Keep a punching bag ready for the ending of this part. ;)

That's all I am saying.

It looks like either two or three more chappies until we conclude.
But, knowing me, you need the angst. It's an addiction, sue me. ;)

I've been working every day since Saturday and I am exhausted. I
guess the light at the end of the tunnel is that my check will
probably be very nice when I get paid next Friday but, until then, my
body is like whipping out a white flag.

Ah well, suck it up!!!

Have a great week guys!
Jackie

PS: Enjoy. ;)

Chapter 10 – Alter Ego.
2213 Local
Harm's Apartment
North of Union Station

Free to vegetate for the weekend, Harm wasn't expecting any company. He'd unplugged his phone and was content to be oblivious until Monday morning rolled around. A knock on the door severed all of that and he was a little surprised to find Mac standing on the other side. "Major, I don't want to know anything about the case until Monday. Please respect that."

"Can I come in?" A half smile and the soft look in her eyes drew him in. Damnit, whether he wanted to or not, Mac was coming in.

He pushed the door wide open and stood to the side. "Sure. Come in." Harm didn't expect a kiss on the cheek or the light touch on his arm but both actions comforted him. "Why are you here, Major?"

Mac turned around slowly, her smile fading. "So it's 'Major' now?"

"I know why you're here. I don't need you to make me feel better. . .Court's been a train wreck and. . ."

Waving him off, she settled onto the sofa with a deep sigh. "Actually, your case is not the reason I'm here." She waited for him to come closer and settle into the chair just next to the sofa. "I heard that you went to McMurphy's afterwards."

"Stalking me?"

"No. . .Bud and Harriet were there and saw you sitting with none other than CIA scumbag, Clayton Webb."

That was the problem with Washington, everyone knew everything. "I should have stayed in the PACFleet. Much quieter over there."

"Nevertheless, why were you talking with Webb?" It was hard to keep the disdain from her voice and even harder to marginally pretend to like the spook. Their one date came mainly out of curiosity as to why he was hounding after her when the man could have any woman in Washington. As she recalled, it didn't end well and the man went home with a broken nose to prove it.

Harm shuffled towards the bar and propped himself up on a barstool. "I hear the two of you dated for a while."

Okay, if the guy wanted to beat around the bush, she would play his game and treat him like she did all other clients who were hiding something. "A date, as in one." To make her point she stuck her index finger in the air and then rolled her eyes. "And I wound up breaking his nose at the end of it."

"Oh. Webb conveniently left that part out." He couldn't keep the smug grin off of his face envisioning Mac, in a dress, punching the spook. Yes, it was one of those Kodak moments. "Did he deserve it?. . . No. Don't answer that. . .it's a dumb question. Of course he did."

Mac chuckled, "Well, when you say 'no' and a guy still tries to cop a feel, a girl has a right to defend herself. Girl Marines just do it with their fists."

"I wish I'd seen that." Webb wasn't necessarily a bad guy, but the whole bag of issues that stemmed from his family being so involved with the agency made the lines blur. There had been a time or two, mainly during the Gulf War, that Harm had started to lose touch of himself. Killing people, no matter how innocent or guilty, tended to have a profound effect on a person. He often muddled over the thoughts of his first kill – the joyful victory laced with the knowledge that he'd taken a human life. Was that what Webb was covertly asking him to do? Take lives? "Webb offered me a job."

"Oh no." She suddenly felt a sickness at the pit of her stomach. The Admiral had warned her about Webb and she took his lack of interest at court to mean that he was off of Harm's scent. Had he been waiting in the wings for her to make a mistake? "Please tell me you didn't take him up on the offer."

"Not yet." But there wasn't finality to his statement and Mac took it as an open ended answer. She pressed her hand to his arm. "Whatever he's offering you, this isn't the time to think about it."

"Maybe it's the right time." He couldn't look at her; couldn't admit defeat. "What chance do we have, Mac? Senator Mace is just going to rail road this whole thing. . .I'm going to lose everything."

It was hard not to feel saddened by his words. Days earlier, she'd discussed the topic of Harmon Rabb Junior at great lengths with Harriet and Bud. She'd come to realize that he was a strong man, with an excellent attitude and a 'never say die' spirit. The man that she'd come to know was someone totally different. The light in his eyes had been dimmed and nearly turned off completely. She'd seen this in many clients but never so profound in someone so headstrong. "This really got to you."

"I killed a man."

"No, you didn't, and you have got to stop believing that you did." She quickly reached inside of the briefcase that she was holding and pulled out a medical record with the word 'classified' written across in bold red letters. "Reaper had vertigo."

Harm's head snapped up, his eyes meeting hers and showing laced confusion. "What?" He reached for the file and thumbed through the records that went back for several years.

"When he was a teen Reaper suffered from Ménière's disease. It's a disorder of the inner ear that can cause vertigo. It affects balance and if not treated can cause very bad bouts of dizzy spells."

He swallowed hard as the words shot back at him. "How did you get these?"

"Someone owed me a big favor. I collected." She'd been saving that favor for something worthwhile and a hunch had her checking on Mace's medical records to discover that the Navy didn't know Mace's little secret. "If Senator Mace knew of this and covered it up, then she killed her own son . .It makes perfect sense as to why one day he's fine and the other he's not. That's the account I received during the first investigation, I just didn't have evidence to base it on." Mac sat on the stool next to Harm and stared at him for a long moment. It all began to register with such sickening clarity. He'd been deceived, they all had – every one of them on the squadron.

"He was always getting sick. . .I remember him using some ear drops which he said was to take the water out after he showered. . .Damn." This was a tough blow to a man who was used to sharing problems with his backseater. Aircrews, for the most part, just didn't lie to each other. When you held the other person's life in your hands, honesty had always been the best policy. He never liked flying with Reaper, but he had given the man a fair shot and was starting to see Jason as a good guy, despite his flying problems. "He got sick in the back seat five weeks before the ramp strike. . .Said it was something he ate."

Mac nodded. "It could have been. Or it could have been the vertigo." Seeing the turmoil in his eyes, she placed a hand on his again. "You have got to stop blaming yourself. . .You didn't kill him. It was an accident and I will make sure that everyone knows that." Reaching over, she took the file away from Harm and tucked it back in the security of her briefcase. "Please don't mention that evidence to anyone. . .Monday I plan on calling up the flight surgeon. . .When I questioned him I had a gut feeling that he was hiding something."

Flight Surgeon Ted Marshall was a good guy, but Harm knew that the man could do his job just a little too well. "Ted has a habit of handing 'go-pills' like Chiclets." He stared at the floor for a moment, contemplating the ramifications of everything that he'd recently learned. When he turned to look at Mac, the light in his eyes had begun to shine again and thoughts of joining the Agency began to fade. "You really believe I'm innocent?"

"Yes." She said without reservation and smiled brightly. "I honestly believe that you had nothing to do with the accident. . .The doctor can not find anything medically wrong with you and attributes your vision failure to stress. . .You would have landed just fine if Reaper hadn't panicked."

The air came out of his lungs with a loud "woosh" which he felt he'd been holding for weeks. "This is the best news I think I've ever had." He pressed a hand to his chest. "I've been blaming myself over and over again. Trying to find out what I did wrong."

"You didn't do anything wrong, Harm. . .I am so sorry that you've been put through this." The look of relief in his eyes made her smile. It seemed like she managed to offer him the closure that he needed. Mac ignored the feeling deep inside of her, the one that made her want to draw him into her arms. She felt he needed that human contact, but opted to ignore it. Now was not the time to dwell on such feelings. "So, I'll see you Monday?" She jumped off of the stool and reached for the briefcase.

Her demeanor raised a red flag and Harm felt as if he'd suddenly suffered whiplash. "You're leaving?"

Mac grinned. "Did you expect me to move in?" It was a tongue in cheek comment, but she didn't care.

"Ah, well. . .No, but. . ." It was cute that he was suddenly flustered. Before she could make her getaway, Harm pointed his thumb towards the stove. "I was going to make dinner before you stopped by. . .Maybe you could join me?"

"Dinner?" She hadn't eaten anything past toast and coffee and that had been at around seven am. The idea of food, any food, suddenly made her stomach growl.

Harm nodded. "Yeah. . .I was going to make a rosemary lemon chicken. Wild rice, some veggies. . .a glass of. . .wi" He was going to say 'wine' but caught himself just in time ". . .water." Offering up his best flyboy smile, he knew she'd be a goner when he offered the pièce de résistance. "Oh, and I have this chocolate cake that I bought. . .Supposed to be gourmet."

Damn. The man was good and the chocolate cake was just the pinnacle of the whole dinner planning thing. Her stomach was already protesting and it sounded wonderful, "How long until dinner?" It was rude question, considering that he was inviting her, but weariness was catching up and the only thing that Mac was longing for, besides food, was a good ten hours of sleep.

Harm moved quickly off of the stool and headed around the island. "Should be done in about half an hour. . .The chicken has been marinating since last night. The rice and veggies I can just pop in the microwave." Oh, he was good, damned good. Why did he have to be her client? If things were different, Mac would have asked him to marry her on the spot.

She chuckled at the thought and placed the briefcase on his recently vacated stool. "Okay, I'm sold."

An hour later the pair sat on Harm's sofa, each on one end holding a desert plate where a decadent piece of chocolate cake sat. The apartment smelled of freshly brewed coffee which wafted from the carafe on the coffee table. "Mmmmmm. . .This is sooo good." Mac savored the chocolate mixture, her eyes closed and head leaned back. She then proceeded to lick the chocolate icing off of the spoon in such a manner that brought a flush to Harm's cheeks.

He briefly wondered if that's what she looked like every time she felt pleasure. It occurred to him that this had been the second time which he'd thought the same thing. The last time was at the bagel shop where she'd been going on and on about sun dried tomatoes. Nevertheless, he was enjoying the view, to say the least. "Glad you like it." And he was even more glad that his voice didn't waver too much.

When she was finished, he took the plate and headed into the kitchen. Harm took a moment or two to wash the dishes before heading back to his guest. What he found put a smile on his face.

Mac was leaning back, her head supported against her arm which was propped up against the sofa. Her breathing had regulated to a slow rhythm and all signs of stress appeared to be gone during sleep. She looked heavenly to him. Her facial features delicately glimmering in the soft light. "Mac?" He whispered, hoping not to awaken her too roughly. Twice he called her name before hearing some sort of murmur as a response.

He wasn't sure how pissed off she would be that he didn't wake her, but didn't quite care. Instead, he opted to do something that would surely earn the Marine's ire. Again, he just didn't care. His arms snaked under her body and carefully lifted until she was draped against him. He slowly walked through the apartment and up the two steps to his bedroom. Glad that he'd washed the sheets the night previous, he set her in the center of the bed and then pulled the covers up to her chin. "Good night, Marine."

This was wrong and he knew it, but it was doubtful that anyone had followed her and even more difficult to believe that anyone cared about the nature of their relationship. Mac was a top notch attorney and, if rumor had it, he was still with Diane. He snorted at the thought as he flicked off the light to his bedroom.

Quietly, he took his sleeping clothes out of the closet and headed into the living room with an extra blanket and pillow. The sofa would be hell on his back, but it would be even more hell to sleep next to a woman that he was finding himself extremely attracted to. As he changed clothing, he tried not to think about the way her luscious lips closed around the spoon full of chocolate. Or the way her tongue darted out to lick away the remnants. Most of all he tried not to think about her prowess in court and the ease with which she confronted such a public setting.

If Diane was the history, maybe Mac was the future? It was clear to him, especially after a night spent in Diane's embrace, that they really never had anything other than great sex. With that thought in mind, he killed the rest of the lights and tried to sleep.

His slumber didn't come easy and through fits of sensual thoughts, he believed to have conjured up his most awesome fantasy. There she was, walking towards him, dressed in a nightie that hugged every curve so very well. His eyes, now adjusted to the darkness, acted like radars who found their target. "Wow." The bit of city light which shone through the windows illuminated her just enough and his imagination made up the rest. "You look. . .incredible." That was as much as he was able to get out before she slid onto his lap.

Her lips assaulted his own, kissing, teasing, breaking through each of his barriers with the ease of a missile. His hands eagerly roamed her body, searching and finding every bit of naked flesh that he could. "Are you sure?" He breathed out and received a moan as an answer. "Oh, Mac."

The moment he said her name, she pressed her lips harder against his own assaulting him with an overly aggressive kiss. "Mac, we can take it easy." He didn't want to rush this. Something in his heart knew that it was too important to screw up. This was it for Harm, the woman that he'd secretly been waiting for. After that stupid case was over, he was going to make sure that he got to know her in every which way possible, starting with a date.

That thought in mind, he tore his lips from her own and settled back into the sofa, holding her at bay. "Mac, as much as I hate to admit it, we can't do this." There was too much at stake, mainly her career which he was determined not to destroy in order to fulfill a primal desire.

But, she tore lose from his grip and resumed the assault on his lips again. Those kisses were hard to resist and soon he delivered his own, trailing down her neck and to the valley of her breasts. He reached under the silky material that was covering her body and eased it up and over. She bore her nakedness to him as if this were a daily occurrence in their lives. Though he enjoyed the trust, there was something definitely wrong. The warning bells had barely begun to ring in his head when he heard a voice coming from the steps of his bedroom. "Harm?"

"Mac?" It couldn't be her and if it was, this was most definitely a dream. But, dreams weren't this vivid and this real. He could smell her, taste her and. . .

Bright light blinded him and for the briefest of moments he felt like this was some sort of cosmic joke. The realization was much more cruel. "Oh." He turned his head to the woman at the steps of his bedroom and then turned back to the other woman that was sitting, completely naked on his lap. Both women had the same face. "I've got to go." The woman on the steps headed towards the door and slipped on her heels which he'd deposited on a mat next to his tennis shoes.

The warning bells were going off again, this time so much more pronounced. He had to do something, had to stop the right woman from leaving. "Mac, wait!" He stood up at once, the quick motion causing Diane to slide off of his lap and onto the hard floor below. Ignoring her, he stepped past and ran to the door which was slammed in his face. The irony was not lost on him as he headed into the hallway only to find that the elevator had started to descend - another piece of irony. "Great, today the damned thing decides to work!"

He took the stairs two by two and managed to get to the bottom in time to find Mac stepping out of the building. "Mac, wait!"

She turned quickly and stopped so suddenly that he collided against her. The closeness was welcomed in her part – it made it that much easier to slap him. "I'll see you in court, Commander." She used his rank with disdain and managed to almost freeze him in his place.

Harm watched as her Jeep sped out of its parking space and onto the slick streets. It was then that he realized that it had been raining. The water was soaking him, making his clothes cling almost uncomfortably. "Oh God. What have I done?" Ragged breathing grew, as did the anger within him. He'd dealt with so much of Diane's childish tricks but this was the final straw.

Quickly, he raced up the steps and broke through his open door like a man on a mission. "Diane!" He found no trace of her in the living room or the kitchen and knew that her current location was undoubtedly between the sheets of his bed.

Of course, that is exactly where he found her, naked and waiting with a Cheshire grin. "You know, I normally don't like to lay on sheets that smell like another woman. But, I have to admit, it's a turn on."

Her comment made his stomach churn. How could he have been so blind for so long? "Get up." How could he have ever loved her? "I said get up." Harm's voice left no room for argument but he knew there would be another gauntlet to run.

"Okay." She moved to her knees and crawled towards him, her body moving almost serpentine. "You're not mad at me, are you?"

Harm chuckled and shook his head, his scowl turning into an expression of amusement. "Nope. . .Not at all." Leaning forward, he wrapped his arms around her waist and tightened his grip. His head moved close to hers and eyes that could make any woman surrender locked onto her own. "I." He leaned even closer. "Am." Lips touched her ear. "Furious." He breathed out and a split second before his statement registered, Diane was being lifted off of the bed.

"Wait!" She squealed as Harm dropped her unceremoniously outside of his apartment door. When she tried to follow him back in, she was met which a whack on the face, courtesy of the trench coat she'd worn above for the drive over. "Harm!" The second whack came from the nightie. "Damnit! Wait!"

When Harm felt her hand wrap around his arm, he nearly did something very stupid. As it was, it took all of the power within him not to strike the woman. "No, Di."

"Let me explain." She pulled the nightie back on and then proceeded to don the trench coat.

Harm shook his head. "You knew Mac was here."

Diane wouldn't even deny it. "Yes and when the lights went out and she never left. . ."

"You thought we were sleeping together." He could imagine all of the dirty details that her sick little mind was adding to the equation. He suddenly felt like a heel for even fantasizing about Mac. "She's my lawyer."

"And you're attracted to her. . .It's not long before the two of you hit the sheets and I lose you forever." There, she'd said it. Truthfully, Diane never really cared about the relationship as a whole, but the thought of completely losing Harm was almost unbearable. He'd meant a lot to her as a friend and would be damned if some look alike took him away. She'd always been the jealous type, managing to sabotage nearly every relationship he'd ever been in. The other woman never deserved to have a man like him.

"I love you." And with those words she reached for him, arms snaking around his middle, head resting against his chest. They fit well together, almost like a glove.

Almost.

But, she didn't realize that Mac fit perfectly against him. "I don't love you, Diane." Harm was amazed at how easily those words came from his lips. Inside, he could feel the butterflies freeing from their cocoons. All of the years enthralled by Diane and it took a Marine lawyer to set him free. "It's over. . .We're over." He stepped back away from her and then grabbed roughly to her wrist. "You need to go."

Against her protest, the woman could really dig her heels in, he led her through the living room and out the door. It would be another twenty minutes before the banging and shouting ended, but it was well worth it.

Hoping that Mac would understand the occurrence, he tried to call, only to find that she'd left her cell phone which was now ringing wildly inside of her briefcase.

0120 Local
Mac's Apartment
Georgetown

Mac had never been the type to disrespect her uniform. Even when it needed to be laundered, she'd hang the skirt and jacket and took care of the medals and ribbons. She would never unceremoniously leave the clothing in a wet pile by her door. Yet, that is exactly what she did.

Shivering, she stepped through the dark apartment and slid into her bed disappearing beneath the covers. It wasn't particularly cold inside her home and yet, she couldn't seem to get warm. The cold seem to emanate from the very centre of her.

Mac was tough, but her hard exterior came with a mountain of emotions that she could hold in check only for so long. Tears burned her eyes and the harsh reality that Diane was still a part of Harm's life struck her hard. She didn't know what to expect from him but had held a hope that, once the case wound down, they would do something about the mutual feelings they shared.

Maybe she was a fool to believe in anything, especially after seeing the signs in Belleville when the other woman had so neatly taken him away from her. She'd walked away then as well. Perhaps that had been the mistake?

This is why she'd sworn off love, for fear of feeling a pain so hard that it took her breath away. Physical pain she could endure because it almost always faded.

Heartache would last a lifetime.

Once the case was over, she vowed never to cross paths with Harmon Rabb Junior ever again.