Wings of the Morning

A Little Lower Than the Angels Part II

Chapter 1

Disclaimers: I don't own any of the JAG characters. I don't own any product or label mentioned for the purposes of telling this story. Any similarities to situations or persons living or dead are purely coincidental.

Spoilers: Any JAG episode up to and including A Tangled Webb II in Season 9.

A/N: Many thanks to Jaggiegold for her help with proofing this story.

Where can I go from Your Spirit?

Or where can I flee from Your presence?

If I ascend into heaven, You are there.

If I make my bed in hell, behold You are there.

If I take the wings of the morning,

And dwell in the uttermost parts of the seas,

Even there Your hand shall lead me

And Your right hand hold me.

If I say 'surely the darkness shall fall on me,'

Even the night shall be light about me:

Indeed the darkness shall not hide from You.

But the night shines as the day:

The darkness and the light are both alike to You.

Psalms 139, verse 7 through 12. (NKJV)

1430(Naples time)

Sunday

May 22, 2003

Naples, Italy

AJ watched the traffic out of the window of the taxi, seeing very little that he recognized. It seemed an age since he'd been in Naples, and certainly much too long since he'd seen his daughter. He had checked into a hotel late last night, near the heart of the city. As the taxi approached the edge of the city, it began to ascend a steep hill. Now he was beginning to see something familiar to him, the street and the wall surrounding the villa of his former father-in- law. He instructed the driver to stop just outside the gate of the residence. He paid the driver and looked back toward the decades old, but well kept, home of the former mayor of Naples.

The formal gardens, that included a beautifully detailed stone fountain at its center, could be seen from where he stood. A well manicured lawn and shrubbery with a wide drive that led to the front of the house.

The house itself was also as he remembered, white smooth stone, with a terracotta tile roof. The front door was framed in stone nearly the same color as the tile on the roof. On each side of the front façade of the home, high above the front entrance, were two small but ornate wrought iron balconies with their tall glass and wooden doors closed. AJ had dreamed, many times, of his Marcella standing at one them…waiting for him.

As he stepped inside the gate of the park-like grounds, he remembered how nervous he'd been the first time he'd visited this place. He'd come to ask Marcella's father for his permission to date his daughter. A courtesy he'd never have bothered with for anyone but Marcella. She was raised in what she called 'the old way.' Her father's word was law, without question, and no one was allowed to spend time with his daughter without his permission. AJ Chegwidden had fallen in love with Marcella at first sight and being young and full of himself, he would have faced the devil himself to be alone with Marcella for one hour.

Little did he know it would be months before the old man would allow Marcella to see him, unchaperoned.

"Papa!"

AJ heard his daughter's voice and began to walk the long drive that led to the main house of the villa.

"Francesca?"

His daughter was standing in front of the huge wooden door and when he spoke she walked out to meet him.

Marcella was upstairs in the nursery with Alberto and had heard Francesca call out. She heard AJ answer her but she couldn't quite believe what she was hearing. She glanced down at her sleeping grandson, and then opened the doors leading to one of the front balconies.

As Marcella stepped out, she saw her former husband walking up the path toward the house. She stood motionless as she watched her daughter walk into her fathers embrace. She covered her mouth with her hand, the sight nearly taking her breath away. "AJ," she spoke his name aloud. It was AJ, he had finally come. She braced her hands on the wrought iron frame of the balcony. Both Francesca and AJ turned toward the house arm in arm, smiling and laughing, immediately comfortable in each others company. It was a vision Marcella had dreamed of for so many years.

Marcella had just begun to regain her composure as they approached the house, when AJ suddenly stopped and looked up in her direction, as though he had sensed her there.

Hundreds of memories, moments of love and pain, joy and sorrow passed between them as they truly looked at one another for the first time in many years.

He said nothing at first until he realized his daughter was watching him intently.

"What is it, Papa?" Francesca asked innocently.

He glanced up at Marcella, and then back at her, "I…didn't realize your mother would be visiting you as well."

"I'm sorry, I asked Mama to help this weekend. I have return to my work and had to travel to Milan overnight." Francesca turned away hoping she wouldn't give away her surprise and prayed her mother would not be angry with her for keeping her father's visit a secret.

They both walked into the house into the huge foyer with its marble floors and soaring ceilings, complete with a winding stair case. The home was open, with arched entryways that led to separate sections of the home. The walls had been painted in soft hues of yellow or brown. Though the home was formal and aristocratic in its front entrance…stepping inside made AJ feel a strong sense of the familiar…of coming home.

"Why did you not bring your luggage?"

"I didn't want you to go to any trouble on my account, daughter."

Francesca frowned and shook her head slightly.

"I wasn't sure you'd want me to stay, especially since you have someone in your life, I wasn't sure how you wanted to divide your time. I thought the hotel would be best. "

"You must stay here, Papa. How else will you have time to know him?"

AJ turned to face his daughter. "I do want to get to know him. Anyone who is important to you is important to me, but I was rather hoping we could spend some time, just you and I."

"Remember, Papa, this is not a time to make up for the past and besides, I'm afraid Alberto and I, we are…what is the word…inseparable?" Francesca averted her gaze, but could not keep the smile from her face.

AJ crossed his arms in front of his chest, trying to understand, but feeling totally at a loss. "Alberto? Is he the person you wanted me to meet?"

Francesca placed her hand on his folded arms, "Yes, Papa, at last you will meet him."

"Is he here now?" AJ's heart sank; it was beginning to sound as though he wouldn't have a minute alone with her.

Marcella's voice caused him to turn toward her at the top of the stair case. "Yes, AJ, he is here. He is your grandson….Alberto."

AJ felt as though his feet had been riveted into the floor. He stared as Marcella walked gracefully down the staircase, with a beautiful brown eyed baby boy, who like his grandfather, didn't have a hair on his head.

When he found his voice, he said, "But I thought….that is, I assumed that you were..."

"Forgive me, Papa, I wanted to tell you of your grandson but it was important that I know you came for me. Forgive my deception…there is no one. I hoped, but I wasn't sure you would come." She placed her hand on his arm, trying to put him at ease.

"Francesca." He looked at his daughter and then as Marcella approached him he could not help staring at his grandson in wonder. "I would have come, I wanted to come…I don't know what to say, he's...Francesca… he's…he's"

His grandson looked at him curiously, patiently waiting as AJ stumbled through this conversation. AJ just couldn't express what he felt. He was absolutely thrilled and at the same time totally humbled by the existence of this child. He hadn't even considered the possibility of being able to know Francesca's children. It was a privilege he didn't think he'd ever have.

Marcella, strangely, felt her connection to AJ as strongly as ever and immediately said what he had no words to day. "He is a gift, AJ, take him."

AJ stopped trying to explain his feelings when he heard her words, they were simple but right on target. He reached for his grandson who gave him a smile that matched his own as he leaned toward him.

Alberto did not cry, as most children his age would have, upon being held by a complete stranger. He was content to be lifted into the solid strength that was his grandfather, AJ Chegwidden.

0915

Monday

May 23, 2003

JAG Headquarters

Falls Church, Virginia

Mac sat at her desk, perusing the case file that she had just been given at staff call. She was to travel to Camp Lejeune, North Carolina. She was to conduct an article 32 investigation of a possible murder. She would be required to leave later this morning for North Carolina. She had barely had time to unpack from being in Norfolk last week, now she was going to be at Lejuene for another week.

Harm knocked on the frame of her open door. "Hey, when do you leave?"

"I have to be at Andrews very shortly. I'm getting ready to leave within the hour."

Harm didn't answer her; he just looked a bit wistful, wondering why he ever thought they might spend too much time together, since they'd begun seeing each other and worked in the same office at JAG.

"Harm, we knew we wouldn't get to work together once it was common knowledge that we were seeing each other."

"I know, I expected that…I just thought we'd get to be in the same state for more than a few days at a time."

Mac gave him an easy smile, thinking that she liked seeing this side of him. He was making it no secret; he didn't like the idea of being away from her. She fully intended to go, but it was very nice to know that she was going to be missed.

"What are you smiling about?"

"Oh…Nothing, I'll miss you too…you know."

"Stop by my office before you go; I'll walk you out…okay?" He stepped out of her office and toward his own.

Mac looked back down at her case file. This case was going to be a real peach, she thought sarcastically. "Staff Sergeant Joseph Rollins," she read aloud, "Hit and run, believed to be the result of a domestic disturbance, the Sergeant's wife is suspected to have some involvement, 10 year old daughter, Carrie is missing…just great." Mac hoped the little girl had just run away, she didn't want to deal with a double murder, especially if it involved a child.

30 minutes later…..

Harm and Mac walked toward her corvette. Harm had been quiet all the way down the elevator. Mac didn't ask what was happening; she was trying to focus on what she had to do. Mac opened her trunk and placed her briefcase inside, her always packed sea bag; lay in the trunk beside it.

Harm followed her to the driver's side and opened her door for her, allowing her to slip inside. Harm knelt down inside the open car door and reached across for her seat belt. Mac was watching him, his still solemn face so close to hers. After he buckled her in, he made a pretense of straightening the belt across her lap and then, without a warning, kissed her deeply but quickly.

The kiss was short, but it still left Mac breathless. "Harm" She said it urgently, trying to sound as though she didn't want him to kiss her, and not quite pulling it off.

Harm closed her door and then knelt back down so that he was eye level with her. "You liked it…. don't lie." His eyes were showing their mischievous light as he looked at her, from under his cover. "I just wanted to give you something to remember while you're gone."

Mac looked back at him and started her car. "That's never been a problem Harm."

He stood and stepped back so that Mac could back out and pull out of the parking lot. As he watched her leave, his smile left him again. He didn't tell her, but he was worried, he'd heard the description of the case. He knew Mac's father would haunt her on this one, as he had on many other cases similar to this one. He also knew that her nightmares were still robbing her of her sleep. Dealing with a domestic case like this would only amplify what she was already dealing with. Lately, she'd stopped acknowledging the nightmares the next morning. She'd always allow him to comfort her, during the night, and then the next morning it was as though they had never happened.

He hoped this case would be resolved quickly and that she would return home.

Wednesday

May 25, 2003

Naples Italy

Marcella Paretti walked through the, now quiet, home that she grew up in; she was surprised and pleased that her daughter decided to reside here, instead of her apartment in Milan, after the birth of her baby. She had gone into the city, to shop for the makings of a dinner she was going to prepare for her father tonight. She stayed at the villa, after Francesca pleaded with her to stay, saying that if Marcella stayed, she, could be free to show her father her favorite places in the city. Francesca reasoned that taking the baby on a long sight seeing trip might be too much for him and she wanted everything to be perfect while her father was visiting.

Marcella didn't dispute her but she also knew that Francesca was living a childhood fantasy. The dream many children of divorce have, no matter how old they are, the dream of having their parents reconciled, to act as though they were at least friends. They had become friends again, in this visit, and it had been surprisingly easy when the focus was the grandchild that they both loved so much.

As she ascended the stairs, she smiled as she thought of the report AJ already had with his grandson. He would be spoiled when AJ returned to America; he hardly allowed them to put him down for a nap or to play. She hoped AJ had allowed him a nap this afternoon. She walked into the nursery to find his grandfather sleeping as he held him. A book lay on the table near the large and comfortable chair. She smiled as she remembered AJ as her husband, trying to read the same book to his daughter. He read it in 'his' Italian with a very decided American accent. AJ had diligently learned the language but could never quite get the accent. His dark good looks and brown eyes, would cause some to mistake him for an Italian… until he spoke.

Marcella walked across the room and sat in the rocking chair nearest AJ and studied her ex husband. He had aged well, but then, she had always known he would. It amazed her that the sight of him could still touch her so deeply. She remembered how she loved him when they were newlyweds. In those days, she didn't believe there was another man to match him in the world. He was handsome, strong, and brave, and the most well read man she had ever met. She had sensed in him, a kindness and a good heart under his tough exterior. He was everything; she never believed anyone or anything could separate them.

When she came to America with him to begin their life together, her dreams quickly came to pieces around her. It was as though AJ had become another person, the loving and passionate man, with the easy smile, was now ill tempered and impatient. The man who seemed unable to keep from touching her when they were together could barely stand to have her touch his hand without his withdrawing it. She couldn't understand where the AJ she had married had gone. She missed him; she was so young in those days, she believed she could make him return.

When she wrote to her mother about it, her mother would respond and speak of it as though AJ were just in a bad temper and that it was her duty as his wife to try to help him, but Marcella was not equipped to handle what AJ was going through. She had been much loved and indulged by both of her parents, she wasn't mature enough to understand AJ's state of mind, and he was too proud and in too much pain to explain it to her.

Marcella's eyes had lost their focus as she had been looking at AJ, remembering their past. AJ awoke and startled her when he spoke to her.

"Sorry, I guess I fell asleep." He looked down at his sleeping grandson.

Marcella rose from her chair and carefully took the still sleeping Alberto from his arms. "It is alright." She looked into his eyes for just a moment. "You made a lovely picture."

AJ did not answer; he only followed her as she walked to Alberto's crib.

After Marcella covered the baby, she stepped back from the child and when she looked at AJ again, she saw that he was remembering another time. It was an incident that caused her to leave him and come home to her mother in Italy.

"It was a long time ago AJ."

"It was….but it changed everything."

"I was a child; I should never have run away."

"I was too harsh….I expected you to understand things…that I didn't understand myself."

"Can you tell me now?" She turned her body so that she stood directly in front of him, her hands clasped, almost in supplication.

AJ shook his head and as he remembered, he told her.

"That night….when I was standing beside Francesca's crib, watching her sleep, I was thinking about the peace she had as she slept, the safety…I wanted to keep her safe."

"You were not sleeping well back then yourself, AJ."

"No…I wasn't." He had come into his daughter's nursery that night to check on her after a particularly bad nightmare.

"It seemed when I saw something, precious to me…like her…or like you, I would immediately remember something….I would think about how fragile you both were, about how easily someone could hurt you…..as I had seen so many of my friends…people who helped us…hurt….in Vietnam."

"But we weren't in Vietnam, AJ."

He looked directly at her. "I was…at least, I was in my nightmares."

"Why did you look at me with such hatred…I have never forgotten, I could barely recognize you." The expression on his face, the sight of it, had never left her.

"I had just been thinking that I would never allow anyone to hurt Francesca…and what I would do to anyone who ever tried…and when you came up upon me suddenly, I just reacted, I didn't see you…I saw…"

"Your enemy….you were still…as you said…in Vietnam."

"Yes." He searched her face, hoping to find forgiveness, if nothing else.

"I shouldn't have run away…"

"I should have tried to explain."

As AJ and Marcella tried to build a bridge across the years, Francesca stood in the hallway and leaned against the wall. She had hoped that this would happen, that her mother and father would finally open their hearts to each other. Their visit had been cordial, beginning with her mother and father being almost painfully polite at times, but Francesca could feel it, the love her parents had for each other…still. Their conversations became easier as they turned them toward the baby, and remembered, together, Francesca when she was small.

Inside the nursery Marcella stepped closer to AJ, her eyes taking in every nuance, looking for the answer before she asked the question. "Do you remember what you said to me? The words you said, the last time we were alone?"

AJ had told her that he'd never stopped loving her; if her husband had not come into the room, he wasn't sure what would have happened. "You know… I do."

Marcella now stood in front of him and placed her hand on his cheek. "I, my darling AJ, have never stopped…loving you."

AJ loosened the tight grip he held on his folded arms, reaching for her and opening a door in his heart that he believed to be forever closed.

'Marcella." He whispered, and took her into his arms.

1645

May 26, 2003

Thursday

Camp Lejuene LSO

North Carolina

Mac paced back and forth in the small and seemingly airless room that served as her office over the past week. The heat of the day felt as though it was at its peak and her office here had no air conditioning. She was expecting Staff Sergeant Rollins widow at any moment. This case had been more difficult than she imagined, with more twists and turns than she ever expected.

Mrs. Rollins confessed to her upon her first interview with her, nearly before she had a chance to ask her a question. She told the Colonel that she had been fighting with her husband I front of their house and that she pushed him into the road, in front of an on-coming car. Neighbors had corroborated her story; they said they saw her chasing her husband as he ran out of their front door.

She interviewed all of the staff sergeant's coworkers, in addition to people who worked for him in the past year. Nothing, with regard to any of them, raised any suspicion to her mind.

The woman was small; she didn't appear to weigh more than 100 pounds, why would her husband, a Marine, be running from her? There was something about this confession that didn't ring true; Mac couldn't quite put her finger on it. It was too easily given, and then there was Mrs. Rollins' demeanor when she spoke of her daughter. When questioned, Mrs. Rollins would only cry and say that she hoped that her daughter got away. She would never look at Mac directly, something that was irritating Mac more every time she saw her.

This woman got under Mac's skin in a way she hadn't expected, she didn't feel any sympathy for her, she was angry at her. It was all Mac could do not to shake her and ask her, "Why didn't you protect yourself? Why didn't you protect your daughter? Where is she?"

Mac looked out of the small screened window of her even smaller office. The interview she had this morning had only left her with more questions.

She had just come from the base hospital, Carrie Rollins had been found, alive. When Mac went to the hospital to check on her condition, she had been warned by the doctors that the little girl didn't know that her father was dead. The doctors were waiting for her mother to arrive, feeling that hearing this from Mrs. Rollins would be better for the little girl. She would be fine, the doctors said, Carrie was dehydrated and had minor cuts and bruises, but other than that she was uninjured. She was asking for her mother and her father and asking that they be told that she was sorry that she ran away.

Up to this point Mac wasn't sure that Mrs. Rollins was telling the truth about not knowing where she was, but speaking with Carrie eliminated that question.

Mrs. Rollins arrived a few minutes later; she sat down in the chair in front of Mac's desk.

Mac began without preamble. "Your daughter has been found."

Mrs. Rollins looked up at her. "Is she alright…does she know?"

Mac frowned. "No, she doesn't…not yet. The doctors want to wait; they want you to tell her."

"Was she hurt?" The woman asked, shame still keeping her from meeting Mac's gaze directly.

"No, not really, but she is dehydrated and she has some minor cuts." Mac waited a moment, to get her anger under control. Why hadn't this lady been moving heaven and earth to find her? Mac cleared her throat. "She's been sleeping in a park, near the base. It was a miracle she wasn't abducted…or worse."

"Thank God…thank God she's alright."

"Was your daughter at home when your husband was killed?"

"No…not really."

"Not really? Either she was there or she wasn't. Which is it Mrs. Rollins?"

Mrs. Rollins looked back down at her feet again, taking the same posture as almost every interview she'd had with her. Mac didn't understand the fury that raged through her own heart, as she looked at the woman's slumped shoulders.

"I guess I didn't know how far away…how far she'd run." Mrs. Rollins voice was small again.

"You realize, Mrs. Rollins, if you don't cooperate, or do something to defend yourself that you could be convicted of killing your husband, and then your daughter will have no one. She could become a ward of the state."

"I know, but …she can go with my mother." Mrs. Rollins still kept her head down, her unkempt hair hanging in clumps on each side of her pale face.

"You may not be able to decide that, the courts may decide that you aren't fit to choose who your child resides with, since you've confessed to murdering her father."

Mrs. Rollins looked up, suddenly terrified. "What?"

"The courts may decide that since you just snapped, as you've said, and pushed your husband out into the street, that you might not be the best person to make decisions about your daughter's welfare."

Mrs. Rollins face contorted in pain and she began to cry. The sound of it drilled through Mac. This woman was making her so angry, unreasonably angry. All Mac could see was a woman who hadn't protected her daughter…or herself.

"I can't tell you…I can't tell Carrie…she'll think…..What will she think?" Her red rimmed eyes continued to spill over with tears.

"Cant tell Carrie what Mrs. Rollins? Just tell me the truth, what happened that evening?"

Before Mac knew it, she was standing in front of Mrs. Rollins. She was still crying uncontrollably. "Mrs. Rollins!" Mac took hold of both of her arms but resisted the urge to shake her. "Tell me what happened!"

Mrs. Rollins stopped sobbing abruptly and Mac was shocked at her own behavior. She let go of her arms and stepped back. "I'm sorry."

Mrs. Rollins began calming herself, Mac had frightened her, but she knew she was right; she had to tell the truth, she couldn't allow her daughter to be taken away from everyone she knew and loved, no matter how responsible she felt.

"No, I'm sorry…I should have told you." Tears were still streaming down her face, but she had calmed considerably.

Mac stepped around her desk drew in a deep breath and sat down to listen.

"It was my fault, I….Joe...told me, see I forgot, his uniforms at the cleaners…I didn't pick them up..." Mrs. Rollins realized she was rambling. "I'm sorry. We were fighting, Joe was really mad. Carrie…she always tries to make things….better. She was afraid he'd…."

Mac nodded and pressed her lips tightly together, then finished the sentence for Mrs. Rollins. "Hit you?"

Mrs. Rollins nodded, "He never did….hit me. He always said I deserved it…but no, he didn't hit me. He just got so mad. Carrie would always try to distract him; you know…change the subject." Mrs. Rollins continued wiping the tears from her face with trembling hands.

"He'd been drinking…and I'd never seen him like that…he was calling me….bad names. Carrie heard, she came out of her room ….and she started crying and yelling at her father to stop, and he just turned on her. He looked so mad, like he could…I don't know, I told her to run and she did….." Mrs. Rollins had a far away look in her eye. "She ran out of the front door and Joe….he ran after her."

Mrs. Rollins sat still, as though she were seeing the situation happen all over again, in her minds eye.

After a few moments Mac asked, "And what happened then?"

She looked at Mac, "I was afraid he'd catch her and I ran after him, I tried to make him stop, I was able to get hold of his arm, and I stopped him…for a few minutes, but then, he threw me off. He ran toward the road, we live near the highway…I didn't even see the truck…he didn't…he ran into the street and…it hit him and then I don't remember anything else."

Mrs. Rollins was still crying quietly. "I shouldn't have told her to run."

"If you hadn't, he might have beaten her…or you." Mac's expression was stern.

"At least he would have been alive." The woman's voice was flat and devoid of hope.

"But you or your daughter might not be." Mac hid her disgust with Mrs. Rollins. She recognized the situation the woman found herself in, but she did not under- stand her.

This woman's concept of her own worth and the worth of her daughter had become twisted under the pressure of trying to measure up to a man who appeared never to have loved or respected either of them.

"You should go see your daughter."

Mac's voice was even and unemotional, but this case had laid her heart open. When Carrie Rollins learned what happened to her father, the world for her would never be the same. Mac remembered a day like that, the day her mother left her, alone with her drunken father. A little girl, who had no choice but to grow up, much too soon.

"I'll submit my final report to the Commandant, Mrs. Rollins. You and your daughter won't be questioned anymore in this matter."

Mrs. Rollins nodded, and stood to leave; she turned and looked at Mac. "I know you don't understand what it's like… he wasn't perfect, but he was my husband, I loved him."

Mac nodded but said only, "Good luck to you Mrs. Rollins, I'm sorry for your loss."

Mac knew she should have gone with her, the little girl deserved someone there who wasn't a complete basket case, but Mac also knew she was hanging onto her professional demeanor by a thread. She needed to get away from this case and this situation, fast.

Approximately 36 hours later….

Harm's apartment

North of Union Station.

Harm woke suddenly from a sound sleep and sensed someone in the apartment. He turned quickly and leaned up on one elbow, through the louvered glass he saw Mac standing near the row of windows in his living room, looking out at the early morning light.

Harm slipped out of bed and padded over to where she stood. Mac had heard him approach and she smiled as he slipped his arms around her waist from behind.

"Good morning, Sailor." She closed her arms over his.

"Mmm… Good morning to you. When did you get in?" His body was still warm from his bed as he pressed closer to her; his voice was deep and husky from sleep as he spoke into her ear.

"I came in late last night, I went to my apartment." Mac didn't want to explain that emotionally, she was in no shape to see him last night.

He nuzzled her neck and kissed it, she automatically turned toward him eager to feel his lips on hers, eager to push everything else away. "Why didn't you just come here?"

"I wanted to finish my report, get a shower and clear my head; besides, I didn't want to wake you." She thought she'd been successful in her plan, to rest up, put the case behind her and surprise him at breakfast….until the nightmares began.

Harm glanced at the clock on the wall; it was 0530 on Saturday morning. "What changed your mind?"

"I didn't really change my mind; I was going to let you sleep a little while longer." She loosened her embrace and looked down at his white boxers. "Oh…you're wearing my favorite…skivvies." She waggled her eyebrows.

He laughed, "You know you like them." He was kissing her neck, his body waking up as she slipped into that place she was beginning to believe was made just for her, in his arms.

"I didn't say I didn't like them…I said they were my favorite."

"It's all I wear, Mac." He said it between kisses against her lips.

"That's why they're my favorite." She drew in a breath and sighed

He'd never know how glad she was that he hadn't asked about the case or looked too closely at her tired eyes. She'd been able to distract him. She couldn't help smiling as she thought…

'Thank God for Harm's one track mind.'

TBC