Chapter Seven

Café Maria

Columbus Avenue, Washington D.C.

Harm sat at their usual table, wondering what the upcoming meeting would bring. They hadn't talked since they had said their goodbyes at Andrews. The following days had been stressful between reports, debriefings, and his regular work at JAG.

In addition, C.J. and his romantic interlude at his apartment had also been on his mind all week. He didn't know whether to be happy that the call-out interrupted them or not.

"Are you in love with Mac?"

Harm did his best not to choke on his coffee or spit it over the table as C.J. slid into the seat across from him. "That's your opening line? What happened to 'Hi, how was your week?'"

She wasn't about to be deterred, though. "My week was a warp-speed blur, a fact of which I suspect you're well aware. Hence, my small-talk muscles have atrophied. Answer the question, Harmon."

Harmon? Damn. He took a measured sip of his coffee, thinking about how to answer the question and those that would ultimately follow. It wasn't the first time someone asked him that question. Normally, he would deflect or answer as vague as possible. If he didn't refuse to answer at all. But here, now, with C.J., he didn't want to do that. That came as a surprise to him, something else he would have to think about later. He answered as truthfully as possible. "I think I could very easily be in love with Mac."

"What precisely does that mean?"

"I have told you some of the things she and I have gone through in the past. Although that was mostly work-related, I'm sure you have read through the line. Hence your rather brash opening."

C.J. just nodded silently. She didn't want to say anything, as long as Harm was talking. She knew that there was a high probability that he would clam up any time now.

"Of course, I left out a lot more personal things. And I'm sorry, C.J., I don't want to go into that right now."

Harm held up his hand to prevent her protest. "Look, I'm not trying to deflect. She and I have hurt each other. Luckily, we have been able to remain friends. For one reason or another nothing else has developed from it."

"Thank you, Harm," C.J. said. "But you haven't answered my question."

"That's the only answer I have for you," he looked straight at her.

C.J. narrowed her eyes and was about to continue her questions, but Harm preempted her with a question of his own. "Is this about what happened Friday night?"

He didn't need to clarify: she knew he wasn't referring to their airborne escapade.

"No, it's not. I know better than to try and stake a claim to you based on one isolated non-incident. I mean, I'm not apologizing for it, but in the light of day, aren't we both a little relieved that nothing happened?"

Harm looked at her for a moment. He wasn't sure what C.J. wanted to hear. "Probably," he admitted hesitantly.

"It would have been fun, though," C.J. stated convinced.

"Undoubtedly." His eyebrow quirked, but there was little humor in his expression. "I still don't see where you found this sudden interest in my relationship with Mac."

She shrugged. "Maybe because I finally know you well enough to know when you're happy, and right now, you're far from it."

With a look of exasperation, he pushed his chair back from the table. "Happy? C.J., last week I had a 757 full of innocent people in my scope, and my finger was on the missile launch button. Did you expect comedy?"

"You didn't have to fire." That sounded weak, even to her.

"But I had to be ready to. I'd hate to do it anywhere, but this was in our own airspace, for God's sake. There were Americans on board of the 747," Harm exclaimed. "I hate that somebody even has to be in that position. Don't you? When you have to brief a news item about another airplane scare, doesn't it terrify you to see what the world's become?"

Of course, it did. But she would never admit that. "The world is what it is. It's not the result of one person or event, no matter how much it may seem that way."

"The world as it is, put my good friend in the hospital with a leg and a half," Harm exclaimed angrily. He gazed into his coffee cup with cold, sullen eyes. "The world sucks right now."

His cursing surprised C.J. She couldn't remember another time Harm had cursed in their conversations. C.J. decided not to make any overt attempt to cheer him up. He'd probably resent it anyway, and she might very well screw it up. Instead, she went for a different route. "Did you know people who died in the Pentagon?"

"That's not the point."

"Then what is the point? That there are people out there who don't like us? That can't be news to you, after everything you've experienced."

"Maybe not. But I didn't think that they could hit us the way they did… I didn't think that they could hit us in a way that we couldn't defend against."

She heard 'I' in place of 'we' in that sentence, and that told her all she needed to know. He'd dedicated his life to protecting his country, and it cut him deeply to know that he'd been helpless as anybody else to prevent the most devastating attack ever wrought on the continental United States.

"We are defending against it. Now that we realize we have to, we are."
What a weird situation. Here she was, a liberal woman who detested violence, trying to convince a member of the military of what exactly? That something like 9/11 wouldn't happen again?

"Our defense looks a lot like paranoia. The world changed because of one event, at least for people in this country. Especially for people in uniform. Our mission changed, so our lives changed. It's not just something that happened almost a year ago. It's ongoing."

She thought about that for a moment, hearing the uncharacteristic tones of pessimism in his voice. Finally, she asked, "You know what people don't talk about enough when it comes to September 11th?"

Harm spread his hands wide. "Since it's getting close to the point where people have talked the whole thing into the ground, I'm not sure I even could even guess what you have in mind."

"I understand what you mean, but I'm not talking about the usual suspects. I'm talking about the air traffic controllers."

"The air traffic controllers?"

"Absolutely. Think about it. There are thousands of vehicles in U.S. airspace on any given day, and the moment there was a sign that something was wrong that morning, the ATCs locked it down. They'd never had to do anything like it before, but in two hours, all the controllers across the country and in Canada worked together to get every last commercial and civil aircraft down without a hitch. The logistics of that endeavor were staggering."

Harm nodded. "I remember the days afterward – looking up at the sky and knowing that there wasn't a single plane up there. It was one of the most frustrating parts of it all. It kept reminding me that those animals were preventing us from living our lives."

"I know, but you're missing my point. The ATCs were critical that day. They were the calm at the center of the storm, keeping an attack from escalating into an all-out cataclysm. If the system had failed even a little, even at the tiniest tower in the middle of nowhere, we could have had accidents all over the place. But it didn't. Even after learning about what had happened, no one in the control centers had time to rest or grieve like the rest of us. They just did what they had to do. They're a perfect example of something that works about our system."

"I'll grant you that, but no ATC could have done a thing to prevent any of the hijackings or the crashes."

"No, but that wasn't what they were supposed to do. Their job was to clear the skies so that for just a little while, we could have a measure of safety in a time of total desperation. And they did it. All I'm saying is that they should get some recognition for it."

He watched her for a long moment. "All right, the next time I'm up, I'll thank the guy who gives me landing clearance twice. Just for you, okay?"

Apparently, that was all the progress she was going to make on that front. She'd shifted him from brooding mode into sarcastic mode. C.J. rolled her eyes. "If you're going to be like this all night, I might as well return to my original question. Are you in love with Mac?"

"Would you still be this persistent if we'd actually slept together?" he wondered.

"More so, without a doubt."

Abruptly, he surrendered, sensing that this was important to C.J. And thinking about their conversation on Friday, the way she had laid out her arguments, he could understand her position. That didn't mean he had to like it. "Mac and I are a very complicated story."

"Are you confirming or denying my question?"

"Neither. I'm just trying to explain. For years now, we have this strange thing going on where we make sense on some levels, but clash on others. There are just too many questions still out there."

"Have you ever thought about actually trying to answer them?"

He rolled his eyes skyward, irritated. "What kind of question is that? I realize I'm not the best person when it comes to emotions, but I'm not a sociological imbecile. Of course, I think about that, but there are just some things I don't have the answer to."

"Okay, so what exactly are those questions? Is it that you're not sure you want it to happen, or that you're not sure she wants it?"

For a moment, he looked stonily at her, then sighed. "Both."

"Huh?" That answer surprised her. She had thought that he was unsure of Mac's feelings, but it seemed that she had been wrong.

In response, he offered a helpless half-shrug. He explained some more. "She thought she wanted it, once," he said. "That was my shot, apparently, and I missed it."

And he was still quite angry that she had gone to Bugme that night but would not tell C.J. about that.

"What makes you say that?"

"I don't know–maybe the fact that she came within twelve hours of marrying someone else?"

"But she didn't, did she? And if I'm not mistaken, the reason for that had something to do with you."

"So you conclude that she must have wanted to be with me the whole time?" He shook his head. "That is seriously flawed logic, C.J. They only called it off the first time because I damn near killed myself that night. Later they had some problems communicating."

As did Mac and I, Harm thought, remembering Mac's visit to his apartment and him telling her that he would be out of town because Renées father had just died.

"Everyone wants to make it into more than it was. However, as soon as her fiancé had left, she took the first transport out of town. And for three months she barely gave me the time of day. Even when I flew halfway around the world to talk to her."

That piqued her interest. "You flew halfway around the world to see her?"

He fixed her with a look. "Stop doing that."

"Stop doing what?"

"Stop filtering everything I say and latching onto each obscure detail you find romantic."

"What do you want me to do, Harm? Commiserate and tell you that you're right, that she couldn't possibly still love you?"

"I don't know if she ever did in the first place, for Christ's sake!" He hissed.

"Sure you do, but that's beside the point. You're dwelling on something that happened over a year ago, and as you said, the world has changed since then. There's no reason to abandon all hope, so you don't have any defensible reason to be this negative about it."

He reared back in his chair, rapidly nearing his boiling point. "Oh, really? I don't have any reason to be negative? Would you care to live my life for a while and then make that assessment?"

His question did not put her off. "Trying to pick a fight with me won't change anything, and furthermore, it won't work. I can be much more patient than you realize."

"So no matter what I say, you're going to keep coming back to this?"

"That's the extent of my current plan."

"Even if I try to talk about the Orioles' pitching staff?"

"Especially if you try to talk about the Orioles' pitching staff."

He gazed at her impassively for a long moment. He concluded that she truly had no intention of letting up. "Well, I guess I have little of a choice, then."

And to her amazement, he stood up. He turned to C.J. "You know, when I came here, I expected to talk about us, about what happened on Friday. I didn't expect to talk about Mac and I. Good night, C.J."

By the time she recovered, he had left. She stared at the door for a full minute in sheer disbelief. I can't believe he walked out on me. Her initial hurt quickly cooled into annoyed determination. If he thought he could avoid the issue by simply dodging her, then boy, was he in for a wake-up call.

JAG Headquarters

Falls Church, Virginia

Mac squinted at her computer screen, wondering bleakly if she was missing something. The after-action report sent over by CENTCOM didn't appear to contain a single reference to the scouting mission in question. Her client, who'd sworn that his unit took fire in the Afghan brush the night before the disputed incident, was lying, mistaken, or being hung out to dry.

There was a knock at her door, and she shook her head to clear it. "Enter."

"Colonel MacKenzie, I hope I'm not interrupting."

Mac blinked in surprise, then stood up to greet her visitor. "Ah, no, Ms. Cregg, of course not. It's nice to meet you."

"Yeah, you too," C.J. said warmly. "This place is impressive."

"I'm glad somebody thinks so." Mac smiled, but she wasn't entirely sure what to make of this woman.

"I caught part of your briefing the other day. The Oceanic flight really took all that damage from a lightning strike?"

"More or less. The aircraft had a hard landing a few days earlier, and a tiny crack in the shielding that grounds the communications gear propagated. The lightning cut right through the shielding. The plane was due for overhaul after about fifteen more flight hours, if you can believe that. Timing is everything."

"Guess so. Are you always this well-versed in the various subjects that you brief?"

"It all goes into short-term memory. Next week I won't even be able to tell you what kind of plane it was."

Mac hesitated, still trying to figure out the reason for this visit. "Listen, Harm's in court this morning, but they'll probably recess soon."

"I was hoping to talk to you first. Do you have a minute?"

"Um, sure. Have a seat."

"Thanks."

C.J. studied the pictures that adorned the walls, an old Marine recruiting poster, and a photo of a baby seal, and decided that the dichotomy was fitting.

"I suspect that you have very little tolerance for crap, so I'm just going to cut right to it. Nothing is going on between Harm and me."

That caught Mac off-guard, but she was too well disciplined to let it show. "It's none of my business one way or the other," she replied coolly.

"That may be, but I'm telling you, anyway. Frankly, at the moment, he probably isn't all that thrilled about even being my friend."

"He's been giving you attitude lately, too?"

C.J. chuckle at that. Under different circumstances, she might have been friends with Sarah MacKenzie. Maybe it wasn't yet out of the question. "Yeah, but he's specifically ticked at me because I called him out on the reason for it."

"You know the reason for it?"

"I have a pretty good idea."

"I'd be grateful if you'd clue me in."

"By all means. He's convinced that he's missed his one and only chance with you, and he decided to sulk about it."

Mac's reaction wasn't nearly as pronounced or as satisfying as Harm's had been. The flicker in her dark eyes, though, was enough to betray her feelings on the subject. Still, she simply gazed back at the other woman and asked, "Did he tell you that?"

"He sure as hell didn't deny it."

She lifted an eyebrow. "Is that the same thing in your world? Press conferences must be rather treacherous places if it is."

"Colonel, I wouldn't have come out here if I wasn't convinced. I'm not going to pretend that I understand everything that's happened between the two of you. However, I've been listening pretty carefully to what he's said. He's being an idiot about it, but it's you he truly wants. Believe me."

Mac shook her head with a sardonic smile. "It's funny. I can't even count the number of times people have tried to drop hints on this topic. You're the first one to come right out and say it, though."

"And that doesn't suggest to you that there may be some truth to it?"

Mac sighed. Normally, she would have ended the conversation at this point. She never talked to anybody about her relationship with Harm. Well, besides Sturgis, but that just happened thanks to her involuntary confession that she loved Harm. But this visit caught her by surprise.

"It's not a question of what he wants," she admitted softly. "It's a question of how far he's willing to go for it. As yet, the answer seems to be 'not very far'."

"I see. So what would he have to do to meet you halfway?"

"I don't know. Look, I appreciate what you're trying to do here, but – "

Another knock at the door interrupted them, and Harm ducked in without waiting for an invitation. "Mac, I have to go down to Norfolk tomorrow …"

He trailed off upon catching sight of C.J., and as the body language of the two women made their topic of conversation clear, his expression darkened into anger.

C.J. made a flimsy attempt to diffuse his ire. "Before you get pissed off – "

"Oh, we're far past that point, I'd say," he replied, a hard edge to his carefully controlled voice. He jerked a thumb toward the door. "Come on."

Instinctively, she recoiled. "Excuse me? Since when have I joined the ranks of people you get to order around?"

"Either come with me right now, or this is the last conversation we ever have. Your choice." He spun on his heel and stormed across the bullpen, not bothering to wait and see if she would obey.

Seeing how deadly serious he was, she looked to Mac, who looked equally shocked as she felt. C.J. followed him, silently fuming at Harm's behavior.

Once they were inside his office, the door slammed decisively behind them.

"What the hell, C.J.?" he hissed furiously. "It blows my mind to realize how ready and willing you seem to be to kiss restraint and maturity goodbye."

"I'm immature? Take cover, Ace, because your glasshouse is about to get a freaking JDAM through the front window."

She stood her ground, ever defiant. "For the love of God, Harm, you're so deep in denial that you don't even recognize yourself. Given the circumstances, and the way you essentially bolted on me the other night, I thought it was time for an intervention."

"You did, didn't you? And did you assume you could just waltz in here and magically fix everything? You know what–don't answer that. Even if you did, if you honestly thought that was possible, you still had no right to do it. I don't care how much you think you know about her and me. It's still my life, and outside of work, I decide what I do in it."

"Well, congratulations. You've certainly been doing a brilliant job of it lately." Her eyes blazed. "Some people do only get one shot at being happy, but you're not one of them. You have had one chance after another, and as long as she's still in that office two doors away, you're continuing to get even more chances. Maybe they're not perfectly gift-wrapped for you, but too bad. Take what you can get, 'cause there are plenty of people who are worse off."

"Don't you dare tell me about people getting only one chance! I know about losing…." Harm stopped talking, disgusted with the entire situation. "You know, you were the one person whom I thought would never have expectations or make demands of me. I guess that was too much to hope for, huh?"

"Apparently so." She folded her arms. "Don't hold your breath waiting for me to apologize, either."

"I won't." His voice could have sliced through steel. "Right now I'm going to go do some major damage control on my relationship with my best friend. Leave, or don't. Either way, we're done here."

He moved to open the door, but it flew open, revealing a determined-looking Marine on the other side. "Let's talk, Commander," she suggested in a chilled tone.

Harm drew himself up and gave a curt nod. "By all means, Colonel."

As Harriet and the rest of the administrative staff watched, the two officers stalked into Mac's office, accompanied by another slamming door.

C.J. took a deep breath, then summoned her dignity and walked calmly to the elevators, ignoring the stares.

Sturgis wandered through a minute later, perplexed by the hushed bullpen. "Lieutenant Sims? Something going on?"

Harriet only shrugged helplessly. "I'd say so, sir, but for the life of me, I can't figure out what it is."

Inside the office, Mac sat down on the corner of her desk and faced her partner squarely. "I'm going to let you go first."

"Thanks." Harm raked a hand through his short hair. "Mac, I'm sorry for whatever awkward position C.J. put you in. I don't know where she got the idea that interfering would be acceptable behavior, but I'm sorry for that, too."

"Do you even know what she said?"

"Not the exact words, but I know the gist of it."

"All right, but before you issue blanket apologies as if she were some loudmouth teenager. Deciding what information to pass on and what information to hold on to is what she does every day. Granted, she may have overstepped her bounds in this case, but do you think she would have said anything without at least giving it some of thought first?"

"It doesn't matter. She violated my trust," he insisted. "It wasn't her choice to make."

"Well, at least she decided on that matter. That's more than you've been able to manage so far."

Instantly, a deathly silence fell over the room. At first, he looked as though someone had slapped him. She felt a twinge of remorse for that, but it wasn't enough to make her take it back. To her surprise, his entire demeanor changed. He was furious, she realized. It took him a lot of effort to keep his emotions in check and not make a bigger scene. "I see," he said flatly, fixing his gaze on a corner of her file cabinet. "So I have to decide, but it has to be on your terms? Sydney would have been acceptable, but not the Guadalcanal? Can you at least give me some kind of codebook to work with, so I've at least got a fighting chance at figuring the timetable out?" He spat.

Unwilling to deal with the stunned look in Mac's expressive eyes, Harm rushed out. Seeing the eyes of his coworkers, he turned around and softly closed the door. He had work to do, and then he would go home and think about what to do. It was time to make some decisions.