THE ROBERTS' RESIDENCE
ROSSLYN, VIRGINIA

Harriet lay curled up against Bud's side, too keyed up sleep. The last time she'd felt this anxious had been the night before her own wedding, when she'd had doubts about her own future after watching her fiancé be led out of a strip club in handcuffs. But this was her best friend's wedding – or was supposed to have been. She should have been the one offering comfort to a harried bride, not trapped by wakefulness, wondering what tomorrow would bring.

She was worried – not so much about Mac. When she'd left Mac's place earlier, it had amazed her how well Mac had been holding it together. Oh, she'd been worried about telling Mic and how he would react, but she'd sounded so sure about the decision itself. It was about time Mac sounded sure about something, she admitted. It was the fallout that concerned Harriet. Mic had thrown himself, heart and soul, into the idea of marrying Sarah Mackenzie and she wasn't sure how he was going to react to having his dreams shattered just hours before they were to come true. She didn't think he would turn violent, at least not towards Mac. But Harm …. Harriet knew from Bud what had happened in Sydney, how Harm and Mic had beaten each other black and blue. Ostensibly, the fight had been ordered by the Admiral as punishment for breaking Bud's jaw, but Bud had admitted – in not so many words – that the fight had really been about other things. She knew that Mac did care about Mic and that it was hurting her to hurt him, but if he became angry and turned that anger towards Harm, Harriet wasn't sure what would happen, how Mac would react.

She studied her husband for a moment, marveling at how simple her life was by comparison. Sure, she and Bud had experienced more tragedy than she'd ever thought they would, but they'd held onto their love for each other, and their love for their son, and it had seen them through. After they'd managed to survive the death of their daughter together, she was confident that she and Bud could get through anything as long as they had each other. To her, that was what love boiled down to – being there for each other, supporting each other, bolstering each other's spirits. She didn't think she could ever understand how Mac had come so close to marrying a man whom she didn't have those feelings for and whom she suspected was not that completely devoted to her.

She didn't doubt Mic loved Mac, but sometimes it concerned her that his love was a bit on the possessive side. The office gossips had been working overtime after Mac had publicly called Mic on calling her his fiancée in People Magazine. She hadn't really thought about it too much at the time – it had happened just before baby Sarah had been born and died – but it seemed so obvious now that things had hardly been right in that relationship. Hell, she thought, it should have been obvious from the fact that Mac kept that ring on her right hand for ten months. Then when Mac and Harm had been in the Barents Sea, you would have thought they were on the verge of carrying on a mad, passionate affair the way both Mic and Renee had been obsessing about it, despite the fact that they were on two different submarines. And Bud had told her about how Mic had blindsided Mac – Harriet couldn't think of another word to describe what he'd done – with the fact that he'd started his own law firm which specialized in defending people accused of crimes by the military. She couldn't imagine Bud ever doing something like that to her – or Harm doing that to Mac.

But Harm and Mac …. they already had been there for each other, so many times. Harriet could lay awake all night and probably not remember all the stories about all the times they'd stood by each other, protected each other, and supported each other. She wondered why she hadn't thought about all this before, about the possibility that Mac was planning to marry the wrong man. It now occurred to her that the day in the office when Harriet had first noticed that the ring had moved that she'd been happier than the soon-to-be bride. Harriet had shown off her ring to everyone at the office immediately after Bud had slipped it on her finger. Mac had seemed like she was almost hoping no one would notice it, especially Harm, whom Harriet now realized had looked like he'd been punch in the gut when he'd first seen the diamond sparkling on her left hand. How could she not have seen it? How could they all have been so blind? Harm and Mac seemed to notice everything about her and Bud's relationship. Why couldn't they have done the same?

Harriet jumped slightly, startled from her thoughts by the ringing of the phone. Bud stirred slightly against her. "Go back to sleep," she encouraged him, knowing that he'd had a little too much to drink at the bachelor party for a wedding which would now never happen. "I'll get it."

She reached over him for the phone, wondering who would be calling them in the middle of the night. She hoped nothing was wrong with her parents or with Mikey out on the Wake Island …. or even with her father-in-law. She did not like the man – or the way he treated his sons – but he'd come through for Mikey in Mexico and even Bud, who hardly ever talked about his father, had expressed gratitude for his help. "Hello," she said hesitantly into the phone.

"Harriet, um, it's Admiral Chegwidden," A.J. said. As much as he did not want to pass this news on to either of them, he'd been hoping to get Bud, wanted to tell him first so that Bud could hold his wife and comfort her as he told her the news about their friend. He didn't know how to tell Harriet, didn't know if he could take her reaction. Then again, he thought, remembering finding Bud in the darkened JAG building the night baby Sarah had died, he didn't know how he could be the one to bring either of them such news. He'd watched both of them grow so much in the nearly five years he'd known them and he couldn't care for them more if they were his flesh and blood.

"Admiral?" Harriet echoed, surprised by his use of her first name. Although it was rare, they'd been woken up in the middle of the night before for JAG business. But it was usually either Harm or Mac calling. But Harm was still on his way back from the Patrick Henry and Mac was supposed to be on leave for the next two weeks – at least of far as the Admiral probably knew. "I suppose you need to speak to Bud."

A.J. sighed heavily, shaking his head, even though she couldn't see the gesture. "No," he said quietly, surprising Harriet even more with the uncharacteristic tone of his voice. The last time she'd heard him sound like that had been when Sarah …. when he'd tried to comfort them at the funeral …. Oh, God. She shook her head, rubbing her hand over her stomach, trying to dispel the knot tightening there. "Since I've got you on the phone, I will tell you."

He paused to gather his thoughts, something she couldn't recall him doing before – he was always so confident, so sure – and the feeling of dread grew, threatening to overwhelm her. "Sir?" she ask hesitantly, becoming even more sure that she did not want to hear what he was about to say.

"Um, Commander Rabb was flying back to Norfolk when his Tomcat went down in a storm about a hundred miles east of Cape Fear, North Carolina," he told her as calmly as he could, knowing no other way to break the news than to just get it out and over with, barely keeping his own emotions in check.

"No," Harriet whispered brokenly, the phone slipping from her hand. She shook her head, praying that she'd wake up and find out this was all a horrible nightmare. "No, no, no, NO!"

"Harriet?" Bud asked sleepily, half awake as he'd listened to her side of the conversation. He pushed himself into a sitting position, gathering her into his arms. "Honey?"

Harriet shook her head, tears falling freely as she pressed her face against his chest, gripping his shoulders tightly as if holding on for dear life. Bud noticed the phone lying between them and, one hand running soothingly up and down her back, he picked up the phone. "Admiral Chegwidden?" he asked, confused, having heard Harriet greet him by rank earlier.

"Bud," A.J. began. Bud found himself suddenly fully awake at the sound of his name, dreading what he was about to hear, what had upset Harriet so much. "Commander Rabb went down in a storm on his way back to Norfolk."

"Commander Rabb?" Bud whispered, incredulous. He hesitated, afraid to ask the question he most dreaded the answer to, but the one he most needed to hear. "Is he ….?"

A.J. knew instantly what Bud was trying to ask. It was the one question he dreaded the answer to himself. "We, um, don't know yet," he replied. "I spoke to the skipper of the Patrick Henry and he said they're launching SAR aircraft towards their last known position. I'm on my way into JAG to wait for word."

"We'll be there in about half an hour," Bud said emphatically, almost daring his superior to suggest otherwise, "um, Sir."

A.J. didn't even try to dissuade him, to suggest that they try to get some sleep and that he would contact them when there was word. He could admit only to himself that, as much as they wanted to be at JAG to wait, he needed them to be there. "The night guard can let you in if I'm not there yet," he said.

Bud's eyes widened as something occurred to him. "Sir, have you called the Colonel yet?" he asked, wondering how she was taking the news.

"Captain Ingles called her personally," he answered. "Apparently, she's still listed one of the Commander's emergency contacts. I haven't spoken to her yet myself."

"Okay," Bud said, not knowing what else to say. He did not envy the person who had to break this news to her. What was worse, actually watching someone you loved slip away from you or hearing it second-hand and wishing that you could have been there to do something, as if your presence might have made a difference?

"Bud, the Commander …. Harm will make it through this," A.J. said with a confidence he wasn't entirely sure he felt. Sure the man had the devil's own luck, but how long until that luck ran out?

"Thank you, Sir," Bud replied softly, not quite sure he could believe that, but needing the reassurance nonetheless. Neither man knowing what else to say, they hung up. Bud dropped the phone back onto the bed and wrapped his other arm around his wife, burying his face in her hair, unable to stop the tears from falling. He hadn't felt this lost, this helpless since Sarah.

Suddenly, Harriet pulled away, her eyes wide. "Oh, my God," she exclaimed. "The Colonel …. Mac …. what is she going to do, say after everything that's going on …?"

"Harriet!" Bud nearly shouted, incredulous. He stared at her as if he didn't recognize her. "How can you even be worried about the wedding now? Commander Rabb is missing, maybe even …. " he trailed off, unable to complete the thought.

"No, Bud," she countered, gripping his arms. "You don't understand. The Colonel …. Mac, she's been trying to get a hold of Mic. Bud, she is going to call off the wedding. She doesn't love Mic. She's in love with someone else!"

Bud stared at her for a moment before understanding dawned. Everything he'd ever suspected about the often-convoluted relationship between his friends suddenly crystallized into truth. Harriet explained hurriedly, her voice trembling, "Tonight, I went over to her apartment and he called to tell her that he was on his way home for the wedding, but she told him that she was going to call the wedding off. They, um …. " Harriet hesitated, not sure if she could tell even her husband just exactly what had transpired in the last few days. She decided to gloss over that part. "Let's just say they decided that they couldn't ignore certain things anymore. Bud, he was coming home to her and now …." Her voice broke and he pulled her against him again, his own tears falling, his heart breaking for his friends. "Bud, how could this happen? How can fate be so cruel?"

"I wish I knew, baby," he whispered brokenly, unable to answer the questions any more now than he had the first time she'd asked them, several months earlier. "I wish to God I knew."

Harriet broke away again, wiping away her tears with the back of her hand. "We have to go over there," she said, climbing from the bed and going over to the dresser. She opened a drawer and pulled out some sweats, tossing a pair to Bud. "We need to be there for her, the way she was there for us …." She broke off, pressing her palms against the top of the dresser.

Bud got up and walked up behind her, wrapping his arms around her waist. When she spoke again, her voice was so soft that he could barely hear her. "Bud, do you believe in guardian angels?" she asked.

"Maybe," he replied uncertainly, "I don't know. I don't know what I believe anymore, not since …. "

"I know," she agreed, turning around in his arms, resting her hands on his chest. "But maybe if there are, our little girl is one and she can look out for her godfather and guide him home to everyone who loves him."

"I hope so," he said, smiling wanly. He picked up her sweats off the dresser and handed them back to her. "Get dressed. We'll go over to the Colonel's before we head to JAG. Now, she needs to know that her friends love her and are there to support her."

Harriet managed a half-smile of her own as she nodded. "Bud," she said as he started to turn back to the bed to get dressed. He stopped and looked back at her. "I love you."

"And I love you, honey," he returned. He wanted to say more, wanted to assure her that it would all work out, but if there was nothing else he was sure of in this situation, it was that there was no way he could offer such comfort.

-----

HARM'S APARTMENT
NORTH OF UNION STATION

The door slowly opened, the dim light from the hallway casting very little brightness into the dark apartment. A woman stood silhouetted in the doorway, her eyes sweeping over the familiar scene as her eyes adjusted to the darkness. If she closed her eyes and believed hard enough, maybe she would open her eyes and find out this had all been a nightmare and that he was there with his familiar grin. Biting her trembling lower lip, she reached to her right and flipped the switch, lighting the empty apartment.

Pushing the door closed behind her, she wandered the room, caught up in all the memories ….

What do you call this décor?

Priority. Finishing my apartment is low on the list.

She stopped at the bookcase, picking up the same photo which had sat there the first day she'd entered the apartment, her fingers tracing the form of the smiling, carefree young boy who had eventually grown into the driven man who'd managed to worm his way into her heart, in spite of all the barriers she'd erected around her heart.

She fought back tears as she studied the picture, remembering the eventual fate of the man in the photograph, so similar to his father's before him. Could fate be that unkind, to take yet another Rabb aviator in the prime of his life? How could his mother handle it if she lost her son after losing her husband? What about his grandmother, who'd already lost her husband and son? When would it stop?

Clutching the picture against her chest, she wandered next to the desk, flipping through the case file sitting on top. The Adamson court-martial. She'd been looking for that file so she could sign off on it. With a rueful chuckle, she noticed that Harm had yet to sign off on it. That man couldn't keep up with paperwork to save his life, she thought. Why should he, when there were far more important, more adventuresome things for him to be doing?

She gazed out the window into the black night. It sounded like the rain had slowed, the storm finally moving past Washington. But he was still out there in it somewhere. Pressing her hand against the cold glass, she remembered another rainy night, another night when she'd stood at this window, staring out into the darkness.

I expected there to be death when I joined the Marines. Not when I joined JAG. Not like this. It's like everyone around me keeps dying.

"No," she told herself aloud. "He's not dead. He's coming home. In a few days, we'll probably be sitting right here, laughing about how he scared me to death with this latest stunt of his. And after I'm through kicking his six, I'm going to take him in my arms and never let him go."

As she started laughing bitterly at the declaration, a voice inside her head countered. 'You said it yourself,' it said. 'Everyone around you keeps dying. Dalton died because he was involved with you. Chris came back after you and you killed him. Your goddaughter was going to be named after you and what happened to her? Now, Harm was coming home to you and he's gone, too.'

"No," she said, striding over to the bedroom and grabbing a small travel bag from the closet and throwing it on the bed. His usual travel bag was gone, probably sitting at the bottom of the Atlantic, she realized grimly. "He's not dead and he is coming home to me." Grabbing a few essentials that she knew he'd probably need – some boxers, t-shirts, socks and a spare khaki uniform – she quickly packed the bag, carefully folding a t-shirt around the photo of Harm and his father. She wasn't sure why, but she felt compelled to bring the picture with her.

Her eyes caught sight of another picture on top of his dresser and she went over and picked it up, studying the brothers smiling for the camera, remembering the moment she'd snapped the picture before they'd left Chechnya. She could hardly recall seeing Harm so relaxed, so at ease. Most people probably would have been upset, to say the least, at finding out they had an unexpected half-sibling. Somehow, it didn't surprise her that Harm had a rather unusual reaction to the news. Within hours of finding out he had a brother, he'd been doing everything he could to protect Sergei from a potential death sentence. Maybe it wasn't so unusual, not for him anyway. After all, hadn't he risked his career – and his life – to help her and her uncle the day after they'd met and after she'd apparently betrayed him?

She wrapped another t-shirt around the second picture and placed it in the bag. She'd show them to Harm when he was rescued, a reminder of the proud tradition of aviation in his family. She wished there was some way to contact Sergei, to tell him that his brother was in trouble. But even if she could get a message to him somehow, she wondered if it might not be better to let him remain ignorant for now. He'd been a prisoner of the Chechens for five months. Did he really need the added burden of worrying over the fate of his brother when his own future was so uncertain? As an alternative, maybe later she would get Harm to write a letter to Sergei and then she could contact Clay and see if there was some way to pass the letter on. Harm could have the comfort of communicating in some fashion with his brother and Sergei could be reminded that there were people outside the walls of his prison worried about him and praying for his return.

After staring at the open bag for a moment, she went into the bathroom to gather a few toiletries he would probably need. He could probably buy most of the stuff in the ship's store, but she thought he's appreciate having his own things – his razor, his favorite brand of shaving cream and aftershave, his … the thought trailed off as she picked up the hairbrush off the counter, blond hairs stuck in the bristles. She'd almost managed to forget that there was someone else involved – another woman who as of yet had no idea that about the true state of her year-and-a-half long relationship with Harm. She knew that Renee would have had a hard time letting go of him in any case. Now, she didn't even know she had to and she was about to hear, if she hadn't already, that Harm was missing. She felt a flicker of sympathy for the other woman. Much as she didn't really care for Renee, she wouldn't wish what she was about to find out on any woman, not matter what the circumstances.

She rubbed her forehead, staring at her reflection in the mirror hanging above the sink, thinking that she looked like she'd aged ten years in a matter of hours. Just hours earlier, despite the lingering shadow of Mic and her cancelled wedding hanging over her, she'd felt such a sense of peace. For once, her life had seemed to finally make a certain amount of sense. But now ….

Every time I think I've put the pieces of my life back together, somebody comes along and jumbles them back up.

Brushing away the tears starting to fall, she returned to the bedroom and dropped the things she'd gathered into the bag, zipping it closed. She sank down onto the bed next to the bag, caught up in more memories ….

The only place that isn't torn up is the, uh, bedroom.

Works for me.

She'd felt so comfortable that night, sitting on top of the bed, enjoying dinner with her new best friend. It might have felt odd, sharing dinner in the bedroom of a handsome man without the expectation – or pressure – of something more, but it had also felt so good, so right. Not that she hadn't wanted more, she admitted. Even then, so early in their relationship, it had been so simple to imagine what it would have been like to close the few inches separating them. What would have happened if she had? How would their lives have changed?

Shaking the thoughts from her mind, she got up and slung the bag over her shoulder, glancing around the room to make sure she hadn't forgotten anything that she needed to take to him. Struck with inspiration, she walked across the apartment to his desk, searching the drawers until she found his spare set of car keys, realizing that it was possible his keys were at the bottom of the ocean with the rest of his things. His apartment key was taken care of – she'd just return to him the spare key she had, the one she'd just used to let herself in. They'd exchanged them long ago in case of emergencies and, although she supposed they probably should have returned them with everything that had happened between them and others, it had just never seemed right. It had seemed like it would have been so final, like burning a bridge never to be rebuilt. Now, it didn't seem to matter as much any more.

Dropping the keys in the inside pocket of Harm's leather jacket, which she still wore over her uniform, she took another look around and finally satisfied that she had everything he might need, she left, carefully locking the door behind her. She stood in front of it for a long moment, pressing her hand flat against the metal door, overwhelmed for a moment by all the memories. "No," she said, pulling her hand away. He wasn't dead. He would be coming home then they could work on building their relationship, making brand new memories. She had to stop thinking like this.

Steeling herself, she turned and headed for the stairs without a backward glance. She would bring him home and everything would work out. It had to. She would not let herself contemplate any differently.

-----

MAC'S APARTMENT
GEORGETOWN

Bud knocked on Mac's door while Harriet stood just behind him, gently rocking a dozing AJ in her arms as she hummed 'Brahms' Lullaby'. Bud had suggested making an emergency call to their sitter, but Harriet had refused, insisting that she had to have their son with her. In the end, he'd agreed, realizing that they both needed their little boy's innocent, comforting presence. At least he was still young enough that he wouldn't really understand what was going on around him. "Colonel Mackenzie?" he called, knocking louder. He turned and looked back at his wife with worried eyes.

"Maybe she's in the bedroom or something," Harriet suggested hesitantly, not really sure how Mac would react to this news. She'd never struck Harriet as the type to crawl into bed and cry her eyes out, but she couldn't say for sure. "Maybe she's too upset to come to the door …. or to hear us knocking."

"Maybe," Bud replied, unconvinced. He pulled out his cell phone and hit the speed dial combination for Mac's home phone, hoping that the ringing of the phone might get through to her if she was there. They could hear Mac's phone ringing from the hall and after a few moments, Bud clicked off his phone, shaking his head.

Harriet racked her brain, trying to figure out where their friend might have gone. The Admiral said he hadn't spoken to her yet, according to Bud, so she wouldn't know that everyone would be gathering at JAG to wait for word. Where else could she have gone? What would she do in similar circumstances? "Bud, what if she went over to the Commander's?" Harriet asked excitedly. "Maybe she wanted to be someplace where she could be close to him. It's what I would probably have done."

Bud nodded slowly as he put his phone back in his jacket pocket. "Yeah, maybe she would," he replied. He put has hand on her shoulder and gently rubbed. "Maybe she needed …. Let's go over there. I think I need to go over there."

Harriet nodded, covering his hand with hers. Almost as much as Mac was surely hurting, so was Bud. Harm was like an older brother whom Bud wanted so much to be like, the hero who could do no wrong in his eyes. "I know," she said softly. "I think I need that, too."

-----

HARM'S APARTMENT
NORTH OF UNION STATION

Fifteen minutes later, they'd made their way across town in the light midnight traffic and were parking outside of the converted warehouse where Harm kept his apartment. The building was dark – hardly surprising at this hour. Harm, obviously, wasn't home and his downstairs neighbor had probably gone to bed long ago.

Harriet was unstrapping AJ from his car seat when Bud suddenly put his hand on her shoulder. "Hold on a minute," he cautioned her as a car pulled into the alley next to the building. "Someone's coming." He wished that he thought to drop his wife and son off at JAG before coming over here. During the day, this was not one of the best neighborhoods to be wandering in. In the middle of the night, it was downright dangerous.

Harriet glanced around him, her hand flying to her mouth as she recognized the car. "Bud, it's, um, Renee," she told him. Bud looked back at her, his concerned expression matching hers. "Bud, what are we supposed to do? The Admiral must have told her what happened to Commander Rabb, but she doesn't know …."

"She won't find out from us," Bud said firmly. "Right now, concentrating on the Commander's safe return is the most important thing. Everything else can work itself out later. She deserves to her about this from him, after all this is over, not now when we don't know what's going to happen."

Harriet nodded her agreement as Renee got out of her car and walked up to them. "Bud, Harriet," she greeted them, her voice hesitant. Harriet handed AJ to Bud and walked up to the other woman, wrapping her arms around her. She genuinely liked Renee and was probably one of the few who knew or understood the depth of Renee's feelings for Harm. Harriet didn't want to see her hurt – although that seemed inevitable – but none of that seemed important now.

"Renee, I'm sorry," Harriet whispered. She pulled back, brushing away more tears. "There are a lot of people who love the Commander and are praying for him."

"I know," Renee replied. She waved her hands, frustrated. She couldn't remember ever feeling so powerless. She was a woman used to taking action. "I don't understand, Harriet. Why did he go down? What was he even doing flying in this weather?" She looked up at the dark sky. The rain had just stopped falling minutes earlier, but the angry storm clouds were still evident with every flash of lightning.

"We don't even know that he went down because of the storm," Bud tried to explain. "Tomcats are designed to fly through worse than this and Commander Rabb's the best pilot I know."

"When I saw him," Renee continued, trying to control the trembling in her voice, "Wednesday before he left for Norfolk, we talked about him getting back in time to escort me to the wedding. He said …." Her voice trailed off as she remembered their last conversation and her concerns. Suddenly, her expression hardened, her eyes flashing with anger. "He said that he promised her that he'd be back in time for the wedding. He was flying through this weather because she asked him to."

"Um, Renee, we don't know that," Harriet consoled, thankful that she could at least tell the truth about that. She wasn't aware of any promise between Harm and Mac regarding his return in time for the wedding. "Maybe his quals were over and it was just time for him to leave. And he wouldn't have taken off if he hadn't been given clearance by the air boss on the Patrick Henry. Bud and I have both served on carriers. They don't just let their pilots take off, regardless of any promise, unless they believed conditions to be safe. Anyway, we don't even know that he crashed because of the weather. There could have been mechanical problems with the plane. Any number of things could have gone wrong. Let's just concentrate on praying for Commander Rabb right now and let the mishap investigators determine the cause of the crash when the time comes."

Renee's expression softened and she nodded. "Thank you, Harriet," she said. She looked back and forth between them, puzzled. "So what are you guys doing here?"

Bud and Harriet looked at each other, at a lost for words. They couldn't exactly tell her that they'd shown up looking for Mac, not when she seemed so ready to blame Harm's accident on her. "Well," Bud began, searching for the words, "we thought …. um, maybe someone should come get some things for the Commander – after he's rescued, I mean. His travel bag's gone down with the plane and he's going to need clothes and things."

"I hadn't even thought of that," Renee admitted, looking down at the ground. "I just …. when the Admiral called me, he said everyone was saying that they were coming into JAG, but when I got into my car, I just found myself driving here. I don't know. I guess I just wanted to come someplace for a few minutes where I could feel close to him, close to Harm Rabb, the person, not the Navy Commander."

"Um, Renee, why don't we let Bud go upstairs and get some of the Commander's things together?" Harriet suggested, hoping to stop Renee from going up there. Mac's car was nowhere in sight and the apartment was dark, but she didn't want to take the chance that Mac was around, sitting alone in the dark. Right now, the last thing either woman needed was a confrontation with the other. "Then we were going to stop at Mic's and see if he wants us to drive him into JAG since he's probably in no condition to drive and then we can all go to JAG together to wait for news. Bud, you know where the Commander hides his spare key, don't you?"

Bud shot Harriet a questioning look. They hadn't said anything about going over to Mic's, although he realized it probably wasn't a bad idea. Sooner or later, Mic would find out that Mac couldn't be found and if he was at JAG, surrounded by people, maybe it would help temper his reaction. Finally, he nodded. He could gather a few things for Harm and look for Mac at the same time while keeping Renee out of it. "Yes, I do. Wait in the car and lock the doors," he cautioned. "I'll be back in a few minutes."

After Bud went into the building, Harriet strapped AJ back into his car seat then she and Renee climbing into the minivan, locking the doors behind them. The two women looked at each other uncertainly for a moment before Renee finally spoke. "Do you really think he'll be alright?" she asked, her tone nervous.

"Renee," Harriet said with a reassuring tone, trying to convince herself as much as Renee, "the Commander's been in a lot of, um, tight situations before and he's always come through. Remember when he almost drowned last year on that destroyer? He came through that okay. And he was shot down during his first trip to Russia and they, um, he survived that as well. The Commander is a survivor. There's no one better at it that I've seen." She mentally crossed her fingers, hoping Renee hadn't caught her slip about Russia. She didn't really think it was the time to explain about some of the things that Harm and Mac had been through together.

"I just," Renee began, blinking back tears, "um, when I first met Harm and found out how he'd been a combat pilot, then became a lawyer, I thought he was larger than life. His career sounded like some great big adventure, like in the movies. Then I got to know the man behind the uniform …. You know, I've heard about some of the things he's been through – not from him, of course. At times that man can be tighter lipped than a clam. But hearing about them and then actually having something happen …. Harriet, I don't know what I'll do if I lose him."

"I don't know what any of us will do," Harriet admitted softly, her voice breaking. She was trying so hard not to think about that possibility, but how could she not? "He's been there for Bud and me so many times in the past. He helped Bud and I get together, was best man at our wedding, godfather to our children and he was there for us when Sarah died. If I'd had a brother, I would have wanted him to be just like Commander Rabb. And Bud feels the same way. He's one of the most loyal, devoted friends anyone could ever hope to have."

Renee reached over and patted her on the arm. "I know," she replied sadly. "It's one of his best qualities. I just wish …." She was interrupted when the driver's door opened and Bud got into the car, tossing a paper grocery bag onto the floor behind his seat.

"I couldn't find a travel bag," Bud explained, gesturing towards the bag. "So I just tossed some things into a grocery bag and brought them down." He'd noticed some items missing from the apartment and suspected that someone – most likely Mac – had already been there and gotten some things for Harm. He couldn't very well come down with nothing, since he'd gone upstairs ostensibly for just that reason, so he'd improvised.

"Harm has two travel bags that he uses," Renee commented speculatively. "I watched him pack, so I know he only took one with him this trip."

"Maybe it's still sitting in the back of his car from a previous trip," Harriet suggested, sensing that this was a potentially dangerous topic of discussion from the look Bud was shooting her. Time to change the subject. "Renee, why don't you ride with us over to Mic's and then to JAG? You're upset and maybe you shouldn't be driving."

"I don't …. sure, I guess so," Renee agreed, rubbing the bridge of her nose. "To be honest, I don't really remember driving over here. One minute, the Admiral was telling me …. then I was here and you were here."

Harriet reached behind her and gripped Renee's hand. "You need to be with friends right now," she said comfortingly. "We all do. That's what will get us through this."

-----

MIC'S APARTMENT
WASHINGTON DC

Once again, Bud and Harriet, again carrying AJ, were standing in front of someone's apartment door, this time with Renee, who hadn't wanted to sit in the car. She needed to do something, even if it was telling Mic what happened. If she could do something, then maybe she wouldn't think so much about how her life was falling apart. Bud pounded loudly on the door, shouting Mic's name. He knew Mic was there – being in no condition to go anywhere.

After a moment, during which a neighbor had stuck his head out the door to see what the commotion was about, Mic finally opened the door dressing in only a pair of pants, running a hand through sleep mused hair. "Bloody hell, what …. " he trailed off when he managed to focus on Harriet's and Renee's tear-stained faces in the bright light from the hallway, on the look of despair in Bud's eyes. His first thought was of his fiancée. "Sarah?"

Bud slowly shook his head. "No, the Colonel's, um, fine as far as we know," he replied. He glanced behind him at the nosy neighbor. "Can we come in? We probably shouldn't do this in the hall."

Mic pulled the door open, motioning them in. He closed the door behind them, his hand on the door knob as if it was the only thing holding him up. "What's going on?" he demanded in a slightly slurred voice.

Harriet sniffled, drawing Bud's attention. He pulled her against his side, an arm draped over her shoulders. Renee looked at them, then back at Mic. "Mic, there was an accident," she said, her voice trembling. She crossed her arms over her chest, gripping her arms to stop her hands from doing the same. "Harm …. he was on his way home and his plane went down in the ocean …. they're looking for him …."

"Oh, blimey," he whispered, placing his hand on her arm. "Renee, I don't know what to say." He looked at Bud, who was whispering words of comfort to his wife. "Does Sarah know yet?"

Bud and Harriet looked at him and nodded. "When the Admiral called us," Bud explained, "he said the Colonel had already been notified. I assume she's on her way to JAG. Everyone's kind of planning to meet there to wait for word."

Mic reached for a box of tissues on the coffee table, holding the box out for Renee and Harriet, both of whom took a handful of tissues. "Renee, I'm sure he'll be fine," he told her, trying to sound confident. He wasn't sure of situations like this, but going down in an ocean in the spring in the middle of a storm couldn't be promising as far as survivability. "Rabb's a survivor."

"That seems to be the general consensus," Renee said quietly.

Mic attempted a smile and patted Renee's arm. "I'll get dressed and go into JAG with you," he said. "I want to be with Sarah. I can't believe this. Tomorrow is supposed to be …."

Harriet managed to stifle her look of alarm at the mention of the wedding. "Um, Mic, maybe you should bring your information on the wedding arrangements to JAG," she suggested hesitantly. She shrugged helplessly. "In the morning, we can help you start calling to, um, cancel everything. It would give us something to do."

Mic looked startled, having not thought beyond comforting Mac. "Yeah, I guess," he replied reluctantly. "I need to talk to Sarah, see if we can come up with a date to reschedule everything for."

"I guess that would be best," Harriet answered carefully. She bit her lower lip and looked at Bud, unsure what else to say.

"Look, we want to get over to JAG as soon as possible," Bud jumped in. "The Admiral is going there to wait for news after he contacts everyone and …."

"Right," Mic said, nodding. "I'll go get dressed then."

After he'd left the room, Harriet motioned Bud aside, out of earshot of Renee. "What are we supposed to do?" she asked, patting AJ's back soothingly as he began to stir in her arms. "Apparently, the Colonel wasn't able to get a hold of him. He thinks that he'll just talk things over with her and they'll have the wedding another time. And Renee – she's so devastated about what is happening to the Commander. Bud, what if the Colonel's not at JAG?"

He glanced over at Renee, who had gone across the room to stare out the large picture window with its view of the Capitol Dome. "I don't know, honey," he admitted in a low voice. "All we can do right now is to keep quiet. It's not our place to tell them anything. He's got to be okay, and then he and the Colonel can straighten anything out when this is all over."

-----

JAG HEADQUARTERS
FALLS CHURCH, VIRGINIA

The first thing that struck Harriet as they entered JAG headquarters was how eerily quiet it was. She was used to being here in the middle of the day, when the building was bustling with activity. Usually, she had to dodge others walking through JAG's halls. Now, the hallway was empty except for Carolyn, Jackie and Alan standing in front of the elevator, conversing while they waited.

"The Admiral brought me back from Spain to handle that case," Carolyn said ruefully. "The damned man broke out of the brig and went God only knows where. When he turned himself in, he wouldn't listen to my defense strategy and told me that I was fired. I wanted to strangle the man, but I was glad that he got off. I felt so bad afterwards. I can't believe I never thought of the angle that the Colonel used."

Alan chuckled softly, and then stopped, glancing at the floor. He couldn't believe he felt like laughing at a time like this. "Believe me, I was glad to lose that case," he admitted. "God knows that I never really wanted to go after one of our own." He heard footsteps approaching and looked back, nodding towards them. "Bud, Harriet, Mr. Brumby, Ms. Peterson."

"Hi, Commander," Harriet said, "Mrs. Mattoni, Commander Imes."

Everyone looked at everyone else, not quite sure what to say, how to offer comfort. They were saved by the ding of a bell as the elevator doors slide open before them. With a collective shrug, they stepped onto the elevator, silent on the ride up to Ops. As the stepped into the bullpen on the second floor, they found Gunny and Tiner leaning over Gunny's desk, fiddling with a phone. Loren walked into the bullpen, carrying three mugs of coffee, setting two of them down in front of the two enlisted men. Loren looked over and smiled weakly at the newcomers.

"I've got some coffee going in the kitchen," she informed them, shrugging as she sipped her own beverage. "I think there's some tea also and some bottled water in the fridge. Can I get anyone anything?"

"Has there been any word yet?" Renee asked, ignoring the question for the moment. Loren shook her head.

"The Admiral just got here and went immediately into his office to contact Commander Rabb's parents and grandmother," she replied, leaning against a desk. "Gunny suggested getting a speakerphone set up with a shore to ship line so we can monitor the rescue efforts. I'm sure he'll be fine, Ms. Peterson. He's got a lot to live for."

"Thank you," Renee whispered. "I think I will have some of that coffee."

"Bud, why don't you take AJ and I'll help Loren," Harriet suggested, handing her son off. She needed something to do to keep busy. "Anyone else?" Mic, Bud and Alan all put in requests for coffee, Jackie for tea and Carolyn for water. She and Loren started to head towards the kitchen when A.J. stepped out of his office, dressed casually in khakis and a sweater, ten pairs of eyes turning to him expectantly.

"Gunny? Tiner?" he asked, nodding towards the phone.

"Just about got it set up, Sir," Tiner replied.

"Sir, would you like anything from the kitchen?" Harriet asked.

"No thanks, Lieutenant," he replied. "I've already got some coffee."

Harriet nodded and continued to the kitchen with Loren. Everyone else took up positions at the desks scattered through the bullpen. Gunny and Tiner continued working on the phone. Alan sat down behind another desk, Jackie perched on top of it, clasping her husband's hand tightly. Bud sat down at Harriet's desk, rocking his half-asleep son. Carolyn sat at another desk, nervously twirling a pencil between her fingers. Mic approached A.J., Renee hovering behind him. "Sir, I'm concerned about Sarah," he said. He shrugged helplessly. "Have you spoken to her? No one seems to know where she is. I expected her to be here."

"Uh, Captain Ingles called the Colonel and informed her about what happened," he answered, crossing his arms across his chest. "I haven't spoken to her personally …."

"Excuse me," Renee interrupted, "why would they be calling Mac? She's not – I mean, she's just a friend."

A.J. sighed. This was not a topic he wanted – or needed - to get into right now. "Several years ago," he patiently explained, "the Commander and Colonel put each other down as POC in case of emergency. They apparently never changed that."

Mic and Renee looked at each other, neither happy, but both knowing that this wasn't the time to discuss it. "Oh," Renee said, glancing away.

"Maybe Sarah went to see Chloe," Mic suggested, surprised he hadn't thought of it before. "The girl is rather found of Rabb."

A.J. looked startled. "I don't think anyone else has even thought to contact her," he said. He motioned to Harriet reentering the bullpen with Loren. "Lieutenant, do you know where the Colonel's sister is staying?"

"Oh, my God, Sir," she exclaimed, setting down the mugs she was carrying on a nearby desk before she dropped them. "I didn't even think of that. I believe they're staying at the Holiday Inn outside the gate at Andrews."

A.J. nodded to Gunny, who was already picking up a phone, dialing information for the number. A few minutes later, he held out the phone to A.J.. "They're connecting you to Chief Anderson's room," Gunny told him.

"Hello?" Kyle said sleepily, rubbing sleep from his eyes.

"Chief Anderson, this is Admiral Chegwidden at JAG," A.J. said. "You know Commander Rabb?"

"I've met him," Kyle replied, glancing at the other bed, where Chloe had stirred at the sound of the phone ringing. "My daughter speaks very highly of him."

"The Commander was involved in an accident on his way back to Washington from the carrier Patrick Henry," A.J. continued. "He is believed to have gone down about a hundred miles east of Cape Fear."

"How bad?" Kyle asked, his eyes on his daughter.

"Dad, what's wrong?" Chloe asked, pushing her covers back and moving to sit on the edge of his bed. He held up a hand to motion to her to wait.

"The Henry has sent out SAR," A.J. replied, "but the weather's bad and …." He left the rest unspoken, knowing the veteran Chief would understand. "I wanted to let you know so you can tell Chloe. If you need anything, most of the staff is gathering at JAG headquarters. You can reach us there. I believe your daughter knows the number."

"Thank you, Admiral," Kyle said. "We'll be praying for everything to work out." He hung up the phone and slid over on the bed, pulling Chloe against his side.

She looked up at him with wide, frightened eyes. She couldn't imagine why her father would be talking to an Admiral in the middle of the night, but it could only be bad news. "Dad, what happened?"

Kyle rubbed her arm, wishing that she'd slept through the phone, wishing he didn't have to tell her just now that a dear friend of hers was fighting for his life. "Um, honey, that was Admiral Chegwidden," he began.

"Mac?" she asked fearfully, tears springing to her eyes.

Kyle shook his head sadly, tightening his arms around her. "No, not Mac," he replied. "Commander Rabb."

"Daddy?" she pleaded, tears streaming down her cheeks. "What happened to Harm? He was supposed to be coming home from the carrier tonight."

"I know, sweetie," he said, stroking her hair. "The Admiral said he went down in the ocean. Search and rescue teams are looking for him now."

"No," Chloe cried, burying her face against his t-shirt. She shook her head as more tears fell, thinking of all that had happened between Harm and Mac the last few days and all that was supposed to be happening for them in the future. "It's not fair."

"I know, baby," he said, remembering his own friends and shipmates dying aboard the Stark, the day Chloe had been born. Death was an unfortunate part of military life, but that didn't make accepting or dealing with it any easier. And God knew he would have done anything to spare his daughter the anguish of learning that lesson. "But the rescue teams know what they're doing. They'll find him."

"In the middle of the ocean?" she asked, pulling back to look her father in the eyes, seeking the truth.

"It's what they're trained to do," he pointed out, far from certain himself. He hadn't been around aircraft operations all that much, but he knew the odds couldn't be too good.

"Dad, we have to go see Mac," Chloe burst out suddenly. "She and Harm are …. they …."

"She's probably at JAG," he said gently. "Admiral Chegwidden said everyone was gathering there to wait for news."

"Daddy, please," she pleaded. "We have to go to JAG. Mac needs me. She and Harm …. " she broke off, leaning against his chest again, wiping her tears away with her fingers.

Kyle sighed, knowing that there was no way they'd be getting any sleep tonight. He knew, both from his parents and from Chloe, that she talked about Harm almost as much as she did about Mac. "Okay," he acquiesced. "Get dressed and we'll head over there."

Chloe pulled out of his arms, and then stopped, staring at him intently. "Daddy, will Harm be okay?" she asked, her voice quiet and shaking.

Kyle opened his mouth to reply, but couldn't make himself lie to his daughter, offering assurances that he knew could very well turn out to be false ones. His heart broke as Chloe bowed her head, her body shaking with sobs. He pulled her back into his arms, trying to comfort her.

"God, why now?" she whispered brokenly, thinking again of Mac and Harm and all the hope for the future she had for them. "This can't happen to them."

-----

Just after A.J. hung up the phone, it rang again. He picked it up himself. "JAG Ops," he said, "Admiral Chegwidden."

"Admiral, it's Frank Burnett," Frank said with a weary sigh. Ever since A.J.'s earlier call, to inform them of the accident, he and Trish had both been running around making hasty travel arrangements. It was the first time he'd had a moment to stop and think about what was happened to their family again. "I wanted to let you know that Trish and I will be taking off from San Diego within the hour. That should put us at Reagan National at about seven thirty."

"I'll have someone at the airport to pick you up and bring you to JAG," A.J. offered.

"Thank you, Admiral," Frank said. He looked down at his desk in front of him, staring at a photo taken the day Harm had graduated from the Academy. It was one of the few he had of himself, Trish and Harm together and had only been taken at the insistence of Harm's grandmother. "On that other matter we discussed, Trish and I talked about it and we don't want to contact Harm's grandmother until morning. She'd want to come to Washington and we don't want her to drive in the middle of the night. Honestly, we're worried about her making the drive in the morning, but Sarah Rabb's a very determined woman."

"I can see if one of my people will drive up to Pennsylvania," A.J. suggested, realizing that he probably wouldn't have a problem with volunteers. Most of them would probably be grateful for something to do. "She lives just outside of Pittsburgh, right? It's about three and a half, four hours up there. Someone can leave soon and be there first thing in the morning and bring Mrs. Rabb back to Washington."

"Thank you, again," Frank said. "Trish and I are both worried about Sarah. She's lost both her husband and son and we had that scare with Harm ten years ago. Not to mention the fact that her other grandson has been sitting in a POW camp for the last five months."

"I understand," A.J. replied, realizing that he hadn't thought about Sergei. He knew that being in a Chechen POW camp was no guarantee that Sergei wouldn't hear the news. It was pretty much common knowledge now that Sergei's father was an American and it wasn't beyond the realm of possibility that one of his captors would taunt him with the news that his brother had gone down in a crash. He should probably put in a call to Clay, although it was possible the spy had already heard the news through other means.

"We'll see you later, Admiral," Frank said, disconnecting the call. A.J. looked over the bullpen, everyone watching him except Gunny and Tiner, who were huddled together in conference. Feeling A.J.'s eyes on them, they both looked up and straightened in their chairs.

"Sir, the link to the Patrick Henry is set up," Gunny informed him. "Tiner and I request permission to drive to Pennsylvania to pick up the Commander's grandmother."

A.J. nodded permission. "Take a cell phone with you for updates," he ordered. "The Commander's personnel folder is on Tiner's desk – his grandmother's address is in it."

"Yes, Sir," they both replied, Gunny scooping up his car keys and cell phone before hurrying out with Tiner on his heels while A.J. went back into his office.

Settling into his chair with a sigh, A.J. flipped through his Rolodex, looking for Clay's phone number. It was one rarely used, the unspoken understanding being that contact was to be kept to a minimum. But even if Sergei hadn't been a consideration, A.J. figured that Clay would want to know.

"Hello," Clay snapped into his phone after picking up on the second ring, having read the number off the Caller ID. "What can I do for you, A.J.?"

A.J. didn't bother wasting time with small talk. "Rabb's Tomcat went down tonight in the Atlantic Ocean," he said. "His whereabouts are unknown. Is there any way you can get a message into the prison camp where Sergeant Zhukov is being held?"

Clay snorted, forcing down his automatic concern for his friend. "You want me to get a message into a prison camp in Chechnya?" he asked, incredulous.

"Come on, Webb," A.J. countered shortly. "This would seem to be rather easy to accomplish for you. I don't want some sadistic captor using this news against the kid. Who knows what they'll tell him about Rabb."

Clay was silent for a moment, considering, and then said, "Major Sokol has a few contacts that he uses to keep an eye on Sergei's condition, goes to the highest bidder types. He can probably get a message in through one of them."

"Fine," A.J. said. "The message is simply to say that Rabb went down and search and rescue teams are out looking for him. We'll pass on more when we know it."

"Understood," Clay replied, remembering another crash, yet another dire circumstance. The Russians had sworn, practically on a stack of Bibles, that Harm and Mac had been killed after flying into a flock of geese. But this time, there was no sometimes hostile foreign government covering their rears. That had been easier, believing the Russians had lied and working to prove that. He hated the situations when all you could do was sit and wait for word. That wasn't how he operated and he knew that wasn't how A.J. operated either. Unconsciously, he rubbed his nose, feeling a phantom ache from being broken, a victim of A.J.'s need to act. "A.J. …."

"Yes, Clay?" A.J. asked, knowing what the other man was probably about to say. Clay did have his moments sometimes.

"I hope Rabb will be fine," he said simply. He didn't know what else to say.

"So do I, Webb," A.J. admitted, not sure why he did. But Clay was probably one of the few he would admit something like that to. Maybe they'd been through too many ops together, knew each other too well after five years. Under other circumstances, A.J. might have laughed in disbelief at the realization and so might have Clay. Now, it was just a wrenchingly honest assessment of the situation.

-----

To be continued…