-----
HARM'S APARTMENT
NORTH OF UNION STATION
How'd we get to this point anyway?
The words, spoken what seemed like an entire lifetime ago, echoed in Harm's head. Things had seemed so much simpler back then. Even when they fought, which wasn't often, they always had known that sooner or later – usually sooner – everything would be okay and they would get past whatever they were fighting about.
But for the last year and a half, everything had been so different. They fought more than usual and each fight just seemed to be yet another nail in the coffin that their friendship was fast being buried in. They couldn't seem to turn to each other, they couldn't seem to be able to rely on each other. Even during the recent tragedy which had struck their lives, they'd been unable to really reach out, to give each other the comfort they both had so desperately needed. The most they'd been able to manage had been generic words of comfort and support.
And tonight had come what seemed to be the final nail in the coffin. . . .
-----
EARLIER THAT EVENING
VIETNAM MEMORIAL
WASHINGTON DC
He stood in the cold and the falling snow, his fingers reverently touching the engraved name. "History's repeating itself," he whispered, his words lost in the howl of the bitter wind. "And I have to try and stop it. I have to find him, the way I tried to find you."
He felt her presence before he saw her, so attuned was he to the essence that was uniquely hers, even after everything that had driven them apart. "What are you doing here?" he asked, a bit more harshly than he had intended.
She noted his tone, but chose to ignore it, realizing the aching hurt that was tearing his soul apart. "Webb called me," she gently replied. "He told me what happened. Harm, I'm so sorry. What can I do to help?"
"Nothing," he replied, his voice bitter but full of determination as he turned to face her. Why now, after all this time? Why did she have to care? "There's nothing anybody can do – except me."
"What do you mean?" she asked hesitantly, afraid that he would confirm what Webb had told her. Afraid that he was walking out of her life again.
"I'm resigning my commission," he stated, his voice as level and calm as if he'd just announced what he was having for dinner.
No, her mind screamed. He couldn't do it. She had to stop him somehow. "This is no time to make a life changing decision," she said, hoping to change his mind or at least get him to reconsider his decision. She was hoping against hope that she still held some kind of influence over him.
"I'm going to find my brother," he said firmly, taking her gloved hands in his. "I have to do this. I owe it to him."
"Which him?" she asked, tightening her fingers around his. He was still here talking to her. Surely that had to be a good sign. "Sergei or your father?"
"Both," he replied, absently rubbing his thumbs over her knuckles. "I couldn't save my father, but I have the chance. . . ." his voice trailed off in the wind as his right thumb brushed an odd bump on her left hand. It wasn't smooth like her Marine Corps ring should feel, but pointed and sharp. Holding his breath, afraid of what he would see, he started pulling off her glove as he looked into her eyes, praying that she would deny it all.
She realized his intent and tried to pull her hand away, but only succeeding in helping him get the glove off faster. His eyes fell to her now uncovered hand, where the diamond sparkled brightly on her third finger in the lights of the memorial.
She sucked in a breath at the expression she saw in his eyes as he lifted them to meet her gaze. Before, they had been full of fire and determination, the kind of steel that would give him the strength to disobey an Admiral's direct order, to find his brother in a war torn land. Now they were dead, lifeless, as if nothing in the world mattered to him anymore. "Harm, I. . . ." she began, only to be cut off.
"'This is no time to make a life changing decision'?" he retorted, throwing her words back at her, his voice oh so soft yet oh so bitter. He dropped her other hand as his cold, numb fingers let go of the glove he had removed, the black leather falling to rest on the snow covered ground. "Goodbye, Sarah Mackenzie."
As the tall, proud man turned and walked away from her, his shoulders slumping almost imperceptibly, Mac resisted the urge to give into the tears of frustration and desperation which were forming in her brown eyes. "Harm, please," she called out, but if he heard her, he gave no indication. His long strides were carrying him out of her life again, leaving Sarah Mackenzie standing alone in the bitterly cold December night.
-----
BACK TO THE PRESENT
MAC'S APARTMENT
GEORGETOWN
Mac couldn't remember how she had managed to pull herself together long enough to pick up her glove from the snow and leave the memorial, nor could she remember the drive back to her apartment. All she was aware of was the harsh cold that surrounded and enveloped her, numbing her to everything. She felt as if she had truly lost her best friend, this time forever.
"What's the matter, luv?" Mic asked, trying to pull her into his arms as she entered the warm apartment. Blindly, Mac walked past him and stood in the center of the living room, her arms wrapped around herself as if she was trying to ward off the freezing cold of outside, a cold still very much with her. "What was that phone call about that had you rushing off on a night like this?" He walked up behind her and wrapped his arms around her, but she simply stood there stiff and unyielding.
"Nothing," she replied, her voice as dull and lifeless as she felt. "It doesn't matter anymore. Nothing matters anymore."
"Nothing?" Mic repeated, astonished. "We're getting married. How could that not matter?"
"Mic, please don't," she cried out, her voice shaking slightly as the tears threatened again. She pulled out of his arms and moved away from him to stand at the window, staring out at the falling snow. "I can't do this."
"I'm your fiancé," he said gently. "Let me help you. We should be able to share things with each other."
"I said no," she exclaimed forceful, Mic taking an involuntary step backward at the sharpness of her tone. "What part of that don't you understand?"
Mic didn't have a response for that, was almost afraid to respond. He couldn't remember ever seeing her this despondent, even when she had fled to Australia after the incident with the mishap report. Hoping to pull her out of the mood she was in, Mic walked over and turned on the stereo, scanning through the stations, settling on one playing Christmas tunes. This is perfect, he thought, as he started singing along with the song in his slightly off-key bass.
Oh, the weather outside is frightfulBut the fire is so delightful
And since we've no place to go
Let it snow, let it snow, let it snow
Oh, it doesn't show. . . .
The song was cut off mid-phrase as Mac strode over and gave the tuning dial on the stereo a hard spin, pop music filling the room as the dial stopped on another station. "I said no," she cried out, her body shaking from the cold despite the warmth from the heater and the fireplace. "Just leave."
"Sarah, please," Mic pleaded, desperate to ease the emotional pain that was obviously tearing her apart. He didn't know what had caused it, he just wanted to take it away. "Let me help."
Mac took a deep breath and replied, her voice steely, "If you love me, if you care about me at all, you will leave me alone. I just need to be alone right now."
Mic wanted to argue, but he didn't want to push her away. She had requested to be left alone, so he would accommodate her – for now. Picking up his coat from where it lay across the desk chair, he pulled it on and said softly, "I'm going, but I will be back tomorrow. I love you and I do want to help. That's why I'm leaving now."
Mac made no movement, no sound to indicate that she had even heard him. With a heavy sigh, Mic left the apartment, quietly pulling the door closed behind him. Her behavior had him very worried and he didn't know what to do. He could not remember ever feeling so helpless. As he stood walked down the stairs, a plan began formulating in his mind. He'd almost rather walk over hot coals than what he was about to do, but if he couldn't get through to Sarah, he thought he knew someone who might be able to.
Back in the apartment, Mac hadn't even noticed his departure, wrapped up in the bitter sting of rejection and broken friendships. Almost from the moment she'd let Mic slip the ring onto her left hand, she'd been agonizing over how to break the news to Harm. But once she'd received the phone call from Webb informing her of Sergei's disappearance and Harm's intention to resign his commission to go searching for him, she had known that she couldn't tell him now. He'd never liked Mic and although he'd sworn that he would be happy for her if she was happy, she knew the news of her engagement would hurt him and she couldn't do that to him, not when he was already dealing with a greater pain.
Struggling to hold back tears, she noticed nothing around her – not the crackling of the fire in the fireplace, Jingo's soft snoring as he lay sleeping in front of the couch, the soft hum of the heater. It was as if nothing existed in her pain-filled world, until a new song – Bette Midler's 'My One True Friend' - began playing on the radio, it's words drifting into her heart with the bitter clarity of truth.
Mac looked up to the ceiling as the tears finally began to fall, the words of the song echoing in her head. 'I could forgive and we could start again'. Oh, why can't we do that now, she thought bitterly. Why can't you be my friend anymore? Why did we let everything and everyone tear us apart?
"Oh, Harm," she cried, sinking to her knees, crying as she hadn't since the night Harm had left JAG as he had returned to flying. Rocking back and forth, she sobbed out all her frustrations and her pain. "I want us back. I want us to start again."
Mac couldn't say how long she sat there on the floor of her living room, tears falling freely until she had no more tears left to shed, Jingo rising to sit next to her, leaning his head against her arm. Once the tears were gone, reason return and Mac began to think – think about how they had gotten to this place and, more importantly, how to return to where they had been.
It was sixty-five minutes before Mac rose from the floor, a peace in her countenance now that she had made a decision. She knew what she had to do – for herself, for Harm and for Mic. She owed it to all of them to set things right. None of them could go on like this, not and have any chance at real happiness.
Taking a deep breath, she sat down at her desk and pulled out a legal pad and pen, her hand moving swiftly across the page as the words poured out. After a few minutes, she sat back and reread what she had written. Satisfied that she had said what was needed, she tore the page off the pad and carefully folded it, stuffing it in a business envelope she pulled out of a drawer. She paused a moment, then slid her engagement ring off her finger and dropped it into the envelope as well.
As she sealed the envelope, she pondered the best way to deliver it. She couldn't just walk up and hand it to him. He might try to talk her out of it and she didn't want to be talked out of this. It was something she had to do. She didn't know what would happen when all was said and done or who she would end up with. All she knew is that Harm had been right when he had thrown her words back at her at the Wall.
This wasn't the right time to make a life changing decision. When she examined not only the events of tonight, but also the People magazine article, the case with Jimmy and Fanny, the death of baby Sarah plus a multitude of other things that had happened over the last few months, she realized that she was in no condition to make the kind of decision she had just made. Her life was too unsettled, her feelings too unsure. She was just sorry that she had come to that realization after the fact. This was going to hurt Mic, even with her promise that she would carefully consider her decision again after everything was settled and might even affirm her original one. But for all of their sakes, she couldn't let things continue on the path they were on.
Figuring that she had the whole night to figure out how to deliver the letter, she picked up the phone and dialed a rarely used number, figuring that this definitely qualified as an emergency. Despite the grumbling on the other end of the line, she got the information she needed. Her second call went a lot smoother and her plans were firmed up using the information she had gleaned from the first call.
She was about to dial a third number when something stayed her hand. In her mind, she replayed her earlier phone conversation with Clay and decided against the phone call. She didn't want to risk anything calling a halt to her plans. She knew there was a great risk involved professionally, but she had to take it. Picking up her pen again, she wrote out another letter. She didn't know if it would have any effect, but by the time he received it, he would be unable to stop her. Finished with the letter, she pulled out another envelope and sealed the letter inside. She would drop both off in the morning before she left.
Feeling the best she had all evening, she rose from her desk and headed for the kitchen, Jingo by her side. Grabbing a biscuit from the tin on the counter, she fed it to him, rubbing his head as she knelt beside him. "You'll be a good boy while I'm gone, won't you?" she asked, massaging his ears. "Mic, or Bud if Mic doesn't want the job, will take good care of you and I'll be back as soon as I can." Allowing herself a small smile, the first one of the night, she went to her bedroom to pack.
-----
HARM'S APARTMENT
NORTH OF UNION STATION
Harm sat at his table, staring at the open beer in front of him. He had yet to take a sip, was even uncertain why he had even opened it in the first place. He needed his head to be clear as he began the search for his brother in Chechnya.
Oh, yeah. There had been a reason he had opened the beer, a reason wrapped up in a gold band topped by a sparkling diamond. Of all the things that could have happened, the idea that Sarah Mackenzie could drive him to take a drink was pretty unbelievable. He'd always been so hesitant about drinking in her presence, often asking if she minded before he partook. But she wasn't here, having been pushed out of his life after she had kicked a gaping hole in his gut.
He wasn't sure why the sudden appearance of that damned ring on her left hand had surprised him so much. The fear that she would eventually move it over had always been present. Maybe, after so much time, he began to worry less and less that the ring would eventually make its way over to the other hand. After all, if she really loved the man and wanted to marry him, why would the ring have sat on her right hand for ten months? But on top of everything else tonight, the knowledge that Mac was now officially engaged to Mic was painfully unbearable.
With a sigh of frustration, he stood and swiped up the bottle, carrying it to the kitchen sink where he angrily poured the amber liquid into the sink, watching it flow down the drain, imagining that it was his life swirling away. Why not? His brother was missing, possibly even dead at the hands of Chechen rebels. His career was over. Even if he hadn't prepared his letter of resignation for Admiral Chegwidden, he would likely have been declared UA and brought up on DDO charges. Renee was furious with him. Although she was hardly displeased that he had decided to resign his commission – far from it in fact – her plans for him had been more along the lines of him going into civilian practice, not chasing halfway around the world after his brother. His mother was disappointed and probably a little mad that he hadn't seen fit to inform her of Sergei's existence before she was called to comment on it for a newspaper story. And his best friend – former best friend, he bitterly corrected himself – well, he couldn't even bear to think about her. That hurt the most of all.
Startled out of his morose reverie by a forceful knock at the door, he dropped the bottle into the sink, barely noticing when the brown glass shattered. He strode over to the door, determined to swiftly dispatch whoever was unfortunate enough to be standing on the other side. Yanking open the door without checking the peephole, prepared to ream out the person on the other side, he stopped short when he saw the last person he ever expected to find on his door step.
He wasn't the only one who was surprised. Mic was stunned at the countenance of the man standing on the other side of the door. He saw the same haunted look he had seen in Mac's eyes earlier and he had the sinking feeling that the two were connected. He didn't want that to be true, but he couldn't deny that these two had a bond that he would never truly understand.
"What do you want, Mic?" Harm demanded after a moment when Mic didn't say a word.
Stunned, Mic said the first thing that popped into his head. "You look like hell, mate," he said.
"Brilliant observation, mate," Harm retorted bitterly. "Now, if you don't mind, I have a lot to do." He started to close the door on Mic, but Mic pushed back and stepped into the apartment.
"I need to talk to you," Mic said, closing the door behind him as Harm walked away from him to the bedroom. Harm hadn't kicked him out, which Mic took as a good sign. If Harm's and Mac's moods were related, maybe he would be able yet to find out what was going on. He wandered around the small apartment, noting the smashed bottle in the kitchen sink and the notepad by the phone with Harm's flight information the following evening. Aeroflot? Mic remembered being told that Harm had a brother in the Russian Army and he wondered if something had happened to him. Perhaps what was going on with Harm and Mac was unrelated after all. After all, as close as Harm and Mac were, Mac would hardly become despondent over his brother, someone she barely knew. She hadn't even been that despondent over the death of her goddaughter a few weeks earlier.
"Nice place you've got here," Mic said conversationally, not sure how to proceed. He and Harm were hardly known for their friendly talks.
"Something tells me you didn't come all the way over here to comment on my living arrangements," Harm called out from the bedroom where he was going through his closet one last time, making sure there was nothing else he needed to pack for his trip. Spying something on the top shelf, he pulled down a knit cap. He'd definitely have need of that where he was going. He tossed it in the open suitcase on the bed.
Mic took a deep breath, reminding himself that if something had happened to Harm's brother, he was entitled to be in a less than friendly mood. "Something's wrong with Sarah and I'm concerned," he explained. "I thought you, being her friend and all, might know what was wrong." He hated to admit it to anyone, least of all to Harm, but he added, "She won't talk to me about it."
"Don't know and don't care," Harm lied, snapping the suitcase shut and carrying it into the other room, dropping it by the door with a loud thud while Mic forced himself not to flinch. "I've got problems of my own, thank you very much. Besides, why would she tell me something that she won't tell her own fiancé?"
Mic considered backing off and leaving. Even if he couldn't stand the man, if something really had happened to the man's brother, he could find it in himself to be considerate of the pain Harm was going through. But something stopped him from making a move towards the door. "Going to Russia again, Harm?" he asked, mildly curious in spite of himself.
"Not that I think you care," Harm replied, "but my brother is MIA. I have to go find him."
"Does Sarah know yet?" Mic asked. He hated to admit it, but Sarah cared for the bastard for some God unknown reason that he couldn't fathom. "You know, she'd be concerned. She spoke highly of your brother when. . . ."
Harm yanked the door open and gestured to the hallway. "I think you need to leave now," Harm said, his voice taking on a dangerous edge.
Sighing as he realized that he wasn't going to get what he was looking for here, he nodded and started to leave. Stopping in the doorway, he turned back and said sincerely, "I hope everything turns out okay with your brother." When Harm didn't reply, Mic turned and walked towards the stairs as Harm slammed the door shut behind him.
As he brushed the accumulated snow from his car in the alley, Mic thought back over what had and hadn't been said. He thought it was telling that Harm had insisted on his departure after Mac's name had been mentioned. Although he was sure that most of his surly behavior was related to his brother's disappearance, the feeling returned, stronger than before, that something had happened between Harm and Mac which had added to Harm's bad mood.
He also noted Harm's use of the word 'fiancé' when he had referred to Mac. Could that be what was wrong? He was tempted to dismiss the idea out of hand, but reconsidered. True, they had never gotten along, Mic knew that Harm dislike the way he had pursued Mac and Mic had believed in the beginning that the relationship between Harm and Mac went beyond friendship. But since Mic had moved back to Washington, although the men had avoided each other as much as possible, when forced by circumstances to tolerate each other's presence, they had at least managed to be cordial to each other. But what if Harm had gotten so used to the idea of the ring being on Mac's right hand that when it had been moved over, it had suddenly occurred to him that he really did want Mac but couldn't have her anymore. Mic had to admit that was how he would feel if the situations were reversed.
With a sigh, he got into his car and turned the key, making sure the heat was going full blast. He'd go home and call Mac tomorrow. Maybe by then she would have calmed down enough to let him in and let him help her.
-----
THE NEXT EVENING
DULLES INTERNATIONAL AIRPORT
Harm stared out the window from his first class seat on the Aeroflot flight bound for Moscow. Despite the cost, he hadn't even flinched when told that the only seats left on the next flight for Russia were in first class. Money didn't matter when it came to finding his brother.
He glanced at his watch, impatient for the flight to take off. About ten minutes left until the official departure time and he could see through the open curtain behind him that passengers were still making their way to their seats in the business and coach cabins. With a frustrated sigh, he turned forward and pulled two pictures out of the inner pocket of his leather jacket.
The first, in black and white, was the aged, laminated photo of him and his father taken their last summer together with an F-4 on the deck of the USS Ticonderoga. The second was more recent, taken of him and Sergei during his last trip to Russia. He closed his eyes as he remembered the day the photo was taken. Somehow, after all the excitement was over, Sergei had found a camera and insisted that some pictures be taken so that both he and Harm would have a visual reminder of their new bond, even when they were separated by an ocean. Harm had taken some pictures of Sergei by himself and Sergei had taken some pictures of him. Then Sergei had handed the camera to Mac and had insisted on some photos of him and Harm together. Finally, the camera had been passed to Captain Volkonov and Mac had been pulled in for a picture, a copy of which was carefully tucked away in a photo album in Harm's apartment.
Harm shook his head, trying to banish thoughts of Mac from his mind. It hurt too much and he couldn't afford to cloud his mind. He needed his mind clear so that he could concentrate on the mission at hand. He opened his eyes as he returned the pictures to his pocket, turning again to stare out the window, working on a plan to find Sergei and bring him home to the States.
"Izvinite pozhaluista. Ehto myesto svobodno?" a lyrical female voice asked.
Harm uttered a soft curse, despite the fact that he didn't understand a word of what was just said. He had hoped that the seat next to him would remain empty, hopes that apparently had just been dashed. He wasn't really in the mood to make idle conversation over the ten hour flight to Moscow. Maybe he'd be lucky and his seat companion wouldn't speak a word of English. That would guarantee a quiet flight left to his own tortured thoughts.
Still facing the window, he began, "I'm sorry, I don't speak. . . ." trailing off as he was struck with the strongest feeling of déjà vu. He'd had this exact same conversation before on another flight to Moscow to find a missing loved one. He whipped his head around to find himself looking into the brown eyes of the woman he now thought of as his former best friend as she slid into the seat next to him.
"Something tells me that you need me again to come up with the dispassionate plan," she commented as she fastened her seat belt. When he didn't say a word, merely turning his head back to look out the window, she added, "At least you're not arguing with me."
"Maybe because I don't care anymore," he muttered under his breath, so softly that she couldn't hear him even seated next to him, even as a tiny part of his heart which he had hoped he had closed off to her was secretly pleased that she would be coming with him. After all, they had done so well together during two previous trips to Russia.
-----
THE FOLLOWING MORNING
SHEREMYETEVO AIRPORT
MOSCOW, RUSSIA
After sitting on the runway for forty-five minutes waiting to take off, a ten hour flight and a partner who could barely stand to look at her, much less speak to her, Mac was not only tired but frustrated. All her attempts at conversation, even about the plan to locate Sergei, had been met with a stony silence and turned head. Furious with herself and with him for letting things between them degenerate to this state, she had eventually given up, settling into her seat to sleep. That had only led to more problems later in the flight when turbulence had woken them both up. Mac had shifted as she had slept and had eventually ended up with her head resting against Harm's shoulder. Then he had woken up and discovered their position.
Forcing down the warm feeling that he had at feeling her snuggled up against him, Harm had pulled away from her forcefully, startling Mac before she had a chance to completely awaken and realize what was going on. Mac, for her part, despite the intense feeling of sadness, hadn't reacted, even when he had succinctly suggested that she move to the only other empty seat in the cabin a few rows in front of them. She had merely given him a hard stare and settled back in to fall asleep again, this time turned away from him so that she wouldn't accidentally end up leaning against him.
After silently making their way through customs and baggage claim, they had left the airport and had promptly been met by a familiar, friendly face. "Beautiful Colonel," Alexei exclaimed, siding up to Mac. "I knew you would come back and this time Commander Rabb is with you. You do not have to chase after him into Chechnya."
"It's good to see you, too, Alexei," Mac said, forcing a cheerful smile. "How'd you know we'd be here?"
"Mr. Webb told me that you would be coming," Alexei replied, taking their bags from them. He nodded towards Harm. "Commander, it is good to see you again."
"Thank you, Alexei," Harm replied automatically, trying not to think about Alexei's earlier statement about Mac's following him into the war-torn province. That seemed like another lifetime ago. "But unfortunately, I do need to go into Chechnya. My brother is missing."
"Actually, we need to go into Chechnya," Mac clarified, shooting Harm a tense glance which he ignored. Alexei took their bags and loaded them into the trunk while Harm and Mac climbed into the back seat, sitting as far apart as possible, both looking out their respective windows.
"You two!" Alexei exclaimed as he got behind the wheel. "Willing to drive through a war zone for each other and now with each other." Alexei then muttered something under his breath in Russian directed towards Mac, which had her biting her lower lip nervously as she wondered whether Harm was going to ask for a translation. Harm, despite his intense curiosity, remained silent while trying to ignore those statements that he had understood. He didn't want Mac to care. He didn't want her to go through a war zone with him or for him.
'Are you going to tell me now that you do not love Commander Rabb?' Alexei's question echoed in Mac's mind. She couldn't answer that question. Or maybe she didn't want to admit the answer to that question. She couldn't decide which was more accurate. She thought she had buried any romantic feelings once and for all that night on the ferry, but now that Harm was mad at her for accepting Mic's proposal – or, probably more accurately, for the way he had found out about it – and he seemed to barely be able to stand the sight of her, those feelings were oddly resurfacing.
Trying to push those thoughts from her mind, Mac directed Alexei, "Actually, Alexei, we'd appreciate it if you could take us to see Major Sokol." At the slightly disgusted look Harm shot her as he turned his head, she countered, "Do you have a better idea? We can't just drive into Chechnya like I did last time. I knew from Mark where to find you. We have no idea where to begin looking for Sergei. We're going to need his help to get anywhere."
As much as he wanted to, Harm found that he couldn't argue with her conclusions. He couldn't just run off half-cocked hoping to find his brother in the middle of a war. With a terse nod from Harm, Alexei pulled away from the airport while muttering in Russian that at least he wouldn't be driving them into Chechnya this time.
-----
JAG HEADQUARTERS
FALLS CHURCH, VIRGINIA
Mic strode into the bullpen, clutching the letter from Mac which had been delivered to him at work that morning, trying not to glance at the two dark offices in the corner. After spending the previous day trying to get a hold of Mac and even trying to contact Harm, he'd had the sinking feeling that she had followed him to Russia again. The letter was just a confirmation of what he had already known deep down. But he took no comfort in her promise to revisit her decision to return his ring when she returned. He thought it was the ultimate bitter irony that as soon as he'd finally won her and got her to move the ring over that he had lost her, possibly forever.
He entered the Admiral's outer office and stopped in front of Tiner's desk. Tiner looked up from some paperwork and smiled at him. "Hello, Commander Brumby," he said brightly, still having a hard time remembering Mic's status as a civilian. "What can I do for you?"
"I'd like to see Admiral Chegwidden if he's available," Mic replied, not bothering to correct the way Tiner addressed him.
"Actually, the Admiral asked not to be disturbed," Tiner reported. He lowered his voice and added confidentially, "He's in kind of a bad mood today."
Mic could just imagine what had the Admiral in a bad mood. He was hardly the man to take well to the news that two of his officers had just packed up and taken off for Russia with barely a moment's notice. He was about to suggest leaving a message when the Admiral's voice came over the intercom on Tiner's phone.
"Tiner, get me Webb on the phone," AJ barked, "and you'd probably better get a hold of Mic Brumby, too. He's going to need to hear this."
Tiner pressed a button on his phone and informed his CO, "Sir, Commander Brumby is here right now wanting to speak with you."
"Then send him in," AJ ordered, "and don't forget about Webb."
As Tiner dialed Webb's number, he glanced sympathetically at Mic. "You can go in, Sir," he told Mic.
As Mic entered the inner office, he found AJ sitting at his desk, two sheets of paper laid out on the desk in front of him. One Mic assumed was a letter from Mac, being on the same type of paper as the letter Mic now held in his hand. The other he could only assume was from Harm. On the corner of the desk was a newspaper Mic recognized as the previous day's edition of the Washington Post. He'd seen the paper and had read with more interest than he wanted to admit the story about the Russian son of an American POW from the Vietnam War who had gone missing in Chechnya.
Looking up over his glasses at Mic, AJ gestured to one of the chairs in front of his desk. "Please take a seat, Mic," he said, glancing at the paper Mic held in his hand. "That's from Colonel Mackenzie, I take it?"
"Yes, Sir," Mic replied sadly. "It was delivered to me at work this morning." He didn't see any need to mention the fact that enclosed with the letter had been her engagement ring, which Mic was keeping safe on a chain around his neck, even as he feared that she wouldn't take it back.
AJ held up one of the letters on his desk. "This is from the Colonel as well," he informed Mic, "informing me that she was on a flight last night to Russia with Rabb." He left out Mac's quite passionate defense of Harm's decision to search for his brother and her equally passionate insistence that she had to accompany him to watch his six. Secretly, AJ felt marginally better knowing that Harm wasn't going to be alone, even as he was furious that not one but two of his officers had taken it into their heads to take off without permission.
As the SecNav had once said, Harm caused him more problems than anyone else under his command, with Mac probably not that far behind him in the problem-causing department. But the fact that they were two of the best lawyers in the military usually balanced out that fact. But AJ wasn't so sure that was going to keep them out of trouble – or in the military – this time.
Before Mic could say anything, Tiner's voice came over the intercom. "Sir, I've got Clayton Webb on line two," he announced.
AJ pressed a button and put Clay on speakerphone so Mic could hear and participate in the conversation. "Webb, what the hell is going on with my people?" he demanded.
"They've gone to Chechnya to find Sergei Zhukov," Clay replied matter-of-factly, refusing to let AJ ruffle his feathers and praying that he could stay as far away from the ex-SEAL as possible until Harm and Mac were back from Russia. He still had very vivid memories of a broken nose, courtesy of a furious Admiral during their first trip to Russia.
"I knew Rabb was going to go, come hell or high water," AJ exclaimed. "How the hell did Mac end up going with him?" Harm had given no hint that he hadn't planned on pursuing this alone.
"Mac called me the night before last," Clay explained calmly. "I had informed her earlier of Rabb's decision hoping she could talk him out of it. After talking to Harm, she asked me for his travel information." He paused for a long moment, then added, "AJ, I don't think Harm knew she was going with him, probably not until she showed up at the airport last night."
"Let me get this straight, Webb," AJ said. "You call Mac, hoping she'll talk Rabb out of going and she ends up going with him? Explain that one to me."
"You know there was no way she was going to stay behind if he did end up going," Clay pointed out. "The last time she was in Russia, she traveled all the way to Chechnya in a taxi to find him. And the time before that, they traveled together through Siberia in a gypsy wagon."
AJ glanced at Mic, trying to gage his reaction, but Mic merely stared at the phone, listening to what Clay was saying, seemingly disinterested. But Mic was far from disinterested. Mac had never gone into detail about her first trip to Russia, merely mentioning in passing that she and Harm had been there before. There were obviously a lot of things Harm and Mac had shared over the years which Mic knew next to nothing about.
AJ pushed his concern for Mic from his mind and pressed Clay for more information, "What else do you have? Any idea on their plans now that they're there?"
"AJ, I've told you everything I know," Clay insisted, forcing down the concern he felt for his friends, a concern that like AJ's was only mildly assuaged by the fact that Mac was with Harm. "I honestly don't think that Rabb has a solid plan beyond going into Chechnya to find his brother. The man's operating on autopilot. Hell, he'd probably get himself killed if Mac weren't there to watch out for him."
AJ had to admit that Clay had a valid point. After everything Harm had gone through trying to find his father, AJ knew that this had to be like history repeating itself to him, only this time he hoped to have more influence over the outcome. He remembered the haunted look in the younger man's eyes when Harm and Mac had returned from Svischevo after finding that Harm's father was dead after all. Despite his initial refusal to entertain Harm's ideas of going after Sergei, AJ didn't want to see that look again, which might happen if Harm couldn't or wasn't allowed to find his brother. "Is there any way we can keep tabs on them," AJ asked, "short of going in after them ourselves?"
"Well, if I were to hazard a guess, I'd say they're going to approach Major Sokol for help." Clay replied, hoping that AJ wasn't seriously suggesting the possibility that they travel to Russia after Harm and Mac. Ideas like that were hazardous to Clayton Webb's health. "They're in Russia this time without sanction. The last time, Harm was traveling with a Russian military officer under the guise of official business. That made it easier for him to get into Chechnya, a lot easier than it would be for two Americans traveling alone, even if one of them does speak the language. They're going to need some kind of help to get into Chechnya and Sokol's probably their best bet. Either him or Captain Volkonov. I don't think traveling in a taxi is going to cut it this time."
AJ considered for a moment as Mic jumped in, speaking for the first time since the call had started, trying not to think about how Mac had followed Harm into Chechnya during their last trip to Russia, "Can you convince Major Sokol or Captain Volkonov to keep us informed if they are contacted or better yet, get them to somehow stop Rabb and Sarah from going in Chechnya at all?"
"Mr. Brumby, hello," Clay said, giving no hint of surprise at Mic's presence, not that he really cared. If Harm and Mac couldn't straighten out their personal lives, that was their problem. "I'd say it's a safe bet that nothing is going to stop Rabb and Mackenzie from going into Chechnya, even if they have to go in on their own. Rabb's not going to stop and Mac's not going to let him go in without her." Clay didn't care how Mic might construe that last comment. If the man didn't realize that there was a spark of something more than friendship between Harm and Mac, the man had to be either incredibly blind or naive.
As AJ glanced at Mic again, he marveled at how the man was managing to hold it together under the burden of the knowledge that his girlfriend had essentially run off with another man, even if the trip was purportedly under the guise of friendship. Shaking his head at the complicated lives of his officers, AJ ordered, "Webb, do it. Contact Major Sokol and Captain Volkonov. If either of them hears from Rabb and Mackenzie, I want to know about it immediately. I want to know where they are and what they are doing at all times, down to what they're having for breakfast."
Clay felt compelled by some quirk of his personality to make a token protest, even as he was already pulling up the contact information for Major Sokol on his computer. This was AJ he was talking to after all and he couldn't seem too cooperative. It was bad for his image. "AJ. . . ." he began before being cut off.
"I don't care, Webb," AJ retorted, "just get it done. As soon as you know anything, I want to know it. No matter what the time. Understood?" AJ hung up the phone before Clay had a chance to protest further. He looked at Mic sympathetically.
"I'm sorry, Mic," he said, removing his glasses and rubbing the bridge of his nose. "I know it's not much to go on, but I'm sure they'll be fine. Mac's got a good head on her shoulders and will do her best to keep them out of trouble." God knew Rabb wouldn't be thinking clearly in this situation, AJ thought. AJ just hoped that he was correct that they would be fine.
"What about someone following them to Russia?" Mic asked.
"Like yourself?" AJ asked carefully. "And then what? Do you really think if you did find them that you'd be able to convince her to come home?" AJ hated it, but he felt the question needed to be asked.
Mic couldn't reply, knowing that in this particular battle, there was no way he'd come in any higher than second place to Harm. His silence told AJ all he needed to know. He felt for the man, but oddly AJ wondered if this entire situation might help resolve the tangled web of feelings between the three once and for all.
"Mic, I'm sorry the news isn't better," AJ said sympathetically. "I will keep have Webb to keep me informed and pass on anything that I learn if you'll make sure that Tiner has numbers where you can be reached."
"I'll make sure that he has them," Mic replied. He took a deep breath, then asked somewhat hesitantly, "Sir, there is one more thing. In her letter, Sarah. . . .well, she hinted that she might go as far as risking being declared UA or resigning her commission."
AJ was surprised that Mac would have put that in her letter to Mic. She must not have pulled any punches in that letter as she hadn't in the one she had left for AJ. "And you'd like to know what I plan to do," he finished the thought. "I can't answer that question at this point." Which was the truth. AJ had one officer who had turned in an official letter of resignation and another who had said point blank that if he felt compelled to do so, he should consider her letter to be one of resignation as well. AJ the friend was at war internally with Admiral Chegwidden the commanding officer and it was not a pleasant battle.
"I suppose I understand that, Sir," Mic replied, feeling conflicted. On the one hand, he understood how much Mac loved her job and the Marine Corps. On the other, Mic couldn't help thinking that if she did resign her commission, then she wouldn't be constantly going out of town or out of the country on investigations, leaving them more time to concentrate on their relationship, if they still had one when this was all over. It might be a bit selfish on his part, but he was tired of competing with her job for her attention, among other things. He just didn't want something like being declared UA to affect her future chances of perhaps getting a job at a civilian law firm. He stood and held out his hand to AJ. "I appreciate your help, Sir," he said as AJ shook his hand.
"I'll let you know as soon as I hear anything," AJ promised.
"Thank you, Sir," Mic said, resisting the urge honed by years in the military to come to attention and wait to be dismissed.
As soon as Mic left, AJ leaned back in his chair and sighed, shaking his head. He had the feeling that the fallout from all this was not going to be pretty, in more ways than one.
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LUBYANKA PRISON
MOSCOW, RUSSIA
"No, that doesn't surprise me," Sokol said into the phone in English as an aide entered his office. Sokol motioned to the man to wait. "I've been keeping an eye on the situation down there and thought that this might be coming. Yes, I understand and I'll do what I can. No, I don't think there's any chance of that. Yes, I'll keep you informed." As he hung up the phone, he turned his attention to the aide. "Yes?" he inquired in Russian.
"Major, you have visitors, a Harmon Rabb and Sarah Mackenzie," the aide replied, also in Russian.
"Send them in," Sokol ordered as he came from behind his desk to greet Harm and Mac. He gestured to two chairs situated in front of his desk. "Please, have a seat," he said in English as he leaned against the front edge of his desk. "I had a feeling that I'd be seeing you sooner or later. In fact, I just got off the phone with Clayton Webb and he requested that I assist you as much as possible."
"Thank you," Mac replied while Harm stared at the window behind the desk, not really seeing beyond it. "We appreciate any assistance you can give us."
Sokol picked up a folder on his desk. "I had already heard about Sergei Zhukov's disappearance and took the liberty of gathering some information, assuming that you would eventually come searching for him." Harm, his interest caught, started to reach for the folder, but Sokol passed it to Mac.
"It's in Russian," Mac told Harm once she'd opened the folder. A frustrated Harm waited impatiently while she scanned the contents. "It says that he was flying recon for troops being transported out of Chechnya after the military declared victory in the fighting a few weeks ago. Just outside Urus-Martan south of Grozny, Chechen rebels attacked the troop convoy with truck bombs and shot down two of the helos flying recon. Two of the four men in the helos are known to have been killed, one is known to have been taken prisoner by the rebels and the fourth is believed to have escaped the rebels but is still missing."
"And the fourth would be my brother," Harm said, the first thing he'd said since entering the office.
"Yes," Sokol replied. "It is suspected that he may try to reach Grozny and hook up with the Russian Army there, but there have been incidents of kamikaze bombings, such as the one on the troop convoy your brother was protecting, in and around the Grozny area plus a few bombings at the homes and offices of various public officials. Grozny is not a safe place these days."
"Was it ever?" Mac muttered as she read through the rest of the information and glanced at the enclosed map.
"Depends on whose propoganda you're reading," Sokol replied dryly.
"So how do I get into Chechnya?" Harm asked.
"How do we get into Chechnya, you mean," Mac interjected.
"Sarah, Rabb is right," Sokol tried to reason with her, even knowing that it would probably be futile. "You shouldn't. . . ."
"Just tell us how to get into Chechnya," Mac insisted, shooting Harm and Sokol both a look that dared them to argue with her. Harm briefly considered taking on the challenge, but decided not to do so in front of Sokol.
Sokol picked up another folder and handed it to Harm this time. "I took the liberty of preparing documents for both of you," he explained as Harm looked through the papers, Mac leaning over as far as she could to see. "Your cover is that of human rights observers who have been granted limited access to observe the withdrawal of Russian troops and the resettlement of refugees from Ingushetia."
"What about Russian guards?" Mac asked. "I can hardly imagine that human rights observers would just be allowed to wander Chechnya alone given the Russian government's reluctance to cooperate with humans rights groups in the past."
"That's not a view I would openly discuss once you leave this room," Sokol warned them. "Officially, you will be escorted by a Russian Army officer whose 'job' it is to make sure you see what the Russian government wants you to see. Unofficially. . . ." He walked over to the door and opened it, motioning someone in. Harm and Mac were only mildly surprised to see Captain Volkonov.
"Unofficially," he continued, "I personally selected the officer who is to accompany you. Are either of you carrying anything identifying you as members of the American military?"
"No," they both replied.
"Since we're here unofficially," Mac explained, repeating the suggestion Clay had made, "it was suggested to leave our ID cards and dog tags behind and travel on tourist instead of military passports."
"Good," Sokol proclaimed. "The Chechens believe that most of the West has turned a blind eye to what has been going on there and a couple of American military hostages would probably draw the kind of international attention they would like."
"What about American human rights observers?" Mac asked.
"Oh, the Chechens love the human rights people," Sokol replied, "if they get a chance to talk to them and tell their 'stories'. It's the closest thing to a safe disguise you'll find. Captain Volkonov will be traveling in civilian guise as well. It will make him a little less of a target than someone traveling in the uniform of the Russian Army. Now, the next flight to Chechnya will not be leaving until morning, so I've taken the liberty of having my aide arrange hotel accommodations for you. Alexei will take to the hotel when you leave here. Any questions?"
"Where exactly will we be landing in Chechnya?" Harm asked.
"The plane will take you to Grozny, since that is where we suspect your brother will be heading," Sokol informed them. "There you will be met by a local government official who will provide you with a civilian vehicle. Any further information we discover on your brother's whereabouts will be passed to this same official in a confidential packet to be relayed to Captain Volkonov through military channels for you to follow up on."
Thank you for the help," Mac said as she and Harm both stood to leave.
Sokol walked over to her and kissed both her cheeks. "Bud' zdorov," he said, repeating his admonish from a few years earlier to be safe. He nodded towards Harm. "Commander, I do hope you find your brother."
"Thank you," Harm said even though it pained him to be grateful to Sokol. But he had to admit that the man had come through for them so far.
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HOTEL POSOLSKAYA
MOSCOW, RUSSIA
Mac noted with detached interest that the hotel Alexei took them to was the same one they had stayed in during their first trip to Russia. At any other time, the thought might have brought back pleasant memories. Now, it was only a reminder of what wasn't anymore. But Mac had a bigger concern than memories of their previous trip to Russia. She had to find some way for her and Harm to end up sharing a room. She had the feeling that if separated from her, Harm wouldn't hesitate to take off for Chechnya without her.
Not surprisingly, that's exactly what Harm was thinking. Captain Volkonov had left them at Lubyanka with a promise to meet them at the hotel at seven in the morning and with a phone number where he could be reached in case they needed anything before then or wanted to meet for dinner. Harm figured that as soon as they were settled in their rooms, he would slip out and call Volkonov to arrange an earlier meeting time, leaving Mac behind.
As they approached the front desk, Mac breathed a sigh of relief that, according to her name tag, English was not one of the languages that the desk clerk spoke. That would definitely make it simple to change their reservations. "Hello, reservations for Rabb and Mackenzie," she said in Russian, both of them handing over their passports. Smiling to herself, she added, "We'd like to change our reservation to a single room."
"Not a problem," the clerk replied as she pulled up the reservation. As she checked them in, Mac struck up a conversation with the woman, inquiring about the weather forecast and local attractions. Later, she could pretend to Harm that the conversation had been about the 'messed up' reservations. As the clerk went to get their key, Mac turned to Harm, affecting a frustrated sigh.
"We've got a problem," she said, giving her words a slightly angry edge. "Sokol's aide apparently forgot to inform Sokol that he was only able to get a reservation for one room. We're going to have to share again."
Harm shot her an angry glare, but didn't say anything. Mac added for affect, "I don't like it any more than you do, but they don't have any rooms available. I guess this hotel one of the more popular ones, especially for foreign travelers."
Harm was frustrated, but it never occurred to him not to take Mac at her word. Instead, he was imagining his plan to get away from her going down the drain. As light a sleeper as Mac was, it would be very difficult for him to slip out without her knowing about it. He'd have to think about another plan to become separated from her before morning. He considered the problem as he followed Mac up to their room.
As they entered their room, another problem presented itself. There were a couple of notable absences among the furniture in the room – namely, the two chairs that should have been at the table by the window, leaving the only possible sleeping places as the bed or the floor.
"I'll sleep on the floor," Harm insisted, an angry edge to his voice at the messed up reservations and the lack of chairs in the room that he could use as a sleeping place in a pinch.
"No need," Mac retorted, frustrated with his attitude continually oscillating between being angry at her and ignoring her. Maybe this sharing a room wasn't such a good idea, she thought. Then again, maybe the close quarters would force them to confront the issues between them. "The bed is big enough for both of us if we stick close to the edges."
She bent over and unzipped her bag, giving Harm a nice view of her backside, which he didn't quite succeed in ignoring. Straightening up with a pair of sweats in her hands, she added, "I'm going to change, then take a nap." She entered the bathroom, forcefully closing the door behind her.
Harm had to admit that a nap wasn't a bad idea, despite the fact that he had no desire to share a bed with her, and pulled a pair of sweats out of his own bag. He was just finishing changing as she came out of the bathroom. "What time did you want to go to dinner?" she asked as she climbed into the bed on the side closest to the door, concerned that if he claimed that side for himself, it might make it easier for him to try and get past her.
"Hadn't thought about it," he replied shortly as he walked around the bed and climbed under the covers on the other side. Both of them faced the edge of the bed, their backs to each other. Before closing his eyes, Harm couldn't resist getting one last dig in. "Planning to tell your fiancée about sharing a bed with another man?" he taunted her.
What has happened to you, Harm, she wondered as she sighed sadly, refusing to dignify his angry question with an answer. Either he had been so good at ignoring her that he hadn't noticed that she wasn't wearing the ring or he had noticed and didn't care. Mac didn't really care to contemplate the ramifications of either scenario. As she closed her eyes, she couldn't prevent the single tear that slipped down her cheek.
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