Friday 9 March 2001, 0500hrs EST, Gunnery Sergeant Victor Galindez's Apartment, Belmont Apartments, 4201, 7th Street, SE, Washington DC, 20032, (091000ZMar01)

"Man on deck! Reveille, rise and shine! Out of your racks, move!" The hoarse scream jolted Meg Austin awake and for a moment she nearly panicked until she remembered that she was lying on a canvas cot that had been set up in the Gunny's living room. But...

"What the hell, Gunny?" she mumbled as she sat up holding the blanket to her chest.

The Gunny was suddenly looming over her, his face thrust towards hers, "You do not 'what the hell Gunny' me! Now get with the programme, Sergeant! Get your butt off that rack and report to me outside in five minutes, T-Shirt, utility pants and boots!"

Meg was now sufficiently awake to realise that Victor Galindez had started his Corps indoctrination weekend for her, and that as he had almost promised, she was not going to find it the least bit comfortable. Gritting her teeth, she replied, "Yes, Gunnery Sergeant!"

"Good! Now, move it!"

It seemed to Meg that she had never moved quite so fast as she scrambled into the clothes she'd been ordered to wear and almost fell down the four flights of stairs from the Gunny's apartment - no elevator, of course, and then out the through the building door and on to the sidewalk, where she halted, already shivering in the pre-dawn chill, but braced at attention in front of the similarly clad NCO.

Galindez looked her up and down in disapprobation, he knew that Commander Austin was going to find this weekend tough going, he intended to make it difficult for her, but he'd looked at her 'SRB' yesterday afternoon and he was going to have to try and instil nine years' worth of Corps as a Marine and NCO into a Navy officer in just three short days. It wasn't going to be easy for either of them. Still, she looked to be in good physical condition, but that was what he was about to find out.

He stepped right into her personal space, his face no more than six inches from hers as he erupted, "You are a freaking disgrace, Sergeant! You look like a sack of crap tied around the middle with a piece of string. And you are late! Get down, give me twenty! Not fast enough! Back on your feet! Now, down, twenty!"

This time Meg dropped like a stone and completed the twenty push-ups to the Gunny's cadence count, and as she finished he was screaming at her again, "Up! On your feet! Move!"

Meg scrambled to her feet her face burning with resentment and with the effort she had just expended. But she had barely time to draw breath before Galindez was yelling again, "Right! Follow me! On the double!" and he took off up the street at a fast clip, and as they ran side by side he glanced across at her. She was moving well, he acknowledged, and breathing easily, OK, she was keeping up for the moment, "Repeat after me! My, Corps, Your Corps, Our Corps, Marine Corps!" each phrase acting as a cadence count in time with the thud of their boots hitting the pavement.

He took her through that particular cadence twice more, before he changed to "If I die in a combat zone, box me up and ship me home! Pin my medals on my chest, tell my mom I done my best!"

By the time Gunny had led her back to the sidewalk outside his apartment block they had been running for forty-five minutes and Meg estimated that they had covered six or seven miles. Ordinarily that wouldn't have bothered her too much, but she was used to saving her breath for running, and having to chant had caused her to expend extra effort so that she felt as if she had already covered ten miles before starting the day's work.

"Right! Get back to your accommodation, Sergeant!" Galindez yelled at her, "You have eight minutes to shower and dress. Move!"

Friday 9 March 2001, 0600hrs EST, Lieutenant Loren Singer's Apartment, 1054 Canal Street NW, Georgetown, Washington DC, (091100ZMar01)

Harm awoke to the persistent ringing of Loren's alarm clock, a brass-body, clockwork analogue monster the size of a turnip. To reach it he had to lean across the bed and over Loren' still recumbent body. Not that he had anything to complain about in that as it gave him the opportunity, one he had silenced the alarm, to lean down and kiss her bare shoulder, eliciting a drowsy 'M'mm' from Loren, and causing her to roll on to her back to look up at him with sleepily smiling eyes.

The temptation was more than he could stand, and he leaned in towards her and kissed her gently, a kiss that she was more than ready to return.

"Good morning, sweetheart," he told her as they broke the kiss.

"Good morning, to you too, sailor," she smiled back up at him. "That was quite a nice wake up, but it will be a better morning in about half an hour..."

"How so?" he inquired.

"Well," she said, allowing her fingers to play with the fine hairs on his chest, "you will have showered and shaved, and have the breakfast going, while I shower."

Harm rubbed his hand across his jaw and chin, "Yeah, a bit bristly," he admitted, "but are you sure you don't want to try and save water? You know, benefit the environment?"

"H'mm, it's a tempting idea, but..."

"But what?"

"But I don't think my shower is big enough for the two of us..."

"We can but try," he leered suggestively..."

"I told you it wasn't big enough," Loren giggled half an hour later as she applied the band-aid to the side of Harm's head as he sat at the kitchen table.

"Just one more hint of 'I told you so', woman, just one more hint, that's all..."

"And what, Grumpy?" Loren deposited a kiss on the band-aid, "See, mommy make it all better for you!"

Harm caught her around her the waist, and swung her onto his knee, "And I shall hug you, and kiss you, and pet you, and squeeze you and call you George..."

Loren leaned and dropped a gentle kiss on Harm's lips before she hung her arms around his neck and leaned back, looking at him gravely, "H'mm... I could go for the hugging, the petting, the squeezing and kissing bit... I dunno about being called George, though... I mean it could blow the whole don't ask, don't tell, thing."

"True... and since you have now blown my hopes out of the water twice in one day, how about we fix breakfast, or do you want to stop on the way to work...?"

"If we do stop on the way to work... can I have a jelly doughnut?" Loren teased him.

Harm laughed and stood, patting her on the rump as he did so, "Let go woman, and I'll start the eggs if you start the coffee?"

"You got a deal there, sailor," Loren laughed as she twisted out of his grasp.

Friday 9 March 2001, 0915hrs EST, Conference Room, JAG HQ, Falls Church, VA, (091415ZMar01)

"Nice addition to the uniform there, Commander," the admiral remarked dryly as he reached the end of the close of the week summing -up.

"Sir?" Harm responded with a puzzled frown as he realised that his CO's eyes had come to rest on him.

"The band-aid, Commander?"

"Oh… uh…" Harm felt his ears grow warm, "A slight accident in the shower this morning, sir, I uh… slipped and banged my head on the door frame…"

"Do we have to worry about you receiving yet another concussion, Commander?" the Admiral asked and then glared over the top of his reading glasses at Lieutenant Singer. "Is there something you find funny in the Commander's misfortune Lieutenant?" he demanded.

"N...no… sir," Loren denied, although her eyes were dancing with amusement and she was obviously having a hard time keeping a straight face.

"Sir," Harm intervened, anxious to draw the Admiral's attention away from Loren, "I can explain, sir… It's…"

Chegwidden took off his glass and shuffled his notes together preparatory to replacing them in his brief-case. He held up a hand in the universal gesture for 'stop', "I really don't want to know, Commander, just as long as you're fit for duty!"

"Yes, sir, perfectly fit, sir!"

"Good, then report to me in my office, as soon as this staff call is over!"

"Aye, aye, sir!"

Friday 9 March 2001, 0945hrs EST, Admiral Chegwidden's Office JAG HQ, Falls church, VA, (091445ZMar01)

"Take a seat, Commander." Chegwidden waited until Harm has settled into his chair before continuing. "The temporary loss of Colonel MacKenzie has put this office into something of a bind. Although with the arrival of Commanders Austin and Turner, numbers are back up, overall the level of investigative experience has dropped. No matter what stage yours and the Colonel's somewhat mercurial relationship was in, it was always a source of pride, pride in my officers, not personal pride, that you could always work well together, even if I did have to confine you aboard a submarine for two weeks at one time!"

Harm was baffled, he couldn't even hazard a guess where this was going, "Yes, sir" he replied neutrally.

"Well, the Colonel will still be going TAD once she's cleared for active duty by the medicos, which will also leave me, this office, without a Chief of Staff. In the normal run of things, you would be the next logical choice for that position." Once again he held up his hand as Harm opened his mouth. "However your well-known aversion to paperwork renders that option questionable, to say the least. Also of course, you are one of the better investigators, and your abilities are better put to that use than to a job which you would perform reluctantly. Therefore I am making Commander Turner my Chief of Staff, leaving you free to investigate.

"Now, you obviously have no partner for the present, so I intend to match you temporarily with Commander Austin, Lieutenant Roberts and Lieutenant Singer, each in their turn, and each according to their abilities. To that end I am sending Commander Austin undercover to investigate the allegations of victimization of female marines at MCCDC. Once she has been placed on EMD you will be sent to Quantico to investigate the matching allegation that the Sergeant Major is using a bruiser as a means of inflicting unofficial punishment. You will, while there also have her back. Understood?"

"Aye, aye sir!"

To the Admiral's surprise, Harm remained seated, rather than springing to attention and waiting to be dismissed. Was there something else, Commander?"

"Yes, sir. I'm sure you have your reasons for wanting to delay my arrival at Quantico until Commander Austin is placed on EMD, but…"

"Are… are you questioning my orders, Commander?" the Admiral asked in disbelief.

"No, sir… well, not really sir… it's just that Commander Austin isn't a marine, sir, and she could find herself in over her head before I can get to Quantico… and… well, sir… I'd just prefer to be there from the second she puts a boot on the ground."

Chegwidden changed his tone, "Harm, I get that you're concerned about the Commander's safety, but this is a very sensitive investigation." He stood and turned, staring out of his office window as he was prone to do when troubled, and speaking over his shoulder. "This is a very nasty case. Hell, there's an understatement if you like - if these allegations are true and the story gets out to the media, it'll be a helluva a black-eye, not just for the Marines and the Navy, but for all the armed forces. I mean, we thought we'd cleaned up our act after Tailhook, and then the Air Force Academy had that rape story break, and now we're beginning to hear stories about female personnel being assaulted and raped while on deployment." Chegwidden sighed, and turned back to face his junior officer.

"I am not advocating a cover-up, Commander, but I am demanding that this story stays under wraps unless and until we have incontrovertible proof that will stand up before a court-martial. And if we get that proof, that I can assure you that I will not rest until the perpetrators are convicted and punished. The problem we face is that if the story leaks prematurely or if we are unable to substantiate these allegations then the careers and lives of men who may be innocent may well be ruined."

"Understood, sir. But as a counter to that, with so much at stake personally for those involved, can we be sure that if they become aware of Meg's - of Commander Austin's real identity or even suspect her purpose, that they won't use violence to protect themselves. After all, sir, it's not too big a step and it is a common progression from intimidation to violence. That they haven't used violence - against women - in the past is no guarantee that they won't use it in the future, especially as the use of a bully-boy against male servicemen seems to be apparent."

"Point taken, Commander. But you have merely highlighted a problem, and as yet you have made no recommendation to obviate that very problem."

"Sir, I understand that the Gunny is trying to apply as much marine veneer to Commander Austin as he can in three days. Sir, even though the women at Quantico may be suffering, let the Gunny have the Commander for the extra week. It's not fair to the Commander to throw her to the lions inadequately prepared. If that was a reasonable choice, sir, you could have given the investigation to Lieutenant Singer."

"Don't be ridiculous, Commander! Lieutenant Singer wouldn't be able to maintain her cover for more than five minutes!"

"With respect, sir, Commander Austin may not last any longer than ten minutes! How would that be any different?"

"Dammit, Rabb! You are questioning my orders!"

"Not your orders, sir. But maybe the timing of them?" Harm suggested.

Chegwidden glowered at the younger officer. "I will take your comments under advice, Commander! Now, dismiss!"

Rabb got to his feet and stood to attention, "Aye, aye, sir!"

Friday 9 March 2001, 1200hrs EST, Gunnery Sergeant Victor Galindez's Apartment, Belmont Apartments, 4201, 7th Street, SE, Washington DC, 20032, (091700ZMar01)

"Not good enough, Sergeant!" Victor Galindez barked, at the same time making Meg jump as he slammed his hand down on the table less than six inches from her own hand. "Sing it again, but this time try and make it sound like you got a pair!"

Meg gulped and in a wavering contralto she started, "From the halls of Montezuma, to the shores of Tripoli..."

Galindez heard her through, his emotions were a mixture of self-loathing, pride and trepidation. He hated himself for what he was doing to an officer he had started to respect as well as like, he was proud of her determination not to be beaten by the savage regime to which he was exposing her and just a little worried that when this was all over, she might just want a touch of payback!

"Better!" he snapped as Meg finished yet another rendition of the Marine Corps Hymn, but he was not finished yet, "What's the birthday of the Corps?" he demanded.

"November, tenth, seventeen seventy five, Gunnery Sergeant!" Meg responded crisply.

"Good!" Galindez placed an empty plate on the table. "Now, repeat the circumstances during which a hand salute is rendered and circumstances in which it is not rendered."

"Saluting while unarmed and armed. While armed. From order arms- Move the left arm smartly across the body with the forearm and wrist straight, fingers extended and joined, and the palm down. Ensure that the first joint of the forefinger touches the flash suppressor of your rifle. After executing the salute, resume the position of attention."

"Good!" Galindez placed two slices of toast on the plate, "Continue…"

"To perform a rifle salute while at trail arms-The movements are identical to those used for saluting at order arms, except that the rifle is held in the trail arms position."

"Right!" He added two slices of ham to the plate, "Next?"

"To perform a rifle salute when at right or left shoulder arms- Move the left or right arm across the body, fingers extended and joined, and the palm down. Ensure that the first joint of the forefinger touches the rear of the receiver just below the charging handle and the forearm is parallel to the deck."

Galindez nodded and added two eggs to the plate, "And?"

"To perform a rifle salute with slung arms- Reach across the body with the left hand and grasp the sling of your rifle. Release your right hand. Execute the hand salute."

Good. Well done!" Galindez added a spoon of beans to the plate. "You have," he glanced at his watch, "eight minutes to eat, before the next exercise!"

Friday 9 March 2001, 1308hrs EST, Bullpen, JAG Ops, JAG HQ, Falls Church, VA (091808ZMar01)

Loren stood by Carolyn Imes' office door scanning the bull pen personnel. For the task at hand, she really wanted Gunnery Sergeant Galindez' expertise, but with him so heavily involved in preparing Commander Austin for her stint as a Marine Corps Sergeant, that option was not available. He had become pretty close to Tiner, and maybe he had taught the younger man a thing or two, but Tiner, unfortunately, had his hands more than full with the Admiral. Loren's eyes continued to wander around the bull pen, looking for… looking for… well… she wasn't quite sure what she was looking for but her eyes lit on Petty Officer Personnel Specialist Second Class Woods.

"Woods!"

"Yes, ma'am!" the younger woman straightened from where she had been stooped over a computer keyboard and spun to face Loren, coming to attention as she did so.

"With me, Woods!"

Woods exchanged a nervous glance with her friend Legalman Two Jiminez and crossed the bull pen in Loren's wake, heading towards the blonde Lieutenant's office. Loren entered her office and sat at her desk and then to Woods' surprise, she indicated that the Petty Officer should be seated.

"Woods," she began in a level voice, "I need some help. Normally, I would pass this to the Gunny, but as he is not available, I've decided that I am going to give you the chance to shine. You've always struck me as being capable and efficient, now is your chance to prove it." She scribbled briefly on a post-it note and handed it to Woods. "I want to know where this officer is. I don't just want to know his current billet. I want to know where he physically is. For example if his billet is at Norfolk, but he has a house in Richmond, then if he is not at his duty station I want that house address. If he is not at his duty station or his home, then I want to know where he is. Understood?"

Woods almost sprung to her feet, her face shining with eagerness to please. "Ma'am! Yes, ma'am!"

"Thank you, Petty Officer, dismissed!"

Loren pushed her chair back from her desk and rolled her head to try and loosen up her neck muscles. Past experience had told her that if she failed to do so she would probably have the mother of all tension head-aches by the end of the day.

In the meantime she needed to get back to Carolyn Imes' office, ready to go over Commander Coulter's statement.

Friday 9 March 2001, 1326hrs EST, Commander Carolyn Imes' Office, JAG HQ, Falls Church, VA (091826ZMar01)

"Good afternoon, Carolyn, Loren," Terri Coulter spoke as she rapped on the doorjamb to the office.

"Come on in, Terri; sit down, please. We'd like to go over your testimony this afternoon - unless you have any problems that you want to touch on, first?"

"No… everything appears to be in order, so far." Terri replied, "I'm just waiting for the exhumation warrant, so I can carry out my own post-mortem. I may need some help with that, so I've spoken to a colleague at the Jeffersonian. I am good in my field, but she's the top-rated Forensic Anthropologist in the USA, and probably in the Western Hemisphere. If there's something there that I can't find, she will."

Loren looked up, her brows rising in interrogation, "Brennan?" she asked

"Yes, do you know her?" Terri countered.

"No… but I know of her." Loren turned to Carolyn in explanation, "She's worked with Colonel MacKenzie in the past, gathering evidence of genocide in the Balkans. As the Commander says, she's good. Very good; she's also done a lot of work with the FBI over the last couple of years."

Carolyn nodded, "OK, sounds if you've got all the bases covered there, but what I really want today is to run a check on your testimony, without you looking at the original transcript, and see if you can't come up with something that you missed the first time round. OK?"

Terri bristled, the events of that day were permanently engraved on her memory, "I don't see much point in that," she argued, "My memory of that day hasn't changed one iota, and I stand by the testimony I gave at the original trial."

"I'm sure you do, Terri," Carolyn said gently, "but the testimony you gave was in response to counsel's questions. If the questions are different, then perhaps your different set of answers might give us something extra to work on?"

Terri considered Carolyn's comments for a moment or two before reluctantly shrugging in agreement and replying, "OK, we'll give it a whirl."

"Great!" Carolyn smiled, "Let's start at the beginning. What was your then rank and duty station?"

"I was a Lieutenant (jg), two years out of Annapolis and in my second year of Medicine at Bethesda."

"You did pre-med at the Academy?" Carolyn asked in surprise.

"No, I got my bachelor's in bio-chemistry. I was intending to go into NBC Defence, but… things changed."

"OK. So you were a med student at Bethesda. Did you live at home with your parents, have an apartment or were you in BOQ?"

"I was in BOQ. A jg's pay wasn't about to let me set me up in an apartment, and my parents… well… it was difficult… in more ways than one. Apart from my father's drinking… I don't know whether it was a problem, but we - my mother and I - saw it as a problem. Then there was his verbal abuse… and of course my irregular schedule… and the sheer distance between Bethesda and my parents' quarters…"

"Right. And on the day you discovered your mother's body, was there a particular reason you visited, or was it just a routine keep-in-touch-visit?"

"Yeah, my mom had called me the previous evening. She said that she and dad had been fighting again at that she had thrown him out, and he was living in a motel somewhere. She was a bit… upset, so I figured that I'd call in and see that she was OK…"

"Did she say why she threw him out?" Loren asked.

"Only that they'd been fighting, and a couple of days before, while they were arguing, he'd pushed her and she'd fallen and hit her head on the table edge…" Terri's voice faded into silence as she realised the implication of what she'd said. "That would mean a manslaughter charge, instead of murder, wouldn't it?" she asked.

"Maybe. But if the fall had caused the fracture and had been a couple of days prior to death, that could explain the beginning of healing," Carolyn answered, reluctant to say anything under the circumstances. "but let's just wait for the results of the new autopsy before we start making any sweeping statements."

Terri nodded, not trying to guess what the evidence was before it was examined made good scientific as well as legal sense.

"So…" Carolyn continued, "you decided to visit your mom because she was upset?"

"Yes."

"OK, take us through the visit, step by step, if you can."

"Well… I knocked on the door; there was no answer, but I knew mom was at home…"

"How did you know that?" Loren interrupted, raising her eyes from the folder in her lap, where she was examining the scene of crime photographs.

"Oh…" Terri looked blank for a moment, "It's kind of complicated. Mom was kinda old-fashioned, she held that a woman's place was in the home and she didn't, she never left the house without dad, and then it was usually to go to the store."

"She never left the house alone?" Carolyn asked her expression one of surprise.

"No… no, not that I can ever recall…" Terri answered slowly and as if the unusual nature of her mother's habits was impinging itself on her mind for the first time.

"So… there was no answer," Carolyn continued to probe, "What did you do then?"

"I opened the door and walked into the hallway…"

"What did you see?" Loren asked.

"Uh… well the hallway."

"Describe it if you can, please," Loren asked, answering Carolyn's curious gaze with a slight shake of her head.

"Well the stairs on the left going up to the second floor. A side table just inside the door, where we used to put car keys and such, the kitchen door dead ahead, and the lounge door about a third of the way along the right hand wall…"

"H'mm, what position were the doors in?" Loren wanted to know.

Terri concentrated fiercely, "I... I'm not quite sure…" she said, her brow furrowed in thoughts. "I think the kitchen door was open, but the lounge door was closed."

"Umm… Did you enter either the lounge or the kitchen?"

"Yes, I thought mom might be in the lounge, so I stuck my head around the door, but the room was empty."

Loren nodded, "According to the SOC photographs there was another door in the lounge, in the back wall. Where did that lead?"

"Through to the family dining room, which led on to the kitchen…"

"Was that door open or closed?"

"It was closed… I think…"

"Right, so your mother wasn't in the lounge. What did you do then?"

"I went back into the hallway, and I called her, asking was she in the kitchen… but she didn't reply, so I went upstairs. And before you ask, the bathroom door was shut, as was the door to the second bedroom - it used to be mine at one time, but mom and dad's bedroom door was open."

"And what did you do then?" Carolyn asked gently.

Terri bit her bottom lip as the memory of the next few minutes flooded her brain with vivid images, "I went to the bedroom door, and saw mom lying on the bed. She was lying on her side, her face away from the door and covered with an Afghan throw. I went to speak to her… but… she didn't respond. I placed a hand on her face, but it was so warm, I couldn't tell whether she was alive or dead, then I saw that she wasn't breathing and I felt for a pulse. There was none." Terri stopped speaking and she averted her face from the two attorneys, not wanting them to see that even after ten years her eyes had filled with tears.

"What did you do next?" Loren inquired.

"I… uh… opened the window… it was so hot… and then I used the bedside 'phone to call nine one one."

"H'mm, alright, it was July… but was it an exceptionally cold day, cold enough to close the bedroom window if your mom wanted to rest?"

"No… it was warm enough that's why I was surprised that heating was on."

"The heating was on?" Carolyn exclaimed in surprise.

"Yeah, it was so hot… while I was waiting for the ambulance and the MPs, I went down to the kitchen and I found that the furnace was on… so I switched it off."

"What about the fish-tank?" Loren said.

"Oh… yeah, mom kept it in her room," Terri exclaimed in surprise at the question. "I don't recall seeing it there that day, but it must have been, 'cause I forgot all about it, and then when I went back to collect my mom's things a few days later… to find something that she could be buried in, you know? Well, when I went back, the fish were all dead; there hadn't been anyone to feed them… It was strange, I felt really bad about that. Mom loved those fish… and I just left them starve…"

Loren bit her lip, and exchanged another look with Carolyn, before passing one of the photographs to her senior officer. Carolyn looked down at the photograph and her mouth dropped open with surprise. "What did you do with the dead fish, Terri?" she asked.

"Uh… I flushed them down the toilet," she replied somewhat embarrassed.

Carolyn nodded; it was a common, if slightly reprehensible, method of disposing of dead tropical fish. "I want you to have a look at this photograph, Terri; it was taken by the forensics team, the afternoon of your mother's death. It might help you feel a little better to know that you didn't let your mother's fish starve to death."

A bemused Terri reached out to accept the photograph from Carolyn's hand; it showed quite clearly the fish tank in her mother's bedroom. It also showed quite clearly that the fish were already dead, floating on their sides on the surface of the water.

"I… What… what's going on… What does this mean?"

"We're not sure yet, Carolyn flashed a warning glance at Loren, "All I can say for certain is that the fish in that tank died at the same time, or shortly before or after your mother. We are going to have to do some more investigation, and I hope that you're post mortem will agree with our findings. It looks like we're going to be quite busy. So, I'll call you on Monday and we can update each other…"

Terri feeling that she had summarily dismissed stood, and expression of confusion on her face, "What aren't you telling me?" she demanded.

"Only what we don't know, Terri," Carolyn replied truthfully, "Once we have carried out our further investigations, then we hope we'll be able to arrive at the truth of the matter. That is, if you think you can face the truth." She paused, "It might be an unpleasant one…"

"You do know something, don't you?" Terri challenged.

"Know?..No," Carolyn shook her head,"we don't know anything, but I'm beginning to suspect something, but I can't tell you what it is without properly examining the evidence. You wouldn't jeopardize a post-mortem by jumping to conclusions, would you? Well, no more can we jeopardize a case by doing just that."

Terri sighed with disappointment and the realisation that once again by drawing parallels between their professions, Carolyn had persuaded her to await the results of the evidence. Nodding her head in acknowledgement, she collected her cover and briefcase and with a "Until Monday," she quit the office, leaving Loren and Carolyn to watch her departure with expressionless faces.

Once Terri had crossed the bullpen and was out of earshot, Carolyn turned to Loren, "Are you thinking what I'm beginning to think?"

Loren nodded, "I'm hoping for accidental death by CO poisoning, but I'm beginning to think suicide," she said glumly.

Carolyn eyed her in something akin to despair, "Oh, shit! Well, get onto base housing maintenance, please Loren, and have them pull any records for that address - if they have them going back that length of time. In the meantime, I'm going to check with Bethesda and see if Mrs Coulter had any history of psych counseling."

Loren grimaced, both at the thought of her own task and in sympathy with Carolyn's forthcoming inquiry, "Good luck with that!" she wished the older woman.

Friday 9 March 2001, 1625hrs EST, Admiral Chegwidden's Office JAG HQ, Falls church, VA, (092125ZMar01)

Chegwidden stood, gazing out of his office window, one half of his mind idly noting that the cherry trees that dotted the courtyard were beginning to come into bloom, while the other half of his brain was trying to balance the safety of one of his officers against the need to resolve rapidly the situation with MCCDC - both the victimisation of female marines and the alleged use of an 'enforcer' against male marines. He was in partial agreement with Rabb over the potential risks that Austin faced, but this was a question of whether the risk of danger to one individual outweighed, or was outweighed by, the danger to many.

Reluctantly, Chegwidden came to the conclusion that Commander Austin would report to MCCDC Quantico at oh seven hundred Monday, March Twelfth. But he would ensure that she had more back-up to hand than just Commander Harmon Rabb.

Friday 9 March 2001, 1700hrs EST, Lieutenant Loren Singer's Office JAG HQ, Falls church, VA, (092200ZMar01)

Loren looked up as Harm rapped on the doorframe of her office, "How may I help you, Commander?" she asked with a mischievous smile on her lips.

"You can help me, Lieutenant," he smiled "by securing your office, grabbing your cover, your sea-bag from your car, and putting your sweet little butt in the passenger seat of the Lexus," Harm told her with a grin.

Loren blushed, not only at the words he used, but at the tone in which he'd said them, but making a valiant effort, she relaxed back in her chair and lifted an eyebrow. "Impatient this weekend, are we, Commander?" she drawled.

"Not so much impatient, but we are operating on a deadline," he said quite seriously, "so unless you have anything that desperately needs your instant attention, let's head 'em up and move 'em out!"

"Harm, just where are we going?" she asked as she locked her desk drawers and turned off her computer.

"Well, tonight we're headed for Charlottesville, via my place so we can change and I can check my mail. Then tomorrow… bright and early… we're off on an adventure!"

"Oh, really. And where might that adventure be taking place?"

"That my little love, is classified, and strictly need to know. And at the moment, you don't. In short, 'tis a little surprise I have for you…"

Friday 9 March 2001, 1740hrs EST, Bud and Harriett Roberts' Apartment, 1603 Corcoran St, NW, Washington DC (092240ZFeb01)

Bud Roberts, with a nod to the sleeping toddler in his arms, mouthed to his wife, "I'll take him straight up."

Harriett nodded in reply and whispered resignedly, "Yeah, OK, I'll get the groceries," and stripping her uniform jacket, she turned around to go back outside to unload the mini-van. She had barely finished that task and was about to start emptying the grocery sacks and store their contents in fridge and freezer when she was interrupted by the insistent ringing of the 'phone.

"Robert's residence."

"Arri-eh?"

Harriett removed the phone from next to her ear and stared at it in momentary perplexity until the penny dropped. Raising the handset again she said cautiously, "Colonel?"

"Yergh."

"Oh… that's a relief, I thought for a second that… oh, well never mind. How are you ma'am?"

There was a pause, eventually broken by Mac's crestfallen voice, "Arri-eh, nee' 'el."

Bud stopped in the doorway as soon as he realised that Harriett was on the phone, but his eyebrows rose as he heard Harriett say, "You need help, ma'am?"

"Yergh." Mac paused as she steeled herself to make a confession, "Iss too difficult, Arrie-eh."

"What is, ma'am?" Harriett asked, as she looked up and met her husband's vaguely disapproving gaze.

"Li'e stoo diffcul' Arrie-eh, can I ta'e you u'on offer to 'el'?"

"Of course you can, ma'am. You just stay put and I'll be right over."

"'kyou, Arrie-eh!"

Harriett put the 'phone down, and turned to Bud. "That was the Colonel, she can't manage after all. I'm going to head on over there and bring her back…"

Bud was troubled, he admired - or more accurately he used to admire - Mac, but he was all too well aware that her recent actions had come close to ending Harriett's career. Yes, it was partly Harriett's fault for letting her attachment to Mac lead her down paths that should never have been trodden, but still… and then there was the matter of just a couple of days ago. After all the trouble Harriett had been to arrange things so that Mac could stay with them until her ribs and shoulder, at least, were sufficiently healed, only to have her good-will thrown back in her face… "Harriett, he said cautiously, do you think that's a good idea…"

"Bud Roberts! The Colonel is our friend!" she refuted him indignantly, "And, yes, she's been awkward and stubborn, just like she always is. But she's always been good to little AJ too, and she's his Godmother. And I don't know about the Roberts, but the Simms don't turn their backs on their friends, just because it's inconvenient to help them once in a while!"

Bud nodded, he realised that he shouldn't have expected Harriett to say anything or indeed do anything different. Her ways, her loyalty to her friends, were just a couple of the reasons why he loved her so much. He crossed the room towards her, and placing his hands on her waist, he leaned in and gave her a soft kiss. "If that's what you're happy with, sweetie, then it's fine by me. I just wanted to make sure that you were doing what you wanted to do, and not just because you felt duty bound."

Harriett's spurt of anger died as quickly as it had flared, and she raised herself on tip-toe, returning her husband's kiss with interest. "Bud Roberts, you are a good man," she told him, "Sometimes you're a little weird and strange, but underneath it all, Bud you are a good man, and I love you for it!"

"That's convenient," he told her earnestly, but with a smile on his face, "because, I happen to love you too!"

Friday 9 March 2001, 1950hrs EST, Room 214, Boar's Head Inn, Ednam Drive, Charlottesville, VA (100050ZMar01)

Harm swiped the key-card through the lock and on seeing the green light, threw open the door and made a very rapid scan of the room. Satisfied with what he saw, he stepped back to one side and smiling at Loren exclaimed, "Tah-dahhh!"

Loren cast him a quizzical glance, but then as he was obviously waiting for her to do so, she stepped past him and into the room where she suddenly stopped and gasped. Almost every horizontal surface was occupied by baskets of flowers. Again he had eschewed the more traditional roses in favour of medleys of woodland and forest wildflowers all arranged in their baskets against a back note of dark green forest ferns, lending their delicate scent to the air in the room.

The effect of the display was sufficient to stun Loren into wordless stillness, her senses almost overwhelmed. The tiny little voice at the back of her mind said slowly, 'well, I'll… he did all this? For you? And you said you didn't believe he could love you. How can you say that about a guy who does all this for you? For Loren Singer? And how can you doubt that he loves you? Stop denying it, girl, accept it and 'fess up.'

Loren turned towards Harm, her mouth working soundlessly as she fought to find her voice, "Ha… have I told you, actually told you, that I love you…?" she queried tremulously.

"I think you may have mentioned it a time or two," Harm replied gravely, "why?"

"I… I know you've said it to me and I… I just wanted to make sure that I'd said it back." Loren suddenly became shy again, "because although you said it, it didn't seem real to me, but now…" she made a vaguely helpless gesture at the flowers in the room, and her eyes misted over. Loren gulped, "You brought me woodland flowers the night we went to Sea Catch, and I loved them, but I figured it was just a one off thing… but now…"

Harm stepped up to her and laid his hands on her shoulders, "Loren, to me, these flowers are you. They just seem so much more fitting, more appropriate for you than roses or orchids. Those are Mata Hari type flowers, hot-house flowers, brash, overtly and overly sensual, right in your face, but these… these are you, small, natural, delicate but strong, light, rare, precious and infinitely beautiful."

Harm's words robbed her of the power of speech, and even of coherent thought, her mouth opened, but the only sound that issued from it was a breathless, "Oh…"

And then of its own accord, and without any sort of conscious direction from her brain, her body moved towards Harm, and reaching up she took his face between her two hands and drew it down to hers, kissing him softly but firmly, until she broke off and still holding his face in her hands, she smiled mistily, "That's just to say 'thank you for being you'."

"Well…" he said huskily, almost overcome by her reaction, "If there are any thanks needed around here, then I should be saying them to you. Loren, thank you for loving me, and thank you for allowing me to love you and thank you, for being you."

Loren continued to smile mistily up at him, "You are going to have to stop right there, Mister, because I need to go and fix my face, and I can't fix my face while you make me cry by keeping on saying all these wonderful things to me. So if you let me go to the bathroom to fix myself up, then in return, I'll let you take me to dinner… OK?" she ended playfully.

Harm leaned in and once more kissed her gently, "Sounds like a plan," he agreed with a smile. And then dropping his hands from her waist he stood back and let her disappear into the bathroom, his hand almost of its own accord feeling for the little box in his jacket pocket.

Loren reappeared some ten minutes later, her eyes bathed and her make-up - what little she wore - repaired and with an exaggerated swing of her hips she walked over to where Harm sat on the side of the bed and straddling his legs with her own she sank down so that she sat on his thighs, facing him, with her arms locked at the back of his neck. "Tell me, she said in a throaty voice, "have you ever noticed the size of the bathtub in that bathroom?"

"No… I can't say I have," he replied but with a frisson of anticipation running down his spine.

"Oh… well… it's quite a large tub," Loren said and then her voice took on a reflective tone, "It might even be big enough for two to share…"

"Oh…" Harm groaned, "decisions, decisions. Do we take the time to carry out an experiment to ascertain the capacity of the bathtub, or do we head for the restaurant and dinner?"

"Oh, I don't think there's any need to choose," she murmured suggestively, "We could do both."

"We could?"

"Sure, we could eat first, and do the physics, afterwards…"

"True, we could do just that," Harm agreed, and then lowering his tone to match her throatiness, he added, "And then after the physics… we could do the physical…"

"Oh, yes, we so could! Do you know something Mister? I like the way you think!"

Friday 9 March 2001, 2100hrs EST, Gunnery Sergeant Victor Galindez's Apartment, Belmont Apartments, 4201, 7th Street, SE, Washington DC, 20032, (100100ZMar01)

Meg looked up in surprise from her study book of Marine Corps history as Galindez's alarm clock buzzed into life, and the Gunnery Sergeant reached across the table and took the book from in front of her. "What...?" she began.

"Twenty-one hundred, ma'am," Galindez replied, reverting to normal military protocol, and seeing the look of confusion in her eyes, he smiled briefly. "School's over for the day, ma'am. But I suggest an early lights-out, 'cause it all starts again at oh five hundred."

Meg stretched her shoulders and arms in an effort to work the kinks out. The early morning PT had been bad enough, but the Gunny had harassed her all day, the slightest infraction or even suspicion of inattention on her part had been followed by the demand for her to get down and give him any number of push-ups, varying from ten to fifty, and although she might have thought that any given number that he'd snapped out had been purely arbitrary, each award of push ups had been carefully estimated so that although she might have been pushed to the limit, she had never been tasked to exceed it.

Now, as Galindez got up from the table, where he had been spit-shining his shoes, he headed for the fridge, "The bathroom is all yours ma'am, take as much time as you want, but... before you do... can I offer you a beer, ma'am?"

"Why, thank you, Gunny!" Meg exclaimed in surprise, "That surely would hit the spot right about now!"

"Here you go then, ma'am," Galindez grinned as he twisted the cap of a bottle and handed it to her, and then twisting off the cap of his own bottle he raised it towards her in a friendly salute, "Semper Fi, ma'am!"

"Oorah!" Meg replied and then took a mouthful of the refreshingly cold brew.

Friday 9 March 2001, 2230hrs EST, Room 214, Boar's Head Inn, Ednam Drive, Charlottesville, VA (100330ZMar01)

Returning to their room after dinner had involved a leisurely stroll along the hallway, Harm's arm around Loren's waist while she held his upper arm in her hand and leaned her head against his shoulder, both of them oblivious to the amused and for the most part tolerant stares they attracted from the few other hotel guests who were still up an about. One pair of eyes however belonged to a face where the eyebrows were raised in astonishment.

Lieutenant Commander Robert Williams was studying for his Master's Degree in Law at the Army's Judge Advocate General's Legal Centre and School, Charlottesville, but his previous duty station had been at NLSO Norfolk, and he was consequently very familiar with the personnel from JAG HQ, and he'd had no difficulty in recognising Harmon Rabb, and he was aware of a vague feeling of having recognised the blonde woman whom Rabb was escorting, as well as a greater degree of surprise at that companion not being Colonel MacKenzie. His silent ponderings were cut short by his wife's question, "Bobby, is something wrong? You've gotten very quiet all of a sudden?"

"No, nothing's wrong," he smiled reassuringly at his wife, "I just thought for a moment that I'd seen some I knew..."

The expression on Lieutenant Commander Angela Williams face transitioned from a happy smile to a moué of discontent; she hadn't made the one hundred and sixty plus mile journey from Fort Story at Little Creek on her one free weekend this month in order to listen to her husband ruminate on the identity of fellow-guests and with her eyes smoky behind her spectacles she leaned forwards across their restaurant table and murmured in a voice heavy with irony, "Fascinating, I'm sure..." and then her tone lightened even as her voice became husky, "but we're paying good money for a hotel room we haven't yet used... So... shall we?"

Bobby Williams grinned, "Oh, yes, we most certainly shall!" he agreed, signalling to the waitress to bring him the check for signature, and forgetting for the moment the very existence of Harmon Rabb and his mystery companion.

Harmon Rabb lay back on the bed as Loren, her back to him quickly stripped off her clothes and grabbing a short, crimson silk kimono style bathrobe from her sea-bag hastily donned it before turning to face him, "I'm going to draw a bath, and if you want... you can give me five minutes, and then we can find out if that tub is big enough for two!"

"Oh, I want, I want," he assured her, and smiling, waited until she had gone into the bathroom before switching on the radio and tuning it to a soft jazz station.

Ten minutes later the only sounds to be heard in room 214 were soft laughter and the gentle splashing of water against the background sound of George Benson's guitar playing.

Saturday 10 March 2001, 0730hrs EST, Charlottesville-Albemarle County Airport, Charlottesville, VA, (101230ZMar01)

Loren had been puzzled when after breakfast Harm had checked them out of the hotel, but all her inquiries as to what he had planned had met with the answer that she didn't need to know - yet. But first they were going flying, and as it was going to be a longish hop they needed to make sure that Sarah had sufficient fuel on board.

On arrival at the hangar they were met by a slightly grumpy Pop Walchowski, who he informed them, had gotten out of the habit of dragging his butt out of bed at Oh Christ hundred hours, but had only done it this once because Harm had said it was for a special occasion.

"What occasion, Pop?" Loren asked in an innocent voice.

Pop gave her a sidelong glance before he answered, "Waal, iffen I knowed what it wus, and iffen I was to tell you that, it's rather more'n likely that the Commander there would hang me from the nearest yardarm, so iffen you don't mind, Missy, I'd rather not be the guest of honour at a neck-tie party!"

Loren, despite her curiosity was compelled to grin at Pop, "Have you ever noticed," she said to him, "that your accent gets broader whenever you're trying to hide something?"

Pop pretended to consider her comment, his brow wrinkled with thought, until it cleared as if by magic and he turned a sly grin on her, "Nope, cain't say I hev!" he quipped in an even more pronounced accent.

Loren gurgled with laughter and then started as Harm dropped a hand on her shoulder, "If you've finished hitting on the hired help," he winked, "we need to fuel up!"

For once Loren was happy to be hand-pumping fuel into the Stearman, although it was well past sunrise the day was still waiting for the warmth of the sun to burn off the remnants of the overnight mist and the cold clamminess of the air made the temperature seem much lower than it was. As a result it didn't seem anything like the twenty minutes it usually took to fill the fuel tank, and Loren was almost sorry to hear Harm's instruction to "Belay pumping!".

The fuel drum secured and Harm having stowed their sea-bags in the aft luggage compartment and then with Loren having completed her pre-flight check as Harm shadowed her, the two of them donned their flying leathers and the pair climbed aboard the Stearman and once settled with headsets donned, Harm settled back in his seat and pressed the Intercom switch. "OK, Loren, I've filed our flight plan with the tower; take her up, and once we're airborne steer course zero one five!"

"Roger," Loren replied, "Steer course zero one five!" Loren pressed the starter button and held it down as the engine coughed into life and then settled down to its idling speed.

"Charlottesville Tower, this is Stearman November Six, requesting clearance to taxi to runway zero five."

"November Six, this is Charlottesville Tower, you are clear to taxi to runway zero five. Call in at threshold."

Loren nudged the throttle open and with increasing confidence she alternated the pressure on the rudder pedals in order to weave her way around the perimeter track until she reached the end of the runway, where again triggering the pressel switch she broadcast, "Charlottesville Tower, this is November Six, at threshold and requesting clearance for take-off."

"Go ahead November Six. You are cleared for take-off. Clear skies!"

Loren pushed the throttle wide open and the Stearman rumbled down the runway, Loren felt the tail come up and the increasing lightness of airplane as the speed indicator wound up towards the seventy knot mark and then the rumble of the wheels on the asphalt ceased as the yellow bi-plane practically flew itself off the ground, Loren only needing to nudge the stick back slightly in order for it to become airborne.

"Nice take off!" Harm complimented her through the intercom, "Now, zero one five and climb to Angels six!"

"Zero one five and Angels six, roger," Loren acknowledged.

Saturday 10 March 2001, 1000hrs EST, Somewhere Over Central Pennsylvania (101500ZMar01)

Harm had been craning his neck to see ahead and over the port side of the cockpit for about five minutes before his eyes picked up the landmark for which he had been searching. Nodding his head in satisfaction he called Loren on the intercom, "Loren, can you see a runway ahead and slightly to port of us?"

Loren banked the Stearman in order to open her view and searched the ground ahead, "Yes! I can see it!" she exclaimed.

"Good, call up Mifflin Tower and tell them we're on approach!"

Unseen by Harm, of course, Loren's eyebrows shot almost all the way up to her eyebrows, as she switched from intercom to broadcast, "Hello, Mifflin Tower, this is Stearman November Six announcing arrival from Charlottesville."

"Hello November six, this Mifflin tower, descend to Angels two and orbit the field, we have two other aircraft ahead of you in the pattern."

"Roger," Loren replied, and then switching back to intercom, she said, "Harm?"

"If you're happy, Loren, go ahead, but switch back to broadcast, ASAP!" Harm waited and then smiled as he heard the 'click' in his headphones that told him she had done just that.

They had made one and a half circuits of the field, which Loren put to good use, making a visual reconnaissance of the runway and the land marks she would use to gauge her final approach, before the tower called them.

"Stearman November six, this is Mifflin tower, descend to Angels one point five and call when on finals."

Despite her nervousness at the prospect of her first landing at a strange airfield, Loren's voice was firm and confident as she acknowledged the instructions and commenced a shallow descent to the required altitude before making a wide left hand one hundred and eighty degree turn, coming into line with the runway, "Mifflin Tower, this is Stearman November six, on final approach for landing."

Harm tensed slightly in the rear cockpit, while he had every confidence in Loren's ability he was well aware that a change to routine was a challenge, especially for a trainee pilot and he let his hands hover over the controls, ready to take instant command of the aircraft if he should need to.

He didn't need to; although the aircraft crabbed slightly in the crosswind, Loren set it down as smoothly and as gently as a mother would lay her baby in its crib, and with slightest touch of the rudder corrected the Stearman's drift to port before the wheels kissed the ground.

"Stearman November six, this is Mifflin Tower, continue on the runway until the second exit to starboard and head straight for the general aviation hangars."

Once again Loren acknowledged and again plying the rudders taxied the Stearman towards the designated area, where an airfield employee waited to guide them into position at the end of a line of general aviation airplanes.

Harm clambered out of the cockpit and stretched his back before removing his helmet and headset, as much as he loved flying, two hours plus as a passenger was reason enough, so his back reckoned, to stage a mild protest.

Loren on the other hand almost leapt from the front cockpit, her face alight with pleasure, and as she slid down the wing and her feet hit the ground, she used the impetus from her arrival to almost throw herself against Harm's chest, locking her hands behind his neck and pulling him down for her very enthusiastic kiss.

"Oh, my God!" she said as she broke the kiss, "I did it! Did you see me? I landed at a different field! I did the whole flight, from take-off to landing! Oh, Harm, thank you, thank you, thank you!"

Despite the twinge of his discomfort from his back, Harm couldn't help but be infected with her pleasure in her accomplishment. "Yeah, I saw it," he grinned, "In fact I think I was there for some of it!"

Loren was far too happy, too wrapped up in the after-glow that comes with a successful outcome to a trial, to take exception to Harm's irony, she merely smiled up at him and murmured "God, I feel so good!"

Harm replied, "Good, because the weekend hasn't really started yet!" But instead of responding to her unspoken questions, he turned back to the Stearman and pulled their sea-bags from the luggage compartment and nodding towards the hangar he said, "Shall we?"

"Oh yes," Loren chuckled, "Let's!"

To her surprise Harm stopped at a small office inside the hangar and almost before she was aware of what he was doing he re-emerged brandishing a set of keys. Leading her out through the side door, he pressed the key fob and the lights on a mid-sized Ford flashed and Harm nodded in satisfaction and then taking Loren's sea-bag he stowed both bags in the trunk and opening the passenger door for her he said, "Ma'am, your carriage awaits!"

Loren got into the car and waited for Harm to walk around to the driver's side and settle himself behind the wheel before she challenged him, "OK International Man of Mystery, where are we and where are we going, and what dark plans are you harbouring?"

"Just have a little more patience, Loren, please. We're nearly there, and I don't want to spoil the surprise.

Saturday 10 March 2001, 1030hrs EST, Somewhere In Central Pennsylvania (101530ZMar01)

Twenty minutes or so after leaving the airport Loren was being bounced in her seat as the Ford negotiated an unpaved road that had left the highway some five minutes beforehand at a scattering of typically white-painted timber frame houses that forcibly reminded her of the sort of house in which she had struggled to young adulthood, and those memories crowded in upon her and laid a darkening cloud across her earlier euphoria until at last round a bend that skirted a grove of mixed deciduous trees Harm halted the car in front of an old but solidly-built traditional farmhouse, with a barn flanking the house on each side.

Harm looked across at her and with a gentle smile he said simply, "We're here."

Loren heard something different in his voice and looking at him saw something, gentler, more settled in his face. In an instant she was suffused by the feeling that this place - wherever it was - was somewhere very special to the man with whom she was in love.

"Where is 'here'?" she asked him gently.

"This is my Grandmother's house." He said softly, looking straight at her before he leaned in and kissed her gently. Breaking the kiss he said "Welcome to the Rabb family home."