APPROX 100 MILES EAST OF CAPE FEAR, NORTH CAROLINA

Within seconds after his chute opened, Harm realized he was in trouble. Somehow, the lines had gotten tangled, one caught under his chin. His hands shaking in the cold wind, he fumbled with the clasp of his oxygen mask and helmet, finally yanking them open and pulling his helmet off, tossing it away.

He tried pulling at the chute line around his neck, but the strong wind was pushing on the chute, pulling the line taunt. If he unbuckled the chute from his harness just before he hit the water, tangled up in the lines as he was, it might pull him down with it. He couldn't reach the utility knife in the pocket on his right pant leg, having no leverage to pull his leg up so he could reach the knife, so his only hope was to go for the knife as quickly as he could once he hit the water and to cut the lines.

Concentrate, he told himself. Ignore everything but survival. Ignore the wind, the cold, and the angry swells. Focus on staying alive and getting out of this. Someone had to have heard their mayday. Word would be passed and either the Patrick Henry or the Coast Guard – or both – would have rescue craft in the air as soon as possible.

As soon as his feet hit the water, he could feel the intense cold, even through his insulated flight suit, but he forced himself to block out the sharp sensations of thousands of knives biting into him. Survival. That was what he had to think about. As he slid into the water, his chute billowing behind him, he pulled up his leg and tugged on the zipper of the pocket, quickly pulling out the small knife and snapping it open. Grabbing the lines in one hand, he sawed through them as fast as he could, a job made more difficult by his rapidly chilling fingers and the wet ropes. Finally, he got through the ropes on his left side and went to work on the right. Once he cut through them, he took in a deep, gulping breath as the pressure on his throat was released, only to be confronted with another problem.

As the ropes fell away into the water, several got wrapped around his right calf, pulling him under the surface as he opened his mouth to take in another breath, the salt water burning his throat as he swallowed water instead of air. Fighting against the ropes pulling him down, he bent over as far as he could and hacked at the ropes. After a moment's struggle, he managed to saw through them, dropping the knife as he fought his way to the surface, pulling the tab to inflate his life vest.

Breaking the surface of the water, he coughed and sputtered, trying to expel the water he'd taken in while drawing in life-sustaining air, his chest tightening as he struggled to breathe, the effort almost painful in the frigid rain. A swell crashed over him and he quickly closed his mouth, but not before he swallowed more water. Coughing the salty liquid up, he turned his head, searching for the life raft, spotting it about ten yards away.

Just thirty feet. Forcing his arms and legs to move, refusing to give into the cold, he slowly swam against the current towards the only shelter he had. He'd managed to make it a little more than half the distance when a swell rose up over him. Quickly, he held his breath, this time managing not to take in any water. When he broke the surface again seconds later, he'd lost about half the distance he'd gained. Gathering up his strength, he started making his way towards the raft again. He shivered inside his flight suit. It would be so easy, too easy to just give up and ….

Mac's face formed in his mind, her warm smile calling to him. He couldn't give up. He had too much to live for, someone to go home to. After five years, after more twists and turns than he wanted to remember, they were finally going to make things right between them. Steeling his resolve, he pushed himself harder. He would make it. He had to.

Another swell crashed over him and when his vision cleared again, he bit back a curse as he spotted the raft being carried away on a swell. 'God, please give me the strength,' he prayed fervently, like he'd prayed for little in his life, except for a successful end to his quest to learn his father's fate. 'Please help me to get back to her. I have to tell her. She has to know how much I love her.'

-----

I-95
NORTH OF RICHMOND, VIRGINIA
AN HOUR LATER

Mac's knuckles were bone white as she gripped her steering wheel, speeding over the rain slicked highway, driven by one thought – getting to Norfolk. If she'd been in the mood, she might have laughed at the symmetry. Just two nights earlier, she'd been racing over these same roads, again desperate to reach Norfolk, even if it had been an unconscious thought at first. That night, she'd been speeding towards Harm and the few stolen hours of passion they'd managed to find. Tonight, she was heading into the unknown.

She kept telling herself that he would soon be back in her arms, but the logical Marine in her knew the odds. It was the middle of the night, the water was cold and it was storming. If one aircraft could go down in this weather, others could to, making conditions extremely dangerous for those tasked with trying to find two officers lost in the middle of the vast ocean.

For some inexplicable reason, she suddenly realized that she'd just driven past the spot where she'd pulled off the road two nights ago, tormented by the visions of Harm on a nineteenth-century Naval vessel, the same dream which had awoken her just before the phone call from Captain Ingles. She shivered …. no, it couldn't mean what she was thinking. It wasn't prophetic. It couldn't be. Harm was alive. SAR would find him and he would come home to her.

Flexing her fingers, relaxing her vise-like grip on the wheel, she took a calming breath, trying to focus on happier thoughts – like the feeling of his warm embrace or that dazzling, melt your bones grin of his that quickened the pulse of any woman lucky enough to be on the receiving end of the expression. She remembered the day he'd taken her flying the first time, before it had all gone south, the joy in his voice, and the freedom in his bearing. That was probably the happiest she'd ever seen him.

She tried to hold that image in her mind as she turned on the radio, seeking something to keep her mind off …. other thoughts. The station she usually listened to in DC had already faded to static, so she pressed the seek button until she tuned into a station in the middle of a song, Atlantic Starr's 'Secret Lovers'.

With a bitter laugh, she pressed the button again, searching for another station. Just what she needed, a song to remind her of the mess she'd left behind in Washington. She almost wished that Mic was passed out drunk after his bachelor party. Then he wouldn't know that she was gone, know that she was on her way to another man. And Renee …. Mac almost felt sorry for her. She was probably devastated by Harm's crash, if she even knew yet, unaware that she wasn't the one he'd been returning to.

She found another station – oldies this time – and left the radio tuned there, swaying slightly to the upbeat rhythm of The Beatles' 'I Saw Her Standing There', humming with the music. Better. Not quite as distracting as she'd hoped, but that was probably a lost cause. There was nothing that was going to make her forget the man struggling out in the middle of an angry ocean, the man with whom she'd had so many lost chances. They finally had a chance to make the right choices and now it was all hanging by a very precarious thread.

'Please, God,' she thought, praying as she never had before in her life. She'd never really seen the point. Prayers didn't come true for people like Sarah Mackenzie. Praying hadn't made her father sober or less abusive. Praying hadn't brought her mother back. But right now, she'd do anything, pray to God or make a deal with the Devil if that's what it took. Never before had she wanted anything more than the life of one man. Never before had anything been so important to her. 'I'll do anything if you'll just look out for him and keep him safe. Please. There's so much I have to tell him. I promise I won't waste any more time. As soon as I see him, I'll tell him that I love him. Please just give me the chance.'

-----

SOMEWHERE IN MARYLAND

"We all heard the shots, even the Admiral in his office," Tiner said. They'd traveled in near-silence since they'd left DC, but Tiner decided to break the monotony by telling stories about Harm in an effort to keep both himself and Gunny – who was driving – awake. "He came rushing out and started ordering us to evacuate the bullpen. We had no idea what was going on. Then people came out of the courtroom, these kind of dazed looks on their faces, and the Admiral got this look on his face like 'What the hell is going on?' Then Lieutenant Roberts came out and the Admiral pulled him aside and asked him what had happened …. "

He trailed off and looked over at Gunny, who had maintained a stony silence since he'd started the story. "I'm sorry, Gunny," Tiner said. "I can be quiet if …."

"No, it's okay," Gunny assured him, his expression softening almost imperceptibly. "Continue the story."

Hesitantly, he picked up where he'd left off. "Lieutenant Roberts started stuttering something," he continued. "You didn't know him back then, but he could get very nervous. Finally, the Admiral demanded, 'Where the hell are Rabb and Mackenzie?' The Lieutenant mumbled that they were in the judge's chambers. Then the Admiral asked who had fired the gun off in the courtroom. The look on the Lieutenant's face – he turned beat red and I could see him swallowing from where I was standing by my desk. Finally, he mumbled something else that I couldn't hear, but everyone in the building I think heard the Admiral's response."

"What did the Admiral say?" Gunny asked.

"Say?" Tiner repeated. "He yelled at the top of his lungs, 'Commander Rabb? What the hell do you mean Rabb fired off an HNK in the courtroom?' He then got right up in the Lieutenant's face and said, 'You wait for them to come out of chambers. Then you inform Commander Rabb that I want to see him in my office immediately.' He then turned and stormed back into his office. I think the walls shook when he slammed his office door."

"So why did he do it?"

"You mean, why did the Commander fire the weapon off in court?" Tiner asked. At Gunny's nod, he answered, "As I recall, the case involved a SEAL who was accused of killing a fellow SEAL during a mission. The SEAL claimed it was a friendly fire accident; he was going through an Article 32 hearing with the Commander prosecuting. He claimed he'd thrown his weapon away because it had jammed, while the Commander was contending he'd tried to get rid of the murder weapon. According to the officer who'd done the ballistics testing, it hadn't jammed during that testing, but Major Mackenzie pointed out that only one round had been fired during testing and weapons don't usually jam after one round. Rumor is the Commander tried to counter, was cut off by the judge, then decided that a demonstration was in order, so he fired several rounds into the ceiling, enough to prove the weapon wasn't jammed."

Gunny chuckled, "I'd heard that story, but no names were mentioned. It's almost like the stuff of urban legend."

"Oh, it happened," Tiner said. "You could have heard a pin drop in the bullpen when the Commander was in the Admiral's office and we could all hear nearly every word the Admiral said. He yelled at the Commander that Captain Morris wanted him sent to Somalia but the Admiral thought Somalia was letting him off too easy."

"So what happened with the case?" Gunny asked. "Was the SEAL guilty?"

Tiner shrugged, "I guess not, because the next day the Commander dropped all the charges. I never heard why and it's not in the case file, which is unusual. I just know that right after the Admiral went back into his office, a fax came for the Commander. Lieutenant Roberts took one look at the fax and his face went white. He took the fax into the courtroom with him when he went to wait for the Commander and Major to get out of the judge's chambers. But something convinced the Commander that the SEAL wasn't guilty. I've worked in several JAG offices during my time in the Navy and there aren't a lot of prosecutors who would have dropped a case like that, even if they suspected the defendant wasn't guilty."

"The Commander really cares about the truth," Gunny said simply. It hadn't taken him long to figure that out once he'd had a chance to size Harm up. It hadn't taken much longer for him to develop a deep respect for the officer. "When we were in Mexico a few months ago, he knew something was wrong with Petty Officer Roberts' conviction, but we couldn't find anything concrete to prove it. He decided to set up a sting operation using me and the Petty Officer's father. Chief Roberts cozied up to the woman his son had been with the night of the murder and then I pretended to kill the Chief in front of her. It scared her into telling the truth about the scam to frame Navy guys for crimes then have the 'victims' sue the Navy for damages."

The two men fell silent for a moment, then Gunny said, "It's okay, Tin - Jason. I'm worried about him, too. Maybe it helps to remember all the crazy stunts he's pulled before." He used the other man's first name in an effort to put him at ease.

"Or all the situations he's survived," Tiner said. "His first crash – the one that led to him going to law school – is the stuff of legends, too. He was in the Gulf just before Desert Storm started and crashed his Tomcat into the deck of the USS SeaHawk. Word was it was a miracle he survived. I looked up the inquiry report once, out of curiosity. Pilot error was the official cause, but because of extenuating circumstances, he wasn't held responsible."

"The night blindness?"

"Yes," Tiner replied. "Anyway, I know from his personnel folder …." He paused, waiting to see if Gunny would say anything about him divulging information from an officer's service record, but Gunny just nodded for him to continue. "Well, there's a gap of about six months between the time of his crash and when he went back on active duty. Medical leave, I assume given the seriousness of the crash. Then he came back and started law school a few weeks later. And he's been in other situations – life or death, I mean. Like when he and the Major went to Russia the first time and were reported to have crashed a MiG-29 after flying into a flock of geese. I guess that's the thing that I keep trying to remind myself of, that the Commander is a survivor if nothing else."

"I agree," Gunny said. "I just …. wish we could do more than pray." It was a hard admission for him to make. As a Marine, he was used to taking action. Sitting around and waiting for word was just not in his nature.

"Yeah," Tiner said softly. "I also wish we didn't have to tell Mrs. Rabb that she might lose her grandson, not after losing her husband and son the way she did."

Gunny turned his head to look at him. "I know about the Commander's father," he said. "I heard about that after what happened with his brother, but what about his grandfather?"

"Shot down during World War II," Tiner explained. "I heard Major Mackenzie and Lieutenant Roberts talking about it once."

"Madre de Dios," Gunny murmured under his breath. "A man shot down in World War II, his son shot down and taken prisoner in Vietnam, one grandson shot down in Russia and taken prisoner and the other grandson lost on the ocean after his second crash. Amable Virgen de Guadalupe, Madre y auxilio de dodos los Christianos desde que te apareciste a Juan Diego en los cerros de Mexico. La pena que me atormenta pongo en tus benditas manos. Acuerdate o Santa Madre que jamas se oyo decir que algunote haya implorado sin tu auxilio recibir, por eso, con fe y confianza, humilde y arrepentido, lleno de amor y esperanza, este favor yo te pido. Amen."

Tiner waited until Gunny finished what he assumed was a Spanish prayer and asked, "What was that?"

"A prayer to the Virgin of Guadalupe," he replied. "My mother used to say this when praying for guidance with a particularly trying situation. Say the prayer, your petition for the Virgin then finish with a Hail Mary. I've been repeating it in my head, but I keep stumbling on the last line of the Hail Mary."

"Which is?" Tiner asked. "I'm not Catholic."

"'Holy Mary, Mother of God, pray for us sinners, now and at …. the hour of our death. Amen.'" Gunny said the final words in a rush, as if by saying them quickly, he wouldn't have to dwell on their meaning in this situation.

"I hope the other prayer has a more pleasant translation?"

"'Dear Virgin of Guadalupe, Mother and help of all Christians since you appeared to Juan Diego in the mountains of Mexico. The problem that torments me I place in your blessed hands. Remember, oh Blessed Mother, that never has it been known that anyone who sought your help was left unaided. With confidence, humble and repentant, full of love and hope, this favor I implore. Amen'," he recited. He continued with the petition he'd been saying in his thoughts since he'd been awakened by the call from the Admiral. "Holy Mother, look out for Commander Rabb and Lieutenant Hawkes and bring them safely home to those who love them. Hail Mary, full of grace, the Lord is with thee. Blessed art thou among women and blessed is the fruit of thy womb, Jesus. Holy Mary, Mother of God, pray for us sinners, now and at the hour of our death. Amen." One hand still on the steering wheel, he crossed himself as he finished the prayer.

"Does it work?" Tiner asked. "I guess I'm not particularly religious."

"When my sister Maria was nineteen," Gunny remembered, "her car was hit by a drunk driver when she was on the way home from a friend's house. My mother wouldn't leave her bedside, alternating between praying to the Virgin of Guadalupe and praying the rosary. My father couldn't even convince her to leave to get something to eat or to sleep, not until the doctor declared that Maria was out of the woods. She told my father that the least she could do for her daughter was to pray for her recovery. 'The doctors use drugs and all these fancy machines to keep our Maria alive,' she told my father. 'That's what they do. I pray. That's what I do.'"

"I wonder what the Colonel's thinking and doing right now?" Tiner said. "I remember the day the Commander left JAG. Everyone was upset, but she …. it was like she'd lost her best friend. They've been through so much together and …. " He trailed off, not sure what else to say. He didn't want to speculate of officers' personal lives, not now when there were more important things to think about at the moment.

"She's frustrated," Gunny stated with the certainty of a fellow Marine used to taking action. "She's a Marine. We don't sit around on our hands and we don't leave one of our own behind."

"When Commander Rabb went to Russia the first time," Tiner related, "the Admiral sent her with him. I processed the leave paperwork for both of them. But I think that if he hadn't suggested it, she would have gone …." He broke off, staring at Gunny, the same thought occurring to both of them at that instant. After a moment, Tiner voiced the thought. "What if the Colonel's trying to find a way out to the Patrick Henry, Gunny?"

"It's possible," he said after a moment's thought. "No one had seen or heard from her when we left JAG, but the Admiral told Mic that she'd been informed by Captain Ingles about the crash." He nodded towards the cell phone, which they'd hooked up earlier to work hands free. "Call JAG, Jason. Maybe we should check in with the Admiral."

Tiner dialed the number and after a moment, Harriet picked up on the other end, her voice containing a barely noticeable tremor as she struggled to remain calm, "JAG Ops, Lieutenant Sims."

"Lieutenant, it's Gunny. I need to speak to the Admiral," Gunny said.

Harriet breathed an audible sigh of relief that it wasn't someone from the Henry calling with bad news. "Just a minute, Gunny," she replied. "He's in his office."

After a moment, the Admiral came on the line. "Yes, Gunny?"

"Sir, um," Gunny began, not sure how to put what he was thinking into words given the tangled relationships involved. "Tiner and I were just thinking about Colonel Mackenzie. Sir, what if she's trying to go out to the Henry?"

In his office, A.J. leaned back in his chair, remembering just months earlier when Mic Brumby had stood in his office, worried because he hadn't heard from Mac after she'd flown to Russia. She'd disappeared then, too, had ended up following Harm into Chechnya. He'd found out how she'd done so later from Clay – Mac had conveniently left out of her report just how she'd ended up in Chechnya and he'd decided there were some things even he didn't need to know – but had never mentioned it to anyone and he seriously doubted that Mac had ever told Mic the whole story for obvious reasons. "I'll look into it," A.J. said, feeling reasonably sure that Mac was doing exactly what Gunny had just suggested. "Captain Ingles will be calling in a few minutes to patch communications with the rescue aircraft through to us."

"So there's been no word yet, Sir?" Tiner asked.

"No, Tiner," the Admiral replied, his voice heavy. Tiner and Gunny exchanged a look. The Admiral, they knew, was someone else not used to waiting. Both were sure that if A.J. hadn't been at JAG holding everyone else together, he'd be seeking a way out to the carrier. They'd both heard the story of how A.J. had been the one to rescue Harm on the Suribachi after the ship's officers had given him up for dead. A.J. and Mac had been the only ones who'd held fast to the idea that Harm had been still alive.

"Understood, Sir," Gunny said after a long moment.

"Someone will call you if we hear anything," A.J. assured them before hanging up.

-----

A.J.'S OFFICE

As soon as the phone was back on the hook, Harriet was calling him again. "Sir, Captain Ingles is on the phone," she said, transferring the call to him.

"Any word yet, Captain?" A.J. asked without preamble.

"Not yet, Sir," Ingles replied. "The Viking is closing in on their last reported position. We're ready to patch you into our communications."

"Thank you, Captain," A.J. said. "On another matter, you said you were going to speak to Colonel Mackenzie." A.J. hesitated, naturally reluctant to admit in so many words that he couldn't keep track of his people. Then again, Mac was technically on leave and had probably decided – if she was indeed on her way out to the carrier – that she was better off not reporting to him until it was too late for him to stop her. Not that he could have stopped her in any case, he privately admitted, short of throwing her in the brig. "Did she give any indication that she was going to attempt to head for the carrier?"

"Actually, Admiral," Ingles replied, mildly surprised that Mac hadn't informed her commanding officer where she was going, but it wasn't his business to comment on what behavior A.J. would tolerate from his people, "both she and Lieutenant Hawke's fiancé expressed a desire to come out here. They're both probably already on the way to Norfolk. They won't be able to come out here tonight, but if the morning COD from Norfolk is able to take off, they will both be on it, unless you'd like me to contact Norfolk and stop Colonel Mackenzie …."

"No," A.J. said, a bit forcefully. He took a deep breath and continued in a more level tone, but one which passed the message that he would accept no arguments, "Captain, if anyone asks, Colonel Mackenzie has my permission to fly out to the Henry, weather permitting. Officially, we can say that she is out there to, um, represent Commander Rabb's interests in any preliminary investigation your on-board JAG staff may conduct." A.J. figured that was a better excuse than trying to explain why someone supposedly on leave for the next two weeks was on her way out to an aircraft carrier in an unofficial capacity.

"Understood, Admiral," Ingles replied.

"Let me transfer you to the speakerphone we set up in the bullpen," A.J. said. He pressed a few buttons to transfer the call then got up to join the rest of his staff. As he opened his office door, he found Harriet on the other side, poised to knock. "Yes, Harriet?"

Harriet smiled a bit at the almost fatherly way he used her name. "Loren and Commanders Imes and Mattoni brought back some food from that all-night diner a few blocks away," she said. "I was just wondering if you'd like me to fix you a plate."

"Thank you, Harriet," he replied, nodding. He started to move around her, but stopped when she didn't move out of his way. "Was there something else?"

Harriet gestured into his office and he stepped back to let her in, closing the door behind her. "Sir, I was just wondering if you'd heard from Colonel Mackenzie," she said. "Bud and I are really worried about her."

A.J. studied her for a moment, and then decided to fill her in. "Captain Ingles informed me that the Colonel requested permission from him to take a COD out to the carrier," he explained. "She's probably on her way to Norfolk to catch the morning COD if there's a break in the weather."

"I guess we should have expected something like this when she wasn't at her place and that stuff was missing from the Commander's," Harriet said, almost in a whisper, clasping her hand over her mouth as she realized what she was saying and to whom she was saying it.

"The Colonel had been to Commander Rabb's?" A.J. asked.

"Yes, Sir," she replied, nodding. "Bud and I tried to contact her and when she wasn't at her place, we decided to try the Commander's. We ran into Renee outside his building, so Bud pretended that we'd gone there to get some things for him when he's rescued. Bud told me later that some of the Commander's things – and his second travel bag – had been missing from the apartment. We assumed that she'd been there. We should have figured out what she was planning, especially …." She trailed off, doubting the wisdom of getting into that subject with him.

A.J. stared at her, sure that she knew something she wasn't telling him. He debated with himself the wisdom of pressing her further. "What about Mic?" he wondered, almost to himself, moving behind his desk to stare out the window at the rain that was beginning to fall again. "He's expecting to get married in the morning and his fiancée's on her way out to an aircraft carrier." He turned back around, realizing he'd come to the root of the situation from the expression on Harriet's face. She was one of the most open people he knew, he reflected, her expression usually showing what she was thinking.

Almost relieved that he seemed to be putting two and two together himself, Harriet explained, the words tumbling from her mouth, "The Colonel decided after speaking to …. well, Sir, she decided to call off the wedding. She'd spent part of this evening after the dinner trying to get a hold of Mic to tell him."

A.J. sighed heavily, not too surprised by the news, just wishing that someone had come to their senses about this situation sooner. It was almost like seeing two trains heading for each other on the tracks. You knew they were going to wreck and there was nothing you could do about it. "And something tells me that Commander Rabb somehow factored into her decision," he said, taking Harriet's silence as confirmation. "I see. Lieutenant, you will forget we even had this discussion."

"Sir?" she asked, puzzled both by the statement and his sudden switch to using her rank.

"Given the circumstances, even if the Colonel were here, it is doubtful that the wedding would have been held this morning anyway," he explained patiently. "For right now, all Mr. Brumby needs to know is that the wedding is delayed given the current situation. He and the Colonel can straighten this out between themselves later."

"Understood, Sir," Harriet said. "Thank you, Sir." She back away, then turned and opened the door, heading back into the bullpen.

"Don't thank me yet," A.J. said to himself. "This whole thing may yet blow up in their faces." He shook his head as he remembered a day nearly five years past.

Do you two know each other?

Yes, Sir.

No, Sir.

Of course, I don't know you, Major. I just had a moment of …. déjà vu.

Must be the uniform.

Actually, she was in the Navy.

Don't get too familiar. You've got to work together.

He could almost see the electricity the moment they'd laid eyes on each other. Of course, they hadn't listened when it came to getting too familiar – they'd shortly become best friends, a familiarity which spilled over into the courtroom. Together, it made them a nearly unbeatable team. Their strengths complimented each other and they each made up for the other's weaknesses. As opposing counsel, it made them evenly matched. After that initial case, when they'd almost been nervous about going up against each other, they'd managed to settle down and had gotten good at anticipating the other's moves, making for some interesting battles in the courtroom.

Then they'd lost their rhythm for a while after Harm had returned from flying – around the same time that Mac had gotten closer to Mic and Renee had entered the picture. Although it had gotten better in the last few months, there was still something missing, he thought – or, more accurately, something still coming between them and something told him that things probably would have slid backwards between them had the wedding actually taken place.

This situation had been brewing for a long time and he'd expected it to eventually break. He'd almost thought it would have the night of the engagement party when they'd spent most of the night together on his porch and had barely been able to look each other in the eye when they'd come back inside. But then Mac had thrown herself into preparing that lecture for the Academy – at a time when most brides would have been going crazy with wedding preparations – and Harm had almost seemed happy to get away for his quals the day before the wedding. Almost as if both of them were trying to forget what they thought would never be.

He shook his head as he went out into the bullpen, hoping that Harm and Mac would get the chance to finally set things right between them. He glanced around, noting that most of his people had plates of food in front of them, but they were mostly untouched. There was little of importance coming from the speakerphone, simply routine communications between the carrier and the Viking searching for any sign of Harm and Skates. Everyone seemed to be filling the monotony by telling their own stories about Harm.

"The Admiral held up this newspaper and said that Harm was the only officer he knew with wings and JAG shoulder boards," Carolyn said. "He started swearing that it wasn't him, but Mac and I made a careful inspection of the, um, evidence. Harm gave us the dirtiest look because we were looking at his six."

Carolyn broke off laughing and A.J. noticed Harriet stiffen slightly. He followed her line of sight to Mic and Renee, both of whom were expressing varying degrees up displeasure at the thought of Mac checking out Harm's, um, attributes. Mic noticed A.J.'s scrutiny and gently nudged Renee, both of them relaxing their expressions, pretending to enjoy the story, smiling thinly as Bud piped in.

"I couldn't believe you two had done that in front of the Admiral," he exclaimed with a laugh. A.J. merely smiled. He'd known that it hadn't been Harm in the picture, but he'd had a lot of fun tweaking Harm's nose over the whole thing. Letting Mac and Carolyn have their fun with him had simply been part of that.

"Of course," Carolyn continued, "Mac, Harriet and I got to see for ourselves that Harm was telling the truth when we saw the male stripper who actually had Harm's dress whites at Harriet's bachelorette party."

"I'm sorry Alan and I missed that to attend my sister's wedding," Jackie laughed. "Harriet's wedding sounds a lot more fun than my sister's turned out being."

"And I was TAD when Harriet had AJ in the Admiral's office," Alan added. "Bud told me later about how he'd gotten stuck in the elevator and it looked like Harm and Mac might have to deliver the baby themselves if the Admiral hadn't shown up."

"Do these people know a single story about Harm that doesn't involve Mac?" Renee whispered angrily.

Mic was about to reply when an angry, tearful voice broke in. "What is with all of you?" Chloe demanded, her father putting a restraining hand on her shoulder as they entered the bullpen. "You're all remembering him like he's already dead!"

Harriet was about to get up to comfort Chloe, but Mic quickly crossed the bullpen to offer his own comfort. "It's alright, Chloe," he tried to assure her, reaching out to pull her into his arms. "He's …."

"Leave me alone," she cried, backing into Kyle. "I don't want to be comforted or told it's going to be alright. I just want Harm to walk through that door. I just …. want him …. here."

Harriet now got up and smiled at Chloe the best she could. "And he will be here," Harriet said with a confidence she didn't quite feel. "Search and rescue is closing in on where the plane went down, they'll find him and …."

As Chloe consented to Harriet comforting her, Mic stepped out into the hall, frustrated. Renee followed, deciding that the last thing she needed was to watch Mac's sister cry over Harm. "Mic, are you okay?" she asked hesitantly.

"Damn, Renee," he swore, whirling around to face her. "I'm supposed to be marrying her sister tomorrow and she acts like she doesn't even want to be in the same room with me."

"I'm sure she's just upset because of what's happened," she said lamely.

"Yeah," Mic said bitterly, "and if I were out there in Rabb's place, do you think she'd be as upset? She bloody well thinks Rabb walks on water and I can't compete with that in her eyes."

"You shouldn't have to," Renee said.

"I wonder if she dislikes me because she was hoping Rabb would be her brother-in-law instead," he pondered, running a hand through his hair.

"Mic, don't worry about it," she said, wrapping her arm around his. "When this is all over, you'll marry Mac and that little girl in there won't have a thing to say about it and then I'll just convince Harm that we shouldn't waste any more time after I nearly lost him tonight. Weren't you the one who told me 'No worries, mate'?"

"How can I not worry?" he asked. "My fiancée's gone missing while her …. best friend – " He nearly choked on the words. " – is in dire circumstances."

Unseen by either of them, Chloe and Harriet had stepped out into the hall as well on their way to the ladies' room and had overheard everything they'd just said. Harriet held Chloe back until Mic and Renee had gone back into the bullpen.

"I hate this," Chloe said. "They're acting like everything's going to go on as before once Harm is rescued."

"I know," Harriet said. "Mac apparently wasn't able to get in touch with him before she …."

"Before she what?" Chloe asked.

Harriet glanced around to make sure no one was around who might overhear them, as they'd just overheard Mic and Renee, then replied, "The Admiral found out from Captain Ingles that Mac's on her way to Norfolk. If the weather clears, she's going to the Patrick Henry on a COD in the morning."

"She's going out …." Chloe started, forgetting to keep her voice down until Harriet clamped her hand over Chloe's mouth. She nodded and when Harriet pulled her hand away, continued in a softer voice, "She's going out to the carrier and the Admiral knows?"

Harriet nodded. "I told him what's going on," she said, "and we agreed to keep quiet about the cancelled wedding until Mac can talk to Mic himself. Harm and Mac need to talk to Renee and Mic in person. This isn't something they need to hear second-hand."

"I guess," Chloe agreed reluctantly, how Mic and Renee would take the news far from being a priority for her. "I just hate watching them carry on like Mac's still going to marry Mic and that …. blond witch is going to talk Harm into marrying her."

"I know, but there's nothing …." she broke off when she caught sight of her son toddling out of the bullpen towards her. "AJ, I thought Daddy put you down to sleep?" Not long after they'd arrived, AJ had started to fall back asleep and Harriet had retrieved his car seat from the minivan, Bud setting him in it next to her desk. Bud must not have strapped him into the seat, she realized, and AJ has decided to wander when he'd woken up.

"Not sleepy," he insisted even as he yawned widely.

He held out his arms to her, but before she could pick him up, Chloe asked, "Can I take him?"

Harriet nodded and let Chloe pick AJ up and settle him into her lap, AJ readily accepting the change. Harriet smiled as Chloe seemed to relax with the little boy in her arms. He had that affect. She'd really noticed it first after she'd lost Sarah. So young and innocent and so unaware of all the turmoil around him, he'd been his parents' only comfort when they'd had such a hard time reaching out to each other.

Chloe held AJ close to her and gently rocked him, resting her chin on top of his head. "Once upon a time," she whispered, "there was a beautiful princess named Sarah. Princess Sarah had a very hard life and she didn't really believe in love. But then she went to a Rose Garden and met a handsome prince named Harm …."

Harriet smiled at the fairy tale rendering of the familiar story of Harm and Mac's first meeting, which Bud had once related to her, ruffling AJ's hair with her fingers as his eyelids grew heavy, lulled back into sleep by Chloe's soft voice. How appropriate, she thought as Chloe continued the story. If anyone deserves the fairy tale ending, she thought, it's Harm and Mac.

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To be continued…