gone out of our way. Although I expect that's not really the problem. The problem is she's not used to people going out of their way for her and therefore she somehow thinks she doesn't deserve it."

He nods again. "She's better than she used to be. There was a time you couldn't even pay her a compliment. If you tried, she would push it away; even run from it. That's why I asked you if she was about to bolt."

"Where's she going to go? Unless she's got climbing gear stashed somewhere…"

"I wouldn't put it passed her. She's very fond of telling me that Marines are always ready… for anything."

Trish shakes her head. "She's not going to bail on you. She wants this too much to do that now." Trish straightens the lapels on his jacket and offers him her arm. Leaving the cave, she says, "Somebody needs to be taken out and shot for the damage that was done to her. We're going to have to find a balance. Somebody needs to spoil her a bit, but not so much as to make her repel down the side of Red Rock Mesa in escape."

Author's Note: I'm about one hour and forty-five minutes too late with this but, Merry Christmas all the same! In the words of a favorite Christmas carol, I send you all tidings of comfort and joy!

Part 44: What God Has Joined Together

20:21 HRS

Leaving the cave, moments before sunset, Mac happily takes the arm that's offered her and breathes deeply as she offers A.J. Chegwidden a smile as close to serene she can manage. He stands straight and tall beside her and gives the hand at his elbow a slightly brusque pat. There's the faintest hint of emotion in his usually gruff voice when he quietly says, "You're breathtaking Sarah."

In response, she stands a little straighter and breathes a hushed "Thank you, sir." as Harriett, Jen, and Laura approach but remain a few steps ahead of them.

"Leave it to you two; you finally decide to get out of your own way and now, all of a sudden, you're in a big damn hurry." Chegwidden grouses. "Is there some specific place I'm supposed to take you to?"

Momentarily at a loss, Mac eyes him with uncertainty.

"It's not like we had a rehearsal." He prods gently.

Mac smiles confidently when the penny drops. "We didn't discuss it Admiral, but I'm certain he's somewhere along the western edge; near the spot where we had dinner."

"Yes, he is." Jen whispers. "But, if you didn't talk about it, how do you know that?"

"It's where I would choose to be." Mac replies simply.

"You're assuming Rabb knows that."

"Yes sir, he knows. He knew I wasn't merely joking about the goats. He knows this too."

Laura smiles back at her aunt and Mac offers her a warm smile before motioning for her to stand eyes forward.

There's another moment of uncertainty before Chegwidden surrenders to the impulse to ask, "How the hell are we supposed to know when they're ready? At some point, at least in most weddings, the Wedding March starts to play. It's as much a cue as anything else."

In response, Mac shrugs and simply waits. She knows he's ready ½ second before she hears the vaguely familiar instrumental version of a sweet melody fill the air.

She smiles beautifully at her escort. "You were asking for a cue, sir." She whispers as Varese begin to sing.

I set out on a narrow way, many years ago

Hoping I would find my love along the broken road….

They hear a quiet squeak of happiness escape Harriett the instant before she squares her shoulders and begins her walk; head held high.

But I got lost a time or two
Wiped my brow and kept pushing through
I couldn't see how every sign pointed straight to you.

The Admiral concedes, "Okay, maybe he did think of everything. I confess Mac, I thought you'd taken a blow to the head when Coates told me he was the one doing most of the wedding planning."

Mac watches the four females she's closest to in life as they precede her around the side of the cave and slowly disappear from view. She whispers, "He waited for this a long time. I knew he'd get it right."

Purely on instinct, she counts slowly to four in her head and asks, "Shall we." Just as the Admiral takes his first step.

Every long lost dream led me to where you are
Others who broke my heart, they were like northern stars
Pointing me on my way into your loving arms
This much I know is true, that God blessed the broken road
That led me straight to you.

As they step into view of her small wedding party, Mac is aware of so many things all at once; the setting sun and the glorious view beyond the mesa. Sweet, effervescent, Chloe quietly snapping photos as not one, but two, judges stand at the ready. There are warm smiles from friends and family, and Laura's happy eyes. Rachel McGraille does glance her way briefly but, it's not unnoticed by Mac that the woman's only true interest is for the man beside her. She wonders if it's love and dares to steal a glance at the Admiral. If he registers Rachel's intense gaze, it's not visible in his countenance.

Mac makes eye contact with Trish. To Mac, she seems the very picture of poise and grace in spite of the fact that she is on the verge of tears. This observation pushes Mac just a little closer to the brink herself. Frank stands holding his wife's hand, whispering something in her ear and just as Mac swallows against the knot of emotion rising inside, she hears Chegwidden's calm, easy, murmur. "Steady Marine."

To one side of the small gathering young Jimmy is making silly faces, trying desperately - and to no avail, to make his older brother laugh. Little A.J. does his very best to ignore his younger brother until Sturgis places a silent but firm hand on Jimmy's slender shoulder. When the five-year-old boy glances up at him, he shakes his head sternly, but Mac can see the barely concealed laughter in the man's eyes, and the tremendous weight of her own emotion eases a bit. Somewhat relieved to have his younger brother's attempts at calamity thwarted and wearing a very serious expression, young A.J. stands straight and proud beside his father. Bud's kind eyes and round face tell of a happiness that is only outdone by his wife's perpetual glow

I think about the years I've spent, just passing through
I'd like to have the time I lost, and give it back to you
But you just smile and take my hand
You've been there, you understand
It's all part of a grander plan that is coming true.

Jack Keeter wears a somewhat rakish expression when he smiles at her. Mac laughs inwardly; the man is a hopeless flirt and she suspects that he may well end up in divorce court at some point in his future but she imagines he'll have a lot of fun getting there. Skates and Judge Dubose's wife, Maggie, each hold the hand of a smiling, squirming, Roberts' toddler.

Every long lost dream led me to where you are
Others who broke my heart, they were like northern stars
Pointing me on my way into your loving arms
This much I know is true that God blessed the broken road
That led me straight to you.

When Mac allows her eyes to finally come to rest on Harm's the unfettered emotion she finds there in their shining depths nearly halts her for one flicker in time and in the next, it takes every ounce of self-restraint she possesses not to close the remaining distance between them at a run.

Despite the tell-tale hint of moisture at the corner of his eyes, he looks calm; tall and beautiful and calm. His gold wings are ablaze in the brilliance of the setting sun and she wonders if he feels half as dizzy or lightheaded as she does.

It isn't until he winks that she realizes she has stopped breathing. Determined not to reveal that she could forget something as simple, as intrinsic, as breathing; she forces herself to inhale slowly.

His smile tells her that he knows. Even if no one else does; he does. His gaze is a resolute and magnetic balm. It promises a warm embrace and gently calls her forward.

When they are near enough, Mac hands her bouquet over to Harriett with a warm smile. When the Admiral gently places her hand in Harm's everything and everyone else simply fades into the middle distance - where both Harm and Mac are only vaguely aware of them.

As Varese brings her song to a magnificent finish, they become one; two halves of the same whole standing on top of a rock that is hundreds of years old in the middle of the desert. For them, their union is complete in the first moment their hands touch. The wedding ceremony that follows is not really for either of them. It is nothing more than formality for their loved ones who have made the eleven-year journey to witness and celebrate this occasion.

Now I'm just rolling home into my lover's arms

This much I know is true
That God blessed the broken road
That led me straight to you.

"Hi." She whispers; bringing a barely audible chuckle from him.

He's unable to ignore the realization that this was the very first thing she'd said to him a little less than two weeks ago; her first spoken word for him in more than two years. Despite the fact that she saw him last less than fifteen minutes ago, there is no less emotion in the word now than there was then. Today it is even more of a gift than it was then.

"Hi!" He whispers back; giving her hands a tender squeeze.

They stand, lost in each other, lending only enough attention to the two judges to get through the ceremony; although an occasional heavy pause is inserted here or there while the judge's, who are taking turns speaking, wait for their appropriate responses.

Judge Kerrigan starts. "We have gathered here tonight in the presence of God to witness the joining together of Harm and Sarah in the bond of marriage. The marriage of two people committed to one another was established by God, the father, and it is commanded in the scripture to be held in honor by all people. It is both, one of our greatest blessings and one of our most awesome responsibilities. Marriage is not to be entered into lightly, but solemnly and deliberately and in reverence of God." She pauses a moment before adding, "At this time we invite you to join together in a moment of silence so that this marriage may be blessed."

Prior to closing his own eyes to ask for the strength and the patience to get this right, Harm watches her smile up at him the instant before she closes her eyes and makes her own silent request for peace and understanding between them. When the moment ends, the caress of his hand against her cheek brings another smile to her lips and she opens her dark eyes to find his blue eyes slightly misty and shining down at her.

As Wayne Dubose asks, "Who is here to give this woman away?" She pokes Harm gently on the chest as she whispers for his ears only, "Don't you dare cry Flyboy. If you do, I'll cry too. Marines aren't supposed to do that."

Harm takes hold of the hand she poked him with once more and gently brings it to his lips for a soft kiss as A.J. Chegwidden answers, "I'm just his courier, and her escort. She gives herself to him freely."

Caught pleasantly unaware of what his answer would be, Mac smiles at him with heartfelt gratitude and mouths "Thank you." before he nods once and then moves to stand with the others.

Judge Kerrigan continues. "A marriage is not only the joining together of two individuals, it is also a joining of families. The care, support, and nurturing which have been extended to Harm and Mac by their families and friends is as important now as it has ever been. The people they share their lives with need to be committed to support each of them in this marriage. Frank and Trish, you are not losing a son but rather you are gaining a daughter. Will you promise to love and encourage Sarah just as you have with Harm?"

When they both answer respectively with "Yes" and "With pleasure." Mac bites down hard on her lower lip to dam the flow of happy tears threatening to spill and in very short order she finds herself wrapped gently in his arms.

"Well, I'd tell you two to join hands." Judge Dubose declares. "But that would require you both to let go of each other first."

In response, Mac tightens her arms around his back and without lifting it from his shoulder, she shakes her head. Harm throws his own back and laughs before lowering it and dropping a tender kiss on the crown of her head. "Not gonna happen Judge. It takes her a while to let go. Carry on."

"I will, but you're not supposed to kiss her yet boy."

The laughter of their friends and family rises and floats on the breeze, but before either judge can continue, a high pitched cry is heard from the sky above and they all glance toward the horizon.

Several exclamations are heard ranging from "Oh look!" from Harriet to "What the…" from Keeter whose expletive is pre-empted by Bud's quick elbow jab to his ribs.

"Oh Harm, they're back! Mac says happily; her eyes shining, she gazes heavenward at the two hawks they had watched earlier.

With want of understanding, all eyes turn to Mac, and it's Harm who answers. "They were here while we ate dinner. We watched them play together. I guess they're mates."

Harm feels Mac shake her head once more against his shoulder and he returns his eyes to her.

"Those two aren't mates." She offers with quiet certainty.

Chegwidden clarifies. "Mac's right. The smaller one is male; but he's significantly older than the female. She wouldn't have chosen him as a mate, but for whatever reason, they fly together."

Without taking her eyes from the sky, it's Laura who answers quietly and with a profound certainty. "That's because they're not really birds."

"What do you mean, baby?" Mac inquires, gazing at Laura briefly; a puzzled expression on her face.

"They're really people who just look like birds today. Can't you see them, Aunt Mac?" A peaceful conviction emanates from the girl that reminds Mac sweetly of her atypical Iranian grandmother.

Mac searches the faces of their guests. Charmed by what they assume is her innocence, they smile at her patiently as if she is playing an ill-timed game. However, Mac suspects there is more to it. She thinks fleetingly of her nearly flawless ability to tell time without a watch and of the visions and dreams she's had before she admits, "I can only see two hawks, baby. Tell me what you see? Two people? What do they look like?"

Still watching the winged creatures dive and soar, Laura concentrates quietly for a moment before answering her aunt. "They're both happy. One is a tall old man with a mustache. The other is a girl with lots of brown hair. She's big like Chloe, not little like me."

An understanding Mac won't dare to argue with floods her consciousness as the weakening dam holding her emotions in check gives way, tears slip from her eyelashes; catching Harm faintly by surprise as he thinks their timing a little odd. He's not certain why this should be the moment the tears brimming in her eyes should finally fall.

"They should be looking for dinner right about now. They picked a fine time to crash a wedding!" The former Seal grouses.

Mac chuckles softly and wipes away her tears with Harm's help. "They aren't wedding crashers sir."

Only half aware of her actions, Mac caresses the borrowed brooch pinned over her heart, inadvertently drawing Harm's attention to it. Two more tears fall, but this time they aren't hers. Indirectly, she gives voice to her understanding for Harm's benefit while answering the Admiral.

"They're two wedding guests who couldn't be reached in any of the usual ways. Looks like they got my invitation anyhow."

Caressing her cheek; in a voice thick with emotion and audible only to her, Harm whispers. "I love you."

She nods. "Love you too." is her hushed reply. Then louder, so others can hear, "So what do you say we wrap this up."

He smiles that smile she loves and turns his attention back to their officiates briefly.

"Yes, yes. Where were we? Aw, Yes." The judge's resume their two-part rhythm as Judge Dubose begins again.

"Harm, do you take this woman you hold, come whatever may, to be your lawful wedded wife; and do you promise before God and man to love, honor, and protect her through sunshine and shadow alike; keeping yourself unto her alone until death do you part?"

"I do." he promises.

"Sarah, do you take this man you hold, come whatever may, to be your lawful wedded husband and do you promise before God and man to love, honor, and protect him through sunshine and shadow alike; keeping yourself unto him alone until death do you part?"

"I do." She promises.

Judge Kerrigan speaks once more. "You have chosen to seal you vows by the giving and receiving of rings. The ring forms a perfect circle, without a beginning or an end, and is thereby a symbol of eternity and signifies the duration of the commitment you are making. The gold of which the rings are made signifies the purity and value of the relationship into which you enter. Let us now exchange these rings.

Having paid very close attention, which earns him a bright smile from his mother; A.J. Roberts steps forward, eager to do his part. Reaching into the pocket of his jacket he extracts two rings and quietly hands them to his uncle. As A.J. steps back to his place beside his father, Harm reaches out and pats the boy's shoulder in thanks before he hands the larger of the two rings to Mac.

Harm, Sarah, you have the privilege of placing this ring on your sweetheart's finger in virtue of the exclusive covenant into which you now enter. If you will both, please, repeat after me."

With emotions rising to the surface yet again, they find themselves lost once more in each other and only half aware of the people around them but somehow they manage to take turns. "I give you this ring, as a symbol of my love, and with all that I am, and with all that I have, I will honor you." Steady hands triumph despite racing hearts and the golden bands slide into place naturally.

As the last rays of sunlight slowly begin to vanish their lips brush until Laura's favorite judge objects noisily. "Not yet! If you too can hold your horses for just two more seconds…."

"And now, by the authority invested in us, and in accordance with the laws of the States of California and Arizona, we now pronounce you man and wife." The judges grin at each other; pausing for affect. Now… you may kiss your bride."

Already nestled in each other's arms, the kiss begins before the two judges are through speaking. People cheer, laugh, and cry. Some of them even manage to do all three at once. After several long seconds when the sweet kiss still hasn't broken, Judge Dubose chuckles and whispers to his cohort, "You think we'll get to make the formal introduction before it's officially dark out here?"

"You might better do it now if that's your goal." Dana Kerrigan whispers; happily eyeing the couple.

"Ladies and gentlemen, it is my pleasure to introduce to you, for the very first time, Mr. and Mrs. Harmon Rabb."

The newlyweds continue to ignore the clapping and cheering of their guests and all the while Chloe is capturing photographs of the bride and groom a world apart from the rest of them, embracing each other passionately less than two feet from the edge of Red Rock Mesa; his gold wings and her aunt's wedding dress shimmering brilliantly in the fading sunset, as overhead, the female hawk cries sweetly and the male expands his wings to their full width and soars high.

Chapter 11: Friday Night, August 31, 2007

Part 45: The Newlyweds

Friday, August 31, 2007

22:47 HRS

Guests in the corridors of the Radisson hotel in Yuma Arizona glance at the tall, well dressed couple with curiosity. A few of them smile or make eye contact with the attractive newlyweds as they make their way back to the nicest of the hotel ballrooms while engrossed in hushed conversation meant only for each other's ears.

"You're sure you want to go back in there?" His breath caresses her ear.

"Just for a little while. Please! Just a few more dances." She smiles; hope glowing in her eyes."

"And I didn't think you liked to dance with me…"

"Harm, why would you think that?"

"Because every time you get the opportunity to do it I have to talk you into it. The first time we danced together… Well, let's just say I would've gotten a warmer reception from a porcupine."

"That's because until tonight the only time we ever danced together was when we were on the clock or at some military function. This is different Mr. Rabb."

"Oh, is it?"

"We're no longer under the same command. I don't have to worry about watchful eyes, or whether or not I'm giving something away. I don't have to worry about what other people think, see, or believe they understand. Furthermore, if anybody does have a problem with my dancing with my husband; they damn well better keep it to themselves!"

Harm chuckles as his wife continues. "Just another half hour or so; I promise. I know we've got a long drive back, and it's late. I'll drive if you want me to."

With her arm tucked in his, they re-enter the grand ballroom. Jack Keeter approaches them with a confident grin as Harm quietly whispers, "We aren't leaving tonight… Got a room."

With his quiet announcement the chemistry between them changes and the air around them hums as tempered desire struggles against the bonds of civility and propriety. He laughs quietly as the embers burning in her eyes become flames. "Still feel like dancing?"

"Yes, but maybe not for half an hour. We'll see." She whispers; alert to the fact that Keeter is aware of the current between them."

"You two have the rest of your lives; you know. You had to slip away for a little one on one; leave your own reception?"

The expression on Harm's face denotes equal parts levity and annoyance. Mac pats his shoulder. "Go ask Skates to dance. I'll deal with him!"

Keeter looks intrigued and excited at once.

Shaking his head along with his signature grin; Harm steps away. His parting comment is, "I've got $50.00 that says it's not going to be as much fun as you think it will, buddy."

Mac leads her temporary partner as far as the dance floor and then lets him take over.

"He okay? He seems a little… I don't know… off."

"Maybe that's because you aren't just making off color comments about the girl he used to work with anymore. The girl he used to work with is now his wife. It's different Jack." Mac affirms quietly.

"I was kidding."

"I know that… and he does too. It's just different now. Whatever conversations you and he use to have about the women in your lives, I can't imagine he was ever truly indiscreet. I can see him having a good time, but being crass really isn't his style. I think you already know that along with the fact that neither of us owes you an explanation, but for the record, we were helping Bud and Harriett put our godchildren to bed." She follows his lead as he turns her around the dance floor.

"They need help to put them all to bed?"

"We don't live in DC anymore. It's not something we get to do on a regular basis. Besides, hotels are exciting for little kids. Plus, they're all hopped up on sugar from the wedding cake. Have you ever tried to put one child under the age of ten to bed?"

"Can't say I have." He shakes his head.

"One hyper kid who doesn't want to go to bed can be a challenge. Four… Well that's like trying to herd cats."

"Four kids. The oldest one's not even nine? I guess it's a little too late now, but I got two words for them… Birth control!"

Mac smiles tersely. "Those are my godchildren you're talking about. And stop acting like such a grouch Jack! I saw you playing with them. I know you like them. Despite all your grumbling."

"Yeah, do me a favor. Don't tell anybody, okay?" He grins easily.

Mac rolls her eyes. "I won't tell anyone, but you'd better look out for Jenny. She'll wrap your around her little finger before you even know it's happened."

"So will that other little imp."

"What other little imp?"

"The one that looks like you. She's a pistol! I called her princess. I thought little girls liked that sort of thing. She threw daggers at me with those eyes. She even called me Bubba! I definitely got the impression she didn't mean it in a sweet familial kinda way."

"Has she said anything to you since then?"

"Yeah. Couple of times."

"Then she still likes you well enough. You're still worthy; at least for the moment. My advice is… Don't call her princess. Her name is Laura."

"Yes, I've been told."

"When in doubt of what to call her, stick with her name. And don't try so hard to charm her Jack. She can spot insincerity a mile off. She's not a roll. If you try to butter her up, she's likely to call you something a lot worse than Bubba."

"What makes a little girl so suspicious of people?"

"Life with my sister for a mother. Casey's only nice to people, including her daughter, when it serves her own purpose. Laura knows that. She's not yet seven, so sometimes she may have a little trouble articulating what she knows, but she knows it all the same."

He chuckles. "Funny, from what I've seen, she articulates just fine. She's little but she's fierce."

"When you start out the way she did; you get tough fast… Either that or you get blown away like fuzz off of a dandelion."

He nods perceptively. "I don't think there's much danger of her blowing away in the wind."

"Not if I anything to say about it."

"Something tells me that you have plenty to say about it."

They move quietly around the dance floor for a few moments longer and Mac takes in the sight of other friends dancing to the music; Trish and Frank, the Admiral and his friend Rachel. Sturgis and Varese, and Chloe and Jen are standing in a corner of the room; talking quietly. Mac smiles as they step into place beside Harm and Skates.

Jack Keeter grins at his longtime friend. "Wanna trade?"

Harm glances down at Skates; his eyebrow raised in question. "Mac probably tried to civilize him a bit on their trip around the dance floor. Are you brave enough to try it?"

"She keeps calling me Jack." Keeter complains lightly.

Trading places with Mac, Skates laughs. "Is that so horrible? That is your name."

"Even my mother didn't call me Jack. The only person who ever called me Jack was Harm's grandmother."

Happily folding his wife back into his arms; Harm laughs. "Grandma Sarah would approve. She said you needed somebody to remind you that you had a first name, and were just as human as the rest of us."

Keeter groans theatrically. "Aren't you two supposed to be starting a honeymoon or something?"

Mac opens her mouth to speak but then, changing her mind, she closes it and allows herself to be carried away in time with the music.

"What were you going to say?"

He feels the light caress of her fingertips against his neck as she answers quietly. "I almost told him that we started a honeymoon ten days ago, but then I decided it would only insight some inappropriate comment, and anyway …" She announces with a smile "It's not really any of his business."

"Was it only ten days ago…" Harm asks wistfully. "We've been caught up in a whirlwind for the last ten days."

"You speak no lies Flyboy!"

"Any regrets?" he asks; pulling her body closer to his.

"Not a one. See if you can steer us toward Frank and Trish. Let's go say goodnight."

Part 46: Elevators & Rainy Nights

23:06 HRS

When the geriatric couple in the elevator leaves them alone Harm wraps his arm around Mac from behind and pulls her back against his tall frame. Somewhat awkward at first, given their position, his kiss starts sweet and tender and then demands more. Only too content to accept and return the kiss that leaves her warm to her toes; when they part she is breathless and dazed.

"Wow!" She declares in a hoarse whisper. "What brought than on?"

"I need a reason?"

"No. You don't need a reason. It's just not like you to be so… intimate…in a public place."

"What public place? We're the only two people in here, and I've always wanted to do that. I like elevators."

Tickled by the admission, she laughs. "Harm, surely you have kissed a woman in an elevator before."

"A woman?" he asks; looking pleased with himself. "Yes. You… no."

Mac smiles and snuggles deeper into his embrace. "We might be the only two people in here. But I know this place has security and probably discreetly concealed cameras too. JP is probably watching us right now." She teases.

"Who's JP?"

"Head of hotel security. He wandered into the ballroom about ½ hour after we arrived. I gave him a piece of wedding cake."

"Tall guy, dark suit…quiet with big muscles?"

"That's him… Has a sweet tooth too." He asked where we got the cake. When I told him I didn't know; that you planned of the whole wedding and all I had to do was show up, he gave me a very strange look. In fact, he's not the only one. It seems most of our friends think I'm nuts too, but I don't care. I couldn't have done it better. Today was perfect. Thanks Flyboy." She whispers caressing his face as she turns in his arms; seeking better access for the next kiss.

It lasts until the doors open on the eighth floor. Holding hands and walking in lockstep with each other, he answers as they exit the elevator. "It was pretty awesome but I can't take all the credit. How in the world did you manage to locate Keeter or Skates for that matter; much less get them here? I tried and failed. I owe you for that."

"It's a secret. I'm not telling. And you don't owe me a thing." She announces with pluck.

Harm flashes his best flyboy grin. "It's not nice to keep secrets from your husband."

Too close to him to be feeling anything but good, she shrugs, wholly unconcerned. "I'm not worried. It's not like you're planning to torture it out of me."

"You sure about that?" He asks in mock seriousness. Reaching into the pocket of his trousers, he draws out a key card as they approach the door to room 814. Tempered desire burns between their bodies as he operates the electromagnetic lock on the door.

"Pretty sure. I guess that all depends on how you define the word torture." She whispers seductively.

When the light on the door is green and a soft metallic click is heard, signifying permission to enter, Harm pushes the handle down and gently kicks the door open with the toes of one foot. "Get in here and I'll show you." He orders softly.

Harm ushers his wife into the room ½ step ahead of him. When the door latches behind them his hand leaves hers. With the exception of holding her hand, he has struggled valiantly to keep his to himself. No more. Before she can take three steps beyond the door his hands find the exposed flesh of her back. His fingers and palms slip beneath the fabric of her dress to cradle her hips as his lips find her shoulders, her neck, and begin a heated trail down her spine. One hand is just beginning to fumble with the clasp at the back of her dress when Mac coos languidly and murmurs something Harm isn't quite aware of until she takes a step forward.

His speech is muffled by his kisses as he objects. "Uh uh. Don't move. Not yet!"

"But Harm!" she pleads with barely contained excitement. "It's raining!"

Reminding him of Laura, she points to the expansive glass wall with its open drapes across the room."

The words she murmured only a second before suddenly fall into place in his mind. "Okay, it's raining." He says matter-of-factly. Obviously less impressed than she is. "That happens every once in a while Mac; even in the desert." The delicate clasp loosens in his fingers.

No sooner than it does she kicks off her shoes, eases the spaghetti straps from her shoulders and steps out of the dress. She stops only long enough to pick the dress up off the floor and drape it over the back of the one of the deep inviting club chairs in the room. Clad only in lace panties the color of coral, a matching backless bra, and a garter of navy blue satin and white lace; she marches across the room and throws open the balcony's double doors. Her eyes dance merrily as she tosses a smile over her shoulder at him. "You like elevators. I like rainy nights."

Smiling; Harm shrugs as he uses one foot to nudge her shoes out of his path and follows.

Chapter 12: Saturday, September 1, 2007

Part 47: The Past, the Present, & Plans for the Future

Reaching for the cast off blankets, she wakes up chilled by cold air. Seeking more warmth than the blankets will provide, she snuggles closer to the human furnace she married last night. He neither moves nor speaks but when the rhythm of his breathing changes slightly she knows that he is aware of her at least on some level.

"You awake?"

The sound that rises from somewhere deep in his chest is caught between a sigh and a grunt. "Depends." He mumbles.

She caresses one of his calves with a bare foot and whispers, "Depends on what?"

"On what you want. If it's another romp, then no; I'm not awake… Yet."

While she laughs her lips find his, but it's more of a nuzzle than a kiss that he receives. "Honeymoon's over already?"

"Hell no! Not over; not by a long shot! Just on standby." One of his arms finds its way around her beneath the blankets.

"Tired?"

"Yes! I'm not 20 years old anymore."

"I'm not sure I could have handled you at 20. You were cocky enough at 32."

She feels his smile against the top of her head. "Maybe, but you liked me anyway." He declares with un-offended certainty.

"Meh… Not at first."

"Yeah you did. You just didn't want to."

Don't confuse sexual attraction with liking you. They're two different things and one is not a prerequisite for the other. I was attracted to you and I didn't want to be. That's what you picked up on. It does not mean I liked you… but… You grew on me. Thank goodness for Uncle Matt. I understood what motivated of his desire to steal the Declaration of Independence even if the act itself shocked and appalled me. I'm still not sure how he made the leap from thinking about doing it to actually doing it. He's usually such a reasonable man. At some point, he had to say to himself 'This is a very bad idea.' Harm, defending him was a lost cause. I guess I figured anybody willing to stand up and do that was worthy of a second glance. The decision could've scuttled your career."

"So, you're saying that if your uncle hadn't stolen the Declaration of Independence you and I wouldn't be lying here now."

"Doubt it. That's why we met. Webb pulled whatever string he pulled to get me off that double murder case."

"Mac, next time your uncle gets a harebrained idea; we should encourage him."

She laughs. "Things have never been boring."

"Don't expect they ever will be."

"Harm why is it so cold in this room?" She almost whimpers.

"Because somebody, who shall remain nameless, just had to leave the balcony door open all night for she could listen to the rain while making love. Desert gets cold at night, Jarhead."

"I wasn't cold last night."

"You were busy last night. You wouldn't be cold now if you hadn't insisted on kicking the blankets off every half hour."

"Well, it got toasty under here. Anybody ever tell you you're hot to the touch, Flyboy? I can put my hand against your chest, count to 15, take it away and it will be lined with perspiration. I swear your resting body temperature must be 3° higher than mine."

"Well then just lie here and get warm." He yawns disentangling himself from both her body and the bed linens. She turns to face him as he leaves the bed to close the drapes on his way to the close balcony door, all the while being careful to keep the drapes between his naked body and view of the world outside. When the door is closed he returns to the bed to find her holding back the blankets for him.

As he snuggles close again, she smiles playfully. "I'd really like to, but we can't stay in here all day." In a more serious tone she, adds, "If we leave after lunch we could be home at 15:30. We should probably head for the airport around 19:45."

"What time is it now?"

She shrugs remembering the previous night. "It'll probably be a week before my clock resets itself… if it ever does."

Harm lifts his head off the pillow long enough to glance at the clock across the room on the desk. "That clock says 09:57. Want to me to call for room service? I'm hungry; which means you must be starving."

She stays close; her fingertips playing with his chest hair. He watches her frown; giving his question serious thought for long enough that he raises an eyebrow. "Hey; you alright? It's not like you have to seriously think about food."

"Oh, I'm hungry; very hungry. I'm just trying to decide which I want more; to stay here with you, or to go find Laura. We didn't really spend much time with her yesterday."

"I'm sure she's fine. If she weren't Mom and Frank would have let us know. They're in suite 810 if you want to go check on her."

"Would you mind? She's probably all smiles this morning, but you need to spend time with her before you leave tonight. She's probably going to throw a fit at the airport. I'll probably be tempted to join her."

"I've already contacted my detailer. I bet we'll be back together before you two have time to miss me."

"Betcha we won't." She pouts.

"Hey, think positive. It'll all work out." Hoping to shift her focus before the mood turns sour he suggests, "Let's shower and get dressed and go find our niece."

Still wrapped in his arms, she makes no move to leave the bed. Instead, she cocks her head to one side, in thought for a quiet moment before asking, "Should I start looking for a new place while you're gone or wait until you get back? I promise I won't make any major decisions without you."

"We don't know for sure that we'll need a new place Mac. We may not have to leave San Diego."

"Harm, even if we don't leave San Diego, we're still going to need a new place."

"We are? Why?"

"My place is tiny… and you understand, you'll be moving in permanently… with two females."

"Yeah Mac, I know that." He chuckles.

"Harm, if you want to shower, shave, brush your teeth, or relieve yourself in privacy ever again, then we at least need a place with two bathrooms. Dropping in and visiting for 10 days is different than living with us. Even if we stay in San Diego, that little place just isn't enough for three people. I'll have to break down and sell."

"If we have to leave San Diego, then there won't be anything we can do about it. If we don't have to leave, that's where I want to stay. Mac, that's our house; our room. I had dreams about you and me in that room long before I ever set foot in it."

"You did."

"I did. You can't sell that house… Not if we get to stay. If we don't get to stay, we should still try to find a way to hang onto it."

Tempted to give in but still trying to be practical she repeats quietly, gently, "Harm, it isn't big enough. I don't want to sell it, but we trip over each other already in that tiny little house. There's no guest bedroom. Anyone comes to visit and Laura winds up sleeping on the living room floor. Right now she thinks it's a grand adventure. She will grow out of that. Plus, if there ever is a baby… where are we going to put it?"

"If you have the right to sell it, then you're not renting, you must have bought it; which means it's yours. We'll just make it bigger."

"I was renting originally; well sort of. The elderly widow who owned the place asked me to move in and take care of the place for six months while she was in New York visiting family. When it started getting cold on the East Coast she came home. Reluctantly, I started apartment hunting. Carol invited me to stay. I didn't think it would work out, but she seemed lonely so... I decided to give it a trial run. Three months later she was diagnosed with lymphoma. She was 88. Her family came and got her; took her back to New York. She fought and won. Eight days after the doctors told her she was in remission she went to bed and died in her sleep. According to what her nephew told me, her heart just stopped. I didn't get to go to her funeral in New York. They buried her on her 89th birthday. About a week later her son called and left a message that he needed to speak with me. I put off calling him back until the next day on my lunch break. I figured he was calling to say I'd have to find a new place. I was stunned when he told me she'd left me the place. Her nephew seemed upset about it. Apparently he was hoping to inherent. I offered to move anyway. Her son refused to even consider it. I remember him saying, 'Mom wanted you to have the place; it's yours. If you want to move, then it's yours to sell.' I guess they must have made peace with one another. His father died twenty years ago. About seven years ago Carol met and fell in love with someone new. Her son didn't approve and they had a falling out. George, that was his name, George had the cottage built for her. About 2 1/2 years ago, right before I moved to San Diego, George died. Carol said she had no regrets. She was happy in that little cottage on the beach with George."

Harm squints at her. "I'm guessing the hand-carved smoking pipe sitting on the kitchen windowsill belonged to George?"

"It did. His urn used to sit on the kitchen windowsill too; right beside his pipe. She'd talk to him as if he were right there and could answer back. Sometimes I thought maybe he did."

"Where's George's urn now?"

"It's on the front porch; with the Confederate rose planted in it. Before I did that, I flew George to New York and scattered his ashes over her grave. Carol said he had no surviving family. I figured he might get lonely on the kitchen windowsill without Carol there to talk a blue streak. Although I thought it was sweet when she used to talk to him, I certainly wasn't going to. Since he had no living family members, I had nowhere to send the pipe. The ugly antique lamp in the living room was hers. She loved that ugly thing. She loved seeing his pipe there on the windowsill. Somewhere along the way I started to care about her, so I left them where she left them."

"She cared about you too. She left you their house." Sensing Mac's melancholy, he says, "I'm sorry she died. I'm glad she was here with you for a little while. I worried; thinking of you out here all by yourself."

Mac snuggles closer. "You really think we can make the place bigger?"

"Sure, if we stay. Maybe make our room a tiny bit bigger. Put in our own bathroom; maybe with one of those deep old claw footed tubs for you and all your sweet smelling bath products. Add a couple more bedrooms. If the property is big enough, if it's not, we could just add a second story."

"Oh really, and how are we going to pay for all of this Flyboy?"

"A little at a time? He suggests casually. "I could do it myself."

"The way you did your loft? Harm, I liked the finished product. Actually, I really liked it, but I don't want to live in a construction zone for two years... or longer. It took you a while to do that, and in the interim the place was all torn up. Laura can't live in a place like that. The social services people would have a fit. And Laura would trip over something and get hurt."

"What if I promise to leave the original structure as it is, with the exception of maybe our room - no knocking down walls, only adding new. We could do it one room at a time, so that the whole place isn't torn up. We can find a way to lock Laura out of any room under construction so she doesn't get hurt. We won't change her room or her bathroom."

Mac chews on the inside of her lower lip for a quiet moment. "That could work, assuming we stay in San Diego, but if we're going to do it, we better go find Laura and ask her what she thinks. It is her house too. You know she's going to have an opinion."

Nodding with certainty; Harm tosses aside the blankets once more. "I'll go turn on the shower."

Mac stays where she is for a moment longer but when a thought occurs to her she sits up in the bed drawing the sheet around her and calls out to Harm as water begins to run in the shower. "Harm, what am I supposed to wear; my red dress from yesterday?"

A second later he smiles at her as he pokes his head out of the bathroom door. "Well, I certainly won't object to that, but people might think you're a little overdressed for brunch. Check the closet. I packed a bag for you and had Mom drop it off. Hope I did okay. And unless you want a cold shower I'd get out of bed. Mom says the hot water goes fast!" With that he disappears from view and leaves the door ajar.

Part 48: Thrown Headfirst into the Deep End

Four large tables are pushed together to accommodate the group in the hotel restaurant. Laura scowls at the plate that was just delivered to her. Jack Keeter slides into a seat as he notices this and grimaces when the small girl stretches as far as she can, craning her neck to see around a large potted fern as she glances at the buffet line several yards away hoping to see Frank or Trish.

He tries a smile. "What'd I get wrong cutie? I put the gravy in a bowl, just like you asked. I didn't put it on the chicken fried steak."

"I need another plate. You put my eggs on the same plate with my other food!"

"Uh sorry. I forgot." He says from his place on her right. "What's the big deal? It all gets mixed up together in your tummy anyway; right?"

She doesn't say anything rude or sassy. She simply stares at him as if the problem should be obvious. Keeter groans inwardly as he stares at this pint-sized version of his buddy's wife. She must be taking lessons from her Marine aunt. She certainly knows how to keep a man on his toes. Keeter's tired, he's hungry, and he wishes he'd lain off the champagne two or three glasses before he did last night. He has spent his entire adult life as well as much of his youth charming females, but he can't seem to catch a break with this one. He wonders privately how anyone so small can make a grown man feel so inept with nothing more than a look.

Neither of them is aware of the newlyweds approaching the table until Harm sets down his own meal at the place on Laura's left. Without comment, he removes two large banana nut muffins wrapped in paper cups from their own small plate, places them on the table directly in front of his larger plate, picks up Laura's plate, and transfers her serving of scrambled eggs to the now empty plate. "There you go sweetheart; all set?" He inquires with a grin in response to the shocked expression on her face.

"Uncle Harm, Aunt Mac! You're here!" She throws her arms around Harm's waist, hugs him with zeal, and immediately reaches for her aunt to repeat the process. "Miss Trish and Mr. Frank said you probably wouldn't come out of your room before lunch!"

Laughing, Harm reaches out to muss her hair as he takes his own seat. "We got hungry. Besides, you didn't really think your aunt was going to skip a meal; did you?"

"No, I didn't think so." She announces wide-eyed and shaking her head emphatically. But they said she might today. They're over there somewhere; getting food with Skates and Mr. Bud and all his kids." She points toward the buffet. "Last time I saw them Miss Trish was telling Mr. Frank that he doesn't need any doughnuts." She adds with a giggle, "And Mr. Frank was getting them anyway."

"Yeah. We saw them a few seconds ago. Mom was trying to persuade him to get a bowl of oatmeal."

"I wouldn't! That oatmeal's too thick. Really thick oatmeal is nasty. You gotta make it right… and put bananas or strawberries in it - or maybe walnuts and syrup."

Keeter observes the exchange of conversation and glances at Harm over the top of Laura's head. "She certainly is picky about food."

Laura turns to him; shocked. "Hey, I'm not picky! There's just yummy and there's yucky; that's all." She shrugs dramatically.

"Oh, Okay." Keeter concedes good naturedly. "Why do eggs have to be on their own plate?"

"Because I like eggs, but I don't like them to touch my other food. Eggs make other food slimy. I don't like slimy! Slimy feels yucky!"

Keeter nods; finally catching on. "No thick oatmeal, no egg yolk slime, and the gravy on the side so you can dip the meat. It's not about the way it tastes. You have a texture thing."

Laura gives him the look that makes him feel stupid again. "I don't know what a 'texture thing' is but I like food - as long as it doesn't feel yucky. Well, except for broccoli. Broccoli's just gross! I do not eat broccoli!" Laura spears a bite size chunk of chicken fried steak with her fork, dips it in the bowl of white gravy, and happily pops it into her mouth."

While she munches Keeter agrees. "I'm with you on the broccoli Squirt, it's just gross, but I have to put my gravy on my chicken fried steak, and lots of it!"

"Uh uh! I like the crispy part. If you drown it in gravy, it just gets soggy and yucky! This way's better. It stays crispy while you eat it... and my name is Laura…not Squirt."

"You don't like soggy food either? Guess that means you don't eat cocoa puffs?"

"No way! Cocoa Krispies are better! With only a little bit of milk. You eat until the milk is all gone and then pour a little bit more."

Making progress with her, Keeter relaxes a bit and inquires, "Well what about Bazooka bubble gum? What's your opinion on that?" Keeter asks; grinning at Harm again.

Laura notices the grin and passes a curious look between the two of them before she shrugs and announces, "Never heard of it."

Keeter groans as if he's been sucker punched. "Never heard of it? Oh runt, you are way too young!"

Laura grins. "Maybe not. Maybe you're just old!"

"Laura!" Mac attempts to chastise the girl only to wind up biting her lip to keep from laughing at the astonished expression on Keeter's face.

Taking the seat opposite Mac, Elizabeth Hawkins does laugh; heartily as she flashes a quick smile Keeter's way. She isn't sure what shocks him more; the fact that someone just called this modern day Lost Boy old, or the fact that he was so thoroughly put in his place by a not yet, seven-year-old girl.

"What?" Trish inquires joining them. At the same moment Bud also asks, "What's so funny?" as he and Harriett approach; each of their young boys clamoring for their godfather's attention while sweet Jenny pats Mac's leg and waits patiently to be picked up as the Marine puts down her fork and slides her chair back a bit to accommodate the girl.

"Laura just informed Peter Pan that he's not a kid anymore; that he hasn't been one for quite some time. I think it must've come as a shock." Coates fills them in with a discreet chuckle while gesturing with her spoon toward Keeter. "It all began when they started comparing personal preferences about food."

Chloe chimes in, "Laura, Bazooka bubble gum was popular when Keeter was your age. It's pink and comes wrapped in a comic strip on wax paper. It's hard to find, but it tastes a lot better than most of the stuff in stores today."

Laura swallows a bite of eggs and chases it with a large chunk of honey dew melon. She looks right, then left, passing another look between Keeter and Harm. "I want some!"

Harm smiles apologetically, "I haven't bought any in ages."

"Kid, if you can eat even half of that enormous chicken fried steak, not to mention the eggs, hash browns, and all that fruit; you won't have room… Even for bubble gum!"

Harm laughs. "Obviously you've never watched her eat. She's got a Marine-size appetite."

"As long as nothing's slimy; huh kid?" Keeter teases.

"Don't gross me out. I'm eating here!"

"I guess you two don't have to worry about her getting into the smoked oysters."

Unfamiliar with the food, Laura looks to her aunt. Handing the toddler in her lap a wedge of cantaloupe, it's Mac who wears the sour expression on her face now and literally shivers in revulsion. "Ugh, talk about slimy! Jack, you don't have to worry about me getting into the smoked oysters! They're disgusting!"

Keeter looks apologetically at Harm. "Sorry pal. Guess aphrodisiacs aren't the way to go."

"First, who said she needed one? And second, not everybody thinks a smoked oyster is an aphrodisiac."

"What's an aphrodisiac? Laura wants to know.

A few people at the table chuckle. Others cough, or clear their throats. A.J. Chegwidden chokes on a partially chewed piece of bacon.

Laura looks mystified. "What?" She inquires innocently.

Aware only that this is a conversation he's not ready to have with his niece, Harm tries to end the conversation; but answers too quickly. "An orange."

Naturally, the reply brings out more curious looks, knowing smiles, and quiet laughter.

Before he even makes eye contact with Mac, Harm knows that he's told the adults at the table far more than he's told his niece.

Mac shrugs while adding butter and syrup to pancakes. Her smile silently asking, "How are you gonna get yourself out of this one, Flyboy?"

"Huh… I don't get it." Laura announces; undeterred.

At a complete loss, Harm sets his fork down slowly. "Maybe we could talk about this later?"

This only confuses Laura, and suddenly she's worried she might have done something wrong which only deepens the wrinkles in Harm's furrowed brow.

Mac lets him squirm on the hook long enough to enjoy a sip of strong black coffee and then quietly asks, "Would you like me to end this conversation."

"Please!" Harm implores.

Mac sets down her cup of coffee slowly before calmly stating, "Laura a lot of people believe that oysters, which are rather slimy, are an aphrodisiac, but an aphrodisiac can be any food or drink that makes a person feel sexy."

"Mac!" Harm objects in a harsh whisper as Laura's sweet face twists in disgust. "Ugh, gross Aunt Mac! I don't wanna talk about that! I'm trying to eat!"

Harm scowls at his new bride and she smiles back; undaunted. "There, mission accomplished. Conversation over… She won't ask any more questions; at least not for a while."

Adults chuckle, Laura ducks her head and busies herself with adding ketchup to her hash browns, and Harm shakes his head in mock disapproval while Jenny, wholly unconcerned with the conversation, smiles sweetly up at her godmother and inquires, "Muppin?"

Confused only for a flicker in time, Mac reaches for one of the muffins on the table in front of Harm's plate and peels the paper off before breaking the treat in two and giving the smaller portion to the blonde in her lap. "Here baby."

Jenny looks at the offering and then at her godfather. "I eat your muppin?"

"It's okay Jenny. You can have it. Aunt Mac steals my food all the time. I'm used to it. She's been doing it for years. That's why I got two muffins."

The three-year-old picks a small sliver of nut from the muffin and samples it before smiling. "Jimmy get mad if I steal his food."

Harm sighs; content that they've moved on to a conversation he knows how to deal with.

Part 49: Ducks & Swans

Author's Note: For those of you who need a "Laura fix" I thought I'd add this before we head off to the airport to say goodbye to Harm.

In part, this chapter is inspired by the 1990's remake of the old movie Love Affair. The information about ducks and swans is a loosely worded quote from Katharine Hepburn. She played the elderly aunt of aging playboy, Mike whose world is turned upside down when he falls in love.

Now, on with the story!

Before settling on the poolside chaise next to Trish's, Mac pats herself dry with a fluffy white towel and then wraps a sarong around her hips; it's vibrant canary yellow and electric shade of blue compliment the two-piece swimsuit it partially covers.

Without taking her eyes off those in the hotel pool, Trish shakes her head; chuckling. "It amazes me how trusting they are before we adults do what we can to ruin them."

While winding her long wet hair into a tortoise shell clip and pinning it up off the nape of her neck, Mac gazes at the swimmers splashing about and asks "Kids?"

Trish nods quietly, then adds "Watch; Harm's just about to surface with Nicky."

As if on cue, young Nicky's sun kissed head disrupts the surface tension of the pool closely followed by his uncle who holds the toddler in strong, sure hands that are tucked firmly under his arms. Nicky gulps air to fill his deprived lungs, coughs, and then giggles brightly. "Again Uncle Harm; again!"

"What are you; part fish? Take another breath first." Harm laughs. He wraps an arm around the boy's belly and with his free hand he fends off the plastic torpedoes from a toy submarine; shot at him courtesy of little A.J. and Jimmy. Managing to snag one, he sails it back in A.J.'s direction; returning fire.

"Hey, you can't do that Uncle Harm. We hit you; you're dead!" They object loudly and in unison.

Playing along, Harm flops onto his back; pulling Nicky onto his chest. He half swims, half floats, under Nicky's slight weight for no more than a moment before the toddler tries again.

"My turn again!"

Harm uprights himself once more. "This time close your mouth Champ. You're not supposed to drink half the water in the pool!"

Nicky nods, inhales deeply, and does as he's told. Through clamped lips he squeaks, "Ready!"

Harm lifts him entirely from the pool; his small toes flirting with the water, and then Harm releases him. Nicky promptly sinks like a stone, straight to the bottom, where he sits and patiently waits to be rescued.

Quickly, before submerging once again, Harm plucks Laura from Chloe's embrace and catapults her into the water as well, and then he dives only to reemerge an instant later with his giggling godson who has swallowed yet another mouthful from the pool.

"Again; again!" Nicky cheers.

"Look at him!" Trish laughs. "He can't swim a stroke but It's never crossed his mind that something might happen to prevent Uncle Harm from coming to rescue him… Complete and utter, unadulterated trust."

Mac shrugs happily. "It's well placed. Some terrorist could come along hose this place down with jet fuel, and set it aflame. Harm might die an agonizing death in the burn ward of the local hospital, but he'd get Nicky out first."

Trish eyes her quietly for a moment then nods and asks, "Doesn't take you long to go to a dark place; does it? You ever trust anybody that much?" She lifts her chin in Harm and Nicky's direction.

"Doesn't take much to find a dark place after you spend your entire childhood in one…. And… Only one person." She admits somberly; lifting her own chin in the same fashion. "But, Nicky's trust is given freely; innocently. Harm had to earn mine." She says with a tell-tale hint of remorse.

Trish shrugs and reaches over to gently squeeze Mac's hand. "There's nothing wrong with that. People tend to cherish things more deeply when they have to work for them."

The mood shifts and brightens once again as Frank joins them; offering each of them a glass of fruit juice chilled with shaved ice before returning to his seat on the opposite side of Trish.

"What are we doing?" He inquires.

"People watching." Trish says.

"I should have known. One of my wife's favorite pastimes." He says for Mac's benefit, and then adds "I'm surprised you two are still here. I thought you'd have left us by now."

"I thought we would too." Mac confirms "But Laura wanted to play in the pool, and Harm caved."

Frank Burnett chuckles. "Laura does realize that the Pacific Ocean is in her backyard; right?"

"Oh yes! She knows. But all these children are not in her backyard. After breakfast, she informed Harm, in a very serious tone of voice, 'Swimming is more fun if you have friends to go swimming with.' But I suspect what she's really doing; more so than just playing with her new friends, is stalling. She doesn't want to go home."

"Trying to make the adventure last a little longer; is she?"

Mac shakes her head. "No. She's trying, in vain, to keep a certain plane bound for London tonight from taking flight."

They pause, smile brightly, and return Laura's wave an instant before Harm allows his head to be pushed under water for her own amusement.

Frank predicts. "I bet he'll sleep the entire flight. Between getting married last night and being used today like a water park attraction for the express enjoyment of a gaggle of short people, he'll be worn out; I'm sure."

I don't disagree Frank, but don't be fooled. He's having a blast. Laura's still new to him, but they get on like a house afire. He hadn't seen the Roberts or their children in two years. He hasn't seen Chloe for six. He soaking all this up to take back to London with him; something to keep him company until he can get back. He hasn't enjoyed London."

"I got the feeling that what he hasn't enjoyed, is being away from you." Trish declares.

"I haven't enjoyed being away from him either. But Trish, he's actually said the words 'I hate London' more than once. Hate's a pretty strong word for Harm. I've seen him make the best of some absolutely dismal situations."

"You, Harm, and Laura are not the only ones soaking this weekend up for all it's worth." Holding her glass in the same hand, Trish points discreetly toward Jack Keeter as he enters the pool area. She checks her wrist watch. "Five minutes from now Skates will quietly slip in and join us as if she's been here all along unnoticed."

Frank looks puzzled. "How can you possibly know that?"

"People watching darling." Trish reaches over and pats his knee affectionately. "I've been watching all weekend."

"And what have you observed?" He inquires.

Trish and Mac exchange a knowing smile and Mac supplies the answer. "They never arrive in the same place at the same time, but always one within minutes of the other."

"And this means what?"

"Wedding sex." Mac states it with a slight lilt in her voice.

Frank clears his throat uncomfortable and passes a curious look between the two women. "Pardon?"

Trish smiles and rolls her eyes. "They're spending the weekend in each other's company and they don't want anyone to know."

Frank frowns; still mildly confused. "Why not? They're both over 18. What's the big deal?"

"Frank, weddings put people in the mood." Trish whispers drolly.

"I know that. I just don't understand why it has to be a secret."

Mac chuckles before she explains, "Theirs is an encounter that wouldn't happen if they'd both brought a date to the wedding. Skates is self-reliant, knows herself well, she's strong, intelligent and she doesn't suffer from a shortage of self-respect. Jack is… Well … He's jack. Women like Skates don't usually spend the weekend with guys like Jack Keeter, and on the rare occasion that they do; they don't advertise it. And Jack has his bad boy reputation. It must be protected at all costs." She finishes with flair.

Frank squints at her. "You're suggesting it's just an act? The charming womanizer routine; I mean."

Mac holds a finger to her lips in the universal shushing gesture. "Not entirely, but it's more an act than most people give him credit for and…more so than it used to be."

Frank, and even Trish, look somewhat skeptical. "Are you trying to suggest that Peter Pan is finally growing up?" Frank inquires.

Mac smiles at Harm as he hands Nicky over to Harriett at the pool's edge. Water beads off of him as he leaves the pool and it shimmers in the sunlight that plays across his chest as he ambles over to join them.

"I'm suggesting that Jack Keeter is suffering an identity crisis, and he has been for as long as I've known him; probably longer. It's the story of the ugly duckling with a slightly… carnal… twist."

Trish laughs. "If you're implying he doesn't know he's beautiful, then I suggest we don't tell him. His flyboy ego is already of colossal proportion."

Holding their attention, Mac explains slowly as Harm settles into the only remaining empty seat at her left. "Ducks are horribly indiscriminate creatures. They really don't care. They will mate with any duck that swims passed them." She pauses long enough to realize that although they're hanging on her every word, not one of them knows exactly where she's headed. "Swans on the other hand, are monogamous. They mate for life, and if their mate dies, they actually grieve."

"Okay, interesting little factoid, but what does that have to do with Jack Keeter?" Frank asks while Trish nods almost imperceptibly; picking up on Mac's line of thought.

"She's saying, at least I think she is, that Keeter is a swan who thinks he's a duck!"

"Exactly!"

Laughter booms out of Harm. "I've known him a lot longer than you have. You might wanna rethink that one, Marine."

"Uh uh. I'll stand by it. For sure, he'll never admit to being a swan, but Harm you know he's not as much of a cad as he wants everyone to believe he is. If you didn't know that, there's no way you would've left me with him in the desert for two whole days."

"You're a highly trained Marine who is very fond of telling me just how well you can take care of yourself."

"Since when has that ever stopped you from trying to protect me? And yes, during those two days his behavior was frequently… Off color… But he was almost gentlemanly."

"Almost?"

Mac shrugs and pivots one hand side to side in the air; gesturing as she talks. "As close as he could come and still be devilish at the same time. It's easy enough to see why so many women fall for that. He can be very charming in a rogue sort of way. My guess is, even back then, he was starting to realize that there's only so much intelligent conversation you can have with a 23-year-old whose life's ambition is to be a bleached blonde beach bunny. There's still a better than average chance he won't, but if he ever does marry, I don't think it'll be a woman like that. And if he doesn't drive her to homicidal madness within the first six months, I think he'll grow old with her."

Still laughing, Harm shakes his head. "I don't see it."

"He just needs a woman he can charm, but one strong enough that she won't put up with his crap. He's not as bad as most people think he is. He's certainly not as bad as he thinks he is. If he were, how in the world have you two managed to stay friends for 20 years? He's colorful, he's loud, he's inappropriate. He most certainly is a shameless flirt, but he's never treated me with disrespect. I've never seen him treat anyone with disrespect. Get in a jam? He'll back your play, and cover your six. I've had relationships that wouldn't survive two days alone in the desert. I've got no problem going back there with him."

Mac smiles in Keeter's direction. He has found his way into the pool and is currently involved in an animated discussion with Laura. Noises that are made by happy children make it impossible for them to hear what is said with any real certainty, but the two appear to be in good spirits. "And he's totally smitten with Laura. She seems to have more power over him than anyone else here. I think she could turn him inside out without even trying. He needs a little girl. That would turn his world upside down, and give it an absolutely violent shake, but something tells me he would rise to the occasion."

Harm laughs. "He'd need a lot of help. Sometimes he looks like he'd like to shake Laura."

"Maybe, but he wouldn't actually do it; which is more than I can say for her. Sometimes she looks as if she'd like to kick him… And she might."

Glancing across the patio Trish smiles and pats Frank's knee again when Elizabeth Hawkes appears.

Part 50: Poolside Banter about Nothing Important

Before either Harm or Mac can call out to Skates; welcoming her over, A.J. Chegwidden approaches looking about for an empty seat and poses the casual question, "What are we doing people?"

Mac smiles. "Nothing important sir. We're people watching." Without comment she stands and waves him into the poolside chaise she has just relinquished. Two steps to her left and she nudges Harm's thigh with her knee. "Scoot over Flyboy." She settles in beside him before continuing for the retired Admiral's benefit. "Bud and Harriett are meeting themselves coming and going chasing their four children around the pool. Chloe's pretending not to notice those teenage boys over there." Mac points the index finger of the hand holding her glass of chilled fruit juice. "Laura's entertaining Keeter, or Keeter's entertaining Laura. I'm not sure which. I have a feeling that Vareese is a bit miffed with Sturgis about something; judging from a look on her face and her stiff posture every time he leans in and speaks to her. Like yourself, Skates has just arrived." Mac nods in the direction of the female pilot who has just settled on the opposite side of the large kidney shaped pool and sits dangling her legs in the water at a spot near Laura and Keeter. Where is Rachel, sir?"

A.J. pats the air dismissively. "Mac you don't have to call me sir anymore."

"Yes I do." She chuckles. "I wouldn't if you didn't deserve it... And I think you know that."

He nods appreciatively. "Rachel is upstairs in our room on the phone with her sister. She may well be up there for hours. I thought you two would be gone by now."

"Laura's making new friends… And she's stalling too. She doesn't want to leave and her uncle caved in." Mac gently elbows Harm in the ribs.

Dropping an arm around Mac's shoulders; Harm shrugs in response to Chegwidden's raised eyebrow. "We can let her play for a little longer. We've got time enough for that." His voice drops half an octave and becomes faintly husky with tightly bound emotion. "I can't believe it's been less than two weeks. I'm going to miss her. I wish I could take her with me."

Touched, Mac concurs. "I know the feeling. I wanted to scoop her up in my arms and take her home with me five minutes after I met her. She'd go with you in a heartbeat."

"Oh, I don't know about that. She might not be too happy being that far away from Aunt Mac." He grins. "Not to mention Mom and Frank. She adores you two."

"it's mutual darling." Trish says as Frank declares, "She's a delightful little thing."

"Are you kidding!" Mac answers Harm. "She wouldn't even have time to miss me and you wouldn't get a moment's rest for answering all of her questions both during and after a flight across the Atlantic, London, Big Ben, Buckingham Palace, the changing of the guard. You know you'd show her the sites. You might actually enjoy London if you could see it through her eyes. To her it would be one grand and fabulously rainy adventure. I can just see her, enchanted by double decker buses and driving on the opposite side of the street. She'll be clad in bright lime green rain gear, bouncing around, splashing in every possible puddle, and clowning; trying desperately to get one of the aforementioned stern-faced palace guards to crack a smile."

Harm groans comically; his blue eyes dancing. "Okay, now we have to take her!"

Trish Burnett laughs at her son's exuberance and his smiling wife gently caresses his face. "As soon as we can." She promises quietly. "I'll bet that being back in London won't be so bad if you just try to picture her there, and then you'll be back before you know it."

"Somehow, I doubt that it will go quite that smoothly… But I'll be back as soon as I can."

"That's the plan then? For you to be stateside." Chegwidden inquires.

"That's the hope A.J. The terms of Laura's custody agreement prevent Mac from leaving the country with her; at least for now. So, I have to be the one to make a change. At the moment it's up to the Navy and the Marine Corps, where to move us. If they work with our situation, then we're both staying in for now. If not, we'll do something different."

"I imagine they will. Wouldn't be smart to lose two of their best right now. Scuttlebutt has it you're both doing well."

Mac laughs wryly. "If you can call disgruntled Petty Officers and two senior attorneys constantly at each other's throats doing well, then I guess we are."

A.J. Chegwidden smirks and offers derisively, "Sounds oddly familiar."

With his arms still around Mac, Harm holds out his hands and waves them as if warding off an attacker while shaking his head theatrically. "No, A.J. these two are not like us. I literally wonder if they will do each other bodily harm one day. Possibly one day soon."

The older man shakes his head and makes a tsking sound. "Rabb at least once a month for eight long years I was wholeheartedly convinced that your days were numbered my boy, and that my chief of staff was gonna find herself in Leavenworth."

Chuckling and shaking her head vehemently, Mac hugs Harm close as he answers. "Naa… She wouldn't really hurt me. Doesn't mean she didn't think about it…"

"Just a few times." The Marine admits quietly.

"But she wouldn't do it." Harm volleys

"Lined him up in my crosshairs more than once. Never could take the shot." Mac takes his left hand in hers, squeezes it affectionately, and uses the opportunity to glance at his wrist watch. "I know you don't want to end her fun but if we're going to get her changed into some dry clothes and back to San Diego in time for dinner, then it's time for us to get moving."

Puzzled by what he observes, Chegwidden jokes. "What's the matter Mac; that internal clock of yours in the shop for repairs?"

Caught off-guard, and momentarily at a loss for how to answer the question discreetly Mac says nothing.

Harm grins devilishly and steps into the breach without hesitation. "My fault." He says getting up from the chaise and pulling Mac along with him. "I found the snooze button."

As Harm and Mac leave the small group hand in hand on their way to coax Laura from the pool A.J. Chegwidden arches an eyebrow and shares curious expressions with Frank and Trish Burnett.

"Internal clock?" Trish queries.

"Snooze button?" Chegwidden wonders aloud.

Part 51: Winding Down

The first half of the three-hour drive back to San Diego is consumed by nearly incessant chatter and quiet yawns courtesy of the little girl on the back seat of Harm's rented SUV. Laura likes almost all the new people she met on their trip except for the hotel concierge with the sour face who doesn't like noisy little kids. She can't wait to see A.J., Jimmy, Nicky and Jenny again… Oh and Chloe too. She likes all Chloe's jewelry and her makeup and she wants to wear makeup when she gets big.

She wants to know if Nicky and Jenny are really twins; because she didn't know boys and girls could be twins; and is everybody sure they are really twins, or did the doctor make a mistake? She doesn't understand why Harm and Mac both think her question is so funny!

She rambles on in this fashion, peppering her commentary with questions here and there while filling Harm and Mac in on all the glorious details of the last 36 hours as if they hadn't been there at all and it's her job to bring them up to speed.

She likes the big rock out in the desert. She liked the cake and the hawks and Judge Wayne's cowboy boots and his funny string tie. She yawns. Admiral A.J. talks grumpy but he says funny words like hooligan and darlin' and best of all he yelled and scared off the dumb boys who knocked her down. Mr. Sturgis has funny ears but the nice lady with him sings real pretty. Mr. Bud tells funny jokes. He has a nice face and his artificial leg is way cooler than her brace. Miss Harriett brushed her hair and made it look pretty. Plus, it's really easy to make her laugh and she gives the best hugs! Skates is a funny name. Why do people call her that? Does she really fly airplanes like Harm? Another yawn. And Keeter is just silly! He stares at girls too much, but he's really okay Can she please go and spend the night with Miss Trish and Mr. Frank? Can they get a snack before she falls asleep because swimming in the pool made her tired?

Harm laughs in astonishment while Mac passes a snack pack of Ritz crackers and peanut butter, along with a small baggie of apple slices into the backseat. "You aren't too tired to talk." He teases.

Undaunted, Laura informs him, "I'm trying to stay awake until we pick up Candy. I miss my dog."

"I'm sure she misses you too sweetheart, but it's best she stayed behind. I'm not sure she would have enjoyed the helicopter ride to the top of the mesa."

"That was cool! I didn't know you could have a helicopter at a wedding. I can't wait to tell Liam! I bet he'll wish he was there."

"I thought it was pretty cool myself. I'm glad I was there." Harm grins at the sweet face with its light dusting of freckles in his rearview mirror.

"Duh, Uncle Harm. You had to be there. It was YOUR wedding!"

Reaching over to the passenger seat; he laces the fingers of his right hand with Mac's left as he asks Laura, "Really? Are you sure about that?"

"Uncle Harm!" Laura giggles.

He winks at Laura's reflection and lifts Mac's hand to his lips for a kiss.

Laughing at the two of them and turning in her seat, as much as her seatbelt will allow, Mac joins in. "Laura, baby, if you can bear to let us get a word in edgewise; Harm and I want to talk to you about something."

Happily biting a wedge of apple in half, the little girl stops suddenly, returns the uneaten portion to the plastic bag it came from and nods her head with an air of extreme seriousness. She concentrates on chewing and swallowing for a moment before saying, "Okay, what's up?" She squints and purses her lips thoughtfully for a second. "Am I in trouble? I don't think I did anything bad." Her squint becomes more intense and then she shakes her head as if she's done a thorough search of her memory and can find no cause for alarm.

"Laura, why do you always think you've done something wrong if I say I want to talk to you?"

"Mom never says she WANTS to talk to me unless she's gonna yell at me for something." Laura nods her head for emphasis. "I tried to be really good. Well… I did help jimmy catch a lizard, but I didn't help him put it in Jenny's hair. I didn't know he was gonna do that." She shakes her head. "He did that all by himself Aunt Mac. Boy, Jenny sure can scream! I guess she doesn't like lizards… And Miss Harriett was maaaaaaad! She took away his piece of wedding cake before he finished eating it!"

Out of the corner of his eye, Harm watches Mac struggle to keep a straight face. She rolls her bottom lip in and clamps down on it with her teeth for a full four seconds before she can calmly ask, "First, the words 'We want to talk to you' don't always mean you're in trouble. Second, when was this Laura?"

"Okay, that's good, 'cause I really didn't do nothing. He just said he wanted to catch the lizard; So I helped him. It happened last night, at the party at the hotel, after you cut the cake. I don't know where you and Uncle Harm were but we were eating cake. Jimmy took the lizard out of his pocket. I saw him, and I shook my head no really hard, but he reached over and dropped the lizard on Jenny's head anyway. The lizard fell off; right in her cake. Jenny screamed really loud and cried, and Jimmy lost his piece of cake… And I'm not helping him catch no more lizards. He can catch his own!"

Despite his best efforts, Harm finds himself chuckling quietly until Mac reaches over with her free hand and pinches him hard on the thigh. It also doesn't go unnoticed by him that her lower lip is caught in the vice-like grip of her teeth again.

While the adults struggle to contain their laughter, Laura switches back to the previous topic. "What did you wanna talk to me about?" She mumbles curiously while using her teeth to open the package of peanut butter crackers.

"When Harm gets his transfer orders we might have to move. We don't know yet; we'll have to wait and see. Even if we don't have to move, we're going to need a bigger house. If we stay where we are, is it going to be okay with you if Harm does a little work on the cottage?"

The girl in the back seat is quiet for so long that her aunt turns to look at her and Harm glances in the rearview mirror to find a look of wonder on her face.

"Laura?" They ask in unison.

"You can make the house bigger? All by yourself?" She asks incredulously.

Mac can't help but laugh. "He's pretty handy to have around Laura." She says with a nod.

"Cool beans!" Derek doesn't know a flathead from a Phillips!" She announces matter-of-factly. She giggles when she catches sight of Harm's raised eyebrow in the rearview mirror.

"Do you know the difference between the two, Ma'am?" He queries.

"Sure I do. They're screwdrivers. The first one is kinda squished flat… Flathead. The other is shaped sort of like a star… But I don't know why they call it Phillips. Who's Phillip anyway?" She rambles on without waiting for an answer. "You're supposed to use different ones for different kinds of screws."

Harm nods; impressed to find that a six-year-old girl knows such things. "Well if Derek doesn't know the difference…" He says unable to imagine that Cassandra O'Hara does. "Then, who taught you?"

"Tommy." She answers with a wistful note in her voice.

"And who's Tommy? Mac wants to know.

"One of Mom's other boyfriends. He doesn't come to see us anymore." She adds sounding peevish. "Which sucks 'cause he was the only one I liked! He was nice me. He let me help change the oil in his truck… And I only made a little mess; not a big one!" Laura can't seem to decide whether to smile over the memory or pout over the loss, but then she shrugs when a new thought comes to her. "Uncle Harm, if we get to stay in San Diego, can I help make the house bigger."

"Well now, I'm sure I can find something for an apprentice to do… As long as you promise only to make little messes; and not big ones."

"I promise." Comes the soft, solemn answer from the backseat. She yawns again and is quiet for several seconds before she asks in a voice filled with curiosity and expectation, "Can you build me a sandbox in my room?"

In a shocked tone, somewhat louder than she intended, the startled Marine in the front passenger seat says, "No, absolutely not!" and then laughs at the absurdity of the question.

"Aww, why not Aunt Mac?"

"If you have a sandbox in your room, next thing I know you'd be wanting to put sand in it!"

"Course! What else you gonna do with a sandbox?" Laura asks sweetly.

"Your backyard already is a giant sandbox Laura. Put one in the house and my floors will never be clean again! If you want to play with the sand, you can go outside. You are not bringing it in the house… Not by the bucketful!"

"Okay, okay! But if we have to move away from the beach, can I have a sandbox then? You know… In our new backyard?"

"I don't see why not. Can we revisit this discussion if we move?"

"Guess so." Laura yawns. "Here Aunt Mac." The little girl passes her an empty cracker package and an equally empty zip-loc bag. "Are we almost there yet?

"Not yet baby. We're only halfway. Still have another 1½ hour to go."

"Then I'm going to sleep now. Wake me up when we get Candy." Laura closes her eyes and within a matter of seconds she is sound asleep.

"Boy, when she runs out of juice…" Harm glances in the rearview mirror yet again.

Mac smiles. "I think she had as much fun as we did." She can't help but giggle quietly as she stares out through the windshield at the desert around them. "But she's not helping Jimmy catch no more lizards!" Mac shakes her head in wonder.

"And who's Phillip anyway?" Harm adds; chuckling quietly. "God, I'm going to miss her. School starts Monday for her, and I won't be here…"

Part 52: Reasons to Hurry Home

Leaving their bedroom, Mac slips into a flowing silk robe that swishes with her movements; it's hem fluttering and caressing her ankles as she walks. She's halfway through the kitchen and tightening the sash around her waist when she finds him with his back to her, and setting the small dining table that is situated in one corner between the kitchen and the living room with the best of her china. On silent feet she moves close; claiming his attention only when she rests a gentle hand upon his left shoulder.

He's freshly showered. His slacks and shirt are neatly pressed and well fitting. His hair is still damp and he smells of soap and aftershave. He smiles at her nearness, his left arm encircling her, his hand settling naturally into the curve of her hip. He is occupied with his own thoughts until he catches sight of the deep purple robe and warmly recalls the matching negligee beneath. When he gives the sash a gentle tug of appreciation, letting the delicate fabric slip through his fingers, his eyes began to sparkle and Mac finds she has to resist the urge to mew like a contented kitten.

"Hi." She murmurs

"Hi yourself." He answers quietly.

She looks around the room. "Where's Laura? Still asleep? She barely opened her eyes when we picked up Candy at Urban Tails."

"Yeah, I think swimming in that pool really wore her out. She didn't stir when I carried her in from the car, but I'm sure she will be up soon and demanding food; and lots of it. I don't like that she tired herself out playing but at least she had a good time, and it did give us one last chance to be alone together."

"Gave me the chance to inspire you to come home as quickly as possible." She smiles wickedly.

Harm tightens his hold on her. "It did do that!" He affirms with a smile of his own. "Now, what'cha think? Candles, or no candles?

Smuggling closer, she reluctantly turns her gaze away from his and gives the table the necessary attention. He watches her chew on the inside of her bottom lip for a second before she answers. "Harm candles are always a good idea."

"I thought you might say something like that, but we're not dining alone this evening. There will be a precocious little imp at the table."

Mac smiles and shrugs. "She'll either think it's pretty, or she'll tease us… Or both. I don't care which. I like candlelight."

With the decision made, he places two long tapered yellow candles in the already positioned ivory candle holders and then turns to face her. "And I like your choice of attire, Marine."

"You should. You picked it out." She whispers.

Keeping her close, he leans back and raises an eyebrow flirtatiously. "When exactly did I do that?"

"Several years ago. I went shopping, looking to buy something… to entertain someone else." She admits gently. "I couldn't decide what I wanted. So I bought several things, took them home, and laid them out over the back of the couch where I could compare and contrast easily. You showed up. I'm sure you made some charming, and possibly slightly inappropriate, comment. You never seemed to be at a loss for one where my night time attire was concerned. It was anything from 'cute PJ's' to 'next time leave the lingerie at home Marine.' And once it was 'No Mac, I came for the bad coffee and to catch you in your PJ's.' But anyway... you said whatever you said, and then we talked about whatever the reason was for your visit. On your way out the door you offered, 'Go with the purple one.' You were gone before I had a chance to comment. I wound at keeping two, instead of just one, and returning the others. I think the other one I kept might have been green. It's long gone now, but I tucked this one away in the back of my closet. It's been there ever since; waiting for you."

"Really? Never worn it?" He asks with that familiar grin sliding into place.

"Really; scout's honor. Never worn until today." She promises softly with the obligatory little salute before chuckling quietly. "But… Harm, this will either make you uncomfortable, or please you immensely; I'm not sure which… I think I scared the hell out of Clay one night."

Her chuckle becomes a girlish giggle. "I invited him over for dinner. I sent him into the closet for something; I don't remember what exactly, maybe Aunt Clara's good tablecloth. I was setting the table, I think. He was gone for a long minute. I didn't hear him come back into the living room until he spoke. He said, 'Hey Sarah, I like this." I turned and when I saw what he had I think I may have come a little unhinged. I remember shouting, 'Give me that! That's…' somehow I caught myself before I said, 'That's Harm's' and replaced those words with, 'That's not yours!' I ran with it back to the closet where it belonged and when I returned he looked… A bit wary. Of course, he often looked that way to me. I don't think he was ever quite certain what to do with me."

Harm laughs, nodding as if he understands all too well. "It wasn't a negligee or even a skimpy undergarment, but Renee came unhinged herself one day when she found one of your tee shirts in my laundry. With U.S.M.C. stamped boldly across the front, she knew it was yours. I had to peel her off the ceiling. 'Harm why is she taking her clothes off in your apartment!' Stupid me said, 'Because she needed a shower.' and it went downhill from there."

Mac presses her face into the front of his shirt and laughs freely. "God Harm." She says, remorse evident in her voice. "We could've saved ourselves so much agony."

He crooks his finger under her chin and lifts it gently. "Instead of regrets, let's just be glad this isn't still hanging in the closet."

Their lips meet and they stay that way until a young voice is heard saying, "I smell food!"

Part 53: I'll Be Right Back

Mac does okay sitting in the waiting area near the airport's appointed departure gate for Harm's flight. She doesn't feel too overly emotional or sappy until she remembers the sight of his packed sea bag lying on their bed earlier this evening. Those thoughts leave a hollow ache in her chest that seems to grow more intense with each passing minute, so she tries hard to focus on his face instead. Frank and Trish seem to be making similar efforts. He is the center of attention and everyone is trying to keep the conversation light and entertaining; trying not to think or speak of his imminent departure.

Laura seems to pick up on their subtle cues and even she doesn't mention his leaving for a while but her usual enthusiasm is severely subdued. She's even a bit grumpy, and she simply will not let go of him. She is camped in his lap, and on the rare occasion that she gets out of his lap, she stays within arm's length as if touching him will somehow prevent his plane from taking flight.

"Aunt Mac says I can wear my brace to school, but I have to take it off as soon as I get home." She complains to him in their shared seat.

"You know why; right sweetheart?"

She nods sullenly. "'Cause it's too small and it hurts my skin. But Uncle Harm, she says don't run around too much at recess. That's no fun!"

"Maybe if you ask him nicely Liam will sit with you and keep you company."

"He prolly will, unless he gets bored. When he gets bored he's kind of a jerk!" She nods for emphasis and Harm pats her head affectionately.

"How is he a jerk?"

"He goes to play with Jenny Chatham." She scowls.

Harm raises an eyebrow and exchanges a curious look with Mac, who is in the seat next to him "Well why does that make him a jerk?"

Laura rolls her eyes and whines impatiently. "Cause Uncle Harm, she's mean to me. She makes fun of me 'cause I live in a trailer and 'cause I'm only allowed to go to Liam's house. He's not allowed to come to mine. His mom doesn't want him to, but that's okay. I don't want him to come to my house either. Mom would just be mean and embarrass me."

The note of pain and humiliation in her voice is bad enough by itself, then Harm catches a glimpse of the anger and disappointment that clouds his wife's dark eyes.

He wraps his arms around both of them pulling them into a fierce hug. "First kiddo, there's nothing wrong with living in a trailer; and don't you listen to anyone who says there is. It doesn't matter if a person doesn't have a fancy house full of expensive things. Second, you don't live there anymore. But, no matter where you live, always remember that the most important things in your home are the people. And, Liam's mom is just trying to keep him safe. I bet you already know that if you really think about it. Plus, if you ask Liam's mom if he can come to our house, I bet she'll say yes. If you can't play much at school, then I bet he'll come over and play with you at home."

She smiles thoughtfully. "Maybe I can teach him to build sand castles; really big ones!"

"If you do, e-mail me pictures of these really big sand castles. I wanna see lots of turrets, drawbridges, moats, and a mermaid." Harm declares; his blue eyes sparkling.

Laura scowls and announces as if she think he's being unreasonable. "Uncle Harm I don't know how to make a mermaid out of sand!"

"Have Aunt Mac call Keeter for you. He and I built one once a long time ago. I'm sure he still remembers how. That's just the sort of thing Keeter would consider a proud accomplishment."

"Girls with legs aren't enough? He likes girls with fins too?" Mac teases; shaking her head and not really surprised at all.

In one of the seats directly across from them, Trish chuckles quietly. "Leave it to you boys!"

"Hey we won some sort of beach contest. I think first prize for the keg of beer and a surfboard!" Harm smiles at the memory.

Laughing, Mac lays her head on Harm's shoulder. "Please tell me you waited until you were done surfing before you tapped the keg.

Harm holds his hand up in the air and shimmies it side to side.

"Harm, it's a wonder you walk upright! Where's the surfboard?"

"Keeter claimed the board, and the girl."

"What girl?"

"The one we were both trying to impress." Harm flashes his best flyboy grin and squeezes Mac's shoulders affectionately.

"Ahh, I might have known there was a girl."

"Course there was. Beach was full of them that day. Girls, girls; everywhere you looked. I'll check all my hidey holes in London. I've probably still got a picture of the mermaid somewhere."

"Hidey holes?" Laura makes a face.

Mac explains. "Harm doesn't really do photo albums Laura. He likes to take his favorite photos and put them in unusual places. He tucks them into books and other uncommon places. He likes the warm fuzzy feeling he gets when he comes across one unexpectedly. I found an old picture of his dad tucked inside a cigar box once and a picture of his grandmother stuck between the pages of an edition of the Navy Times. At one point, there was even an old photograph of a dog taped to the inside of the door to his medicine cabinet."

Laura smiles up at her uncle. "You're weird!"

"That's one of the first things you ever said to me."

Laura bobs her chin for emphasis. "It's still true… And you better call me every day weirdo!"

Harm cringes. "I wish I could sweetheart. Overseas calls are kind of pricey."

"Oh yeah, I forgot. That's why we got you a present!" She eyes Mac expectantly. "Can we give it to him now? You did bring it? You didn't forget?"

"Of course I didn't forget. I want to talk to him too." Mac smiles and gently pushes the little girl's bangs out of her face before reaching into a deep braided tote she brought along with her. She extracts a thin rectangular package that is clumsily wrapped in the Sunday comics and places it in Laura's lap since she's taking up most of Harm's.

He stares at the package for a moment and then looks at Laura. He splays a big hand across her small chest and pats her gently. "Did you wrap this yourself?"

She nods enthusiastically. "Did I do it okay?"

"It's awesome. Almost too pretty to unwrap."

"No! You have to!" She says excitedly. "Here, lemme me help you!" She fumbles to work the tape loose on one corner of the gift and Harm smiles when she scowls with determination. She used far too much tape; effectively securing the package even from herself.

"Here sweetheart, my turn to help. You've got it locked up tighter than Fort Knox." Harm works the tape loose and rolls it into a knot only marginally smaller than a golf ball. It takes several seconds but when the plain white box beneath the paper is laid bare he finds that the lid bears an all too familiar logo; the image of a bitten apple. Smiling at Laura, he removes the lid and stares at the electronic device inside. The Ixpad has been carefully placed inside a rather rugged looking case. Harm raises an eyebrow for Mac's benefit. "Is this thing indestructible?" He jokes.

Mac chuckles. "No, but it's as close as I could come to indestructible. If you drop it from chest height it should be fine."

"It's even waterproof!" Laura announces. "The guy in the store said you could take pictures with it under water." Harm watches proudly as she fumbles a bit trying to hit both the device's home button and the narrow power switch on one side. "You have to hold down both at the same time to turn it on and off." She says before biting the tip of her tongue in concentration. "There! Got it! She sighs; almost with relief. "See, we charged it already, but the battery will go dead. You have to charge it so you can use it. Aunt Mac already put your e-mail in it. It's all set up; ready to go." Laura touches the screen activating one icon after the other; too fast for Harm to keep up. "We already put pictures of us in it for you. They're right here. All you have to do is touch this button. You got a calendar too, and a phone book, and a notepad, and the Internet. You even got Twitter. Aunt Mac says Twitter is a big waste of time though. Most important, you got Facetime!" Laura activates the application. "We're already in there. Aunt Mac, Miss Trish, and Mr. Frank too. Aunt Mac says I can use hers to talk to you. She says I'm too little to have my own e-mail or Facetime. This way she can make sure that nobody can talk to me unless she says it's okay. So now you can talk to us. You can hear us and even see us too, and it doesn't cost a bunch of money 'cause it goes through the computer; not the phone. So, no s'cuses. You have to call me… Like a whole lot!" Laura does her adorable chin bobbing thing again in a 'so there' fashion.

Harm laughs and squeezes her tightly against him. "I've never wanted one of these things before, but right now it sounds like a pretty good idea. Thank you. I'll use it well."

"And call us; a whole bunch… Like all the time."

"As often as I can." He promises.

"Miss Trish says the best way to keep from being lonesome is to stay busy. So me and Aunt Mac made a list of things to do until you get back so, we're gonna be really busy, but you still have to call us."

He nods and winks at her. "Got It." He affirms as the call to begin boarding sounds. Handing his new tablet to Mac he stands lifting Laura with him because the instant he moves she stiffens and clings to him with a death grip that involves both her arms and legs.

His mother pulls him into a ferocious hug, kisses his cheek, then lets him step back half an inch. She tries to smooth the fabric of his shirt across his shoulders affectionately; a process made difficult by the child in his arms. "Don't stay gone too long." She releases him only to pull him back again ½ second later for another hug which he returns with vigor; squeezing Laura between the two of them. Another few seconds and she lets go again. Smiling bravely, she pats his face and softly orders, "Go on now."

He takes a step to his left to exchange goodbyes with Frank while Mac stows the new tablet in his carry-on. Stepfather and son hug briefly like men. Frank offers, "See you soon." Harm nods and says, "Keep an eye on the three of them for me?" Frank drops an arm around his wife's shoulders. "You don't even have to ask." Harm nods as Frank silently offers to take Laura from his arms but the girl shakes her head vehemently; refusing his outstretched arms with wide sad eyes.

He turns to find Mac; the strap of his carry-on slung over her shoulder and he reaches for her hand. "Walk with me." He asks and she falls into step beside him. They go, hand in hand, as far as she is permitted to go. At the gate, they step back out of the flow of boarding passengers. They wrap each other in a long hug that causes the pretty gate attendant to smile warmly. They share a passionate kiss, and for once Laura has nothing colorful to say about it, or about being so near to them when it happens. When they part Mac bites her lower lip and tenderly wipes traces of her lip gloss from his with the pad of her thumb. Catching the tell-tale glimmer of unshed tears in her eyes he smiles and whispers. "I'll be back in just a minute."

Laughing; she lifts her chin and stomps the heel of a leather boot lightly against the polished floor in mild defiance of her own heightened emotions. "You better be!" She whispers while caressing his cheek. She slings the strap of his carry-on bag over his right shoulder and then reaches for Laura.

"Nooooo." The little girl whines and tucks her face into the space between Harm's left shoulder and his jaw.

Mac peels her free anyway and cradles the unhappy girl on her own hip. Harm smiles at the gate attendant who looks a little moved by the scene unfolding in front of her and steps through the gate.

He moves nearer the exit, waving as he goes, while Mac hugs Laura fiercely, kisses her cheek and whispers. "Be brave baby. Try not to cry." She rubs Laura's back. "Let him see you smile. Wave back for him."

The last moment that they are within view, Harm sees that his family has gathered close to one another near the gate. His mother's right hand is in Frank's left, and her left arm is draped comfortingly around Mac's shoulders; hugging her from behind. Mac smiles and blows a kiss. Laura's sweet face glistens with tears that she can't hold in, but she tries hard to smile and waves goodbye.

Chapter 13: Sunday, September 2, 2007

Part 54: New Allies

Author's Note: For those of my readers who suggested there should've been a tissue warning with the last chapter, my apologies. You are absolutely right. It took me longer than usual to write the chapter because I myself was more than a little choked up; especially during the last few paragraphs. Word to the wise, you may want a tissue or two for certain parts of this chapter as well.

Just after sunrise

Trish Burnett stretches lazily as she shuffles down the stairs into her spacious sun lit kitchen. As she passes the breakfast bar on her way to the cabinet where the coffee beans are kept, she comes to an abrupt standstill. She already smells coffee; coffee that is dark, rich, and strong. She gazes at the nearly full coffee pot. It's missing a single cup. Did Frank actually remember to set the coffee maker's timer last night, and leave it prepared for the morning? She knows it's unlikely. Puzzled, she glances at the ceiling, thinking of the people upstairs. No, Frank is still in bed asleep. She just left him. She glances around the room for anything else out of place. A box of her favored brand of breakfast cereal is on the counter top beside the refrigerator, and maybe it's her imagination, but she could swear the fruit in the large basket beside the microwave has been rearranged; possibly in search of a preferred treat.

For a moment she is alarmed, thinking that perhaps little Laura rose earlier than the rest of the house's occupants. She couldn't possibly have gotten the box of cereal down from its high shelf without climbing on something. If she had, and if she had fallen, certainly they would know. Trish listens hard to the silent house, searching for any sound that a small girl might make early on a Sunday morning. She reasons those sounds might not be so different from the ones a certain small boy used to make; cartoons on the television, the sound of silverware clinking against the side of a cereal bowl, small feet running against floors without rugs, a happy child talking to, or playing with, a faithful canine companion.

Her hushed house reveals no such sounds. Even so, maternal instinct demands that she turn, and retrace her path back up the stairs; to make certain that Laura is still safe in her bed. As she does turn she is treated glimpse of the patio and the backyard beyond the kitchen's wide French doors. She smiles. Sunrise must've been glorious today and apparently at least one person in the house witnessed it.

Before slipping quietly out onto the patio she ties the sash on her robe and quickly pours herself a bowl of cereal, adds a few fresh blueberries, and pours two steaming mugs of strong black coffee. She loads it all onto a heavy wooden tray and quietly joins the slender brunette lounging on the patio near the pool and one of her flower beds full of zinnia.

As Trish quietly takes the seat on the opposite side of patio table from her, she takes in her daughter-in-law's relaxed posture; her bare feet propped in the chair closest to her, crossed at the ankles, her toes painted a flamboyant orange that starkly contrasts the understated clear polish of her short, equally manicured, fingernails, both hands cradling the coffee cup that rests lightly against her abdomen. Her long silk robe is the color of a tart green apple. Her hair is loose, free of its usual pins made necessary by military dress code. Mac eyes are closed, and just for a moment, Trish studies her; struck by how peculiar it seems to find this energetic woman still and at rest.

Picking up one of the cups of coffee, Trish decides that Mac must've slipped back into the depths of sleep in this early morning quiet. She settles in, content to watch the birds taking their morning nourishment from the various feeders around her backyard and is mildly surprised when Mac greets her in a hushed voice. "Good morning Trish."

Coffee cup nearly to her lips, Trish chuckles softly and raises a curious eyebrow for no one else's benefit as she returns her gaze to the younger woman's face. Mac's eyes still aren't open.

"Good morning, darling." She says warmly, and Mac can't help but notice, and feel pleased about, the fact that she frequently addresses her son with the same endearment. "Is that a Marine thing?" Trish inquires softly.

Still not bothering to open her eyes, Mac raises an eyebrow in question.

"I didn't even speak. Still, you knew it was me."

The slightest of smiles graces the corners of Mac's mouth. "It's mostly deductive reasoning. Your footsteps are too heavy to be Laura's, and that walker of hers is quiet but it does have a distinctive sound; if you listen closely. The rare occasion that she leaves the walker behind; her gait is atypical, which produces quite another identifiable sound. Your step is too light to be Frank's and he has the habit of shuffling his feet. All that accompanied with the faintest trace of yesterday's perfume; and you were the only option.

Trish tilts her head to one side and purses her lips in amusement. "Mac does anybody ever sneak up on you?"

"Oh, it happens; but rarely… and they usually regret it." She adds in a voice of deadly calm."

"And here I was thinking you were so peaceful that you had to be asleep. Instead, you were busy thinking about all that."

"And that would be the Marine part. I don't really have to consciously think about it; comes naturally."

Trish nods thoughtfully before saying, "I brought out a second cup of coffee for you; if you want it. Good coffee, by the way." She puts her own cup down and picks up her bowl of cereal.

Mac's chest rises and falls, quivering slightly with nearly inaudible laughter. "Harm can't stand my coffee. It is too strong for his tastes."

"My son is a wuss when it comes to coffee."

This time laughter bubbles out of Mac. "I thought A.J. Chegwidden and I were the only people who felt that way."

"Well, the pot's ours. Frank won't touch in either. Thanks for putting it on this morning."

"Thanks for letting us stay last night. You really didn't have to do that. I'm sure you and Frank are eager to get back to your routines. We've monopolized enough of your time in the last week."

Trish eyes the woman beside her and sighs audibly. "Darling will you please stop worrying about being an inconvenience. In the first place, routines have a way of becoming ruts, and a rut is nothing but a grave with both ends kicked out. Secondly, we're glad to have you here with us. It's been a longtime since I've had the bittersweet joy of caring for, and cheering up, an unhappy child who is depressed over Dad's leaving. Frank and I just couldn't let her go home last night feeling blue. Lastly, you aren't monopolizing anything. You married my son! I was beginning to think that it was never going to happen. All Frank and I really did was help you coordinate."

"Orchestrate was more like it. It was simply perfect, and it came off without a hitch; no big ridiculous wedding disasters. Still feels surreal." Mac opens her eyes to reach over and pick up the remaining cup of coffee on the tray; exchanging it for her empty mug.

"I'm glad." Trish says; sounding pleased. "It's supposed to feel surreal."

Mac sips coffee until something Trish just said dawns on her. "Upset over Dad's leaving?"

"Well, that's who he is; to Laura. Isn't he? I mean, I know technically…" She trails off hoping she hasn't somehow said the wrong thing to Mac. In the silent seconds that follow, she watches her think it over, tilting her head to one side and Trish breathes a little easier when Mac smiles.

"Uncle Harm; Uncle Matt. You could just as easily substitute either name with the word Dad; and it fits." Mac stops and starts again haltingly. "Trish… I never expected this. I mean from Harm, yes. Not from his family. I've never had anybody just… welcome me… like this; much less my niece. It feels really strange and unsettling. I'm a little off balance here. Can I say that without offending you?"

She smiles and reaches over and pats Mac's arm. "I'll try not to hover. Harm says I hover."

"Harm doesn't know how lucky he is to have a mother who he thinks hovers. After 15 years, mine decided that she couldn't stay anymore. Not that I disagree with that choice. I decided I couldn't stay after 17 years; but she decided she couldn't be a single mother of two either. For a while, I thought I got the short end of that stick. But as bad as it was, I'm not so sure anymore."

"Harm, told me you had a bad time of it growing up. He's mentioned it more than once over the years, but always discreetly. He guards your privacy like it's his own."

Mac nods. "And I his… Trish, Joe Mackenzie was a miserable, hateful soul and he turned me into one for a while too. My sister never spent a day in her life with him, but somehow she's hell bent to travel the same path as he and I. It seems broken parents raise broken children. My mother and father are certainly prime examples. It was my Uncle Matt who showed me that I didn't have to stay miserable and hateful. Doesn't mean I'm not a work in progress. I've been seeing the same shrink for the last two years; since moving to San Diego. I'm just now starting to feel like I'm capable of making healthy decisions; decisions that aren't going to come back to bite me on the ass. This process of extreme midlife self-improvement is not a thing I want Laura to have any knowledge of. I do not want her to have to do this."

"Laura's going to be okay Mac. She's got some troubles, but she's observant, thoughtful, smart as a whip, and could charm an Eskimo into buying an air conditioner."

Mac shakes with quiet laughter. "She gets that from her mother. For all my sister's faults, she can turn on the charm. She can be syrupy sweet, and it still amazes me how many men will fall for that. The only difference is that Laura's charm is innocent; untainted. Cassandra saves all her charms for use on men. Somehow, she hasn't managed to sour Laura… Yet. Still, Laura's already more easily drawn to men than women, which I can't say doesn't worry me, but fortunately she still seeks out the ones who treat her well. She's not yet afraid of them."

Trish makes a face. "Afraid of good men?"

Mac is silent for a long beat; hesitant to admit, "The first time my father called me a good for nothing slut… I was 14. I'll admit I was already curious about sex but the thought of actually having any still made me a little queasy. Sadly, it didn't take long for that to change. The first few times you hear things like that it shocks you. Next you wonder why; especially when it's your own father who's saying it. Then you get angry, and people make stupid decisions when they're angry. I decided if I was going to be tried, sentenced, and convicted; then I might as well be guilty."

Mac pauses for breath and fixes her gaze on the middle distance. She can't say these things and look at the woman she's talking to "When the primary guy in your life is an emotionally abusive drunk, you don't know to look for anything better in a man, and on the rare occasion that you find it, he scares the hell out of you. For all my teen years and most of my adult years, anytime a man has been genuinely nice to me the first thought in my head has been, 'What the hell does he want?' Sometimes it's still that way. I have to consciously choose not to react that way."

Mac pauses for a sip of coffee; collecting her thoughts. Harm may be stubborn, but impatient he most certainly is not." She shakes her head. "Trish there aren't enough words in all the languages ever spoken to tell you what a huge… I'm talking monumentally colossal help he has been to me. For most of the 11 years we've known each other I've been easily upset, prickly, moody, and often just an outright pain in his six. He's inexhaustible.

Two years ago." Her voice drops to a whisper. "It was me that walked away from him; not the other way around. Yes, he was grieving and yes, he said something unbelievably cruel and stupid. Still, I shouldn't have left him. At the time, I just wasn't strong enough to stay." She takes a deep breath. "In the time since then, either one of us could have fixed it. Trouble is, we're both stubborn!"

"Stubborn is not always convenient or helpful, but it's not always bad either Mac. If you two weren't so stubborn; I have a feeling you would've thrown in the towel a long time ago…And now; Laura needs you to be that stubborn for her."

"Well she's got it! That's as easy as talking in my sleep. I just hope I'm not too late."

Trish smiles. "I think that's one worry you can lay to rest… And you're not by yourself anymore. Harm will be back as soon as he can, and we're only 20 minutes away. Don't forget that; please."

"Oh, believe me I won't. Up until a few days ago, the only local people I felt safe leaving her with were Beth Harrell. She's Laura's best friend, Liam's, mother. Or there is Jennifer Coates; she did such a good job with Mattie. I think Harm may have been a bit nervous about that at first; but he has a knack for knowing when things will work… And it did."

"Sometimes I catch him when he thinks nobody's looking. That spunky young lady took a piece of my son's soul with her when she went."

"She did do that. And a piece of yours too." Mac declares; noticing the hurt in Trish's voice.

"Yes, I didn't have nearly the time with her I wanted. She was special. She was loved; she still is. And a mother always bleeds when her child bleeds; at least if she has any right to call herself a mother."

"I think he'll be a little better off if I can get him back in the air. I know it won't fix everything, but I do think it would help."

As they have talked this morning; the conversation turning to this and that, Trish has continued to watch her backyard birds. Upon hearing this, she turns suddenly; a stricken expression on her face. She holds a hand up to silence Mac. "What are you talking about?" She asks a little more sharply than she intended.

For a second, Mac is at a loss. Puzzled, she takes a moment to inhale deeply and that's when comprehension dawns. "You don't know." It's not a question; just a flat statement.

"What exactly don't I know?" She demands; sitting up a little straighter.

"I'm sorry Trish. I didn't mean to spring it on you; I just assumed you knew."

The older woman sets down her coffee cup while shaking her head and begins to wave both hands. "Never mind the apology! Just tell me what I'm missing. What do you mean; get him back in the air?"

Mac tries desperately but can't think of a way to soften it, so she says simply, "Harm's not flying Trish; not since Mattie death. Well, he flies for travel and he's done the bare minimum to keep his wings but, beyond that, he's not in the cockpit."

Harm's mother is stunned motionless for a moment and then she slumps back in her chair; deflated and limp like a rag doll. After a few long silent seconds, she covers her mouth as if some horrific scene is unfolding before her, like a fatal car crash; two vehicles traveling at a high rate of speed, slamming into one another, tires squealing, screaming metal bending, twisting, and crumbling beyond all hope of recognition.

Several more seconds tick by before she can find her voice. Once she does, she whispers, "Part of me has always thought that the day somebody told me my son wasn't flying anymore a giant weight would be lifted because… Because…"

Mac steps in. "Because you thought you wouldn't have to worry about all the things that might go wrong up there."

Trish nods; dazed.

Mac reaches over and takes her hand. "Didn't work out that way; did it?"

Trish shakes her head vehemently. "No it didn't! Mac, he can't not fly! That's like… I don't even know what that's like!" Anger born of fear slowly starts to rise in her voice. "That's like… "

"Like a piece of his soul is missing." Mac supplies softly.

Trish nods grimly. Too agitated to sit still any longer, she leaves her chair abruptly, nearly turning it over in her wake, and begins to pace angrily. "No no no! No, that's unacceptable! I'd sooner have him crash and burn! I'd rather loose all of him than to watch him die a little at a time!"

"I've already told him as much."

Just as abruptly as she started pacing, she stops, returns to the edge of her seat, where she perches and takes both of Mac's hands in hers. "You did?"

"Well, not in those exact words, but I did. I told him that he is going back up there. That I'll let him go by himself if he needs to, or I'll go with him if he needs me to do that. Maybe not today, tomorrow, or even next month; but he's going. I will not accept anything less."

Oh…Oh, I could just hit him over the head! That boy! Damn him!" Angry tears scald her face. "Why didn't he tell me? Why won't he say so when he needs help?"

"Harm's great at helping; not so much at being helped." Mac squeezes her hands.

"Well that's just too damn bad!"

"Trish" Mac starts softly. "He's in pain. And he's terrified to let it out, maybe because the last time he tried, he lashed out at me and I didn't talk to him for two years."

"No darling, this is not your fault. Harm's always been this way."

"Maybe so, but I don't think I helped him any. Not that I'm itching to have a fight with him, but there's hardly a cross word that's passed between us these last two weeks. Two years ago that would've been unheard of. We're both trying harder to keep their tempers in check and I suppose that's a good thing."

Mac lowers her voice and admits, "We've also been rather… euphoric… since we decided to be honest and stop acting like we're not attracted to each other. But I also think he's scared. Like maybe the first time he loses his temper or says something stupid - and I think we both know he's going to do it eventually, or if he doesn't, I will. – that it's all going to come crashing down around us."

"And will it?"

Mac shakes her head. "I let him run me off once. Worst mistake I think I've ever made; and I've made some whopping, big ugly hairy mistakes." She smiles. He's stuck with me!"

"And he's going to fly again?" Trish worries.

"If it takes the last breath in my body." His wife vows. "Of course…" She smiles slyly. "Having an ally couldn't hurt."

Trish pulls her into a fierce hug. "Come on! Let's go make some breakfast for Frank and Laura… and formulate a plan of attack!"

Chapter 14: Monday, September 3,2007

Part 55: Special Delivery

18:46 HRS (I guess Mac's clock finally reset itself.)

Mac puts the corvette in gear and backs out of the Harrell's driveway; waving farewell to the woman and her red headed son. At the end of the block she asks the little girl in the front passenger seat, "How was your first day of school?"

"S'ok." Laura says without her usual zeal.

"Just okay?"

"Yeah."

Mac takes her eyes from the road just for a moment to glance at the girl with mild concern. One word answers aren't her style. "Did anything bad happen?"

"No."

Mac tries again. "Well, did anything good happen?"

"No."

"Nothing good, huh? Do you have any homework?"

"On the first day? That would be mean!"

Eight whole words; progress. Mac tries a topic she's sure Laura will be more interested in. "What do you want for dinner? We can have the leftover stew or the ribs that Trish and Frank sent us home with last night."

Laura thinks about it for 2 seconds, but then shrugs. "Don't care. You pick."

Stunned, Mac takes one hand from the wheel and lays the back of it against Laura's forehead. Detecting no unusual warmth, she gently presses her palm against Laura's cheek. Nothing unusual there either. "Well, you don't have a fever. Are you feeling okay? You're not getting sick on me are you, baby?"

Laura leans closer to the passenger side door; away from Mac's touch. "No, I'm not sick."

"You sure? You don't have a tummy ache… Something?"

Laura rolls out her bottom lip and blows her bangs out of her face with a deep exhalation. "I'm okay Aunt Mac." She says, sounding bored "When we get home can we talk to Uncle Harm?"

Ah, so that's it. Mac silently breathes a sigh of relief before she softly says, "We can't do that in the evenings baby."

"But Aunt Mac I've been waiting all day!"

"Oh Laura. You have, haven't you? Baby, if we call him when we get home we'll wake him. He's asleep."

"Na uh. It's going home time; dinner time. Uncle Harm wouldn't go to bed without dinner."

"Uh, Laura it's not dinner time in London, its 02:46… Make that 02:47 there. It's the middle of the night."

Laura scrunches up her little face in confusion. "It's dinnertime. My tummy says so."

Mac smiles and reaches out to tussle the little girl's hair. "It's dinnertime here in San Diego. London is in a different time zone. It's tomorrow morning in London; very, very early tomorrow morning."

Laura scowls. "Time has zones?"

Mac nods. "It does. We are 8 hours behind London."

Laura frowns. "That doesn't make sense Aunt Mac!"

"I know it's a little confusing."

"Can we talk to Uncle Harm tomorrow morning before I go to school?"

Mac wrinkles her nose. "Not then either. It will be the middle of the afternoon in London by then. He'll be at work."

The child crosses her arms over her chest and pouts. "Can't we talk to him while he's at work?"

"Not unless it's an emergency. He's there to work."

"Well then, when can we!" She wants to know.

"On Saturdays, Sundays and school holidays."

"That's all! Somebody should have told me about these stupid time zones! " Laura looks positively miserable. She's a moment away from tears; if not seconds."

"I'm sorry Laura." Mac says softly. "It didn't even occur to me to explain time zones before now. If you talk to him on Saturdays and Sundays at 12:00. You can have your lunch while he's having his dinner; you can eat together."

Laura says nothing.

Once they're home, she goes straight to her bedroom and quietly closes the door.

Now how am I supposed to fix this one? Mac wonders as she kicks off her shoes and hangs up her jacket. Loosening her tie, she makes her way to the refrigerator, trying to decide what to heat up; the stew, or the ribs. There are mashed potatoes and coleslaw too. She stands in front of the open refrigerator door and decides to put it all on the table. She hopes once it's a warm and the house smells like food Laura's mood will improve. She puts the stew in the microwave first. While she waits, she glances at the kitchen wall phone and decides that if food doesn't work, after dinner she will call Trish and ask for advice.

Moments later, while she is setting the table, an unexpected knock sounds at her front door. She trots across the room and peeks through the peephole at a stranger's face. "Yes." she calls out lightly.

"Delivery from Mason Hills Flowers and Gifts." Comes the disembodied voice of the person on the other side of the door."

Raising a curious eyebrow, Mac unlocks and opens the door to find a middle aged woman wearing a white and green bowling shirt under a green smock. Her smile is perfunctory, "Sarah Mackenzie-Rabb?"

Pleasantly caught off-guard, at hearing her name this way for the first time, Mac smiles brightly; thinking to herself, I've been hyphenated! She stifles a giggle of pleasure and offers instead, a cheery, "That's me!"

The other woman's smile becomes warmer; genuine. "Then these are for you." She hands over the heavy cut glass vase filled with beautiful blooms; some of them just starting to blossom.

Mac happily takes the offering. "Just a minute please." she says still smiling as she sets the vase on the small table beside her front door. She quickly grabs her purse and offers the woman a $10.00 bill. Tip accepted, the woman smiles again and says, "This too." She hands over a cardboard box that is heavier than Mac expected it to be. "You have a nice night." She says turning to leave."

"You too." Mac calls after her.

She closes and locks the front door once again before glancing down at the address label on the box. It's addressed to Laura. Mac gives the box a curious and tentative shake and hears something shifting about inside. She sets the box on the table beside the flowers and tenderly rearranges blossoms until she finds the card. She removes it from its envelope feeling the same way she used to feel when she was eight years old and Uncle Matt would take her to the candy store to buy jelly beans.

The card reads: Ninja girl. Missing you. Love Flyboy PS: Tell Laura yes!

Tell Laura yes about what? She muses. She palms the card; taking it with her as she crosses the room and goes down the short hallway where she knocks gently on Laura's bedroom door. It takes a moment but Laura opens the door and peeks out at her. Her little face is slightly tear stained.

"Come here." Mac whispers excitedly; hoping to cheer her up.

"What for?" Laura frowns.

"Just come here, baby. There's something I think you're gonna want to see." Mac finishes in a singsong voice as she returns to the living room. Laura doesn't look the least bit curious, but she decides to follow anyway. She is closely followed by her four pawed companion. "Go over and sit at the table."

Laura makes her way there, climbs up, and then slouches in her chair while Mac returns to the small table beside the front door to collect their gifts. She perks up a bit, suddenly curious, as Mac approaches the dining table. "What kind of flowers are those?"

"They're called blue irises. Aren't they pretty?"

Laura looks as if she's not sure. "Why are they called blue irises? They're not blue. They're purple."

"I know. Kind of funny isn't it? We can look them up on the Internet later; if you want to."

Laura shrugs.

"Oh, here Gloomy Gus! This box is for you. It was just delivered."

Laura's eyes go wide and she sits up straight in her chair. "Really? Somebody delivered a package to me? I never got a package before!" she declares in wonder as Candy sits beside her and sniffs at the box.

Mac hadn't thought it possible but the smile on her own face gets a little bigger. Laura's wonder is infectious.

Laura gives the box a hard shake.

"Easy there; kiddo. You better hope whatever's inside isn't fragile." Mac laughs.

"What's fragile mean?" Laura asks; too busy inspecting the box to bother with eye contact. She turns the box this way and that.

"Fragile means breakable."

Laura immediately stops jostling the box about and becomes very still. Her face glows and she whispers, "Aunt Mac, what's in here?"

"Well, I don't know. Why don't you I open it." Mac whispers with equal delight.

With exaggerated care Laura sets the box down on top of the dining table and stares at it; hard. "Who sent it?" She whispers again.

Mac chuckles. "You forget how to read? The label's right there." She points.

Laura uses a small finger to trace a line of text on the mailing label. "No, that's my name; our address. She looks for another address and haltingly begins to sound out the sender's name. Mason Hills Flowers and Gifts. She verbally trips over the word flowers but gets it. She looks up at Mac and squints.

"That's the name of the delivery company. Open it. I bet there's a card inside. Here, I'll get a knife.

As Mac trots to the kitchen; taking her flowers along to add water to the vase, Candy watches but does not follow. The dog likes the kitchen, it's the room where all the food is, but she decides that she is much more interested in Laura's box than whatever Mac is doing.

Laura thinks for a moment and catches on. "Hey, who sent the flowers?"

Returning, Mac shakes her head. "The same person who sent the box."

"Aww, tell Aunt Mac. Tell!"

"Nope! I'm not telling. But… I will cut the tape for you." Mac carefully slits the tape on the box until it can be easily opened. Then she takes 1/2 step back and waits.

Laura gently pushes Candy's nose out of the way and lifts out the envelope that is lying on top of a package wrapped in paper the color of bubble gum. She sets the card aside only long enough to lift out the gift as well. Mac moves the cardboard box to the floor beside the table and Laura sets the gift down in its place. She stares at it for a long moment and repeats, "I never got a package before."

She shifts her attention once more to the card and opens the envelope with exaggerated concern. Inside she finds a greeting card in the shape of a guppy. "Funny looking fish." She comments more to herself than Mac as she opens the card. She takes a few seconds to read it to herself. Reads it again, and then lets out an ear piercing squeal of pure delight. "It's from Uncle Harm!"

"Well of course it is!" Mac declares, smiling and holding a hand to her right ear; hoping Laura hasn't managed to temporarily damage her hearing.

"Hope your first day at school went - Aunt Mac, what's this word?"

The Marine glances over Laura's shoulder to where she points. "Oh, that is a tough one. The word is swimmingly."

"Swimmingly" she repeats with a nod "Love Uncle Harm." Laura finishes out loud before she flips the card closed and stares at the fish that is the front cover again. "Fish…. Swimmingly." Laura muses to herself again.

Mac giggles. "Fish travel in groups called schools too."

"He's weird!" Laura declares. With a case of her own giggles.

A newfound eagerness supersedes the wonder that had her being so careful moments before. She shreds the wrapping paper in record time and opens the gift box. She peers inside and for a moment she looks confused. Then she smiles and reaches in. "He's a teddy bear. I never seen a bear with rain boots and a suitcase before." She holds him up for Mac to see, and again nudges her curious dog's nose out of the way."

"Oh Laura, it's Paddington."

"It's what?"

"He's Paddington bear." Curious what made the box so heavy; Mac glances inside and finds a small collection of children's books. She hands the first one to Laura.

The girl looks at the cover and reads the title aloud. "A Bear Called Paddington." She hugs the bear tightly. "He's got books too?"

Mac lifts the entire collection out of box and fans it across the dining room table. "Apparently he has lots of books; look Laura each book is about him."

Laura takes it all in with a look of rapturous joy. She looks in the box one last time and comes up with the only thing remaining in the box; a clear plastic package that contains a dog toy in the shape of a red fire hydrant. Laura gives it a gentle squeeze. The thing squeaks merrily and her dog begins to dance in circles. Laura tears the package open and tosses the red fire hydrant across the room and watches Candy dash after it.

The dog retrieves the new treasure and walks back to the middle of the living room floor where she lays down and begins to work the squeaker happily; rolling onto her back and holding it up in the air with her paws while she chews.

With her companion otherwise entertained, Laura returns her attention to her new bear and his books. "Can we read one?" She looks at Mac with pleading eyes."

"Don't you want to eat dinner first?"

Laura shakes her head. "Please." she begs.

Mac looks of the thickness of the book in Laura's little hands. "Well, I guess that won't take us too long to read." She opens the front cover of the book and comes across another note on the first page; written in familiar script. He must have bought them before he left. Mac realizes.

She reads out loud for Laura. 'Hi sweetheart, I bought a set for my house too. Talk Aunt Mac into postponing bedtime for 1 hour. I'll call at 21:00 San Diego time and we will read one together. Uncle Harm.'

"Oh, can I! Please Aunt Mac." She begs again; this time more pitifully than the last.

Mac thinks it over; taking much longer than she actually needs. Harm's postscript makes sense now. Tell Laura yes!

"Laura, 21:00 is 9:00." She says because the girl still occasionally has trouble comprehending military time; especially with the evening hours. "I'll say yes, but you have to be ready for bed when he calls."

Laura nods vigorously. "I promise."

She wrinkles her nose; thinking hard. "Aunt Mac, what time is 9:00 in London?"

"That's 05:00 London time." She says with a smile.

"No way! Uncle Harm is going to read me a story at 5:00 in the morning?"

"He loves you kid. Do you still want to read one now?"

Laura shakes her head vehemently. "I'm waiting for Uncle Harm. Now I want food!"

Laughter bubbles out of Mac. "Well now, that's more like it!"

Part 56: Staying Connected

2127 hours Monday in San Diego - 0527 hours Tuesday in London

Harm pauses in his reading to take a sip of coffee and smiles when he hears Mac whisper, "Keep going." As she tries to untangle herself from Laura's sleepy embrace. "I think she finally gave it up."

Harm finds himself finishing the tail end of chapter two in the same hushed tone of voice his wife is using; as if he were right there in the room with them.

"I'm sure I shall like her, if you say so, Paddington said catching sight of his reflection on the brightly polished letterbox. But will she like me?"

While Mac straightens Laura out in the bed, lying her flat and pulling the quilt up to her chin; Harm makes a mental note of the page number before placing his own copy of the book on the end table beside Mattie's photo.

Mac tucks the little girl's new bear into bed with her, picks up her Ipad and tiptoes out of the room.

Leaving the comfort of his favorite chair, Harm picks up his own tablet and makes his way to a sparsely furnished bedroom that he's never felt the need to improve upon. As he goes, he watches Mac wander room to room in their tiny waterfront cottage; the scenery changing around her as she moves. On her way to their room she stops only long enough to be certain the front door is locked and to pick up a glass of water, half empty and left unattended in the living room. She empties its contents in the kitchen sink, rinses it and leaves it to dry. She makes sure the back door is locked and then closes herself in for the night in their bedroom with the big picture window and the view of the ocean.

They each find a place to prop their tablets and Mac sheds her robe and burrows beneath the blankets on their small bed as Harm enters his closet to finish dressing for the day. He sets his coffee cup on a neatly appointed shelf and removes the standard office attire from a nearby hanger minus the trousers he's already wearing.

"You saved the day Flyboy. When I picked her up at Liam's this afternoon she was heartsick; only I didn't realize that at first. One word answers; school wasn't bad but it wasn't good either and she didn't care what was for dinner. I thought for sure she was seriously ill, at least until she asked if we could call you. Oh and by the way, I'm quoting here. 'Somebody should've told me about these stupid time zones!" Mac imitates. "She was not happy Harm; little face like a storm cloud full of rain. I was trying to figure out what I was going to do about it when your delivery showed up."

She smiles as she watches him button up his shirt. "Before I get sidetracked and forget, the flowers are gorgeous." She says sweetly. "I miss you too." She mentally switches gears before he has a chance to respond. "Oh but Harm, I wish you could have seen her face light up. She said more than once tonight, 'I never got a package before!' She was in complete awe. You could have sent her almost anything. She was one door away from Heaven, and when I told her that you were going to get up at 05:00 to read her a bedtime story… Well, I just should've known you'd be the one to come flying in and make everything all better."

"This time it was relatively easy. I had a feeling she'd be blue. I was a bit blue myself. I was actually going to place an overseas call until you gave me this gadget. I'm still trying to figure most of it out, but placing a call on this face space thing wasn't too difficult."

Mac covers her mouth, trying to conceal both a yawn and a quiet giggle. Face time Harm." She corrects gently.

He shrugs unconcerned. "So what's your game plan while I'm gone?"

She offers him her own shrug. "Stay busy. I do better when I'm busy anyway. With too much time on my hands I start to think. I can get myself into trouble when I do that. My plan is to take care of Laura, go to work, and spend some time with your mom and Frank. Beyond that, I need to buy a new bed. We can't sleep in this tiny thing forever. I need to clean out the closet and either sell, giveaway, or throw away half the stuff in there, get a bigger dresser or chest of drawers with room for your stuff. I am going to sell that old wedding dress that Mic bought, oh and the Vette too. Do you want me to wait until you get here before…"

"Hold up. Wait a minute Mac." He waves at her image on screen, "You're going to sell the Corvette?"

"Yeah, I should've done it months ago. It's not safe for Laura to be riding around in the front seat. She's too little. I need something with the backseat; a family car. Now that she lives here, I don't really have any other choice."

"Mac you love that car."

She nods, shrugs, and says simply, "I love her more…. Should I wait until you get back before I start shopping for a new bed? Does that matter?"

He grins. "Only if you want it to. With you it's not like I'm going to come home and find myself sleeping in an overly soft bed covered with some nauseating rose patterned goose down comforter with matching striped sheets the color of Pepto-Bismol. Long as it's bigger than what we've got now and the mattress is firm enough for my back; whatever you want is fine."

She nods thoughtfully and hesitates briefly; just long enough to pique his curiosity.

"Mac? What is it?

"I think I might make a doctor's appointment too." She says so quietly that he has to strain to hear her. "See if things have gotten any worse since the last time I went in five months ago."

"Don't Mac. Not yet. I don't want you dealing with that alone. Wait until we're together. I'll go with you."

She laughs harshly. "You don't care if I pick out our bed by myself; but you want to go to the doctor with me while she pokes, prods, and invades, the most intimate area of my body. Harm the news won't be any better just because you're there."

"Probably not, but I told you a long time ago that we'd do this together Mac, and I meant it."

"I know you did, but I'm supposed to make an appointment next month anyway. I go every six months." She whispers sadly.

For a moment he says nothing. He can't. He's too busy thinking about all times she's been to the doctor alone in the last two years; the disappointment, the heartache, and the loneliness. When he can speak he asks gently, "You had surgery three years ago, anymore since then?"

She nods. "The week after I went for my last appointment; same procedure. They just clean out as much scar tissue as they can, but they can't keep doing that Harm. There's a risk of infection, even hemorrhage. It's not a huge risk. My doctor's good, but she can only do so much with my hostile uterus. Sooner or later… They're just going to have to remove it. Conception aside, I don't even know if I could carry now. I didn't bother to ask after the last procedure. I couldn't." She admits, hating her own weakness.

"We'll find out together and go from there. Keep your time frame. If the time for the next appointment comes and I'm not back yet; go. But will you at least think about asking Mom to go with you if I can't?"

She fidgets uncomfortably. "I don't know Harm. I think we're off to a good start; she and I. I don't want to mess with that. After one of those appointments I'm just so edgy and out of sorts. I don't know if your mom's ready for that."

"Hey." He scolds lightly; trying to cheer her up. "My mom's tougher than you think she is. She raised me remember? If I haven't managed to scare her off yet; you're not going to. She likes you… maybe even better than she likes me sometimes."

In spite of her efforts not to, Mac can't help but chuckle. "Harm that's awful. Your mother loves you!"

"Yeah Mac I know that. But you don't always like the people you love. It's a rare occurrence, but I'm not always one of her favorite people."

"Not true!" Mac laughs genuinely. "You will always be one of her favorite people; even when she wants to hit you over the head! Trust me, I know. She talks to me about these things!"

Harm groans audibly. "What have I gotten myself into?"

"Too late to back out now Flyboy. You married a Marine. You're stuck with me for life!"

"Thank God. Shouldn't you be going to sleep now Jarhead?"

She snuggles a little deeper beneath the covers "I should." She yawns.

"Sweet dreams Mac."

"Good morning Squid." She stifles a yawn and blows a sleepy kiss before disconnecting the call.

Chapter 15: Getting by In September

Part 57: Getting By… With A Little Help

Author's Note: My dear readers, both the Wildflower Luncheonette and the Tree Frog Café mentioned within this chapter exist in real life. However, they are not located in North Carolina. I've moved them there; strictly for literary purposes. Now, on with the story!

A week slips into two weeks. Two weeks stretches into a month and through it all Harm, Mac, and Laura are busier than ever before with the minutiae of life. Work, school, therapy, making plans, packing boxes, cleaning closets, family dinners and frequent communication via face time and other various marvels of modern technology; much of it in preparation for the resolution of what Harm calls 'the address thing.'- his easygoing, laid back way of referring to the fact that there's an ocean between their mailboxes.

One night in San Diego during the second week of their separation, after Laura is tucked snugly into bed following another two chapters regarding the adventures of Paddington Bear, Mac waits for the customary grin that comes along with such comments and then, feeling rather saucy, she tells him "You know, you really need to stop smiling like that every time you mention the distance between our mailboxes. People are gonna start to think it's a euphemism for something kinky."

The unexpected comment causes Harm's sip of morning coffee to go down the wrong way. He coughs, sputters, and sloshes coffee all over his tablet; not to mention himself a mere ten minutes before he planned to walk out the front door.

Mac giggles. "The next time somebody mentions it to you, try not to do that!" She adds with a whisper, "It just makes you look guilty."

"Now, I have to change Mac. If I don't hang up right now I'll be late. Go to sleep Marine.

Undaunted by his mild irritation, she returns fire. "Go to work Squid."

"Would it do any good at all to point out that is precisely what I'm trying to do."

"Meh, not really." She says a little too cheerfully for Harm's early morning mood. "Have a good day; love you."

"Yeah yeah, sleep well. I love you too."

A few evenings later Mac is warming stew bought from a local bistro; her cell phone lying on the countertop next to the stove with the speaker turned on. She turns, glancing over the bar, making eye contact with Laura when there is a knock at the front door. She quietly snaps her fingers and points, wordlessly asking Laura to show in their guests as she says, for the benefit of the man on the other end of the phone line, "Yes, I know Charlie. Taking care of Laura is my top priority. I want her to have therapy three times a week as well, but Wednesday afternoons are just no good. I can't get away from the office; not on Wednesdays." Mac stops the conversation long enough to remind Laura to ask who's at the door before she opens it, but Laura's already smiling and waving to the couple visible through the long narrow stain-glassed window to the left of the front door.

She lets them in, happy to be caught up in one of Frank Burnett's great big hugs. He lifts her off the floor and carries her with him into the kitchen as Trish reaches over and affectionately pushes the little girl's hair out of her eyes. "Hello darling." She smiles warmly.

Laura tells them. "Aunt Mac's on the phone with Charlie, they're trying to pick another day for therapy. Charlie says I need three days a week."

The older adults can't help but listen as the man with a thick Jamaican accent says through the phone line, "If you can't swing it, you can't swing it; no need to beat yourself up, Colonel. What she's getting now is a far better thing than what she was getting a month ago; which was nothing at all."

"Can we do it Thursdays at four; instead of Wednesdays?" Mac asks; remembering not to use military time for Charlie's benefit.

"I'm booked on Thursdays Colonel."

Trish steps up close behind Mac and rests a hand lightly on either of her shoulders. "I can take her on Wednesdays. Just tell me where she needs to go."

Surprised, not by their presence, but by the offer Mac turns away from the stove. "Are you sure?... Hold on a minute please, Charlie... Don't you have an art gallery to run?"

Trish chuckles wryly. "I do, but it's not like I'm helping to defend the country. I do have employees. A few of them are even trusted. I'm sure they won't burn the place to the ground if I take a few hours off on Wednesdays. Laura and I can go to therapy and then go get pedicures afterward." She says merrily.

Mac smiles at Laura, but she doesn't need to ask if this meets with her approval. The little girl is already nodding vigorously.

"Well, all right then, Wednesdays at four… Charlie, Laura will be accompanied by Trish Burnett. I'll fill her in and on the ins and outs of therapy between now and then but if I forget anything I'm sure you two can handle it."

"And don't forget," Charlie Waters' disembodied voice comes through the phone line once more. "Only a light therapy session this coming Friday. The rep from Freedom Orthotics is coming down to fit Laura for her new brace."

"Yay." Laura cheers.

Caught up in her enthusiasm, Trish whispers excitedly, "Can I come along? It'd be a good chance for me to get my feet wet. I admit, I don't know the first thing about therapy or leg braces."

Mac smiles at her eagerness. "You're in good company. I'm still sorting it all out. I was where you are just a few short weeks ago." Turning her attention to the man on the phone once more she says, "Charlie, I'll bring Trish along on Friday. You can get acquainted then."

As Mac and Laura exchange farewells with Charlie, Trish gently extracts the girl from his embrace and hands her husband the soup bowls and silverware waiting on a nearby countertop. "Here Frank. Make yourself useful." She pats his shoulder with affection and points him in the direction of the dining table.

"Yes Madam." He responds dutifully and winks at Laura when she giggles in response to the remark.

While Mac removes a warm crusty loaf of sour dough bread from the oven, Trish picks up the old fashioned percolator from the stove top. "I haven't seen one of these in years... and whatever's in it smells absolutely divine."

"It belongs to the house's original owner. She left me the house and most of what's in it. That thing's probably as old as I am, or close to it, but it still makes the best cup of coffee I've ever tasted. Have a cup. It's fresh; I put it on less than half an hour ago." Mac points to the cabinet where the coffee cups are kept and then busies herself with the slicing and applying of unsalted butter to the fragrant loaf of bread.

A moment later, with both hands wrapped comfortably around a large ceramic mug Trish samples the steaming brew and sighs audibly before whispering "And the earth moved!" The hushed utterance draws a look of confusion from young Laura and discreet chuckle from Mac.

"That's the bullfrog blend." Mac supplies the name of the rich, full-bodied brew.

Trish's raises a curious eyebrow and takes another sip.

"Years ago I was working an investigation at Cherry Point. One afternoon, courtesy of some bad driving directions I wandered into the Wildflower Luncheonette; starving. The place was only open from 11:00 to 14:00 hours weekdays. It was run by retired nurse in her seventies who simply used her work there as a means to remain active. She provided shelf space for a small batch roaster without a storefront who does business as the Tree Frog Café in exchange for a small percentage of proceeds from the sale of her coffees and candies. I could smell homemade soup and bold coffee from the sidewalk before I even opened the door. That alone was better advertisement than primetime television could ever offer. I think I drank an entire pot of coffee before I left that place. I also bought four pounds of it and hauled it back to DC in my go bag. The proprietor ships coffee all over the U.S. and even a few places abroad. The bullfrog blend is a combination of Central and South American coffees; El Salvador, Peru and Nicaragua; if I remember correctly."

"And, you mentioned candy too; from a coffee roaster?"

Mac nods; pouring spicy beef stew into a tureen. "It's to die for! But I can't order it for most of the year. San Diego's too warm. It would melt before it got here. She's aware of that and only ships candy three are four months out of the year. It's very finely ground espresso mixed with gourmet dark chocolate. The concoction is poured into molds in the shapes of tiny little tree frogs and big round-bellied bullfrogs with self-satisfied grins on their faces. They're called hoppers."

"And I know why! Ground espresso coated in dark chocolate… But isn't that a bit… granular?"

"A little bit; yes, but not so much that it's unpalatable. If you have either a sweet tooth or an appreciation for Marine grade coffee, it's more than acceptable. I've got both and a handful of those babies is enough to keep even me away from the coffee pot." Mac hands the basket of aromatic bread to Trish and picks up the soup tureen on her way to the table. "Let's eat!"

Saturday, September 15, 2007

As Mac pulls away from the dealership enjoying the new car smell and the wide roomy feel of the Sahara by Jeep Wrangler she glances into the rearview mirror happily. "Well, Laura, what do you think?"

The girl in the back smiles at her aunt from her car seat. "It's alright. It smells good; funny but good."

"Funny? Laura haven't you ever smelled a new car before?"

"Aunt Mac I don't even think I've ever been in a new car before. Mimi says Mom's car is older than she is. Older than Mom; not Mimi."

Mac chuckles. "Laura, I was younger than you are now when that old land yacht rolled off the assembly line."

"What's an assembly line?"

"It's a place where they put cars together.

"Why did you call it a land yacht?"

"Because that old Lincoln cruiser is huge… Bigger than some boats."

Laura nods thoughtfully. "I like this car better, but I still think you should've gotten the orange one!"

"Well, you'll just have to settle for cobalt blue. I refuse to drive around in anything that is metallic burnt orange!"

"I like bright colors!"

"Yes I know." Mac chuckles, "But burnt orange has moved beyond bright into bright and nauseating."

"How come you didn't get the red one, like your Corvette?"

"Insurance premiums are actually higher on bright red automobiles."

"What's insurance premiums?"

Not for the first time since meeting Laura Mac shakes her head; mystified at the child's rapid fire question asking capability. "Insurance premiums are boring, grownup stuff that you don't have to worry about for a long time."

Laura thinks about this seriously for a moment and Mac expects she will demand a more informative answer. She is surprised when, after a beat, Laura simply shrugs and accepts the answer she was given "Well, at least you didn't get the boring brown-gold one."

"The color's called champagne; or actually I think Jeep calls it dune. It's a nice color. It looks clean even when it's dirty; at least until you get up close, but it's a little too sedate for me."

"What's sedate?"

"It means understated; boring. Harm's Lexis was close to that color." She says more to herself than to the little girl in the back seat. It occurs to Mac that she doesn't know what he drives now and it strikes her as odd that a wife not know the make and model of her husband's car. After another moment's hesitation Mac shrugs this off. Under the circumstances there might be quite a few commonplace things she doesn't know.

"Na uh! Uncle Harm's car is green!" Laura's voice interrupts her silent musing.

"Laura, baby, that car was a rental. That's not what Harm drives every day."

"Can we go get ice cream?"

"Oh Laura, can we at least wait a few days before we start eating in the new car. Besides, we have ice cream at home."

"We don't have Chunky Monkey…"

Keeping one eye on the road, Mac briefly glances into the rearview mirror and arches an eyebrow. "Where'd you get Chunky Monkey ice cream?"

Laura giggles. "From Mr. Frank's freezer. It's got banana and nuts and chocolate! But Miss Trish doesn't like it! She says it's nasty; a waste of a perfectly good banana. She said Mr. Frank could have it all, but he shared with me. Miss Trish says she's gonna make me some homemade ice cream. She said it tastes way better."

"It does."

"How come we don't make ice cream?"

"Because I don't have an ice cream maker or the time to make ice cream"

"She said she'd let me help make it!" Laura declares excitedly. "When are we going again?"

"To visit with Trish and Frank? As soon as the packages from Chloe arrive."

"When will that be?"

"Any day now." Mac says pulling to a stop at the red light a block from her house.

"Can we go see Liam tomorrow and take him for a ride in the new car?"

Nodding, Mac smiles. "Let me call Beth and make sure it's okay first."

Monday, September 17, 2007

At 15:30 hours Mac checks her PDA one more time, glancing at her to-do list for the afternoon just to make sure she hasn't forgotten anything and then she secures her office for the day. On her way to the elevator bank, she stops at Jennifer Coates' desk. "I've got my cell if anything important comes up."

"Yes Ma'am. Enjoy your afternoon and tell Laura I said hello."

A moment later as the elevator doors slide shut and the car descends to the parking garage, she marvels, not for the first time, at the passing glances, and at her staff's response to her recent marriage.

Of all the people in her office, Jen was the only one who had attended. Well, she was the only one who'd been invited. Mac had expected there to be questions following her announcement the Monday following that whirlwind weekend, especially since the wedding had taken place more quickly than even she had expected it to; much less her staff. No doubt, their curiosity is only deepened by the fact that in the two years preceding Harm's arrival just a month ago, not even one man had casually dropped by the office to see her, or taken her out to lunch.

Most of her staff had offered polite and sometimes perfunctory congratulations, but beyond that they asked no questions; at least not directly of her. She wonders how Jennifer Coates managed to subdue their interest. She knows it was Coates; but she doesn't know how the young woman managed it; and she's grateful because she also knows, that despite their best efforts to keep it quiet, the office grapevine is buzzing with speculation. She believes too that not all of that conjecture is well-intentioned or friendly.

Her problem Petty Officer, Christine Brandon, had already been avoiding unnecessary contact with her since the day Mac made it clear she had no intention of allowing the transfer the woman had requested, but since her return to work following the wedding the woman has also taken to leering suspiciously whenever she thinks she is not being watched; squinting at Mac as if she is trying to solve an annoyingly difficult brain teaser. So far, Mac has ignored this behavior because the petty officer's other, more bothersome, and typically questionable behavior has been somewhat subdued. And Mac has to admit she likes having the woman off balance; wondering what will happen next.

Despite her staff's lack of direct questioning, she has become acutely aware that nearly every time she walks into a room unexpectedly hushed conversation ceases immediately and is closely followed by awkward sidelong glances. She wonders if she should answer unasked questions such as – No, I'm not retiring. Or no, I'm not pregnant. But she supposes time will lay all that bare soon enough, and as much as she values their respect the plain and simple truth of it is, her marriage is none of their business.

As she gets into the new Jeep she decides to give it another week before addressing the issue. On her way to pick up Laura from Liam's house for the first of her three weekly therapy sessions Mac stops at the post office to drop off a priority package to be mailed. The package contains the wedding dress that she long ago stopped wanting and no longer needs; the one Mic bought. She sold it on eBay, and oddly enough, to a woman in Australia. For some reason she can't quite identify, she finds this peculiarly amusing. She makes a mental note to ask Harm, the next time she talks to him, how the people in his life have responded to what might seem to them to be a very sudden marriage. She also wonders if he's had any news yet from his detailer in Millington Tennessee with regard to his transfer. She misses him.

Thursday, September 20, 2007

In spite of the miserable cold he feels invading his chest; and equally aware of his subordinate sitting across the desk from him Harm tries to keep the grin off his face and retain some semblance of command presence as he ends the phone call he's been waiting for.

"I know it's terribly short notice Captain Rabb. I'm sure you want a chance to talk it over with that new bride of yours, but don't take too long." says the voice on the phone. "The next O6 billet to open up may not be as ideally suited for you or in half so convenient a location."

"Sir I've been in the Navy more than half my life, I'm used to short notice." He says trying not to sound too nasal, or too eager. "We'll make it happen. You'll have the necessary paperwork by 17:00 tomorrow. May I ask why the slot has become available so suddenly? I thought that post was filled for at least another two years."

Captain Jenowitz wants to exit ahead of schedule. Something about a dream job offer and there is also scuttlebutt about a terminally ill wife he wants to spend more time with while he still can. He's got a good record; the Navy's inclined to accommodate him."

"I didn't know Mrs. Jenowitz was ill. I should extend my sympathies."

"I wouldn't do that if I were you Captain. He doesn't want anyone to know. I'm not supposed to know. Not a good idea to piss off your predecessor. I'm never met the man, face to face but rumor has it he is rather hardnosed.

Harm nods in response, as if he were face to face with his caller. "He is, but he's fair. Thanks for the warning. You have a good day, sir." Harm hangs up the phone and sits quietly for a moment willing the pressure in his head to subside. It doesn't work.

Guessing the reason for the call, based solely on his superior's end of the conversation, Commander Robert Gantry says, "Its official then, sir? You really are going to leave us?"

"Harm shakes his head. "Technically it's not official yet; not until the paperwork's been signed and properly dealt with, but yes, Commander, I'm leaving. I'm sorry for the interruption though, was there something more you needed?"

"Only to say that you will be sorely missed. It's been a pleasure, sir."

Both men come to their feet; the junior standing at attention while Harm tries not to groan as he pinches the bridge of his nose in response to his looming sinus headache.

"I'm sure I won't be missed by all. If Brightman and Clark give you any trouble before my replacement comes, throw them both in the brig - in the same cell - and let nature take its course."

"You sure that's how you want me to handle it? They'll either kill each other… or become engaged… I'm sure either event will be bloody."

They might surprise you Gantry. A proposal might be just the thing to end the bloodletting between the two of them, or at least call a temporary ceasefire." Harm chuckles.

"Speaking from experience, sir?"

"Time will tell Robert; time will tell. Dismissed."

"Aye Aye, Captain."

Harm watches his soon to be acting FJA and temporary replacement exit his office as he wishes for antihistamine to magically become available inside his top desk drawer and tries, with uncertain success, to calculate exactly what time it is in San Diego. He glances at his watch. Mac would know the answer without even having to think about it. Even in his loathsome condition, the thought of once again shorting out that mystifying internal clock of hers brings a tepid smile to his face.

Mac uses the toe of one seriously discounted Ferragamo heel to gently kick the Burnett's front door in a makeshift knock as both of her hands are unavailable.

Trish opens the door seconds later puzzled by the slightly unusual sound to find her daughter-in-law standing on her front step in the damp night air with Laura nestled on one hip, her small walker clutched in the same hand that supports the girl, and a long narrow cardboard box is tucked under her other arm along with her handbag.

"Good heavens Mac! That's quite a load." She declares, instantly reaching for the smiling child. "Hello darling." She says to Laura who is clutching Paddington bear in one small hand.

"Chloe sent the pictures!" Laura announces brightly. There's bazillions of them and they're all so pretty!"

"There's more; in the car." Mac huffs with a slightly frazzled smile. I'd like to get it all inside before the rain hits." She says, stepping inside and tilting her head to indicate the fat gray clouds visible beyond the front walk.

Without Laura to contend with she easily deposits the long narrow package against one wall of the foyer. "This one was addressed to your gallery; care of me. I have no idea what's in it. I didn't open it." She explains as she places her handbag on the small table to her left and unfolds Laura's walker; setting it down gently.

"Frank stepped out for a minute. I sent him to the store for a gallon of milk. I guess it's up to us… And that must be Chloe's portfolio." Trish grabs a hooded windbreaker from a wall mounted coat rack after setting Laura on her feet. "You stay here darling, so you won't get wet. You can have an apple from the fruit basket if you want it."

The two women step out of the house, Trish pulling the door behind them; making sure to leave it ajar.

"Chloe's portfolio?" Mac asks curiously, taking the front walk back to the driveway and her waiting Jeep

Trish nods." She showed me some of the photos she took with one of her digital cameras after the ceremony. Not all of them were photos of the wedding party. Some of them were truly breathtaking panoramic shots of the desert. Plus, she's got a remarkable eye and an uncanny ability for capturing ordinary things in light that makes them beautiful. She showed me a photograph of the helicopter. To me, helicopters always look like monstrous flying machines; a robotic collection of mechanical parts that might fail to function properly at any moment. But to her it was something else; maybe an almost mythical contraption worthy of awe… And it showed."

Mac smiles as she opens the cargo hold on her Jeep. "There's something almost mythical and awe inspiring about Chloe herself. She's managed to stay plucky, sweet, and unspoiled in spite of the rough start she had. She's always seen things a little differently than most people, or as you say, in a beautiful light. I suppose it's only natural that her vision should be captured and communicated in her photographs."

"I really liked what I saw of them. I prefer paintings mostly but a photo exhibit usually brings the younger crowd into the gallery. And Chloe's naturally talented, not like most of these kids today; snapping half naked self-portraits on cell phones and calling it art, or literally throwing buckets of paint at walls. I told her to send me some of her work. I made no promises but I suspect I'll have more than enough, judging from the size of that box you brought in, to put together a small exhibit of her work. I know her flight from Arizona was supposed to leave Saturday night. She changed her reservation to Sunday and went back out to the mesa to take some pictures after I made the offer."

Touched, Mac surprises Trish with an unexpected quick hug before she hands over one of the two heavy boxes inside her vehicle. "Thank you; for encouraging her. She questions her own abilities. She told me she could barely keep quiet after Harm called her and asked her to take the wedding photos. She couldn't believe it, and she wanted to tell me so badly. She said she was afraid he was joking."

"Judging from the weight of these boxes, she probably blew an entire month's pay on film. I know she had at least three cameras. And I only saw one that was digital. One was an antique Rollieflex It's rare to see people her age walking around with a camera like that, but the quality of picture is different. She says it has soul; and I happen to agree with her. I hope she charges Harm for every cent she spent. Don't be surprised if he balks at the bill."

Mac rolls her eyes. "Believe me Chloe and I have already had a conversation about it. She doesn't want to send him a bill. She said to consider it her wedding present, but I'm not going to allow that. The girl is literally a starving student. She got to college on scholarship and lives off Ramen noodles."

Mac makes a face of disgust. "I've got a cast iron gut Trish, and even I can't eat that garbage!" She picks up the larger box herself and awkwardly closes the cargo hold; the box balanced on one knee as the first fat raindrops begin to fall.

Mac looks at the two Chryslers parked on the covered driveway along with her Jeep. "I guess Frank decided to take the Vette?"

When Trish nods in the affirmative Mac announces quietly in a singsong voice. "He's going to get rained on."

Trish laughs merrily. "I tried to tell him… But why should he listen to me? I'm only his wife." She smiles good-naturedly in spite the remark. "Mac I was absolutely astounded when he said he wanted to buy your car."

As they quick step back along the front walk; returning to the warm dry house. The older woman confesses, "In all the years I've known him he's never driven anything but a Chrysler. I'm starting to wonder if he's having a midlife crisis 25 years too late; the man is nearly 66 years old! He won't drive it to the office though. So, maybe he hasn't gone too far round the bend." She chuckles wryly at her own statement.

Mac shakes her head and shrugs. "You weren't the only one who was shocked; and I wouldn't drive a Corvette to the office either if I were a Chrysler vice president. That would definitely set some tongues wagging."

Back in the foyer, they stack the two boxes on the small table long enough to shed light rain gear and leave it to dry. Chuckling, as a slightly damp Frank Burnett pulls into the drive, Trish leaves the front door ajar for him, and makes her way to the kitchen, box of photos in hand, where she finds Laura, perched on her knees in a chair at the small kitchen table and happily munching on a small tart red golden apple.

The girl has apparently helped herself to Trish's chiming tablet as well, and with boundless enthusiasm that doesn't match her worried face she announces, "Aunt Mac, Uncle Harm says he's been trying to get you all day!"

"That's true. Mac confirms, depositing her own box on the kitchen counter and moving to stand behind Laura so that she too can see the image on screen. "Between his schedule and my schedule, we've been playing phone tag for most of the last 24 hours. Something must be important. It's unlike him to start calling when I know he's in the middle of a workday. He's been trying to get in touch since this morning. "

She smiles at the image of Harm's still sleepy early morning gaze. "Hi Sailor." She almost purrs. "What's up?" she asks before she fully realizes how utterly miserable he looks.

"Nothing much." He yawns and takes a quick sip of coffee; just managing to set the cup down again before he sneezes and then is seized by a dreadful coughing fit. "Just thought you might like to know, I'm coming home. That is, if I can finish packing before this damn cold turns into pneumonia."

Thursday, September 20, 2007

San Diego

"Darling you do look a bit… Green around the gills." Trish informs her son as she wraps an arm around Laura's middle and lifts the little girl out of her chair. "Laura hold on to the tablet with both hands; please don't drop it." Trish instructs, moving the child and her electronic device to the breakfast bar so the conversation with Harm can be more easily shared by everyone in the room.

Laura wordlessly complies, clutching the tablet in her two small fists as if it is of life sustaining importance while she is hauled from one seat to the next; toted about like a ten-pound sack of potatoes. "Uncle Harm!" She whines with compassion. "You're sick!"

"Aww, I'm okay, sweetheart. I just got a bit too much sunshine in San Diego. I think I've developed an allergy to dreary old London." He jokes sounding congested, nasal, and unconvincing to Laura's young ears.

"Na uh… You're sick!" She turns her attention briefly to the adults in the room with her. "He's sick! He needs to go to the doctor. He needs medicine, and chicken soup, and his favorite pillow."

Trish kisses the top of the little girl's head and lectures more for Harm's benefit than hers. "Even if I sent him homemade chicken soup, priority overnight, frozen, and packed in dry ice, he wouldn't eat it!"

Laura grimaces. "Oh yeah! I forgot for a minute. He's a weirdo; no meat! Can we send him vegetable soup?"

Harm sneezes. "Don't bother, sweetheart. I don't care if it is priority overnight and frozen. I'm not eating anything that comes in the mail. I don't feel like eating anyway."

"Uncle Harm! You have to eat; you'll starve! Aunt Mac, he looks pukey! Can't you go take care of him?"

Harm tries to smile as Mac steps into view, holding an open canister of coffee in his mother's kitchen. She raises an eyebrow and eyes him with speculative concern before wrinkling her nose.

"She's right Harm. You do look sort of pukey, but unless you're ready to check yourself into a hospital you're just going to have to suck it up and be a big boy, sailor. I have to stay here and take care of her… Sorry." Mac lifts one corner of her mouth in a halfhearted smile.

Harm shrugs. "I'm not dying, Mac."

The coughing fit that follows his assurance does nothing to convince any of them.

"Harm, really! Go back to bed… And stay there!" Mac declares, stepping out of frame once more.

Harm guesses by what he can hear that she's tending to the coffee pot. "Can't. Still a few last minute things to do. As soon as the daytime cold medicine kicks in, I've got to go in. At least for a bit. Then I promise, I'll come back here and crash."

Trish shakes her head adamantly. "Harm, do you hear yourself. You're easing up on a death rattle, Son! Over the counter cold medicine is not going to work. You need an antibiotic. The sooner the better; before the fluid in your chest starts to solidify. The longer you wait the worst it's going to be."

By the time Trish finishes talking, Harm can see that his mother and his wife are side by side and they are both glowering at him from an ocean away courtesy of cyberspace and Apple. Before he dares to object one last time Laura scowls. "You're sick Uncle Harm! You neeeeeed medicine!"

Frank Burnett steps into frame behind the women, placing one arm around Mac's shoulder and one around his wife's, enveloping all three females in a casual embrace. "Face it my boy; whether you're dying or not, you have been outnumbered and overruled by the women in your life. Time to raise the white flag of surrender and go to the doctor."

"Yeah Uncle Harm!" Laura insists. "You're overruled! Go!" She crosses her arms over her small chest and bobs her chin with attitude.

"It will be easier for you if you just agree with them." Frank adds quietly. Earning himself a sudden pain in the ribs; courtesy of his wife's elbow.

Rolling his eyes, Harm acquiesces. "If I promise to go to the doctor, then can we please talk about something else?"

Mac steps out of frame once more but he hears her softly say, "I'd kinda like to know about your new post." Then louder, "Frank, if I take this down a notch or two, will you join us for a cup?"

Harm watches Frank look away from the screen, no doubt making eye contact with Mac. "It's after 10:00. I don't drink coffee after 6:00 PM. If I do, I'll be up all night."

"It's true." Trish nods. "He will."

"You men!" Mac sasses in quiet amusement as she adds another scoop of dark roast to the pot.

"Hey Jarhead!" Harm objects. "Not everybody drinks diesel 24/7; not everybody's gut is Marine-green!"

His attempt at the verbal jab apparently misses the mark. His wife is suddenly smiling at him again, hugging Laura from behind, and in mock disappointment she whispers, "Sad but true, Squid… sad but true."

"Be nice… Or I'll come home… And sneeze on you!"

Mac shrugs. "Ain't scared of you. Never have been. Never gonna be. So bring it, Flyboy!"

Trish and Frank take in the verbal sparring match; sharing a warm glance with one another now and again as they listen in quiet amusement. Content to let them talk, the older woman busies herself; beginning to sort through the various neatly packaged collections of photos in the smaller of the cardboard boxes.

More comfortable with their noisy affection for one another than she used to be, Laura smiles, rolls her eyes, and reaches for Frank who takes the stool next to her so he can provide her with a ready lap to sit in.

Harm opens his mouth to say sometime but he's pre-empted by another coughing fit and Mac chuckles quietly, triumphantly, as she returns to the Burnett's coffee maker. Seconds later Harm can hear it as it starts to hiss and gurgle.

Undaunted, and teasing, he shrugs. "Okay!" he says; winking for Laura's benefit. "So maybe I just won't come home."

"You don't honestly think I'll fall for that!" Mac calls out from somewhere out of frame. "You have to come home. The Navy says so. You've got new orders."

"The Navy says I have to report for IG duty with Special Warfare Command in San Diego in five days. Navy hasn't said anything specific about the address of my personal residence."

She's back. This time with what looks like a small photo album in one hand and a thick stack of photos in the other; and somehow the smile she gives him is simultaneously bright and icy. Sweetly, yet with deadly calm, she asks softly; "Would you like me to say something about it… Right now?"

Harm waves a hand in defense, but before he can stall her something else distracts her and she switches gears; her dark eyes beginning to sparkle. "Harm… You'll be part of the eyes and ears… The conscience of command."

He nods. "Looks that way." He affirms quietly.

Curious; she studies him briefly before asking, "Aren't you even a little bit excited?"

"Maybe." He gives her a watered down version of his usual smile. "There once was a time I wouldn't have wanted this job for anything."

"Oh please Harm! There may have been a time when the possibility intimidated you, but I don't know anybody who chases truth or integrity with more tenacity than you. In spite of your personal views regarding the consumption of meat, you're like a Rottweiler after a juicy slab of rare steak. " She smiles again and announces proudly. "I may even have to stop calling you Squid."

He laughs. "That'll never happen!"

"Meh, probably not." She wrinkles her nose in thought. "How about if I promise never to call you that when I'm standing in your office...especially if there are people around."

"That could work."

"You got it Flyboy. Now, check the photo sharing app on your tablet. I'm sending you the digital version of some of our wedding photos. Not all of them are digital. You'll have to come home to see the rest. Chloe went above and beyond! There's our album, smaller albums for your mom and Frank and for my mom. There are also small assortments; maybe half a dozen photos each, for everyone who attended. And you won't believe the 11x14 she mailed. We'll need to have it professionally framed and we're going to need a fireplace mantel or some other proper place worthy of its display. It's stunning Harm!"

Stifling another cough, Harm notices that Laura is running out of steam quickly. He knows it's late for her. "Hey Sweetheart, before you fall asleep, tell me how to work this photo app thing one more time…"

Author's note: I must give credit and extend a heartfelt thank you to McRose for all her advice and guidance regarding Harm's new assignment. We've had quite a few conversations about the possibility and the legitimacy of such a post for Harm. Many, many thanks my friend.

Friday, September 21, 2007

San Diego 1800 hours

Angry and frustrated with herself for allowing the discord in her office to go on as long as it has, Mac slams the driver's side door of her Jeep and stomps up the front walk. I should've done something before now! She chastises herself; thinking of Petty Officer Brandon as she thrusts her key in the front door's lock. One more outburst like today's and a woman will find herself busted back down to a former rank!

Having heard the car door close with more force than necessary, one of the women inside the house accurately predicts that the Marine had a less than spectacular day. Hoping to improve things, she crosses the kitchen and reaches into a cabinet.

"Aunt Mac, you're almost late!" Laura declares when the front door opens.

Stepping in, Mac grits her teeth briefly but then forces her mouth into a terse smile as she turns to greet the girl. "I know. I know baby. I'm sorry." Mac rounds the counter that separates the kitchen from the living room and drops a brusque kiss on the crown of the little girl's head as she tosses her keys into the decorative wooden bowl waiting there and simultaneously kicks off her heels. She smiles with gratitude as she takes the steaming coffee cup from Trish's outstretched hand. Her attention still on Laura, she asks, "How did your math test go? Did you have fun this afternoon with Miss Tr…" Mac comes up short as her jaw drops. Stunned, she stares at her unexpected visitor. "Mom! What you doing here?"

Trying not to be stung by the blunt question, Deanne O' Hara squints and forces a smile of her own. "Mrs. Burnett and I were just getting acquainted Sarah. I came by to see my granddaughter… And because I found this… " She points to the short, thickly bound, photo album on the countertop beside her elbow. "In my mailbox this afternoon when I got home from the grocery store… It's lovely. Thank you. If I'd known you were coming by, I would have been home."

"That's okay. I dropped it off quickly on my lunch break."

"You should've called. You know I usually go to that store on Fridays. I could have stayed and made your lunch if I'd known you were coming."

Mac shakes her head; irritated. "That's the second time in less than seven seconds you've said you didn't know I was coming by. I wasn't avoiding you Mom. I dropped by when I did because I was in the area and the album was in my car. It was convenient; that's all. As for lunch, I barely had time to eat the sandwich that I picked up while out when I made it back to my desk. It's been a bear of a day, and I wouldn't have been good company Mom… And anyway, you hate it when I show up in uniform."

"Yes, it makes me uncomfortable, but it's to be expected when you show up at lunchtime on a weekday."

Aware that both Laura and Trish are watching and listening, and that the tension in the room is thickening; Mac decides to stow her frustration, or at least make an attempt.

"I'm sorry." She breathes deeply. "I'm glad you like the album. I've been meaning to call. I was going to ask if I could bring Laura by for a little while to see you this weekend. Things have been busy, work is hectic, Harm is away. He's back in London, but due here next week. He's also sick, on the verge of pneumonia I think, and I haven't had a chance to talk to him today. I've got a lot on my mind."

Her mother nods. "Harm and Laura; you've certainly taken some big obligations onto your plate in the last couple of weeks. Maybe you should take a step back. It's not good to get in over your head."

Mac vaguely recognizes worry in Laura's eyes as she squints at the woman. With whispered hostility she says, "No Mom, I won't be taking a step back. Harm and Laura are infinitely more than just two of the people I have obligations to. They are my family, and I'm not about to abandon them just because things are a little thorny right now. I don't think I'm in over my head, but even if I am, there's still no place on earth I'd rather be." Mac shrugs out of her uniform jacket and tosses it, in frustration, over the back of a kitchen bar stool.

The two women gaze at each other for long, silent, seconds; the younger, with contempt. The older wears an expression of mild alarm that only deepens her daughter's contempt.

"Sarah." She starts slowly; quietly. "That's not what I was suggesting."

"Good." Mac inhales deeply, detecting the aroma of food as she counts to five. "Because, if it was, you'd be leaving now." She concludes as her stomach starts to growl noticeably.

Not trusting herself to speak further, she is quiet for several long seconds before she takes the stool beside Laura's. Leaning close, she hugs the apprehensive little girl and asks again, "So how was that math test?"

Happy to change the subject, Laura answers with quiet hope. "It was okay. I know I got at least two of the problems wrong, but I still think I did alright."

"Do you remember how many problems there were?"

Laura nods. Using one hand to doodle on a piece of drawing paper with an art pencil, she uses the other hand to pick up what Mac assumes is a snack meant for her from a nearby plate on the counter. She answers quickly before removing a toothpick from, and popping the fragrant treat into her mouth. "There were 25; plus two bonus questions. I know I got both of them right. They were easy. They gave me 10 extra points."

Mac smiles at the girl as Trish's face goes white with shock. "Laura, spit that out! Oh darling those weren't meant for you!" She hurries to the refrigerator and quickly pours Laura a glass of milk.

Laura chews, swallows, and gives Trish a very odd look as she places the glass within Laura's reach.

"Mimi says ladies don't spit."

"Well I know darling but…" Trish stops; perplexed. "Did you swallow that?

Laura nods emphatically and gives Trish a puzzled smile. "Course I did; why?

With a confused frown, Trish picks up one of the treats and samples it herself. After a bite, she sips coffee and declares "Laura, these are stuffed jalapeno peppers… They're very hot!"

Laura squints and wrinkles her nose. "Na uh Miss Trish. I watched you. You took most of the seeds out. You only left a little. The seeds are the hot part. I know because Mom always takes the seeds out. I like the hot part. I eat jalapenos on my pizza!"

Trish stares at the girl incredulously as Mac's dark eyes go wide with delight and she picks up a large pepper and happily pops the whole thing into her own mouth.

Harm's mother shakes her head. "It's going to take me awhile to get use to this." She admits in quiet astonishment as Mac moans with utter bliss.

Deanne O' Hara laughs. "Both these girls got their stomachs from Joe Mackenzie. That man would eat anything that didn't eat him first!"

Picking up a second pepper and wandering over to the stove to see what else there is to eat Mac shrugs; indifferent to the comment. "Mom, that's the one thing I have never minded inheriting from Joe. She pops the pepper into her mouth and revisits her satisfaction in the earthy natural flavor of the pepper - minus most of its bite - tangy barbecue sauce, smoky bacon and warm cream cheese. She smiles at Trish and nods in Laura's direction. "She's right though, they'd be a tiny bit better if you'd left a few more of the seeds in. Still, I have to ask, can you stay?"

Curious, Trish asks for clarification, "For dinner?"

Mac shakes her head. "Forever! … I've had a bad day at the office. I come home. The kid is taken care of. The house is clean and smells like food. Then, you hand me a hot cup of coffee along with something mildly spicy and slathered in barbecue sauce. You're absolute perfection Trish! I'd talk Harm into tripling the size of this house if you and Frank wanted to move in."

Laughing merrily, Trish answers. "You might want to talk to Harm about that first. I don't think your husband would be half as happy with the idea of Mom moving in as you… And you might not want to spring in on him this weekend either… I have a feeling he's going to be… shall we say… in a mood?"

Mac looks at the smiling faces of the females around her kitchen and then raises a curious eyebrow. "Why is he going to be in a mood? Have you talked to him today? Is something wrong? He's not feeling worse; is he?"

"Yes, I talked to him today at lunchtime. Yes, he's worse; and I don't care if he did go to the doctor or if he does think I hover. I called Frank and talked it over with him. The boy is sick, and I'm worried. I'm going to London! He's supposed to be here in four days' time, and I know my son. He's barely begun to pack; if at all. And he's in no condition to do it himself, but he'll try and make himself even sicker. You can't go, so I'm going. I'll get him well and I'll bring him home… Whether he likes it or not."

Feeling content for the first time all day, Mac smiles slyly. "Does he know you're coming?"

"And where would be the fun in telling him that?" Trish asks with a wicked smile of her own.

Part 58: An Overdue Chat

Friday, September 21, 2007

San Diego 19:43 hours

Dinner is done. The dishwasher is loaded. Mac stands at the sink washing one of her good serving bowls, too nice and too big to put in the dishwasher. Laura is half asleep and watching TV, stretched out on the living room floor absent-mindedly petting her dog as they watch a show about elephants on the Animal Planet channel.

"Is she a really going to fly to London just because he's sick?"

When asked the unexpected question, Mac turns away from the sink to briefly make eye contact with her mother. The woman is standing nearby; broom in hand and dust pan at the ready.

Making an effort to keep the conversation light, Mac smiles softly and offers a gentle shrug. "Yes, she really is." She answers the question happily, but doesn't offer more.

"Is there some reason for concern? Is he seriously… Or frequently ill?" The lilt in Deanne O'Hara's voice indicates that she suspects differently. "Or is she just making good use of an excuse to fly off to London?"

The laughter that bubbles out of Mac is harsh, but she can't help it. "First, no, he's not frequently ill. Yes, at the moment, he is seriously ill. His mother knows him well enough to recognize that fact even over a video chat from more than 5000 miles away. Furthermore…" Mac etches her next quiet words with acid, "No, she's not some bored, pampered housewife Mom… and she's not off on some spur of the moment extravagant British holiday. She's worried about her son."

Confused, her mother asks quietly. "Why are you angry about that?"

Mac hesitates briefly with the drying of the dish as she bites the inside of her lower lip; choosing her words with extreme care. "I'm not angry about that. I'm angry with you for not understanding that."

Her mother arches an eyebrow. "I've met him. He's what? Thirty-something; maybe early forties. He's fit, capable, and 6 foot 12." She exaggerates. "He's a grown man. He can't handle a cold? "

Mac's frustration deepens as she moves across the room, returning the serving dish to its appointed cabinet with exaggerated effort to remain calm. She closes the cabinet door softly and then steps close to her mother so she can keep her voice low.

"First, he's 43, but I suppose it's as much my fault as yours that you don't know that. Second, to you he's a grown man; capable of accomplishing anything."

"And to me as well." Mac pauses fleetingly to smile in response to her own private thoughts. "Well, most of the time."

"Rationally, Trish can see this too… At least with her eyes anyway. But, there is, and there always will be, a part of her that looks at him and sees the bright eyed five-year-old boy with a crooked smile that he used to be. She can still see him that way; watching out the window, waiting for his dad to come home. And she will do anything… anything… to protect him."

Mac pauses in frustration; lending weight to her words

"That means that right about now, she's boarding a plane. She will leave San Diego tonight. She will subject herself to an exhausting ten-hour flight, after which she will plaster a smile on her face, breeze in, take care of him, nurse him, put up with his grumpy attitude because he doesn't want her fussing over him. She will probably do 80% of the packing necessary to get him home. She will need three full days to do all of this, but she'll manage it in barely two. Then there will be another ten-hour flight. She will do it all, and more, with a minimal amount of complaint; if any at all. She will have him home late Monday afternoon so that he can rest and get up and go to work Tuesday morning without a raging case of pneumonia. He'll be fine… and she'll go home and collapse. Why? Because she's his mom!"

Mac watches her mother busy herself; paying much more attention than necessary to the sweeping of the kitchen floor. After a long uncomfortable moment, the woman says in a hushed voice, "It just seems like a bit of overkill to me; that's all… And so expensive."

"He's worth it." Mac whispers bitterly. "And I'm glad he has a mom who knows it."

"Sarah, I didn't say he wasn't worth it."

"You may as well have." Mac slumps down dejectedly on one of the kitchen bar stools. "I'm worried about him. I'd give almost anything to be on that plane tonight. He's sick. He doesn't feel good and he's over 5000 miles away… And you need me to explain this to you!" Mac shakes her head and the exhalation that follows is a ragged one.

After a stunned silence, her mother breathes quietly. "You really do love him." She returns the broom and dust pan to its narrow space beside the refrigerator and takes the stool beside her daughter.

Mac looks at the woman uncertain whether, or not she should feel the anger rising in her chest. "Of course I love him Mom. What?" Sarcasm drips from her hushed voice. "You think we decided to get married on a whim? Oh gee, this sounds like fun. Let's do this!"

Sounding tired, Deanne answers "Sarah, I have no idea why you do half the things you do. I'd never heard of the man until a month ago. This all seems rather… Out of the blue… to me. You never even mentioned dating."

Mac pivots her head side to side; trying to relieve tension in her neck. She closes her eyes and breathes deeply before letting some of the anger drain out of her.

"Okay Mom." She whispers. "Part of me wants to be really mad at you right now. His picture has sat over there on that end table beside the couch every day since I moved into this house." She points as she talks. "How many times have you been in this house in the last year and 1/2? And you never asked; not once." She tilts her head to one side. "On the other hand…" She almost giggles; albeit in a self-deprecating way. "Up until a month ago, we hadn't talked to each other for two years. In the eleven years we've known each other, we've been out on two dates. The first was a double date with our respective boyfriend and girlfriend. It was a disaster." She wrinkles her nose and tries a tired smile. "Our second date was an hour before our wedding."

Mac tries not to smirk at the shocked look on her mother's face. "I promise, it's not a scandalous as it sounds. Harm and I have an… unusual… relationship. We spent the first nine years as very close, if occasionally combative, friends who tried to outdo each other professionally. Then Mattie, his nearly adopted daughter, died and we had a stupid fight. Neither one of us should've held it against the other, but we did, so we spent a miserable two years not talking. The weekend proceeding Laura's custody hearing, all I wanted to do was get on a plane and go to London. I didn't know that he was already on his way here… to me. I should have. I might have; if I'd pay closer attention."

"How?" her mother asks; curiosity wrinkling her brow.

"Every time I thought about him that weekend it felt like the gap was closing. If I hadn't been distracted by the situation with Casey, I might've realized it was more than just a feeling."

Deanne waves dismissively, "There's no way you could have known."

Mac thinks about it for ½ second and then decides she doesn't have the strength, or even a 10th of desire needed, to have a conversation with her mother about what Jennifer Coates has dubbed her 'Flyboy Lo-Jac.'

Instead, she reaches out for the photo album still lying on the countertop. "Mom." She smiles genuinely as she opens the cover. "You missed one hell of a show!"

Part 59: Woman on Deck!

Author's Note: Now why do I hear Beethoven's Fifth in my mind. No, wait a minute, that's my mother. Aw yes, maybe… The 1812 Overture…

Saturday, September 22, 2007

London 1621 HRS

Harm closes the flaps on a cardboard box labeled "bathroom." Holding the flaps in place; he smoothes packing tape from a roll over the closure while coughing badly. In the process he manages to knick his thumb on the small blade meant to slice the tape.

"Aww damn!" He mutters. He drops the tape dispenser on top of the box and stands staring at his wounded thumb for two seconds until the trickle of blood becomes more than a trickle. He moves for the sink and stubs his bare toe on the foot activated pedal that opens the hinged lid of the nearby polished metal trash can. Turning on the hot water with his uninjured hand and balancing precariously on one foot, he rinses the blood away and allows the gradually warming water to irrigate the wound. While he waits, he stares at his own wretched reflection in the mirror. His skin is pale and clammy. The end of his nose is red and raw from excessive tissue use, while the pupils of his eyes are dilated unusually in the brightly lit bathroom. He squints. No wonder his head hurts. He reasons that it's most likely a side effect of over the counter cold medicine he took before going yesterday to the doctor in want of stronger medication. He wonders when the new stuff is going to kick in. He doesn't want to take any more of the store bought stuff. It makes him jumpy and he feels as if his conscious and his body are somehow partially disconnected, which gives him the odd sensation of floating through life, though not in any way that could be described as good. Focusing on any one task, even simple ones, requires serious mental effort.

"That's probably why you cut your thumb, Genius." He says to his own bare-chested reflection. "Face it. Time to give up and call the movers." He doesn't want a bunch of strangers packing his things. In his already anxious state, the thought makes him itch but after another deadly sneeze, so fierce that it makes his face hurt, he surrenders. He shuts off the water and pilfers a bandage from the medicine cabinet.

Still hobbling slightly from the diminishing pain in his big toe, he tromps back to the bedroom walking on his heel while trying clumsily to bandage his thumb. He catches sight of his rumpled unmade bed and decides to indulge in a twenty-minute nap before calling the movers. Sleep will help. He tells himself pushing aside the wrinkled sheets and blankets and collapsing. No sooner than he is on his back, the sinus pressure in his face shifts and rolls backwards into his head and becomes far more noticeable. Disgusted, he props himself up on pillows, looking for the least uncomfortable angle. After a few minutes of moving, twisting this way and that, he pulls the sheet and light blanket up to his waist only to kick them off again seconds later. His jogging pants are more than warm enough. As comfortable as he knows he's going to get, he closes his eyes.

Restless and tempted to open them again seconds later, he refuses. Just sleep. He thinks. Just breathe and sleep. He can hear a bird twittering outside the bedroom window. He can hear the neighbor in the next flat puttering around in her own bathroom since their respective bedroom and bathroom are back to back and the walls are thin. She's not loud. She's just there. Shouldn't she be at work? One more reason he can't wait to be back in San Diego.

Daphne. Daphne? Oh what is her last name? He can never remember. The truth is he doesn't really care to remember. She's a true redhead with the accompanying milky complexion. Her personality is vibrant and assertive, and he supposes she's pretty enough. Actually she's stunning; he admits. But aside from her charming British accent, he finds her unwanted attention annoying and about as sexually appealing as sandpaper. She lived here in the building before he moved it, and she has pursued him with all the cunning of a leopard pursuing its dinner since he first arrived in London two years ago.

She thinks she's sweet. Harm calls it saccharine… because it's blatantly artificial. As he thinks about it he realizes that she reminds him of a high class version of Mac's sister. Looks aside, she is an elitist; spoiled and pampered where Cassandra is low-rent and without grace, but she's nonetheless self-obsessed and overindulgent.

He wonders where she's been for the last three weeks. He hasn't heard her moving about next door and she hasn't come knocking to borrow anything; not butter, coffee, a hammer, an umbrella, or a casserole dish so that she can return it, most likely unused, two days later.

He wonders what she'd think of Mac, or better still what Mac would think of her and he can't help but chuckle at the image of one unimpressed Marine as she saunters into his consciousness wearing woodland pattern BDU's and boots; hands on her hips, eyebrow raised peevishly.

God he misses her. He can't wait to get home. If only he could just sleep for a lousy twenty minutes. He'd get up and be back at it again. Just twenty minutes. In his mind, he reaches for his wife's hand.

He doesn't realize that he has fallen asleep until he is rudely awakened by an insistent knock at the door. Rolling onto his side, he covers his head with his pillow. When even that won't shut out the sound of an unwanted visitor demanding to be acknowledged, he says, "Go away!" more for his own benefit than for whoever is at the door.

He hadn't really meant to be heard, but thoroughly chagrined; he cringes and then bolts upright, startled, when a highly displeased and familiar female voice calls out, "No, I most certainly will not go away! Harmon Rabb Jr. you open this door immediately...if not sooner!"

Out of bed before the word 'Junior' leaves his mother's mouth, Harm grabs a white tee shirt from the top of the dresser and begins to work his arms through what he thinks are the appropriate openings as he sprints clumsily toward the front door. On his way, he manages to kick a box he left waiting in the hallway and reignite the earlier injury to his toe.

Trying not to yelp or curse in pain, he disengages the lock a mere four seconds after the demand is issued and opens the door hoping he looks sufficiently contrite as he tries unsuccessfully to slip the shirt over his head.

As he steps back to let her in she manages to look angry, worried, and amused all at the same time. With a raised eyebrow she pats one of his partially exposed shoulders and informs him drolly, "Son that'll go a lot easier if you stop trying to put your head through the place where your arm belongs."

He ceases his efforts, squints at the shirt momentarily as if it's an unfamiliar object, removes it and starts again. Pulling the shirt into place over his abdomen; it suddenly strikes him as odd to see this woman standing in his small living room with nothing more than one of her pricey handbags and a small suitcase on wheels.

"Sorry Mom. I was asleep… At least, I think I was. What are you doing here?" he asks trying not to cough. He watches her raised eyebrow arc a fraction of an inch higher.

"Do you really need to ask? Harm you look positively dreadful."

He nods. "I feel dreadful. You shouldn't be here. I'm contagious."

She shrugs. "It's not the first time you've been contagious. It won't be the last. Harm I've been banging on the door for nearly a full minute. I thought you were unconscious in here. The pretty redhead next door told me she heard, and I quote, that you were on a 'bloody American' holiday. How is it that she doesn't know you've been back here for three weeks?"

Harm groans. "So, you've met Daphne. She wasn't here when I got back. Don't talk to her."

"Why shouldn't I talk to her? Aside from her general discontent for America, she seems to think you're okay." Trish smiles at him as if she knows something.

The smile elicits another groan from her son. "Mom, please don't encourage her. She's over here far too often and she doesn't understand the meaning of the word no. The woman has serious boundary issues."

Trish nods, her eyes beginning to sparkle. "Just out of curiosity, has she heard the word no… From you I mean."

Harm offers his customary grin and shakes his head in response to his mother's imagination; not her question. "I don't suppose there's any chance I could talk you into going home?"

"You know better than that." She answers merrily but sounding slightly bored at the same time. She crosses the small living room as Harm sinks into his chair, powerless to stop her and grudgingly resigned to the fact. He watches her peer down the hallway.

"Two bedrooms?" she asks quickly counting doors and turning her curious gaze back to him.

He nods. "But the guest bedroom was never properly decorated, so it was the first room to be packed up. There's nothing in there but a bed. There aren't even sheets on it."

Undaunted, she nods; satisfied. "That'll do. You go take a shower, as hot as you can stand it; and stay in there until you open up a bit. You sound horrible. While you're in there, I'm going to change the sheets on your bed and fix you something to eat. I know how you feel about movers, but like it or not, they're on the way."

Pausing to look around, she announces, almost happily. "This won't take as long as I thought."

When her gaze returns to him, the eyebrow raises again. "Harm, why are you still sitting there? Go… Shower… Now. I'm here darling, I've got this."

Leaving his chair, he rises to his full height and leaves the room still a bit irritated, but secretly glad to see her. "Mom, only you could fly ten straight hours and arrive ready to lead a chorus of "I am woman."

As he returns to the hallway he narrowly ducks the handbag his mother hurls at his head.

Part 60: The Next Iron Kid

Author's Note: A second chapter courtesy of a misbehaving service dog and her human partner who is now too keyed up to go back to bed. Miss Candy says "Chasing rabbits in the dark is hard work; but what fun!"

Me, well I'm just glad it was only a rabbit and that she didn't find a snake or raccoon. Good grief! Nothing quite like a two mile run at 2:00 AM.

Also, with regard to this chapter; choosing, arranging a fitting for, molding, and acquiring a leg brace like Laura's can take as little as a month or as long as six months depending on where you live, what sort of health insurance you have, who your doctor is, who your therapist is, and a variety of other very boring things most of my readers probably don't even want to know about. It's important to know that, for the purposes of this story, the process has been slightly accelerated. Due in no small part to both Laura's less than satisfactory condition, and to the fact that Mac chose to pay cash, which means a whole lot less paperwork and red tape, rather than wait for Laura's tedious health insurance acquisition to be completely resolved. I share this bit of the intel so as not to give the wrong impression. In real life, it does not happen this fast!

Saturday, September 22, 2007

San Diego 08:21 HRS

As the automatic doors slide open and they enter the Professional Office Building behind the hospital Mac notices that Laura is unusually quiet.

"Laura, is everything okay?" She asks, making sure to shorten her stride so the girl can keep up.

"Don't know. Why are we here on a Saturday? Charlie doesn't even work on Saturdays. My leg's not worse. It feels better. It doesn't cramp as much and I don't get tired so much anymore. Well, not like I use to. I don't need more therapy? Do I? Aunt Mac, am I in trouble?"

"Hey, whoa kid." Mac helps herself to an uncomfortable vinyl seat positioned outside a doctor's office that's intended for a waiting patient. "Come here." Mac reaches out and gently tugs Laura up into the seat next to her. "Laura, you've got to stop thinking you're in trouble every time something unexpected happens. You're gonna give yourself an ulcer before you're ten years old."

"What's an ulcer?"

"It's a really bad tummy problem… And it will seriously hinder your ability to eat the foods you like."

Her eyes go wide and she shakes her head. "That sounds no good! I don't want an ulcer."

"Then relax kid! Everything is okay. We're here because Charlie called late last night. He says he has a surprise for you."

Laura thinks this over for a long moment; the effort furrowing her brow and causing her to scowl. "When's my new brace supposed to be here?"

"It's not supposed to be here for another two weeks at least." Mac has to bite her bottom lip to keep from smiling.

"Then why are we here?" Laura repeats.

Mac stands up and steadies the child's walker for her. "Come on. Let's go find out."

Mac places a comforting hand between the girl's shoulder blades. As they complete their walk down the corridor to the physical therapy and rehab center. At the end of the wide corridor she opens the door on the left and ushers Laura inside. The large carpeted room smells this morning as it always smells; faintly reminiscent of antiseptic, perspiration, rubber therapy mats, bubble gum, and play dough.

They don't have to sit and wait. Before the door closes behind them, Charlie Waters pokes his head through the open door of his tiny office and smiles warmly from the swivel chair at his computer desk. "Well hello there; Brown Eyes." He calls in greeting; pushing backwards with his feet and then using them to pivot around and pull himself forward out into the therapy area. He opens his arms to her and she goes willingly enough, but still with mild apprehension.

She climbs onto the big Jamaican's lap with only one of his hands ready to steady her should she need it. As always, he watches her movements carefully.

His wide easy smile greets Mac. His teeth pearly white and fit for a toothpaste commercial; a stark contrast to his dark café au lait colored skin. "She's getting stronger."

Mac nods in appreciation for the pleasure he takes in her niece's improvement. "It's been a balancing act. She moves more with the brace, which helps keep her strength up, but as you already know it doesn't fit. The struggle between letting her wear it and forcing her to take it off has been… unpleasant." Mac chooses the last word carefully; mindful of Laura's ever-listening ears.

Charlie nods and hugs the girl in his lap affectionately. "Somebody just wants to go faster than her little body will let her."

"Faster and longer." Mac concurs.

"Hey guys." Laura smiles and rolls her eyes. "I'm sittin' right here! Is somebody gonna tell me why we're here or not?"

Keeping an arm around her, Charlie spins around in the chair and zooms across the room backwards until he reaches a raised therapy mat. A white box emblazoned with the Freedom Orthotics logo on it waits at one end of the mat. It's about as long as a box of a dozen long stemmed roses but slightly wider and deeper. He gently plops her down on top of the mat and places the box across her lap.

Already aware what's coming, Mac quietly extracts her iPad from her shoulder bag, removes it from its safety case, and begins filming with the onboard video camera. She slowly moves nearer as Laura flashes a tentative smile.

Laura scoots nearer the edge of the mat and stands the box on its end before choosing to pick it up again and set it on the opposite end when she spies an arrow pointing and words that read, 'This and up.' She studies the box for a moment; making sure she's got it right and then carefully pries open the top. She peeks inside and immediately wrinkles her nose. Getting up on her knees on the mat for a slightly better height advantage, she reaches in and begins pulling out of various amounts of packing material; Styrofoam, pieces of cardboard, and packing peanuts. She tosses it all about; unconcerned with where it lands. When she can finally see what's inside the box she squeals with unadulterated joy.

"It's my brace! And I think they got the color right too!" She giggles happily and nearly topples off the edge of the mat when she throws herself at Charlie for a hug.

He catches her easily, but says anyway "Easy now girl! That new brace won't do you no good t'all if you topple over and crack your melon open before you even put it on."

"Charlie!" She giggles. "My head's not a melon."

He shrugs. "Guess not. You knew what I meant."

She returns to her box and at first she tugs gently. When the brace inside doesn't budge, she tugs a bit harder and Charlie helps out by holding the box steady.

"Hey!" she says when the brace is free. "It's not really heavy. It was just stuck." She lays it down on the mat and begins to unwrap the protective bubble wrap around it. Charlie offers a helping hand and underneath the bubble wrap they find yet another layer of protective plastic coating that sticks to the brace itself in various areas the same way that a thin layer of plastic film protects and sticks to the screens of modern electronic devices. "What's all this for?" she asks; peeling it off.

"To protect the decorative design you chose and to keep it from getting scratched before you even wear it." Charlie answers while picking up some of the debris the girl is scattering about and stuffing it back in the box.

When the brace is finally free of all of its protective packing it's revealed to be made mostly of a durable plastic, with fewer moving parts than the old brace and far less metal. In fact, the only metal visible are the screws that hold the brace together at the hinged the knee joint. The brace is constructed of frosted white plastic. The decorative design mentioned is an abstract assortment of bubbles in varying sizes and shades of vibrant pink; ranging from a quiet cotton candy to a much louder fuchsia.

" You wanna see if it fits?" Charlie asks needlessly.

Nodding with enthusiasm; Laura lays the brace out flat on the mat beside her and scoots back sitting flat on her bottom and extending both legs out in front of her. She begins releasing the latches and buckles on the old brace; eagerly removing it for the last time.

Mac continues to film aware that she too is grinning ridiculously. Charlie removes Laura's pink and purple high top sneaker and inserts his thumbs carefully into the plastic of the brace's foot near the ankle and gently spreads the plastic enclosure apart so she can lift her foot free. He chuckles comically at the white and pink horizontally striped wool stocking now visible beneath her pink denim jumper; a knee length skirt with a bib top that fastens over her shoulders like a pair of overalls.

"What ya laughin' bout Charlie?"

"Girl, you look like Pippi Longstocking!"

Laura shrugs and wiggles her toes. "Don't know who that is Charlie, but you told Aunt Mac I would need lots of long socks so my leg would be comfortable. I like these. Miss Trish bought them for me. She wanted to come with us when I got my new brace, but she went to London to take care of Uncle Harm 'cause he's sick. He looks pukey!" She declares with gusto.

"I'm sorry to hear that. Will he be better soon?"

Mac nods while holding the camera angle steady." She's probably arriving at his place in London right about now, but if his mother has anything to say about it, Harm will be squared away and shipshape in no time at all. He's supposed to be here early next week."

"Well, I'm sure he's eager. Let's see if we can get you up and walking so you'll be ready to meet him at the airport."

Laura nods emphatically once more before pushing the heavy, clunky, old brace completely off the mat and onto the floor with her foot. "Get that thing away from me!" Then, practically vibrating with excitement, she straightens her leg again and forces herself to hold very still while she closely watches as Charlie puts the new brace on slowly and carefully. He moves with deliberation for two reasons. First, to make sure there isn't a problem with the fitting and second, so that Laura can watch and become familiar with how the new brace goes on. When the brace is properly in place and secure, he glances at her excited face. "How does that feel?"

"Good! Let me up!" She scoots for the edge of the mat.

"Hey! Slow down girl! Where's the fire? Does it hurt anywhere?" Charlie uses both hands to gently anchor her to the mat.

"No!"

While Charlie puts her shoe back on and makes sure the laces are tied properly, he asks, "Does it feel too tight; does it pinch anywhere? It's important we don't cut off circulation."

"No! Let me up Charlie!" Laura pleads.

Mac steps closer both to assist Charlie and to get a better look herself. "Laura, I know you're excited, but this is really important, baby. You need to listen to Charlie. He's trying to take care of you."

"I'm fine! It feels good. I wanna stand up!" Laura nods emphatically.

Charlie and Mac exchange a look and nod in agreement and Laura scoots a bit closer to the edge of the mat.

"Okay Fearless, you can stand up but that's all. You're not going anywhere…yet." He eases her feet to the floor making sure her weight will be evenly displaced. "Put your hands on my shoulders and stand up slowly. No walking."

Laura does as she's told, but it's not possible to miss her impatience. She stands still before him and lets him touch the brace; letting him run his hands over it yet again to make sure the fit is right.

Next, he makes several minor adjustments while saying things like, "Relax, bend your knee, straighten it, shift your weight."

When the last request draws a strange look from Laura he places his big hands on her slender hips and physically guides her into the position he wants. Then, he places one hand a fraction of an inch away from her shoulder and uses the other hand against the opposite shoulder to gently try and nudge her off balance. When she leans too far in the direction pushed, he catches her and makes another adjustment, then repeats the process several more times nudging her this way and that until he is satisfied the brace will meet her needs.

Comfortable with Charlie, and his methods, Laura giggles and allows herself to be gently knocked about with no fear. She knows he will catch her.

"Okay Brown Eyes, see if you can lock the knee; just like we've been practicing in therapy."

Pursing her lips, Laura focuses and tries hard to achieve the slight hyper extension of her knee necessary to pop the brace's locking mechanism into place. With only just the slightest bit of pressure against her knee from Charlie, she feels a funny little pop as the toggling lock slips into place and then she can't bend her knee. "Hey, it worked!" She bounces slightly in place.

"Yeah yeah, Fancy Feet. Now, undo it."

Laura wrinkles her nose and focuses her thoughts on her knee again; willing it to work the way she wants. Another slight hyper extension, this time without help from Charlie, and the lock releases; allowing her small knee to bend freely. She bounces again and this time without the added support of the locked knee, she nearly topples, but catches herself and objects to Charlie's ready hands. "I got it! I got it! Charlie let me move. Who cares if I fall, it's not like that's never happened before."

Charlie glances at Mac curiously and she nods eagerly. "Baby steps, kiddo. Baby steps. You don't have to run any marathons today." Mac cautions.

Charlie pushes his chair back a fraction of an inch and waits for her to step forward. She does and totters slightly as she makes a face. The new brace feels different but she tries again. The two of them move slowly across the room a fraction of an inch at a time.

Mac follows closely behind one hand busy with the camera, and although Laura doesn't know it, the other hand is ready to catch her should she need it.

Several times, Laura's step falters but she doesn't fall. More often than not she is able to catch herself without any assistance from Charlie or Mac.

When Mac is comfortable that Laura won't likely fall backwards, she stops following quite as closely and watches the two of them from a greater distance while she continues to film their progress.

After a few minutes Charlie asks, "Okay Speed Racer, can you turn around?"

Laura tries and before she hits the floor she feels Charlie's strong hand clutching tightly to the back of her overall straps. For a second she hangs limply, like a marionette, until she can right herself.

Charlie grins at Mac. "Hey, these things are pretty handy."

Mac laughs. "Tell me about it. She has several pair of overalls and another jumper similar to that one. I've caught her the same way more than once myself."

He addresses his next comments to Laura as much as to Mac. "Okay so, next week in therapy we need to work on turning around without the unfriendly ending of backside against floor. Laura, I can tell you feel pretty comfortable, but just because you do is no excuse to abandon your walker. Keep it with you… And don't attempt any pirouettes for the next few days. You can wear the brace to school next week, but no recess. You take it easy. Colonel, when she's home, for every hour she wears the brace she has to take it off for an hour, at least to start with. We'll adjust the timeframe as we need to. You got that Laura? An hour on and an hour off; until I say otherwise."

Laura nods as he scoops her up and plops her back in his lap to jet across the floor once more in his speedy swivel chair.

He tells Mac, " Don't be surprised if she's frequently tired, or if at some point over the coming week she complains about a sore spot. It will take time for her to adjust to the new brace, and it may need to be adjusted again multiple times as she becomes more comfortable and learns to rely on it more heavily. If adjustments are needed, I suggest you bring it in and let me do it. You can watch, but I don't recommend you attempt to do it yourself until you're more familiar with the brace. Warm baths, massage, and baby aspirin for muscle fatigue; and don't hesitate to call if Twinkle Toes has any problems." He positions Laura's walker for her and sets her on her feet once more and turns her to face him before addressing her again. "And you… You remember what I said; take it easy this week and maybe next week too. The Iron Kid's marathon can wait!"

Laura giggles. "Okay Charlie; okay!"

"Is that everything?" Mac questions; shutting off the video and returning her tablet first, to its case and then, to her shoulder bag.

"That's everything!" He claps his hands against his thighs and stands up. Mostly for Laura's benefit, he says. "Get out of here! Go home! It's Saturday. I'm going home to play with my kids."

On their way out the door, Laura stops, has a second thought and turns back. She hugs Charlie one last time and then returns to the spot beside the mat where her old brace landed when she kicked it. She picks it up and dumps it haphazardly in the basket on the front of her walker. More of the brace protrudes from the basket than fits in it, but somehow she manages to walk it across the room. She stops beside a metal trash can and, with a loud clanging noise, drops the thing in; bobbing her chin once in satisfaction.

Part 61: Evil Women

Sunday, September 23, 2007

Sleep erodes grudgingly as consciousness seeps in like low tide. It takes Harm several minutes before he's even willing to open his eyes. He feels groggy; like a twelve-cylinder engine in poor repair, with gummed up intake valves. His mind slow to start and sluggish when it does. When he finally does open his eyes, he momentarily finds himself in a state of disorientation.

Without making eye contact, or even looking up from the pages of the novel she's reading, his mother says in a hushed and gentle voice. "It's about time you rejoined us here in the land of the living."

He sits up a little straighter, pivoting his head side to side, trying to relieve the kink in his neck. "Mom… Where are we?"

It isn't until he speaks that he realizes he's feeling better; not great, but better.

Still reading, she answers calmly. "Thirty thousand feet over the Atlantic."

Slowly, he takes in his surroundings, getting his bearings back. He turns to his left and finds himself above the clouds and staring out at the night sky. He slides the plane's window shut with a soft but decisive snap that doesn't go unnoticed by Trish, and though it worries her, she says nothing about it.

He looks around the cabin at his fellow passengers. They are engaged in various quiet activities; most of them sleeping with airline issued blankets and pillows; a few of them with sleeping masks or hats and caps pulled over their faces. Some, like his mother, are reading; books, magazines, or the screens of their personal electronic devices. Two older women across the aisle and a couple of rows back appear to be knitting it in the dimly lit cabin.

He thinks about it for a minute and distantly recalls getting on the plane. He thinks about it for a moment longer and remembers his mother's arrival late yesterday afternoon.

After he had showered, he found she'd done exactly as she said she would. Not that it was any surprise, but she had in fact changed the sheets on his bed, fixed him something to eat and she, a woman on mission, had already begun packing by the time he returned to the small living room of his London flat dressed in a fresh pair of jogging pants, and yet another white tee shirt. He hadn't worn the first for more than five minutes but when he had stepped out of the shower and returned, wearing nothing more than his bath towel, to his bedroom to dress he found the clothes he had taken off prior to getting in the shower were missing. That was when he noticed the sound of the washing machine running.

Completely uninterested in his food, he sat down to eat. It was easier than arguing with her; an argument he knew he wouldn't win anyway. While he was eating, vegetable soup and dry toast with hot tea that wasn't quite sweet enough for his liking, she stopped packing long enough to remove an assortment of medications from the high end leather handbag that was no longer lying on the hallway floor. She had dropped them into his hand.

"Mom I went to the doctor. I already have an antibiotic." He said coughing against the back of the hand that was holding his spoon.

She had nodded. "I found it Harm, that's the same antibiotic you got the last two times you were sick. It's not strong enough for you. It doesn't do the job completely, and then you have to go back for a second round of something more potent. Here, you'll take these."

He had scarcely looked at the pills she handed him before downing them with a sip of the strong hot brew resting on the table in a mug near his elbow.

When he had finished eating a short while later, he had tried to help out with the packing a bit. It had taken her less than two minutes to gently but firmly shove him toward his bedroom door.

"Go sleep… And stop worrying. I've got this." She said sounding sweet and firmly maternal all at the same time.

He hadn't thought that he would sleep, but less than ten minutes after he laid down his body felt heavy and his connection to consciousness light. Resistance was futile. He can now remember smirking at that thought. Apparently, she even had the power to make him sleep. He had woken only sporadically. When he did, it was usually because she was bringing him food, water, or more medication.

He can unclearly recall waking once because of noise. He'd walked into the living room to find his cracker box sized apartment full of strangers in coveralls. They were packing his life away. His mother was supervising, and she stopped only long enough to tell him to go back to bed.

At some point during the night he'd woken to find his room unnaturally dark without the faint glow of lighting from his digital alarm clock. He had gotten up long enough to find a bottle of water and another dose of medication waiting for him on the night stand beside his bed. He went to the bathroom and then on to the living room where he found his mother asleep in his favorite chair and clad in pajamas and robe; the book she now reads laid open against her chest and her slippered feet propped on the chair's matching leather ottoman.

He'd closed the cover on the tablet lying within arm's reach on an end table so it wouldn't disturb her. His was always beeping or chiming for one reason or another. After that, he placed her book on top of it. It struck him, not for the first time in his life, how barren a living room looks with only a single chair and end table in it. Returning to his bedroom, he rummaged through a still open box long enough to find a blanket, a pillowcase and a pillow with nothing more than moonlight to guide him. Stuffing the pillow in the case, he returned once more to the living room, tucked it behind her head and draped the blanket over her. As he pulled it up to her shoulders, she stirred enough to patiently murmur, "Thank you… go back to bed."

"I'm going." He whispered; waving dismissively. "Night Mom."

"G'night darling." She muttered sleepily.

He had closed his bedroom door to muffle the sound of his coughing, crawled back into bed and downed the pills she'd left for him. As he had slipped back into sleep it dawned on him that although the sinus pressure in his head was still there, it wasn't as bad.

He hadn't woken again until she'd called him to come and eat a breakfast he still didn't want. More toast, more tea; but this time from a nearby deli as all of his kitchen goods were packed away. The dutiful son, he'd even taken a few bites of the oatmeal. It was horrid. She must've known it, because she hadn't complained when she tossed the still full pint size carton of uneaten glop into the only trash can remaining in the apartment. She sent him back to bed.

The next time he woke he ate more soup and drank bitter tea from the same deli. He recognized the cartons. She handed him another round of pills and ordered him into his chair where she covered him with the same blanket he'd given her the night before. He 'd drifted back into a light sleep as she disappeared down the hall to pack his bedroom. Sometime later she woke him again and the movers took away the last of his things.

Minutes after boarding the plane, she'd given him the most recent dose of medication. He couldn't be absolutely certain because he hadn't really paid much attention to what he was taking, but he was fairly certain that she'd given him different medications at different times.

"Mom, my head feels like I'm flying blind through a fog as thick as wet cement in the middle of the Bermuda triangle. What did you give me?"

She closes her book. "Last time? Antibiotic and Benadryl."

Harm groans and hisses quietly. "Mom! You know I can't take Benadryl. The stuff knocks me out cold for eight hours."

She shrugs and nods. "Actually, it's closer to nine hours than eight."

He shakes his head. "No wonder I'm hazy. You've been feeding me a pharmaceutical cocktail laced with Benadryl for the last thirty hours."

Wholly unconcerned with his mild displeasure; his mother shrugs and nods yet again. She smiles, "Harm, you needed to sleep so your body can begin to heal itself. Antibiotics alone won't do it, and the antihistamine dries you up; relieves the pressure so you can be comfortable, or at least less uncomfortable." She explains it all to him as if he were somehow ten years old again.

"Mom, you knocked me out… On purpose!"

Careful to avoid touching his hands, she pats the nearest of his broad shoulders instead. "That's right. You lost control for a few hours. Everything got done anyway… And the earth didn't fall off her axis. Imagine that! And, admit it, you feel better."

His mouth stretches into a full on flyboy grin. "You're an evil woman!"

Completely unoffended; she smiles with wicked satisfaction. "You're welcome darling!"

Harm sighs and shakes his head; only mildly disgruntled.

"Don't look at me like that! You love evil women. You married one. I would've thought of it myself eventually, but it was your wife who suggested that I knock you out. She very kindly reminded me how much easier this would all be if you just conveniently slept through it."

"Oh." His blue eyes begin to sparkle for the first time in days. "I'm going to get her!"

Trish chuckles with quiet merriment. "Here." She removes her tablet from the carry-on bag under her seat. She opens the cover. "While your plotting your revenge, watch this video she sent while you were sleeping. It's every bit as good as watching your toddler take his or her first steps..."

Part 62: Undue Penance

Author's Note: if you think Hallmark commercials are worthy of a box of tissues. You might wanna grab one before reading this.

Sunday, September 23, 2007

A bad cup of airline coffee does almost nothing to clear the medication induced zero visibility fog inside Harm's head as he sits beside his mother and watches his niece bravely tackle acquisition of her new leg brace courtesy of modern technology. She stops, starts, totters side to side, stumbles, catches herself, laughs at herself, bites her lip and wrinkles her nose; all with extreme focus and determination. What makes her try so hard? Life certainly hasn't given her reason to; at least not until recently perhaps. He can't imagine her mother fostering determination, or strength of will.

Her uncle silently cheers her on marveling at the fact that, a month ago, he chose his words with extreme care when he had told Mac that no, he didn't want to do this again, but he would. How could anybody not want to do this?

Suddenly, he's aware of Mattie's presence and half convinced that if he doesn't turn, look back, and prove himself wrong, she will stay there, in the row of seats behind him, standing just over his left shoulder; watching.

"Cute kid." She whispers in his ear just before the heavy veil between her world and his falls back into place.

Mildly startled; he stares blankly at the blonde flight attendant standing in the aisle on the other side of his mother's seat as she asks him a question he hasn't fully registered beyond the look of expectation in her eyes. He tries, with only fledgling success, not to resent her intrusion.

He shakes his head slightly, as if to clear his mind. "I'm sorry Ma'am. What was that you asked?"

She smiles awkwardly aware, by the pained look on his face, that she interrupted something, though she has no idea what. "More coffee?"

"Oh, no thank you." Harm passes her the still warm cup in his hand. He watches her for a moment as she moves silently down the aircraft's center aisle then closes his eyes and pinches the bridge of his nose; whether to stave off a headache or tears he's not sure. Maybe it's both.

After a few weighted seconds tick slowly by, he answers an unspoken question. "I'm fine Mom." He says; very much aware that he's being watched.

She gently smacks him on the knee. "It's not nice to lie to your mother." She hisses with grumpy compassion.

"Alright." He opens his eyes and meets hers. "I'm as okay as I can be under the circumstances."

She nods almost imperceptibly. "Now, that I believe… At least presently. Things will get better if you stop pretending."

He cocks his head to one side and raises an eyebrow. "Why are all the important women in my life telling me this?"

"All of us?" Trish's expression mirrors his own.

He nods. "In the last month, I've heard that same statement from you, Mac and Harriett… And Mattie too I suppose; in her own way."

Trish is just as still and quiet as a glass of water for several protracted beats before she says softly, "Maybe you should start listening."

"And then what am I supposed to do?"

Then you'll grieve. You'll set her free; stop holding her memory hostage, holding it under lock and key, only daring to let her out when no one else is around. You'll stop being so angry."

"Mom, I'm not angry."

She smacks his knee again; this time a little harder. "Where's Sarah?" She whispers; as if proving her point.

It takes a second for the penny to drop. Until it does, he almost squints in response to the seemingly untimely and bizarre question. When understanding moves in, he sighs with a fatigue that has nothing to do with either the long flight or his illness." She's in the hangar in Virginia."

Trish nods and tries hard to swallow against the cruel mixture of disbelief, anger, and worry that squeezes her chest. "You just left her there?"

She hadn't meant for it to be an accusation. He knows this, but he winces anyway. "Not exactly. I pay the bills. She's okay."

"Now you're lying to yourself. Two years, sitting in a hangar; nobody to drop by occasionally. You'd better hope some greedy employee hasn't sold her, or worse."

He groans. "Mom!"

"Good! You don't like that thought. That's a place to start."

"Mom, why are you asking me about Sar… Mac." He answers his own question.

For a moment he can't decide whether to grin or grimace. As surely as he knows his name he knows he's been targeted. He's not absolutely certain his mother meant to hold him a captive audience on a transatlantic flight, but he is acutely aware he's just become the victim of friendly fire.

"Just so I know what I'm up against. Are you two planning on tag teaming each other for the rest of my life?"

"That's really up to you Harm. Do we need to? Don't like it? Then don't put us in this position? You didn't tell me you weren't flying. My guest is, because you probably knew how I would react; which is impressive considering that my reaction surprised me. From what Mac tells me, hers was similar to my own."

"Mom, this… Isn't the best place to do this. This… Isn't really fair."

She offers him a sad soft smile. "Life seldom is darling. You grew wings chasing after your father. Don't let them atrophy and die for Mattie. That's an unbearable penance, and it's one you don't owe; not in the least. If you insist on paying it anyway, you won't be the only one to suffer. You'll take us all down with you. Like it or not, we are all along for the flight. If you can't make a change for me, or Mac, or even for yourself; then do it for Mattie… and for Laura. That sweet girl has had enough to deal with already and she's just getting started."

Trish smiles gently once more, sensing when to stop so as not to overwhelm him. Trying to lighten the mood just a bit, she whispers conspiratorially. "We parents are supposed to be better, not worse, versions of ourselves for our kids."

Harm gazes once more at the image of Laura's smiling upturned face looking back at him from his mother's tablet. Wide warm eyes, freckled nose, one of her front teeth missing. He swallows the lump in his throat with no small amount of difficultly. "Mom, I'd hug you… but..."

"Don't you dare hug me!" Trish declares quietly. The affection missing from her voice shines in her eyes. "You think I want that stuff you're carrying around in your chest. No thank you! Keep your germs to yourself!"

She reaches down into her carry-on and then drops a travel size bottle of hand sanitizer into his lap. "Stuff smells awful, and it dries out the skin too, but use it anyway. We're going to land soon enough, and you know she's going to touch you."

Harm smiles, breathing easier than he has in days. "Which one?" He queries; anticipation mounting.

Trying to force her novel back into her tightly packed bag; Trish pauses for a second to think about question he's just asked. "Actually, I was referring to the one under four feet tall. She's likely to carry all your germs off to school and share them with her friends… but her aunt's not exactly shy about touching you either. In fact, I've noticed, she seems to enjoy it."

Part 63: The Ocean Crossed

Author's Note: Annie, thank you so much for your kind words. I could not respond privately, so I'll do it here. Absolutely no one has written to tell me that they don't care for Laura. Your fondness for, and your praise of her is in good company.

I've had the odd reader write to tell me that they didn't care for various other parts of this story, but everyone seems to adore Laura. How could they not? That would be unfathomable!

Thank you for reading and for sharing your thoughts.

Sunday, September 23, 2007

Focused on spotting Mac or Laura in the waiting area beyond the gate, Harm's eyes slide passed Frank, who sits alone, with a momentary lapse in recognition. In the time it takes for the mental hiccup to pass, he turns half a circle; only fully processing his mistake when his mother leaves his side to greet her husband.

Coming about, he smiles somewhat sheepishly at the man embracing Trish.

"Sorry about that."

"Aww, it's okay. You were looking for somebody a lot better looking than me."

Harm chuckles. "Where are they anyway? I know we changed our flight plans for Monday to Sunday, packing didn't take as long as Mom thought it would, but I know they're here. I see Laura's walker." He points to it; in its place beside Frank's vacated seat.

"Oh, they're here." The older man nods with assurance. "But your flight was delayed about forty-five minutes. Somebody decided she was hungry."

"To her credit, she did try to wait. She didn't want to miss you coming in… But about twenty minutes ago, she announced, Aunt Mac, I'm starving to death!" Frank's bright eyes shine with obvious adoration.

"They went off to find a snack and maybe a lady's room… And if they passed any windows on the way, it's likely to be a while. Shortly after we arrived, she looked out a window and saw a plane land for the first time in her life. She must've missed it when we dropped you off three weeks ago. My guest is she was more concerned about you leaving, than she was about anything that was happening outside.

Harm you should've seen her little face! Hands plastered to the window. She was scared at first. 'Is it gonna crash!' She barely spoke above a whisper. Mac barely glanced at the plane before she could tell Laura that everything was okay, but I don't think Laura really believed her. She was as quiet as I've ever seen the girl; stunned I think. Didn't take her long to recover though. Fear evaporated when the thing touched down safely. 'But it's so big! Aunt Mac, that thing's too big to fly! It's way too heavy!' Mac tried to explain aerodynamics, and the concepts of lift and drag to her but she just kept shaking her head."

Frank imitates. "Na uh Aunt Mac! Really? Are you sure? Aunt Mac, I don't think you know what you're talking about."

"I'm not sure if it's the possibility she objected to, or Mac's rather simplistic explanation of aerodynamics, but you should expect lots of questions. She wasn't rude about it, just absolutely incredulous. She listened to Mac talk and then she made up her mind for herself and very adamantly and plainly informed both of us, 'I'm gonna ask Uncle Harm!"

Harm throws back his head and laughs. "I'll see if I can clear up a few things for her. Mac's understanding of aerodynamics is a little skewed. In fact, the few times we've had conversations about it over the years, she's been known to confuse me! Basically, she just accepts the planes fly as long as nothing is wrong with either the pilot or the aircraft. Beyond that, she requires detailed and very patient explanation."

Holding Frank's hand and sympathizing with her daughter-in-law, Trish nods. "Planes fly… Until they don't… and then…somebody had sure better have some answers. Works for me too." She teases her son.

Harm shakes his head. "You two…"

His thought process and his words are interrupted; drowned out by the sound of a very loud and very happy little girl squeal. "Uncle Harm!"

He turns, in time to see the two of them several feet away and entering the waiting area through a corridor. Laura wrenches her hand free of Mac's and drops whatever snack she's holding in the other. She manages to take several awkward steps forward, heading his way even before a very surprised Marine can loudly object, "Oh Laura! No!"

All four adults rush toward her and even Harm's long stride can't reach her before catastrophe strikes. Harm and Mac both cringe when she goes down hard, face first, but before either of them can reach her, she clumsily shoves herself up and is moving again.

People in the crowded airport turn to watch. Some of them mildly confused or alarmed while others seem to understand and they simply smile and step out of the little girl's path.

Reaching her four steps sooner than Mac; Harm catches Laura under the arms and lifts her into the air. Her small arms going around him immediately; she curls her little body into the wall of his chest. He's vaguely aware of smiling strangers as, for a moment, he simply holds her; lost in the scents of bubble gum, the beach, and baby shampoo.

Mac's dark eyes sparkle warmly with a private unspoken greeting as she touches both of them asking, "Is she alright?"

He feels Laura nod against his shoulder as he smiles at his wife before asking. "Are you sure sweetheart. I don't think you're supposed to be doing that yet." He says remembering Charlie Waters warning to her on the video he only just recently watched.

Standing as close as she can, Mac shakes her head and kisses his cheek lightly before cupping the back of Laura's head affectionately with one hand. "She's not. When we stepped away, I was carrying her. On the way back, she asked if she could walk. I told her." Mac says with quiet parental frustration, "That she had to hold my hand!" She pats the girl's leg with mild worry.

Laura shrugs and hugs Harm just a little tighter. "You're too slow Aunt Mac." she murmurs; too content with her current location to care about anything else.

"Hey, I missed you too, both of you, but let's not do that again. At least not for a while. It was pretty awesome, but let's wait until Charlie says it's okay before you try that again, alright?" Harm scolds gently.

Laura nods her consent and then lifts her head off his shoulder and studies him seriously. "Hey, you don't look so pukey anymore."

His smile stretches wide as Trish and Frank approach. "Yeah, moms are pretty good at making things all better."

"You're not all the way there yet." Trish reminds him. "And, she really shouldn't be quite so close but I think we'd have an easier time parting the Red Sea than removing her from her current perch."

Just to be on the safe side, Laura tries to squirm a little further away from Trish while still clinging to Harm.

"Don't worry about it." Mac chuckles; Draping her own arm around Harm's waist. "I knew this was going to happen. I've got some low dose antibiotics at the house. We'll just do a pre-emptive strike."

"I like the way you think." Trish whispers merrily.

Frank returns to the vicinity of his seat long enough to retrieve Laura's walker and then reaches for, and shoulders his wife's carry-on bag. "Are you all coming to our house for dinner?" He inquires kindly.

Laura looks hopeful until Mac answers "No!" quickly and adamantly and Harm echoes, "Uh… That would be a no." with an amused smile, because he knows it's what's expected.

Mac explains further while glancing sympathetically at Trish. "After the two days I know she's had? She deserves to go home, put her feet up and…" Mac pauses to look at Frank pointedly "Be waited on hand and foot! We most certainly are not going to show up and expect to be served dinner… Not tonight! We'll come and see you next weekend, or you can come and see us."

Laura nods happily while Frank nods dutifully; having received his marching orders.

Trish offers a gentle smile. "Thank you darling. That's very kind."

"My motives aren't entirely altruistic Trish. Good manners aside, I have some news… and I don't want you to shoot the messenger." Mac adds with the slight lift of her chin.

Each of them lifting curious eyebrows; mother and son's expressions are mirrored images.

"Your phone in London was already disconnected by the time somebody somewhere at Special Warfare Command realized there had been a slight miscommunication. Apparently someone tried stopping by your place." Mac smiles. "Trish, you pack faster than anybody expected."

Harm groans, and Trish guesses irritably, "Don't tell me they're moving you both to some far flung corner of the globe?"

Mac pats her arm sympathetically. "No, it's actually good news. At least, for everyone except the woman who's worked like a demon for the last 48 hours. He's home to stay. Well, at least until the next time they PCS us. Harm, didn't you think it odd you were given orders to be here, and ready for duty as soon as Tuesday; no downtime, scarcely little travel time, absolutely no proceed time?"

"Of course I thought it was odd. But to tell the truth, I was just so happy with the location, not to mention; I felt like hell. But hey, it's the Navy. I go where they tell me; when they tell me… Well, at least… Most of the time." He adds with a grin.

Mac chuckles. "Nice save there at the end Flyboy.… The acting IG called. You can go into the office Tuesday and get your feet wet, meet your staff, if you want to. You don't have to. Tuesday, is the day Captain Jenowitz begins terminal leave. Not the day you're expected to be there. Somebody goofed."

A mild scowl creases Trish's brow and she jokes; exaggerating, "Please tell me he has to report before Thanksgiving."

"Two days before Halloween actually." Mac smiles contentedly at Harm. "You've got a month's leave Sailor; and precious little you have to do, except unpack."

Harm watches, mildly perplexed as his mother shakes her head in mock disbelief and then leans into Frank's embrace and laughs so hard she shakes.

"I guess there are some things you just never forget how to do… At least not after you survive the first time. I haven't had to pack a two-bedroom apartment that quickly in nearly 40 years! I have to admit, on the flight over, I questioned whether are not I still have it in me."

"Apparently you do." Mac declares. "And, and if I were you, I'd revel in it for all it's worth. He owes you. We both do." As they head for the nearest exit, she adds "If it's okay with you… I'm going to take him home now."

"Go with God!" Trish announces; smiling with affection for all three of them.

The two halves of this family turn their attentions inward focusing on each other as they leave the airport still relatively in step with one another.

"Tired?" Frank asks his wife and a hushed voice only she can hear.

"God yes." She breathes. "Tired, but happy."

"So what ya gonna do with the whole month's leave Flyboy?" Mac whispers.

"Yeah, Uncle Harm? What you gonna do."

Harm grins his one of a kind grin and gives them both an affectionate squeeze before he asks, "Can I spend the first week in bed before I figure out what to do with the next three?"

"S'ok by me. I hope you like the new bed. I might even spend some time there with you." Mac flirts discreetly.

"I have no objection to that Counselor." He answers softly.

Laura's not quite sure what they're talking about but she rolls her eyes anyway. They're looking at each other all goofy again.

Before either of them can question her, a sight beyond a glass wall catches her attention. She stares in wonder as a Boeing passenger jet rumbles down a runway and lifts off.

"Uncle Harm!" She shrugs her shoulders; as if saying 'I don't know.' and then Laura demands, "How do they do that?"

Author's Note: Do not despair my friends. Laura tells me this epic will continue… Actually, I think she demands it! There is still much for Harm and Mac to do, but when I started this journey, months ago, my intent was to bring Harm and Mac finally, and irrevocably, home. That done, this feels like a good place to break. They need a chance to settle into a life together and I need a brief respite. Rest assured, it won't be long.

For those of you who have given my musings so much of your time and attention, I thank you. After a brief interlude, I will post an update here to let each of you know where the saga continues.

Author's Note: The epic continues! Look for All in Good Time. Thanks again for reading.