It was the cold that finally woke her. Sarah MacKenzie sat up in bed and stared down at the empty space beside her. The early hour of the morning cast a dim blue pall over the entire room. The lights on her alarm clock were out. Even the streetlights outside were out. Mac got up and felt the cold crash of air over the bare skin of her legs. She slowly walked over to the window and slid back the gentle curtains. There was snow on the window ledge. Why the hell would there be snow in May? Mac subconsciously ran her hands over her upper arms to warm herself.

None of the electronics in the house were on. She sat on the edge of the bed and looked down at her feet. None of this seemed real. Or something was out of place. The photos that she could have sworn she'd put away were right back where they had placed them. What the hell was going on?

She heard a familiar click of the lock to her front door, and the creak of it sliding open. She got to her feet again and moved to the doorway of her bedroom. His back was to her. That tall, lean, back, that well-manicured crop of hair, his one hand stuffed so forcefully in his jeans. It couldn't be real. It was a dream, a lie that didn't come true. He turned around and faced her. That crooked, cocksure grin was firmly in place. She ran at him and leapt into his arms. Nate stumbled back, his back slamming into the wall, causing him to cough. "Something wrong, Marine?"

She looked down and saw his left arm in a cast and sling. Her eyes were drawn to the skin under his collar. Just above the hair on his chest, she caught a glimpse of purple and blue discolored skin. She opened his shirt a little and watched as the bruising and burned skin was revealed under her fingertips. Memories started flooding back.

"But…" She whispered.

"You've been asleep for two days, Marine." He smiled at her.

"How…" She shook her head. He was dead. She knew it.

"The attack," He started to explain. "We got the kids out. I saw the falling ceiling at the last minute, got my hands up over my head. Broke my arm in three places, two ribs and blunt force trauma to my head. I was out for five days in a coma, Mac. I think you got all of three hours sleep during the seven days I was in the hospital. That's why you just slept for two days."

"Jed and Abbey?" Mac was starting to piece the memories together.

"Were at the hospital just about every day. Sam was, too. My parents, my sister and AJ. But you and Billy practically lived out of that hospital room last week." Nate began to lightly stroke her hair. Mac began nodding. He was right, he was alive. She could reach out and touch him.

"Where were you?" She asked.

"Ran into the office for a few minutes. The power's out all over DC." He explained. "Just something quick. I figured you'd be out for a couple more hours."

"How long did I sleep?" Mac shook her head, trying to find a smile.

"Off and on for about thirty-nine hours." He answered. "Honey, you were so tired when we got home, you barely made it to the bed. I think you got up for a few minutes here and there to scratch a path in the carpet to the bathroom. The TV kept you company. With this thing," Nate tapped his cast, "I've been told to sleep upright for a couple weeks."

"I thought, I mean I was sure that you were…" She felt her lower lip quiver.

"I know, I've never seen you so restless but I didn't want to wake you because you badly needed your sleep." He guided the two of them over to the couch.

"What day is it?" She looked up from the carpet.

"It's about 6am on Christmas Eve." He explained. "The Niagara Falls trip was cancelled for obvious reasons." Mac looked up into his eyes. He was alive. A little banged up and bruised, probably even burned still.

"But you're still alive." She smiled and hugged him again. This time a little more gingerly to make allowances for his wounded wing. "I was sure; I mean…you know that I have these…" She circled her hands around the sides of her head to indicate what she couldn't say.

"That you're precognitive?" He filled in. "Yeah, we've talked about it."

"I just, it was so real." She shook her head. "I thought you were dead, that the falling piece of ceiling…and I saw the funeral and just months of things that came after…"

"Sarah, you slept pretty well for thirty-nine hours after being up for pretty well a week straight. Jed and Abbey were over yesterday, they were really worried about you. They said all you could talk about at the hospital was how close I was to dying." Nate raised a hand to her cheek to explain. "That your mind decided to play some tricks on you isn't exactly a surprise."

"But you're alive?" Her smile brightened.

"And in the flesh." She reached forward and undid the buttons on his shirt, letting it fall open. Sure enough, there was a massive amount of bruised and burned tissue on the left side of his torso. The scars of his heroism. "There were a few skin grafts, apparently." He explained. "That accounts for some of the bruising. Some of the scars from the burning may never fully heal."

"But you're alive." This statement was final. She hugged him again and felt a slight urge to cry.

"And you're awake." He smiled. "And it's Christmas Eve. We have to think of something to do."

"Is there still a vigil being held at GWU?" Mac inquired.

"Yeah, all the crosses. The candles are still burning." He nodded. "Probably a good place to start."

"We could finish up some Christmas shopping, a little walk through the Georgetown promenade." Her smiled warmed up and she moved closer to him on the couch.

"I've already got your gift." Nate fired back.

"And your mother and your father, your sisters, your nephews, Sam…" Mac let her voice trail off.

"Okay, okay, good point." He nodded. "So, the vigil and some Christmas shopping. Anything else?"

"I want to go to Church tonight." Mac's face was deadly serious.

"That's something new for us. My sister's church?" Nate leaned back on the couch. "Might be a bit of a hardship getting out to Crystal City tonight. With the power out in the District, I'm willing to bet that the bridges across the river are already filling up with people trying to get flights out of National that have been delayed at Dulles."

"You don't want to go?" She asked.

"No, it's just something new for us." He shrugged. "If you want to go, we can absolutely go." He tapped his cast lightly. "But you're gonna have to drive. So go easy, Marine."

1722 ZULU

LIVING GREEN ORGANIC MARKET

ADAMS MORGAN, DC

When the power came back on at 10am, most of the city's residents decided to venture out into the winter wonderland that awaited them. Harm decided to do a little grocery shopping. His meeting with Nate had been pushed back to the 28th from the 18th after what happened at GWU. He wasn't quite sure whether to be grateful for the extra ten days or not. He worried that with every extra day spent in DC, he was that much closer to just agreeing with the world that becoming the staff JAG for the JCS was the best career move.

So, grocery shopping was the most pressing order of the day. He wandered the aisles at Living Green with a basket hung off one arm. He wanted to prepare a little Christmas Eve treat, maybe some vegetarian pesto ravioli or take a legitimate swing at making the world's first good tofu turkey. His basket was just about full; he'd grab a few vegetables for a salad and then make for the checkout aisle. As he passed the aisle with the salad dressing, he saw a shorter woman outstretched trying to finagle a bottle of Sun-Dried Tomato and Basil off one of the high shelves.

"Nicole…?" Harm wandered down the aisle and he saw Peach fall back off her tip-toes to look at him.

"Oh, uh, Captain…" She brushed herself off a little.

"Harm's fine." He beamed a smile at her. The he reached up and grabbed the intended bottle off the shelf. "Didn't peg you as a vegetarian."

"Early new year's resolution." She offered a nervous smile. "Trying to eat healthier, live healthier."

"Still at State?" Harm was no longer interested in just saying 'hi' and moving on. He was kind of wanting the human contact he'd been lacking for a couple days.

"For a while. It's kind of getting mundane though. I got an offer from the Deputy Director of Intelligence over at Langley. He wants me to be his Executive Assistant." She brushed a little hair out of her face.

"Seems like a good offer." Harm stuck out his lower lip impressively. "It's the Intelligence Directorate instead of Operations, so you'd be an analyst?"

"Yeah, a lot more responsibility than I currently have. Decent raise, too." She nodded. "But I like the routine a little bit. Walking into the doors at Truman. Knowing the Capitol Police, the people I work with."

"Yeah, I know the feeling. I'm torn between flight ops with COMNAVAIRLANT and becoming the Staff JAG to the JCS." Harm nodded.

"Staff JAG to the JCS is a real fast track spot." It was Nicole's turn to be impressed. They both were ignoring the elephant in the room. But that wasn't really like either of them. "Did you make it out to the hospital last week?"

"Nah." Harm shook his head. "You?"

"That was a level of discomfort I wasn't sure I wanted to put anyone through." Nicole nodded. "I'm sure this is playing into my whole decision with wanting to jump ship across the river."

"Yeah. Same kind of thing going on over here. I think I probably would have taken that job at the JCS but I keep wondering if there's anything left for me in DC besides just a job." Harm was starting to feel a little less uncomfortable. Then a thought smacked him between the eyes. "Were you serious about the whole eating healthier thing?"

"You gonna give me a shopping list?" She joked. They shared a laugh. "Yeah, I am."

"Come over tonight; let me cook dinner for you. Show you how to do vegetarian right." Harm offered.

She bit her lower lip. She was thinking. Was he asking her on a date? Was he just being nice? Was this just two animals on mirrored sides of an awkward situation trying to lick each other's wounds? It was definitely based in some kind of genuine emotional thought. "Yeah, sure." She smiled. Harm gave her his address and the two of them parted with a smile.

Harm headed over to the produce aisle to grab a few veggies for his salad. Was he asking her out on a date? Did it even matter? So much of his social life for so long had been Mac; in all her many confused and contradictory forms. He was forgetting how to throw strikes, how to get his pitches over the plate.

Nicole was attractive, she was smart and she wasn't a shrinking violet. You couldn't be if Langley thought enough of you to make you the Executive Assistant to the Deputy Director of Intelligence. Maybe it'd be nice to find someone who wasn't so intrinsically connected with the military. Even if she was someone he'd met through work. But he was letting his mind run away with him. It was one dinner; where they'd probably spend most of the night rehashing old anecdotes and trying to tell each other what really pissed them off about the two people who weren't in the room. A couple of hours where they could talk about work or Washington and have a good conversation.

Harm grabbed a few vegetables, tossed them in a brown paper bag and put the bag in his basket. Then he made for the checkout counter. And even if it was a date, so what? He'd done dates before. It had been a while, but he knew the checklist. Talk, but not too much. Don't be your own favorite topic of conversation. Don't force your jokes, let them come. It's more important that she thinks you're funny than you think you're being funny. He slid out of the checkout aisle and headed for home.

Now he was doing pre-game? How casual or formal did he want to dress? Was lighting important? Did he have time to run out and grab a bottle of wine? What kind of wine went well with the dinner he was planning to make? He almost felt like he was back in his twenties, when every romantic decision seemed to have the weight of the world riding on it. The SUV turned toward his apartment and Harm's mind was racing, he could feel his pulse slowly begin to pick up correspondingly. Maybe he needed to exercise, do something to take the edge off.

His mind began to wander back to his situation with his job. The Pentagon had a gym but crossing the river into Arlington right now would probably be a chore and a half. Well, was there anything left for him in Washington?

1934 ZULU

GEORGETOWN PROMENADE

GEORGETOWN

Mac and Nate found traversing the Georgetown Promenade to be its own kind of marathon. Everyone who ran into the Junior Senator from Virginia wanted to shake his hand and tell him what a great thing he'd done some nine days earlier. Most were surprised, some even amazed that he was out of the hospital already. That he was up and about, even just a few blocks from Mac's apartment seemed to be extremely good fortune. He was sore, something he didn't like admitting aloud. After breaking his leg last summer and watching Mac urge him to slowly assume his recovery, he wasn't in the mood to be coddled. If he was stiff, or sore, he'd just push through it until he could sleep and recharge the battery.

They were accumulating their Christmas gifts for tomorrow's big trip out to Leesburg for a Ross family Christmas. Sam was leaving this afternoon for Southern California and would be back on the 27th, when he'd promptly get his Christmas gift. The Bartlets would spend Christmas and New Year's in New Hampshire but would be back in Iowa on January 3rd, and if he was cleared to fly, Nate would be right there with them.

Mac had been a little jumpy all day. She wasn't crazy about losing almost two days to sleep. But it had all seemed so real. She found herself squeezing him here and there to make sure that he was still there. She was grateful that she'd get to immerse herself in a true family Christmas for once. Some place where the house was warm, where there were pictures on the wall of the people sitting at the table. And where there were stockings over the fireplace for everyone in the house. JAG Christmases were great occasions, times filled with genuine emotion and she'd take Nate to his first tonight at Bud and Harriet's.

The trip to the vigil on the GWU campus this morning had been a surreal one for her. She'd played the exact same scene in her dream. The rows of the crosses, the burning candles, the crowd of students and teachers watching the emergency crews work through the rubble to try and find some new piece of closure for a waiting family. When Nate made his appearance, he was mobbed by grateful students, professors and parents who simply wanted to shake his hand and thank him for what he'd done. The two of them had stood there in silence for just a few minutes, letting the cold crisp air of the Chesapeake wash over them.

On the drive back to Georgetown from the University, Nate had tried to keep the mood light. He sang gently along with the radio, or made quick jokes about Mac's reddened frost-touched nose. Anything to make her smile and him laugh. Shopping for the nephews was easy. Kids told you what they wanted and you made an effort to go out and get it. But Nate sucked at shopping for his sisters. So Mac was an invaluable asset here, particularly when shopping for Anna. She was slowly readjusting her comfort level. He was here, a lost thirty-six year-old man trying to Christmas shop with one arm and she had a hard time not finding him adorable.

"Would you hurry up? Your dad's not that difficult to buy for." Mac lectured. Nate's head popped out from behind a rack.

"The man has very exacting standards. In my twenties, I mostly bought him ties for fear of screwing up any other gift." Nate tested out the relative merits of the black fedora versus the charcoal one yet again. "My head's bigger than his is. You think I should go down a size?"

"I don't think there's that much difference." Mac tenderly reached up and pulled the brim down in front of his eyes. "Your dad's coloring is lighter than yours, go with the charcoal and let's go. We have to get you home and get you changed, more of an ordeal now that only one arm functions and we have to get to church early if we're going to get to Harriet's on time."

"You're as accurate as a Swiss watch, you know that?" He laughed and used his good arm to pluck the hat off his head.

"You'd better believe it. Now, let's go." She gave him a playful whack on the rear with her purse and he walked over to the line-up at the checkout till. She watched him wade into the crowd of people. There were always going to be those who recognized him now. Whether he was the Junior Senator from Virginia, the Vice President or just the hero of December 15th. He'd have to shake a hand or two everywhere he went, accept a hearty and well-intentioned 'thank you' and move on to the next person. She exhaled heavily. And yet, in spite of all of it - and it seemed there was more everyday - she did love him dearly.

He paid for the hat; the girl behind the counter neatly tucked it in a cylindrical box and slid the box down the counter to where another one was waiting to wrap it. He took the newly wrapped parcel and returned to her side. "Church and then the Roberts'?" He asked.

"Yeah." She nodded and the two of them walked out of the store.

2217 ZULU

HARM'S APARTMENT

NORTH OF UNION STATION…

The ravioli were boiling in the pot. She was just a little late, expected around seven but now at about quarter after, she'd yet to show. Harm's mind ran over with possibilities. Maybe she was just fashionably late. Maybe she just wanted to see how sure of this he was, if he'd get cold feet when she wasn't exactly on time. Or maybe there was a National Security thing; she was after all a highly placed State Department official.

Then again, maybe, just maybe she wasn't that interested.

All these things stood in Harm's mind as he hovered over the boiling pot. He'd gone casual for the evening. Just a simple black button-down shirt and jeans. Nice, but not too nice. The collar was fresh from the dry-cleaner; the top two buttons were undone just to keep him relaxed. He decided against candles and simply went with the dimmer switch on the wall. Dinner was simple, just the ravioli and salad with a nice red wine and maybe a little jazz in the background. Not make-out music jazz like say, John Coltrane. Nah, he'd opted for a little Sonny Rollins to keep the mood a little more non-committal.

But his palms were sweating. He was a Captain in the United States Navy; he hurtled off carrier decks and flew fighter jets. Why were his palms sweating? He did a little pre-game on himself. His palms were sweating because this wasn't a safe thing. If it were another woman he knew, it could just be social thing. Just someone whom he regularly socialized with and this one night would be nothing different. But outside of the few weeks they worked together on the Three Wise Men project, Harm had never even really spoken to Nicole. There was no safety net here. That's why his palms were sweating.

7:20. Now he was getting nervous.

A hard knock came at the door. Should he shout that it was unlocked? No, that was too callous. He headed over to the door and opened it. There she stood. Her hair fell loosely down to her shoulders and was drawn back carefully behind one ear. She'd worn a dress. Nothing too fancy, but like something you'd wear to a work Christmas party or something. Simple, black, cut off at the knee, conservative neckline. It was a perfect neutral dress for people who weren't sure just how social this outing was supposed to be. "Can I come in?" She chanced with a smile.

"Oh, yeah." Harm moved back out of the door. She slipped past him into the house. She'd walked in, curling just a little into his personal space for a fraction of a second. Just long enough for him to catch a bit of her perfume on the end of his nose.

"Is dinner ready?" She caught a quick glance of the steam rising over the stove.

"Just about." Harm moved away from the door and quickly got in behind the island so that he was back over the stove. She strode over purposefully, putting a little more emphasis in the sway of her hips. He let his eyes track her using his peripheral vision. His brain searched for something to say. "A lot of snow today."

"Spent an hour digging my car out this morning." She laughed ruefully. "Took about as long to drive to the market."

"How long's the drive usually?" Harm asked.

"Depends on how much traffic there is on Connecticut." She replied, her eyes carefully working their way around the apartment. "Usually ten minutes."

"Yeah, the airports were crazy all day." Usually Harm hated small talk but this was a bit of a feeling out that probably happened all the time.

"You aren't going home for Christmas?" She leaned over the island.

"My parents probably wouldn't be there. Wouldn't make a lot of sense. Thought about driving up to my grandmother's in Pennsylvania tomorrow. No one goes out Christmas Day, probably wouldn't be a lot of people on the roads." Harm poured the contents of the pot into a strainer, draining the water.

"Good point." She nodded.

"What about you?" He shook the strainer and put the ravioli on to two plates with the salad.

"I used to love Christmas in New York." She answered. "But it's gotten kitschy in recent years. In all the years I've lived here, I've never spent Christmas in DC." She smiled a little. "My apartment's got a decent view of the Capital and the Monument, so it could be nice."

"Yeah, sounds like it." Harm finished preparing the two plates and took them over to the table. She joined him and sat opposite. Unable to resist the presence of the bottle on the table she eyed it for a second.

"You realize you committed a cardinal sin, right?" She looked up from the bottle just for a second to see if she could get him going.

"The wine?" Harm asked.

"No, you told a woman you could cook. There's an unspoken code that says once I'm told that I have to demand proof." She beamed a quick smile and he laughed.

"Well try this on, then." He slid the plate down in front of her. She picked her fork up from the table and tried one of the noodles. She immediately raised her fingers to her lips. "No good?" He questioned.

"Harm, this is fantastic!" She enthused, careful not to smile out of worry that she'd have pesto stuck to her teeth. The two of them talked about work, the holiday and a lot of other things over dinner. When the plates were cleared, they kept talking until they'd finished the bottle of wine. Harm generally grew more comfortable as the night wore on. But when he'd looked down at the clock above the TV and seen that it was eleven o'clock, he knew he needed to say goodnight so he could go to the Wall.

"Nicole, I'm having a lot of fun, but I've got one more errand to run tonight…" Harm let his voice trail off.

"At eleven o'clock, you Navy types really do burn the candle at both ends." She laughed lightly.

"No, it's…" Harm paused. "Back in '69, my dad went down on Christmas Eve over North Vietnam. Every year since, I've gone to the Wall on Christmas Eve. And I didn't have the chance to go earlier today so…"

"Say no more." She got up from the table.

"I really don't mean to push you out." Harm quickly covered. "I mean, I had fun tonight."

"So, did I." She stopped getting ready to leave and looked up at him.

"We should do this again some time?" Harm offered, getting his own jacket on, preparing to walk her down to her car.

"I'd like that." She offered him a genuine smile. "Do you have a pen and paper?" Harm walked over to the kitchen and fished a pen and paper out of a drawer. She took them and wrote down her phone number before taking a magnet and sticking it to the fridge. "Just so it doesn't get lost."

"Understood." Harm laughed and closed the door behind them.