Title: 'Dissonance' Author: Daenar (daenarchurill@hotmail.com) Rating: PG-13, Romance (H/M), Humor, Crime

Disclaimer: JAG is property of Bellisarius Productions, 'The night will only know' is performed by Garth Brooks, produced by Allen Reynolds and owned by EMI, no copyright infringement intended

Spoiler: To solve a case, Harm has to rely on his musicality - with Mac going undercover in a naval college marching band. Complications all- inclusive... Independent case, though the storyline is set after the events of 'Carnival'. It won't be necessary to read 'Carnival' to understand 'Dissonance'.

Archiving: Feel free, but let me know, please.

Author's note: I'm a musicologist and music-addicted in every respect. Ever since I'm a JAGnik, I am disappointed to see that Harm's musical skills have never really been brought into focus by the series. That's what I'm trying to do now.

DISSONANCE



Tue, May 5th 2327 ZULU JAG Headquarters Falls Church, VA



"Sir, I'm not sure I can do this." Commander Harmon Rabb, Jr. looked up from the file Admiral AJ Chegwidden had just handed him. Was that actually fear in the normally audacious ex-aviator's eyes? AJ wondered. He had expected Harm to be surprised - to say the least - when he told him of the nature of this assignment. Reluctance had also been a possibility AJ had considered. But fear? After all, this was one of the easier tasks, at least as far as he could tell. A few days' preparation, a few hours of action, not having to travel... 'Heck, Rabb should be grateful that he gets an easy task!' AJ frowned. He would try being nice. If it wouldn't work, he'd order him.

"Harm, Webb tells me he's very aware that four days of preparation is extremely last-minute, but the date's set as it is. He says you're the only one who could possibly take over in such a short time. And although the CIA's in charge, it's up to you, Commander, to save the Navy's honor. Army, Air Force, Marine Corps, the Pentagon and the Foreign Office, Congress, Senate, hell, even the FBI's involved! Don't let us down, Harm, even Webb says that he'll owe you. Consider that one!" AJ had to chuckle despite the situation.

"Who am I replacing and why, sir?" Harm asked wearily. He could see plainly that AJ had made up his mind to once again grant Webb his assistance. And he, like so many other times, was the victim. If only they were able to go in as a pair - with Mac at his side everything would be easier. But this was clearly a one-man operation. Damn.

"The person's identity is classified. I don't even know why. I only know the person in question committed suicide. Motive? Classified." This time AJ's frown met one of mutual solidarity on Harm's face. Undersecretary of State Clayton Webb just loved to classify everything.

"And they really couldn't think of anyone else to pull it off, sir?" Harm asked without much hope.

"No. But, anyway, what's the problem, Harm? You've done things like this before, haven't you?" AJ tried to sound encouraging while thanking God that he wasn't in Harm's position right now.

"I have, sir," Harm reluctantly conceded, "But never with so many people. I've worked with groups of five, maybe ten, but never with as many as eighty. I'm not experienced in this kind of thing."

"I can make this an order, Commander."

Harm sighed, exasperated. "I'll do my very best, sir. But I swear, Webb will owe me big."

"You'll do just fine. I have great confidence in you, Rabb. Take the rest of the week off to prepare." AJ smiled and rose.

Harm lifted himself from his chair, tugged the file under his arm and came to attention. "Aye, aye, sir."

"Dismissed."

Harm turned and left his C.O., frowning. He headed straight for his office to get his things and go home.

As he sat down at his desk to shut down his computer, Harm saw the message icon blinking. On opening the email, a smile spread over his face.

To: Sarahssailor@freemail.com From: Sarah Mackenzie (Harmsmarine@freemail.com) Subject: Feeding a hungry marine Hey flyboy, Had to leave early for the dentist (ughh!). You knew that anyway. How about you prepare some pasta that I'll be able to chew as soon as the drugs wear off? Your place at 1900? Call me if there's a problem. If I don't hear from you until 1845 (sharp!!), count on me to show up. Love you! Mac

'I can't wait,' Harm thought, grinning, feeling his heartbeat accelerate slightly. Ever since their return from Venice, they had spent all their evenings and most of their nights together. Communication was mostly conducted by private email as they still hadn't told anyone that they were an item. They were sure Chegwidden suspected something - after all, he had practically ordered them to get involved - but surely no one else did. "Not even Harriet," Harm chuckled under his breath. He and Mac had been discreet to an extent that he would never have thought possible, given their emotions. But on the other hand keeping it secret and keeping people wondering what the colonel and the commander might or might not feel for one another only added to the suspense.

'Suspense - we sure have plenty of that,' Harm thought. Always respecting their agreement not to rush into anything, working on overcoming their fears first and taking time to explore their love was getting to be a torment at times. Whenever he and Mac were together the tension was sure to rise immediately. More than once they had been on the verge of giving in to passion and had been saved only by outside influence, like the telephone or pizza delivery.

But eventually they had figured out a way to stay as close as they considered safe, rejoicing in each other's company, in the caresses they exchanged and, most of all, in their wonderful friendship that, to their enormous relief, hadn't suffered from their involvement as they had feared it would. On the contrary, it had deepened. Harm had never been happier than he had been these last nine weeks, his Sarah's loving presence adding a dimension to his life that he hadn't even known existed.

At night, when she was sleeping in his arms, he would catch himself looking at her, still unable to fully believe that he wasn't dreaming. And Mac seemed to flourish in their relationship. Harm hadn't thought it possible, but she was becoming more beautiful every day. Not only to him. Their friends and colleagues, he knew, were wondering about the gradual changes that were taking place within her. She seemed to light the room when she entered. And in spite of the as yet unresolved tension between them, he was enjoying a totally new inward calmness, as if he had found a permanent home. 'I have,' he admitted to himself, smiling, 'With her.'

As much as he longed to take the next step, to let physical union follow the spiritual unison they already shared, Harm knew he could wait until the time was right. They both felt it would be more than just their first time sleeping together. It was more like their first time ever, never having shared this moment with someone they loved as much as they loved each other.

Tearing himself from his thoughts, he switched off his computer, took the files he needed and left the office. 'Do I have everything for that pasta she wants?' he asked himself while waiting for the elevator. Deciding he didn't need to do any more shopping, he quickly got to his SUV and headed home, whistling, thinking of Mac.



2400 ZULU Harm's apartment North of Union Station Washington, D.C.



Pressing an ice bag to her swollen cheek, Lieutenant Colonel Sarah Mackenzie, in loose sweats, ascended the stairs to her partner's apartment. 'Just a tiny incision - ha ha,' Mac thought, trying to ignore the pain that kept increasing as the painkillers were wearing off. She had gotten more than she had bargained for at the dentist's. Feeling a slight sensitivity to heat and cold up on the right, she had resolved to have her teeth looked over. But instead of a hole the dentist had discovered a purulent inflammation underneath a lower left molar which hadn't started to hurt yet but would have in a few days. So she had agreed to have it taken care of immediately. 'Big mistake,' she scolded herself, knowing at the same time that the dentist had been right. At least she had Harm to console and comfort her.

Upon arrive at his door, she stopped in her tracks and listened. A beautiful, sad melody found its way to her ear, slowly telling of longing and love. Harm was obviously playing his guitar, something he hadn't done in quite a long time and never for her. Knowing she couldn't eat for a while anyway, Mac leaned to the door, not daring to make any noise, only listening to his music.

She could tell it was a rather difficult piece that he was practicing. He would interrupt himself at four or five crucial points, repeating and repeating the difficult passages until he had mastered them. The melody had a Spanish feel with Flamenco styles that - Mac could tell without knowing much about music - required skilled handiwork on the chords. She rested her head against the wall, closed her eyes and let Harm enchant her with his play.

About fifteen minutes later Harm interrupted his practice and Mac heard her cell-phone ring.

"Open your door, flyboy," she said instead of a greeting.

"How long have you been there, Mac?" She immediately noticed the concern in his voice.

"Sixteen minutes and twenty-three seconds," she answered with a smile.

"Oh my God," she only heard him say before the line went dead and the apartment door opened to reveal a very embarrassed Harm.

"I'm so sorry, Mac, I must have missed the doorbell," he started to excuse himself. "I was practicing on my guitar, but that's strange, I should have heard it. Why didn't you use your key, honey?" Putting one hand on hers that was holding the ice bag, Harm gently embraced her and pulled her inside the apartment, closing the door. "Hurt much?"

"Won't kill me," Mac retorted, making a face. "What was that music, sailor? It's beautiful."

"Joaquín Rodrigo, guitar concerto, second movement, soloist's part, but again, Mac, why didn't you come in if you don't feel well?" Harm, with a concerned frown, gently brushed a strand of hair from her face.

Mac smiled. It felt so good to be cared for. "I didn't want to disturb you."

"Mac, you..."

"Let me finish. I was so engrossed by your music that I completely forgot about my pain or that you would be worried when I didn't show up on time. Any reason you took out your guitar today, squid? You play wonderfully, you know that?"

Harm smiled, embarrassed. "Not as well as I should. But I'm working on it. When I got home I felt I needed the distraction."

As she saw the deep frown on his face Mac was on high alert. "What's up?"

"Webb."

'Not again...' Mac thought, exasperated. "Care to share?"

"Can't, I'm sorry."

"Let me guess: classified," she laughed, a little trace of bitterness shining though her laughter.

"Yup. One-man mission in a really big scenario, only four days at home to prepare myself. I'm filling in for someone. Sunday's the day," he explained casually.

Mac looked at him with her huge brown eyes. "Whatever it is you're doing, promise me to be careful, okay? No stunts. I still need you around," she pleaded. "Are you going away?"

"Thankfully, no," he replied with a smile. Then he looked into her eyes and said: "I promise you, Mac, there's absolutely nothing to worry about. It's not a routine mission, but I won't be in danger. Trust me."

"Okay..." Mac didn't really sound convinced but she accepted his promise. "Just afraid I won't get you back in one piece, flyboy," she said with a loving smile.

Harm smiled back. "That won't happen." As if to seal the promise, he very tenderly kissed her on the lips, careful to the sore side of her face. "Are you hungry? Okay, rhetorical question. Are you very hungry, Marine?"

Mac gave him the sweetest mixture of a smile and a grimace. "Yeah, but I won't be able to eat for another hour. Why don't you distract me a little with your music practice while I rest on your couch?"

Harm grinned. "I'm flattered. Of course, if you want me to. Only tell me when fifty minutes are over so I can get the pasta done as well."

"Count on my internal clock and my growling stomach," she replied, laughing. "They won't forget your request even if I do."

Harm shook his head, chuckling, and sat down again on his chair, taking up his guitar and staring at the score that lay open on the floor next to him. Then he closed his eyes, concentrating, and seemed to memorize what he had just studied. Upon opening his eyes again he lifted his gaze to fix on an indefinite object at the far side of the loft and began to play. Mac just sat and watched in awe. It was as if Harm and his and his guitar melted into one, his fingers seeming to dance on the finger board or pluck the cords without effort.

The piece began to inspire her imagination. She saw pictures of a mild summer's night with stars and a full moon in some far-off country, flanked by the waves of the Mediterranean. Mac could almost feel the warm night breeze as the flowering scales of the melody surrounded her. She felt the longing of a loving heart calling out to its beloved. Like Harm was reaching out for her. Mac was totally swept away by Harm's interpretation. By instinct Harm always guessed the right amount of speed variation, applying or omitting ornaments, so that the music lost nothing of its emotional potential, yet always remaining humble and clear. Mac was so lost in listening that she literally jumped when he interrupted himself, frowning and swearing quietly, to consult the score when he couldn't remember how to go on.

All too soon she had to remember her promise. "Sorry to interrupt you, Maestro, but your fifty minutes are up."

Harm cast her a warm smile and put the guitar down. Stretching for a moment, he lifted himself to full height and then headed to the kitchen. Mac rose and took a seat at the counter to watch him working, knowing he wouldn't let her help.

"That's so incredible. They lost an artist when they let you join the navy," she observed, smiling.

"Mac, don't!" he shouted, laughing and blushing slightly. "Never give a musician too much praise. Or he'll stop practicing."

She joined in his laughter. "But you deserved it." Her expression sobered. "I only wish that there had been a time and place for music in my childhood. But then," her smile returned, though somewhat strained, "Who knows if I'm even musical."

"You are," he stated quietly, looking at her with a sincere expression in his eyes.

"What makes you say so?" she inquired.

"Well, firstly, remember our round dance in Venice. If there was one person in the room who placed the steps on the right beat, always anticipating any 'accelerando' or 'ritardando' in the interpretation..."

"Any what?"

"Sorry," he excused himself with an embarrassed smile. "Musicians tend to talk in code. Like pilots."

"What surprise..." she murmured with a cocked eyebrow.

"Anyway, 'accelerando' means accelerating and 'ritardando' means slowing down," he explained, unperturbed. "And you just knew what the band would do and sped up or slowed down your own steps to stay on the beat. That's a sure sign of musicality, if there's any, Mac. And besides," his grin became a little nasty, "I hear it when you sing in the shower. Intonation's perfect." He ducked in time to have a flying grape miss him. It hit the sink.

"Hey!" he protested. "That's praise coming from a gifted musician." Another grape hit his forehead.

"Tell me, flyboy," Mac considered it wise to change the subject to some degree, "Do you normally memorize something before you play? I don't really know much about music, but don't you usually play while you read the music?"

"Normally you do, yes," he acknowledged, "Orchestra players always do. Or the members of a big band. Or in classical chamber music. But for instance many jazz musicians don't 'cause they tend to improvise. And soloists in instrumental concertos normally don't, either. You know, it's like being on an opera stage. You tell the piece's story, with the orchestra following your lead. You wouldn't wanna do that with your nose stuck in the score, right? You've got more room left in your thoughts to express your feelings if you don't have to read while playing."

"Right. Sounds convincing. So, now that I've learned something, are you gonna feed me, squid?" Mac took plates and cutlery from the cupboards and went over to the table.

"Okay," Harm said, laughing. He was glad to have Mac at his side right now. She helped him chase away the uneasy feeling he had in his gut when he thought about Clay's secret one-man assignment. Mac's presence was comforting, and she was so cute when she ordered him to 'feed' her. He just loved her when she did it. But then - didn't he always love her?



Wed, May 6th 1617 ZULU JAG Headquarters Falls Church, VA



"Attention on deck!" Petty Officer Jason Tiner yelled as he saw AJ emerge from the elevator. Everyone in the bullpen jumped to their feet and came to attention. AJ strode in the direction of his office, a young man in a foreign navy officer's uniform following in his tracks. In front of his door AJ turned and addressed his personnel. "At ease. Lt. Sims, get me Col. Mackenzie."

"Aye, sir." Lieutenant Harriet Sims-Roberts hurried from her desk to the only office that had all the blinds closed, Mac obviously being on the phone with someone. She knocked and waited.

"Come in," came a muffled voice from the inside.

Harriet stuck her head between the door and the doorpost. "Ma'am, the admiral requests your presence immediately." She gave Mac a quick wink and a smile which Mac returned, asking herself if Harriet suspected whom she was on the phone with.

"I'll be right with you, thank you, Lieutenant." The head of the young blonde disappeared and Mac quickly turned her attention back to the person on the other end of the line. "I gotta go, Harm. Admiral's calling."

He could hear her smile. "Go, Marine. Love you!"

"Love you, too, flyboy." Mac hung up the receiver and stepped into the bullpen. Taking a quick look around, she suddenly froze and stared.

Harriet noticed the colonel's amazement at seeing the foreign officer. Did she know him?

Mac inwardly scolded herself for losing her composure. She shot the young man a quick smile and expectantly faced the admiral who was fighting hard to hide his smirk at her reaction. Then he took a close look at Mac's jaw that on one side was all black and blue, only badly hidden by her make-up.

"What happened to you, Colonel?"

"Dentist, sir," was all she said.

"Want me to sue him?" AJ asked with an upraised eyebrow.

Mac suppressed a giggle. "Not necessary, sir. He got to know my right hook."

"Ouch," Chegwidden stated dryly. Then he cleared his throat. "Ladies and gentlemen, with Lt. Roberts still working hard in rehab and Cmdr. Imes currently assigned to the Great Lakes office we are rather short on personnel. So I was very pleased to hear that several years after the last... inspiring experience with the officers exchange program," he cast Mac a hint of a look as everybody slightly winced at the allusion to Mic Brumby, "It's once again our turn to welcome an addition to our team." By now Chegwidden's smile was genuine again. Mac succeeded in banishing any thoughts of Mic from her mind.

The admiral continued: "Let me present a promising young lawyer. He has been assigned to us to get to know our work and help us out a little while Roberts and Imes are away."

Mac saw Harriet's face cloud as it always did when her husband's dreadful injury was mentioned. Well, at least Bud finally seemed to have gotten over his fatalism about being disabled. Harriet's news that she was expecting another child had finally broken through the walls he had built around himself. Sure, Bud had tried to get back on track as soon as he had been released from the hospital and had learned to manage his life with only one leg. But he had grown more cold and distant to everyone each day, grown more cold and distant each day, knowing that he would have to deal with his memories if he opened up. He had cut down rehab exercises to the minimum as if he had wanted to forget the physical consequences of the blast.

Seeing Harriet at the verge of losing it all to her despair on the revelation that she was pregnant must have made something click in Bud's head. He had instantly taken leave and gone to a reputed long-term rehab institution in Massachusetts and was working harder than any of them had ever thought possible.

Exchanging a quick comforting glance with a grateful Harriet, Mac turned her attention back to the admiral who went on, "The newest member of our team just arrived all the way from Italy and has been telling me ever since I met with him how eager he is to get to know everyone. This is Lieutenant, j.g. Federico Prumetti, former Venice Port Authority's liaisons officer."

Prumetti bowed slightly in his unique old-fashioned way, smiling and silently greeting everyone as he listened to the admiral's introductions. Chegwidden went on. "Lieutenant, let me introduce you to my staff. You already know Col. Mackenzie." Mac exchanged a heartfelt smile with her and Harm's friend from their last abroad mission while the admiral stepped over to the two officers standing next to her.

"This is Commander Sturgis Turner and Lieutenant Commander Alan Mattoni, over here we have Lieutenant Harriet Sims. Lt. Sims's husband, Lt. Bud Roberts, is right now recovering from a very serious landmine accident he suffered a year ago in Afghanistan." A shadow quickly passed over Chegwidden's face - Prumetti presumed this would be the largest extent that the JAG allowed his feelings to be seen.

The admiral went on. "Over there would be the office of Lieutenant Commander Carolyn Imes who currently helps out at Great Lakes." Passing on to a young blonde who seemed to be extremely vexed that she was introduced so late, the admiral said: "This is Lieutenant Lauren Singer." Somehow the Italian lieutenant got the impression that the admiral was less than enthusiastic about her...

"And this is my yeoman, Petty Officer Jason Tiner," the admrial concluded as he stepped over to Tiner's desk near his door. "Uhm," he added quickly, "Just for the record: Cmdr. Rabb's office is over there. Rabb will be here again next week. Lieutenant, you can take Cmdr. Imes's office while you're with us. That will be all for now. Welcome to JAG headquarters and I hope you'll make the most of your stay."

"Thank you very much, sir, I'll do my very best," Prumetti answered. Mac noted with a smirk that everyone started at the Italian lieutenant's superb Edinburgh pronunciation.

All said, Chegwidden turned and vanished into his office. As soon as he was gone Mac would allow her enthusiasm to break through, other people's voices once again beginning to hum. "Fred, now that's great news!" she shouted, walking to properly greet her Mediterranean friend with two near kisses, one on each cheek.

"Colonel, ma'am..." Fred trailed off, embarrassed.

"Oh, I'm sorry, Lieutenant," Mac replied sheepishly. "I was so happy hearing you'd come to work with us that I even forgot we're on duty. Anyway, I'm really, really glad to see you and I'm sure Harm will be as well, as soon as he learns you're here. How long will you be staying?"

"Well, six months for now, ma'am, with an option to make it one year," Fred replied, relaxing a little at her warm welcome.

"Did you bring Claire?"

"Yes, ma'am, and, by the way, she sends her love. She would have liked to come this morning but she has to work."

Mac realized that she had never asked her friend what his fiancée did to earn her life. "Where's she working?"

"Her aunt's got a medical practice in Annapolis."

"She's a doctor?"

"Yes, an obstetrician and a gynecologist. Graduated three months ago in London. In fact, when you first knew her in Venice, she was on grad vacation, ma'am. She'll be doing her practical year here in D.C."

"Schedules fit perfectly, then," Mac observed, still with an enormous smile lighting up her face. "Wait till I tell Harm... or you know what? Let's call him! But first meet your new colleagues and get your stuff into your office. And remember when you call him: Harm isn't on duty right now..." With a wink she took one of the cases a clerk had just brought upstairs and vanished in the direction of Carolyn's deserted office before a dumbfounded Fred could say another word.

"Don't worry, Lieutenant, she's been a little strange of late, but in a way that certainly suits her. Lt. Sims," Harriet extended her hand. Fred took it with a smile.

"Pleased to meet you, ma'am. Definitely," he let his glance wander at Mac's back, "The colonel's changed since I met her in Venice. Any reason, ma'am?"

Harriet gave him a clueless shrug and a genuine smile. "None that we succeeded to figure out yet, Lieutenant. So you know the colonel and Cmdr. Rabb and the admiral from their assignment in Venice?"

Fred nodded. "Yes, ma'am." A suspicion about the nature of Mac's changes had begun to rise in the back of his mind but he kept it hidden. It wasn't up to him to speculate on his future superiors' private life - just that it was a nice thought if they had gotten involved...

Having greeted personally all his future colleagues, at once noting the openly displayed superiority in rank Singer had relished in, Fred entered the office that was to be his for the next months. Mac was occupying herself with the telephone on the desk.

"I programmed Harm's place on speed dial four and my own on five - just in case you might like to feel you had friends. By the way, where are you staying?"

"Claire's aunt has a two-apartment house in Rosslyn. She stays up and Claire and I have the rest of the house to ourselves, ma'am."

"Glad to hear that you're well settled. And Rosslyn's a nice neighborhood. Bud and Harriet used to live there before..." Mac let her voice trail off, not knowing how much she wanted to tell her friend right now of Bud's dreadful fate.

"Lt. Sims's husband stepped on a mine, ma'am?" Fred asked quietly.

"Yeah. Trying to save a kid. Lost one leg and only recently managed to get a grip and get help, physically and emotionally. But he's doing a great job with getting well, now that Harriet's pregnant again," Mac told him, knowing she could rely on Fred's gentlemanlike discretion. "Harriet and Bud are real friends. Their son AJ is Harm's and my godson. They had a daughter, Sarah, but..." Fred saw Mac swallow hard. "She died shortly after birth."

"Quite a load to carry," was the only thing he said, his voice thoughtful and compassionate.

Mac tried to shake off her gloomy mood. "Grab your phone and try out your speed dial, Fred," she encouraged him. He smiled.

"Aye, ma'am."

He pressed speed dial four and switched on the speaker for Mac to hear. On the fourth ring the receiver was picked up.

"Rabb," came Harm's voice from the other side of the line.

"Buongiorno, Comandante," Fred said, smirking. "Come va?" [Good morning, Commander. How are you?]

Silence. Then a tentative "Fred?"

"Yes, sir."

"That's a pleasant surprise, Lieutenant!" Harm's voice fully conveyed his flyboy-grin. "Why this unexpected pleasure?"

"Work, sir," Fred said, with a smile to Mac who bit her lip, giggling.

They could hear Harm raise his eyebrows. "Your gondola stolen again, Lieutenant? Do we need to return to Venice? Not that I'd mind..."

'I bet you wouldn't, sailor,' Mac thought, hiding her grin.

"No, sir, this time it'd suffice to go to your office." Fred was beginning to enjoy the conversation.

"Ah... right. And where are you calling from?"

"My office, sir. That is, you know it as Cmdr. Imes's." Quickly switching off the speaker phone, Fred held the receiver off his ear to let out a snort. Mac had long lost her composure at imagining her flyboy's expression.

"?!!??" Harm's silence spoke volumes.

"Fred's participating in the officers exchange program," Mac said, laughing, having snatched the receiver from Fred's hand.

"Wow, this is great! Let me talk to him again please, Mac!"

Fred took the receiver, grinning. The commander hadn't changed a bit. "Yes, sir?"

"I just wanted to say that I'm sorry I won't be able to see you until next week. I'm sure Mac told you that I've got a special op on my back. But go out with Mac and me to dinner next Monday, Lieutenant. And bring your fiancée if she's in D.C. That's an order!"

"Aye, aye, sir," Fred replied, laughing, before they said goodbye and he put the receiver down. Just then, Tiner entered the office.

"Lieutenant Prem... Pur..."

"Prumetti," Fred helped an embarrassed Tiner.

"Excuse me, sir, but the admiral wants to see you in the conference room. And you, too, ma'am," he added, noticing that Mac was present.

"Thank you, P.O. Tiner," Fred answered.

"Tiner will do, sir," the yeoman grinned before exiting the office.

"We'd better go at once," Mac said. "JAG HQ, lesson one: Never keep the admiral waiting."

"I see, ma'am." The shared a laugh as they crossed the bullpen.

Upon entering the conference room, they found the rest of the JAG staff already assembled. AJ motioned Mac and Fred to sit down and signaled to Harriet who rose and held up a letter.

"I don't know if any of you remember what this is but I told you when it arrived two months ago. And I told you not to make any plans for Sunday, May 10th. Anyway, this is the confirmation that I was just faxed from Washington Symphony's box office. Sunday morning's the big governmental charity matinee, broadcast live by ZBS, by the way. I don't know anything specific about the program, just that it's all classical, dress whites required, and that the Secnav has all but made it an order for the Navy's flag officers and senior staff to attend."

"And I am making it an order for all of you to go," Chegwidden cut in. "We've a reputation to maintain that the JAG Corps always turns up one big family."

Everybody was snickering or at least grinning at his remark. Harriet continued: "So I got tickets for all of us for Sunday 1100 at the Kennedy Center. I suggest we meet at the main entrance at 1030. Is there anybody who can't come except Cmdr. Rabb?"

"Sir, I'm leaving for Pensacola tomorrow," Singer addressed AJ, unsure if to be glad to show her enthusiasm for a case or angry to miss a major social event and many possibilities for networking. "The Portman case, sir. It'll take me at least one week."

"Too bad, Lieutenant." AJ's voice was perfectly neutral. Except to those who knew the friend beneath the SEAL. "Lt. Prumetti," he then turned to Fred. "Would you and your fiancée care to join us for the concert as we have two tickets left?"

"We'd be glad to, sir."

"Then that's settled. That is all." AJ rose and everyone jumped to their feet and came to attention. "See you all on Sunday at 1030 in front of the Kennedy Center. Dismissed."

On hearing their "Aye, aye, sir!" AJ left the conference room and headed for his office.



Sun, May 10th 1137 ZULU Harm's apartment North of Union Station Washington, D.C.



"How can I even think about going out in public with a face like this?" Mac shouted in frustration, angrily thrusting her powder-puff at her reflection in the bathroom mirror. The colors on her jaw were oscillating between a deep purple red and a light greenish yellow, passing every color imaginable in between from her chin to her ear. She had decided to get up early to somehow find a way to hide the remnants of her jaw surgery, but she was slowly running out of ideas how to do it. At least the swelling had passed and she could open her mouth normally again. But those damn colors would always shine through her make-up.

Harm, yawning and stretching, entered the bathroom and, with a smile, encircled her in his arms, looking into the mirror with his chin on her shoulder. "Did you have 'colorful' dreams, jarhead?" he asked, chuckling.

"Good morning to you, too, Commander," she snapped, unable to keep her mouth from twitching despite the situation.

Harm turned her around in his arms and scrutinized the effusion of blood the treatment had caused. Compassion shone in his eyes as he gently traced the stained skin with his fingertips. "My poor favorite Marine," he whispered gently and then said matter-of- factly: "I've got an hour until I have to go and meet with Webb at the... at our rendezvous point. Want me to try and take care of it? You know, I'm very good at fixing scratches in 'Sarah's' yellow varnish."

Mac gently slapped him on his bare chest, not oblivious to how good the muscles felt under her fingers. "Right. And that makes you an expert in fixing your other Sarah's varnish as well?"

He grinned. "Maybe..."

She couldn't resist to returning his smile. Sighing, she handed him her make-up case. "I'm out of ideas anyway. See what you can do, mechanic."

Chuckling, he searched through the bag's contents, then found her liquid make up jar. Working carefully, he applied it to her cheek, then softly blew on it until it had dried. Mac closed her eyes and enjoyed his tender touch as he covered the spot with compact powder and then repeated the whole procedure twice. Finally he moved away and surveyed his artwork. "Take a look, Colonel," he said.

Mac turned to the mirror. "Wow. Great job, I have to admit, flyboy," she said lovingly, glancing up at him in the mirror. Then she turned and put her arms around his neck. Harm pulled her tight to his body, the fine linen material of her white nightgown the only physical barrier between them. He was able to feel every curve of her beautifully shaped body through it. 'Don't get carried away, Hammer,' he kept telling himself as he felt his stomach tighten.

"What would I do without you?" Mac whispered with a huge smile in her beautiful eyes.

"You don't have to do without me. You won't get rid of me, Marine," he whispered back, letting a slow, tender kiss follow his words, a kiss that threatened to make her knees give out. She ordered herself to come to her senses and drew back slightly, concern showing on her now sober face.

"I know you can't tell me, but, Harm, please, whatever it is you're up to today, take care of yourself, will you? I won't have a quiet moment anyway, but your word of honor that you'll consider the safest option available, will make me feel a little more comfortable until you're back."

Harm earnestly looked into her eyes as he put his right hand on his heart. "Sarah, I give you my word of honor as an officer and my promise as the man who loves you more than anything else in this world that you won't have the slightest reason to be worried for my safety today. Okay?"

"Okay," she said, sniffling. Then she let out a slight chuckle. "Let's lighten the mood before you'll have to do my make-up all over again if I can't hold back those tears."

Laughing softly, he gave her a peck on the tip of her nose and vanished into the shower.

An hour later she was still in her bathrobe, having finished her hair and make-up that gave him a glimpse of how beautiful she would look at the charity concert.

"I'd rather come with you, Mac," Harm said ruefully as she accompanied him to the door.

"I know, but it can't be helped, can it? Wait, are you going just like that?" She looked him over in his simple civvies: jeans, t-shirt, sweater, Nikes and base-cap. No sidearm, no file, nothing.

"Yeah. Webb has everything I need. I brought my things over yesterday to our rendezvous point. Now get dressed and enjoy yourself, Marine."

"I would if you were with me. But things being as they are, I'll plaster on a fake smile and get things over with," she replied, making a mock face.

"See you in a few hours then. Wish me luck, Mac," Harm whispered, his face sober and uneasiness in his eyes.

Mac felt her worries growing but resolved not to make him feel even worse for her sake. "Good luck, my sailor," she whispered back, kissing him tenderly, and with a smile closed the door at his back. Only then she let out a sob that had been lingering in her throat.



Sun, May 10th 1530 ZULU Kennedy Center Washington, D.C.



Mac had never thought her make-up would survive this trip. She had been sweating like hell on the road, stuck in traffic and her air conditioning was broken once again. But whatever charm Harm had applied with his treatment held. Holding her small dark blue silk jacket, that hung loose above her shoulders, and slightly lifting up the long skirt of the matching off-the-shoulder dress, she ran to join her friends as gracefully as her high heels would permit.

Harriet was giving out the tickets. Mac noted with silent joy that her belly was barely beginning to show under her pink dress.

"Good morning, Colonel," the admiral greeted her, echoed by the others. Then Mac turned and saw a slender young woman stepping up to her, beaming radiantly.

"Mac, it's so good to see you!"

"Claire!" Mac hugged her younger friend. "Talking to you on the phone's been great, but seeing you in person is just... terrific!"

"Well, I hope we'll get more of that now that Fred and I are so close by."

"Count on it! My God, Lieutenant!" Mac exclaimed as Fred stepped up to greet her. She had never seen him in his dress whites before. Those Italians sure had style, she thought. Fred's white jacket had the front buttons hidden, emphasizing even more a bright royal blue sash that went from his right shoulder to his left hip where a shining saber was attached to his side. 'Too bad that I see no gold wings, then he'd be perfect.' She smiled at the thought. "Fred, you look like prince charming."

"Thank you, ma'am." The young lieutenant couldn't help blushing.

"Ready to go in, everyone?" Harriet asked. "Bud's sending his love to all of you but he wants to finish his rehab. So he'll be watching the concert on TV during physical therapy."

"Tell him we miss him, Harriet," Mac said.

"Let's go in then," Chegwidden said and they set off for their seats.

"Did you hear anything about the program yet, Lt. Sims?" Tiner asked as they found their seats. They had gotten very good tickets in the tenth row, near enough to the stage to see details but far away enough not to have to look up. The whole concert hall was sold out, the audience obviously being very exclusive and ready to open their bursting purses for whatever charity was asked of them.

"No, Tiner. I tried to do some research but I'm as clueless as any of you." Harriet smiled apologetically.

"Not entirely clueless, though," cut in Sturgis.

"What do you know that we don't, Cmdr. Turner?" Jackie Mattoni leaned forward, eager to learn some details.

Sturgis smiled. "Not much, actually. Bobbi's been appointed host for the event and she let slip that we'll get a program put together of very different pieces of music. But the interesting thing's not so much what, but who will perform. It seems that one musician has been chosen from every governmental institution or military branch participating. She won't give me any further hints, telling me that even she gets her information on stage, opening envelopes, you know, like that Oscar stuff. But obviously whoever organized this mega event, thought it would add to the fun having the surprise moments secured. It definitely will for the TV public."

'This is going to be fun,' Mac thought. But before she could ask Sturgis for any further information, the orchestra appeared on stage and tuned their instruments. Somewhere a cell-phone started to beep. Angry "ssshhh"- noises caused a bustle in the audience as everyone double-checked their own electronic devices. Then the lights above the audience dimmed and a single spotlight appeared on stage, following the woman walking to center stage, obviously enjoying her warm welcome applause.

"Good morning, ladies and gentlemen," Congresswoman Bobbi Latham gently greeted the public. "Let me welcome you to today's government charity concert. Thank you for joining us. There are so many of you today, I only hope it will show in the bank account we opened for today's fundraising." At Bobbi's smile low chuckles were heard in the public. Mac watched Sturgis silently admire the beautiful congresswoman in her smashing red dress. Bobbi continued. "A very warm welcome, too, to the many, many people who are with us today in front of their TVs here with us today via ZBS live broadcast from Washington D.C. During the intermission we'll provide you with a phone number where you can make your donations. As for the recipients of today's fundraising, I now ask for someone to come onstage who'll explain the details to us. Representing the organizing institution of today's concert, the Central Intelligence Agency," (astonished murmurs were heard in the audience), "Please welcome Undersecretary of State, Mr. Clayton Webb."

Mac sat bolt upright. A suspicion began to rise in her mind - but no, it couldn't be true. Maybe this was part of their cover. But still... She cast a quick look at the admiral who remained seated as quietly as he had been before. Maybe she was just imagining things.

Led by applause, Webb stepped onto the stage and greeted Bobbi charmingly with a pecks on each cheek. 'I didn't know this was the Oscar night,' Mac thought, frowning.

"Ladies and gentlemen," Clay began as the crowd had digested their astonishment, "I am very much aware that normally the CIA would be one of the last institutions in this country to ever organize a major public event like this. We 'spies'," he let the word sink in with a sly look around and at once had all the sympathies on his side as soft laughter was heard from the public, "We spies tend to cover our tracks wherever we go and if we ever come to media attention, it's a bit of misdirection the media got a hold of. Anyway, we felt it was time to let people know that we actually do more good than they seem to believe. That is why we organized this event and we were surprised at the degree of cooperation we encountered with all government authorities. You know, normally things don't always go too smoothly..." Webb artfully let his voice trail off with a half-smile. 'He is good at it!' Mac conceded with a grin as the audience was laughing more openly, obviously liking the charming 'spy'.

"The recipients of your donations live in a country that right now holds many dreadful memories and fears for Americans. They may seem to stand on the other side but they are still way too innocent to raise anything else than our compassion for their situation. Let us give a financial hand today to UNICEF's projects in Afghanistan. Thank you." Roaring applause filled the auditorium as Clayton Webb was led off the stage by Bobbi.

Mac turned to see a pained expression quickly cross Harriet's face. She took her hand and squeezed it, earning a reassuring squeeze in return, telling her that her friend was all right.

"Today's musicians volunteered to stand up on stage. Every participating institution is sending a very gifted musician for you to enjoy today," Bobbi explained, a white envelope in her hand. "So let's just start by thanking the Washington Symphony Orchestra to have volunteered as well to accompany them." Bobbi opened the envelope and quickly scanned the words on the card inside. "The conductor of our concert is a young special agent, normally specialized in profiling. He'll open the program with the "Overture 1812" by Tchaikovsky. Let us all welcome, representing the Federal Bureau of Investigation, Special Agent Raymond Burns." Bobbi made a wide gesture with her free hand and left the stage. A young, tall man walked up to the conductor's podium, solemnly bowed and took up his baton. The concert began.

Soon everybody in the audience was silently wondering how governmental or military personnel could possibly find the time to practice enough to attain the music standards they were displaying onstage. Burns had an excellent feel for the orchestra's needs. He would stay unobtrusive, let the professional musicians use their experience, but be present and a firm leader every time a passage needed it. And standards were kept high by every soloist that followed after the orchestral opening. An Air Force Captain provided a stunning interpretation of the first movement of Mendelssohn's violin concerto in e minor. Then a state senator of Rhode Island showed her talent in the great aria of Pamina, taken from Mozart's 'Magic Flute'. Then a high diplomatic officer from the State Department played a sweet little harpsichord concerto by Vivaldi.

As his applause faded away, Bobbi again stepped on stage with yet another white envelope in her hand. "Before we grant you your well-deserved intermission," she began, interrupted by laughter from the audience who was greatly enjoying the event, "We have one last piece in store for you. I've been briefed that the musician who will now come to perform, has done a huge favor to all of us by stepping in for a colleague with only four days preparation. We all owe him for that sacrifice."

Mac felt her mouth go dry. This couldn't be possible. Holding her breath, she saw Bobbi open the envelope and barely contain her surprise. The congresswoman swallowed, re-plastered her now somewhat strained smile to her face and announced: "We'll now hear the second movement of Joaquín Rodrigo's guitar concerto. And here is for you, representing the United States Navy, former naval aviator and now lawyer with the Judge Advocate General Corps, Commander Harmon Rabb, Jr."

A loud 'thump' indicated that Harriet had dropped her purse in pure astonishment. For the JAG family the scene played in slow-motion: Jackie turned to Alan Mattoni who turned to Claire who turned to Fred who turned to Harriet who turned to Tiner who turned to Sturgis who turned to Mac who, feeling all their inquisitive gazes lingering on her, only lifted her hands in an I-was-as-clueless-as-you movement and turned to AJ who met all their glances with a huge smirk on his face.

Just then applause set in as a tall figure in immaculate dress whites slowly crossed the stage to the soloist's chair near the conductor's podium. Carrying his guitar in his left hand, Harm shook hands with the concertmaster in the first violins' front row and then slowly bowed to the public, his gaze wandering.

Harm was desperately searching the audience for any sign of Mac. He felt dreadful and knew that his only source of strength to help him through this would be a reassuring look from her. Finally he saw her and his friends sitting in the tenth row, staring up at him open-mouthed. 'At least they didn't know beforehand,' he told himself, looking at Mac. His Marine finally seemed to realize that she had no reason to fear for his physical well-being, and this realization, paired with the expression of rising pride of her best friend, painted her features with one of the most beautiful smiles Harm had ever seen. 'I'll play for you, Mac, only for you,' he thought, answering her with a barely noticeable smile of his own, suddenly feeling much more at ease than he had all day.

He carefully re-tuned his instrument, took a firm seat and nodded to Burns to begin. It was the first time that Mac heard the piece with its orchestral accompaniment. And the incredible amount of longing the piece held was underlined in every single note. Soon even the toughest coughers in the audience were silenced, holding their breath and listening to the tall navy officer who in an instant had succeeded in capturing their attention with the extent of emotion that his interpretation conveyed.

Instead of looking into the abyss or closing his eyes in concentration, Harm locked his gaze with Mac's, his eyes never leaving hers, telling her that all that was inside the music was inside his heart as well, waiting for her to see. She seemed to read his music, and through it, his mind. Her gaze confirmed his hopes that her mind was a mirror to his own.

"This is incredible," Mac heard Harriet whisper in awe. Had she been able to take her eyes away from Harm's, she would have seen Alan and Fred taking the hands of their wife and fiancée, respectively, Harriet wiping away a tear from her cheek, Tiner sitting open-mouthed, staring, and AJ and Sturgis exchanging a look, having traced the line connecting Mac and Harm's eyes.

When the piece came to an end, there was nothing but deep silence. Harm held his hands on the chords for a few moments while Burns never let his baton sink. Only after what seemed several minutes, but was in fact about ten seconds, Harm dropped his right hand and cast a smile up to the young conductor who returned it and let his hands drop.

Then the hurricane broke loose. Tiner was the first to jump to his feet and with all the force his voice was able to bring up he yelled: "Braaavooo!!!" At once the whole auditorium joined in, cheering, whistling, clapping their hands wildly at this musical hallmark moment.

Harm rose and bowed, a smashing flyboy-grin spreading on his face, clearly showing his relief. His eyes never left Mac who was on her feet, applauding wildly with the whole JAG staff. 'I love you!' she mouthed, and he gave her a quick wink to show her he had understood. He then left the stage, Burns following him, both reappearing after a few moments. Burns had the orchestra rise and Harm again shook hands with the concertmaster. Bobbi came to join him, bringing with her the other soloists of the first half of the concert. All received flowers and congratulated each other. Then all musicians left the stage and the public streamed out of the concert hall, immediately crowding the bistro areas outside.

Mac turned to Chegwiden who was walking behind her. "Excuse me, sir, but I'd like to go backstage for a moment."

AJ smiled, his eyes full of pride for his officer who had saved the honor of the navy. "Then off you go, Colonel. We'll see the commander after the concert. Give him our compliments, will you?"

"Of course, sir. Thank you, sir." And Mac was already on her way.

As she reached the soloists' dressing-rooms behind the stage she stopped short in her tracks, seeing an enormous line of people wanting autographs in front of Harm's door. Not wanting to cause any uproar, she quietly got in line. 'They all have to be back in when the concert continues,' she thought, smiling to herself. 'I don't."

She enjoyed herself watching the people and listening to their conversation. Two teenage girls in very grown-up dresses were giggling and dancing on their feet in front of Mac.

"Oh my God," she heard one of them say, "Isn't he hot?! When I saw him walking on stage... wow!"

"And his grin is soooo cute!" the other cut in excitedly.

"And this uniform. I bet he's a real hero."

"He's a pilot. I'm sure he's gotta be so tough up in the air. And then he's got a heart for music, that's sooo cool!"

Mac could hardly bite back her laughter. They were talking about Harm, not about Robbie Williams!

"He was concentrating so hard when he played. And he was staring in the same direction all the time. I just hope it wasn't his wife sitting there!" one of them took up the topic that both of them were most interested in.

"His girlfriend would be bad enough," the other girl complained.

"What do you think is his age?"

"Dunno. Something between 35 and 40?"

"Nah... he's younger than that. Too cool to be so old."

Mac couldn't hold back a snort. Quickly turning, she managed to hide her amusement from them.

"But I sooo wanna know who he was staring at!" the first one said fiercely.

"Yeah. Me, too." They were about to be called in next. "I just wish they had printed pictures of the musicians in the program," the second girl sighed, preparing her pen and paper. "Oh, I'd so hate to learn he's got a girlfriend! Just who was it he was looking at? And then giving that smile that made my knees turn to jell-o?" The other girl nodded eagerly at this comment.

Mac felt she couldn't resist any more. "Me," she stated matter-of-factly as the girls were about to go in. They turned and stared at her as they would at an alien. To prove that she wasn't kidding, Mac added with a sly smile: "And by the way, he's 40 and already taken."

The girls snapped their mouths shut, gulped visibly at the sight of the tall, gorgeous brunette that was addressing them and hurried to get inside the dressing-room as Harm, with a smile that seemed just a little exasperated, led out the elderly lady who had been waiting for an autograph in front of them. Seeing Mac standing next in line, Harm's eyes lit up for a fraction of a second before being all politeness again for the trembling girls.

When they came out, the intermission nearing its end, all other admirers who had been in line behind Mac had left. Harm graced the girls with his patented grin and then let his smile grow to a real heartfelt one as Mac stepped to greet him. She gave him a 'Let's-give-them-a-good-show' grin and he instantly understood.

"Hey, my darling," he cooed, an irresistible smile sparkling in his eyes. He pulled her into a tight hug, kissing her passionately for the stunned girls to see. So the lady had been right in telling them that he was taken! As the bell announced the beginning of the second half, they turned and reluctantly strolled back into the hall.

"Are they gone?" Harm whispered against Mac's mouth.

"Yeah," she replied, never breaking the kiss.

Harm moved backward, dragging her into the dressing-room and closing the door behind them. The kiss stretched until they ran out of air.

"You're wearing me out, Marine," Harm grinned, leaning his forehead against hers, gasping.

"I'd say our acting was... breathtaking," Mac commented dryly, gasping herself.

He drew back and smiled at her, one eyebrow up high. "So your kiss was just part of our little show?"

"'Course," she replied carelessly. "Don't overestimate the effect you have on me, squid."

Their eyes held for a few moments. Then Mac's mouth twitched, causing Harm to snort and together they broke out laughing, hugging tightly, feeling the tension finally slip away.

"You had me worried all day," Mac admitted softly when their laughter had quieted down.

Harm gave her a loving grin and, cupping her face, caressed her cheek with his thumb. "I promised I wouldn't be in any physical danger, right?"

Mac returned his smile. "Yup. And as always I should have known that I could rely on your word. Harm, you played wonderfully. You swept me away."

Harm felt himself blush. "It was okay, I guess, given the fact that I had four days..."

"Stop denying your success! You know you were great!" Mac slapped him on the chest, smirking.

"Okay, okay," he held up his hands in defense. "I admit it went very well, but that's because I had you to inspire me, my favorite Marine."

"You're so sweet." She quickly kissed him on the lips, smiling broadly to hide her emotion. "But tell me one thing: Why didn't you tell anyone what you were about to do?"

Harm smiled a little sheepishly. "I didn't want anyone to come here with great expectations. And I would have had to explain why I had to fill in and that would have caused new questions and speculations about why I wouldn't have been able to answer them."

Mac's face sobered. "What's this all about?"

"I don't know." Harm sat down on the chair in front of the dressing-table, pulling her to his lap. "The admiral told me the information was classified. Maybe Webb wanted this to be treated with discretion because they suspect something behind the suicide of the person who was supposed to perform for the navy."

"Webb..." Mac sighed, exasperated. "Suicide, right? And who was supposed to stand up for the navy?"

"Classified."

"Oh man."

They sat in silence for several minutes, enjoying their closeness.

"Did I tell you how beautiful you look, Sarah?" He looked up to her with a half-smile.

Mac blushed slightly. "Not yet. But I was hoping you would because I had an artist helping me with my make-up this morning. See it?"

He faked a thoughtfully scrutinizing look. "Yeah, right. Good work." Then he cast her a king size flyboy-grin.

Mac took her purse and pulled out her wallet, opening it to reveal a black- and-white portrait photo of him that had been taken two years back. "Maestro, would you mind writing me an autograph?"



Wed, May 13th 0012 ZULU Harm's apartment North of Union Station Washington, D.C.



"Phew!" Harm shut the door behind Mac's back, strode over to the kitchen counter, put down the heavy grocery bags he had been carrying and then took off his cover, threw it on a nearby barstool and wiped away the sweat from his forehead. Mac followed close by, relieving herself with a loud 'thud' of the weight of a case of mineral-water bottles that she had been carrying. Then she, too, took off her cover and uniform jacket, went to hang them up near the door and bent down to where Harm's unopened mail was still lying on the floor (he had slept at her apartment the previous night) while he was busying himself putting away the groceries.

"Two bills and a letter," she told him, walking over to him and sitting down on a stool, thankfully accepting the glass of water he handed her with a smile. "Thanks."

"Drop the bills, who's the letter from?"

Mac turned it over several times in her hands, frowning. "It's got no sender's address on it. Only yours written in type letters. Stamp says New York." She examined it more closely searching for any hint of dangerous material. Eventually she decided it was safe to open it. "Want me to look inside?"

"Yeah, please, my hands are sticky with tomato juice. The pack must have leaked all the time." He made a face and began to clean up the traces it had left.

"Okay, here we go.... Harm, look, this is so strange!"

He turned, frowning, to find her looking at - a sheet of music. "Just this?"

"Yes. No words. Just music."

"Let me see." He wiped his hands and took the sheet from her hand, examining it closely. Then, without saying anything, he went to the bedroom and returned with his guitar. "Hold the sheet up... yeah, like that, thanks, Mac."

He studied the pentagrams. "It's a melody, like in a song without words, and something that seems to be a guitar accompaniment, actually." Taking another close look at the lines Harm began to play, yet leaving out the melody.

The song rang a bell somewhere back in Mac's mind. She frowned and tried to concentrate on where she had heard it but couldn't place it. Having finished, Harm looked up to find her thoughtful. "You know the piece, don't you?"

"Yeah, I guess, but right now I can't remember what it was. Do you know it?"

"No. But I'll play it again and try to hum the melody. Maybe that'll help you."

Mac closed her eyes and tried hard to figure out the song's title. It was a country song, though rather modern, and it had a somewhat urgent and quietly menacing sound. She knew it, she was sure of it, but what the hell... "Garth Brooks!" she suddenly blurted out as she finally recognized it. Harm stopped playing somewhere in the middle of the piece and only raised his eyebrows, a huge question mark on his features.

"The song's called 'The night will only know'. It's got rather disturbing lyrics. If I only had my CD here with me. Then we might find a hint on what this is all about." Mac began to pace up and down agitatedly in front of the kitchen counter.

Harm was just as curious as she was. "Tell you something: it's way too hot for the clothes you have stored at my place, anyway. Why don't you go home and bring over some summer clothes? There's still some room for your stuff in my cupboard and you could get the CD as well. In the meantime I'll cook dinner."

Mac was already on her way. "Back in a minute!" she yelled before closing the door.

An incredibly short time later Mac let herself back in with her key, wearing a light summer dress and carrying her uniform and some light garments in a laundry basket. On top lay the CD.

"Hey, a fairy just came to visit," Harm said with a smile when her dress caught his eyes.

"Just felt like celebrating the first real hot day of the season," she replied, putting the CD into the stereo. Harm immediately recognized the song as the piece from his letter and, beginning from the second stanza, the lyrics slowly made the hair on the back of his neck stand up ever more.

That night will live forever Their first time to lie together They were finally where desire dared them to go Both belonging to another But longing to be lovers Promising each other that the night will only know

Parked on some old back-street They laid down in the back seat And fell into the fire down below But they would pay for their deceiving For a deadly web was weaving Why they picked that spot that evening Lord, the night will only know

Well within the innuendos Just outside the steamy windows The night was shattered by a woman's scream Motionless and frightened The grip of fate had tightened And with trembling hands they wiped away the steam

They saw a woman pleading Stumbling, begging and retreating 'Til she became the victim of her foe And they watched her fall in silence To save their own alliance But the reason for the violence Just the night will only know

And every paper ran the story She was stripped of all her glory And they told exactly how the woman died Abandoned and forsaken Too many pills were taken And they ruled the woman's death a suicide

Bound by their behavior They could have been her savior Now guilt becomes the endless debt they owe But another crime was committed And it's never been admitted Have the guilty been acquitted Lord, the night will only know

"Suicide," Mac whispered, letting the booklet that she had been following the lyrics in slowly sink to her lap.

Harm had visibly paled as the song had revealed its dreadful story. He, too, had quickly understood the connection it held with the charity concert. "Someone seems to think it wasn't," he replied slowly.

"Or someone knows," Mac added, "And feels this is the only way to speak for whatever reason."

Harm took the letter and examined it yet another time. Nothing, no words, no hints, no signs except the music. "There's got to be some indication to I don't know what on this thing," he sighed, running his hand through his hair. He scrutinized every note... and suddenly had a suspicion.

"Mac, I didn't finish playing it when you had found out what it was. I think I just noted something interesting in the melody line near the end. You familiar with the morse code?"

Mac looked up from the booklet in surprise. "I'm a Marine, Harm. Why?"

Harm intensely studied the paper. "Write down the rhythm I'll knock on the counter and tell me if it makes any sense. It's in the last few bars and musically it just doesn't make any sense. Far too many little notes."

Mac took a pen and a piece of paper and noted what Harm was reading in the rhythm, being able to make out the end of each letter by a pause written in the melody.

".-- / . / -.. / .---- / ...-- / ----- / ..... / ----- / ----- / .-. / .--- / .- / --. / .... / --.-"

"Harm," she gasped when she understood the meaning of the encoded message, "Someone wants to meet you."

"What?" he asked, incredulous, as he put down his guitar and bent over her shoulder to read for himself. "WED130500RJAGHQ," he murmured slowly, feeling his stomach tighten. "You're right, Mac. Whoever wrote this wants to meet me tomorrow morning at 0500 ROMEO at JAG Headquarters. He or she must have been sure I could figure this out."

"They probably saw you play on TV and understood you could read music," she guessed, "Well, we'd better go and find out who it is and what he or she wants."

"Wait a minute, Mac," Harm ventured, frowning, inwardly preparing himself for the discussion that he was sure would follow. "I'm going, not you. This letter was directed to me. I'm sure the sender wants to meet me alone."

Mac stubbornly crossed her arms in front of her chest. "No way. Someone's got to be there to watch your six, flyboy. I'm coming. Period."

"Mac..."

"Don't 'Mac' me, Harm. My mind is made up."

"That's what I'm afraid of." He sighed, knowing she wouldn't give in and secretly loving her for this trait of her character. "Okay, you win. But stay hidden in the car and come out only if necessary. Okay?"

She smiled, enjoying her victory. "Okay. Now let's eat that risotto you made and get some sleep. We gotta get up early, you know, squid?"

"Aye, ma'am," he chuckled, going to get the steaming bowl.



Wed, May 13th 0959 ZULU JAG Headquarters Falls Church, VA



Harm slowly pulled into the parking lot, glancing around for any hints of someone who might be waiting for him. He was in dark sweats, his sidearm ready to be pulled out from the waistband at his back. Mac, dressed in black, was laying low in the back of the car, her weapon in her hands. Harm shut down the motor and exited the car. Crouched low on the back seat, Mac watched him walk up slowly in the direction of the entrance. But just before he came into sight for the guards she saw him stop and turn his head as if he were listening. She felt a shiver creep over her back. 'Please, God, don't let anything happen to him,' she silently prayed, clutching her gun more firmly.

Harm wasn't sure if he had been wrong but as he stood perfectly still and listened, he heard it again. Someone was very softly whistling 'The night will only know'. He turned in the direction that the sound came from and made sure he was always walking within Mac's line of sight. Then he saw a small figure emerge from the shadows of a tree. He stopped and waited. The other figure very slowly approached him, hands held up as if to say 'Don't shoot, I just want to talk.' When the person was only a few feet away Harm, to his astonishment, noted that it was a young woman, maybe even a girl still, petite and fragile-looking. Harm could tell that she was frightened to death.

"Commander Harmon Rabb, Jr.?" she asked in a whisper, her voice shaking.

"Yes," he said very low. Did she fear that they were watched by someone?

"Oh my God, I'm so glad to see you, sir," she whispered. He could tell she was at the verge of crying with relief.

"Who are you?"

"Cadet Jeannine Stiller, sir, from Dwayne Myers Naval College, New York."

"Wait a minute," he whispered incredulously, "You came all the way from New York to see me in the middle of the night?"

"Yes, sir. Thank you so much for coming. There's no one with you, right?"

Harm began to feel pity for the young girl. "No, I'm alone."

"Let's walk around a little while we talk, please, sir. I'm not sure if I've been followed."

"All right," Harm said, signaling to Mac behind his back that he thought the situation was safe. "Tell me, Cadet Stiller, what's this all about?"

"Sir, I saw you on TV, the concert, you know. I'm sure you know whom you've been filling in for, right?"

Harm was getting curious. "Actually I don't. All I know is that whoever it was committed suicide." He saw the girl wince at the last word.

"No, sir, she didn't." Her voice was barely audible.

Stopping short in his tracks, Harm asked: "She, Cadet?"

Forcing him to go on by never slowing down her pace, Stiller answered: "Yes, sir. Cadet Meryl Waters, second year, my roommate. She was supposed to play the second movement of Mozart's clarinet concerto at the charity event." She couldn't hold back her tears anymore. Without thinking Harm embraced the trembling girl and let her cry for a few moments until she quieted. Then Stiller stepped back, sniffing embarrassedly. "I'm sorry, sir, I sincerely apologize for my behavior."

"Apology accepted, Cadet. What makes you think Cadet Waters didn't commit suicide?" he ventured carefully.

"I saw it, sir."

"Saw what?"

"How he... the man... he made her swallow something. She didn't want to. She struggled, sir, she cried. She begged but he succeeded. She almost instantly fell to the ground in convulsions and then she stopped moving..." Stiller tried to suppress a sob but it came out nevertheless. Harm put a reassuring hand on the poor girl's shoulder. She gave a start but then slowly relaxed.

"Could you see him, Cadet?"

"No, it was dark, sir. They were on the parking lot at the back of the college, sir. And we... I... well, I was in a car with..."

"Your boyfriend?" Harm was careful to keep his voice as neutral as possible.

"Yeah," she admitted, leaving out the rest. "My... boyfriend had to go away and I got out of the car. He drove away and I walked back to the campus's back door. The parking lot has two parts, you know, at right angles to one another. When I walked around the corner I saw them. The only thing I could make out was that she seemed to know him. When Meryl was... dead he would look up and see me standing there. Sir, I was like... frozen. He had his face covered. And he..." she gulped visibly and went on barely whispering, "He started to come in my direction. Sir, I only ran until I reached my dorm. I bolted my door and cried all night."

"Why didn't you call the police or tell anyone?"

"I don't know, sir," she girl sobbed, "At first I was too scared to move and the next day the letters started."

"What letters?"

"Anonymous letters, sir. They were threatening me, saying they could get to me wherever I went. And the letters held detailed schedules of what I was supposed to be doing during the day and where and what I'd done in between the day before. Sir, I don't know how they get the information but they seem to follow my every move. I brought you one letter, sir." She handed him an envelope.

"So why did you come here, Cadet? And how do you know they won't get to you on your way back?"

"I read an article about you on ZBS.com, sir, after the concert. And I knew if there was one person who could possibly help me it would be you, sir. I had figured that with them knowing my every move I wouldn't be able to leave the college during the day or to make phone calls. Thinking of what I'd seen, the Garth Brooks song came to my mind and I knew you'd figure it out. But if the letter would get into the wrong hands maybe they wouldn't know what it was supposed to mean. I wasn't sure of that but I felt it was my only option. My boyfriend is a computer crack, sir. He once showed me how to leave traces on the Internet for someone else to find. I'm sure whoever writes to me knows how it works but they surely don't suspect me to know as well. So I managed to get a message to my boyfriend who sent you the music, sir. And he arranged for me to be smuggled outside the college by a friend of his who does grocery deliveries. We drove all night and he dropped me off here. He'll come and get me in," she glanced at her watch, "Six minutes exactly. I've got lessons only at 1400 today, so I locked my door and hopefully they think I'm there, sleeping. People leave me pretty much alone since Meryl's death so I hope they won't notice I'm missing. Please, sir," she urgently begged him, "Help me and find out who did this to her and why."

Harm had listened in unbelieving silence. This girl was obviously going through hell. "Do you have any idea why someone would want to kill Cadet Waters?"

"Not really, sir. She just told me that she had found out something and it seemed to trouble her very much. She wanted to tell me when I got back, the evening she was murdered. She was a rather thorough person. I'm sure there's somewhere she has written down or recorded what she found but I didn't find it yet. After the police ruled Meryl's death a case of suicide, knowing she had emotional problems - she's... was a talented artist but her family didn't want her to become a musician, you know - they left her things packed in cases until her family who lives in Oregon would come to get them at the end of the term. Sir, will you please, please help me?" she repeated, at the verge of crying again.

"I'll have to tell your story to some people," he began and at her shocked expression quickly reassured her, "But it will only be my closest co- workers and my C.O. After all, he must consent to my investigating. Don't worry, Cadet, I have an excellent working relationship with the admiral. If I tell him I'm sure he'll understand the situation. And my co-workers I would trust with my life. They'll be sure to keep your secret. Anyway, we'll have help for you on the way ASAP. I promise, Cadet Stiller. Just you promise me to stick with your friends and never pull a stunt like this again until you notice you're being helped, okay? That's an order."

"Aye, sir," the girl sobbed with relief. Just then a van slowly pulled up to the entrance to the parking lot, the driver seeming to study a map, casually pulling to a halt on the sidewalk.

"Thank you so much, sir," Stiller whispered and carefully walked over to the waiting van that drove on instantly as soon as she had climbed up in the back.

Harm stood in the parking lot, staring after the fading rear lights. He needed a couple of minutes to fully digest the situation that he had just been dumped in. Then he slowly walked over to his SUV where Mac was anxiously waiting for him to return, having watched his exchange with the stranger.

"My God, sailor," she said, concern showing on her face, as he climbed on board. "You look terrible."

"I feel terrible, Mac," was the little reassuring answer she got.

"What's up? Tell me," she urged him.

He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. "You got your cell-phone, Mac?"

"Sure. Why?"

"I'll tell you everything on the way back. But now, please, get me Webb on the phone, will you?"

"'Course." Mac speed-dialed Webb's secret number, inwardly determining not to wonder about anything that might come up now.



To be continued... (Feedback always appreciated!)