Chapter 12

After everyone else had gone to bed, Harm, Mac, Sturgis and Chegwidden gathered in the Admiral's room to talk business.  Harm was struck by how strange it felt to be back in the real world.  He hardly remembered the last time it had seemed… inappropriate to hold Mac's hand, or trail his fingers across the back of her neck, or any of a dozen other small demonstrations of affection that had recently filled their everyday lives. 

At the moment, Mac was seated in one of the room's plush chairs while Harm leaned against the edge of the nearby desk.  Sturgis occupied the end of the bed.

The Admiral rummaged through his luggage, eventually emerging with two black, hard plastic cases, which he laid out on the bed next to Sturgis. 

"Wedding presents," he told Harm and Mac.  With a glance at his partner, Harm went to investigate.  He flipped open the first case to reveal a Beretta nine-millimeter pistol with two clips and ammunition, all packed in gray foam.  The second case held a military issue satellite phone with battery pack.

"Since you two will be totally incommunicado for the next six weeks, I thought these might come in handy."  The Admiral hooked a chair with his foot and seated himself.  Harm closed the cases.

"Should we make regular contact?" Mac asked.

Chegwidden shook his head.  "No.  Too risky.  I wasn't certain you'd have a means of using the satphone without being observed, anyway."

Harm returned to his place by the desk.  "The heads are unmonitored, but that's about it.  I don't totally buy Steiner's promises about the cabin cameras."

"'Bathrooms', Harm."  Mac glanced up at him.  "'Head' is a naval term.  You're not supposed to know a lot about boats."

"They're ships."  The correction was automatic.

"See?"  She grinned at him.

Harm accepted the demonstration with a rueful nod.  He was going to have to be careful.  He'd lived at sea on carriers for years while he was still a fighter pilot, and had his own fair share of Navy pride.

The Admiral leaned forward.  "The good thing about the way they do this show is that we'll be able to keep tabs on you just by watching the broadcasts."  He knit his fingers together in front of him.  "The lag is going to be about four days, though, which is why I want you to have a way of making immediate contact if you get into trouble."  Temptation Cruise II would be aired approximately "live" every Monday and Thursday night.  Tony Ariel and his staff would be on board the ship with the contestants.  They were responsible for all the filming and also for sorting through the reams of tape for interesting segments to forward to Steiner's crew to assemble into the actual broadcast.

"What's the word on keeping Tony Ariel isolated?" Harm asked.  Steiner had assured them that he would have total control over any media information or personal contact the director had.  The ports of call were fairly remote locations, but each required a crew of people to do preparatory set up, as well as catering and other such behind-the-scenes support functions.  None of the JAG officers believed Harm and Mac's covers would withstand media scrutiny for the entire six weeks, so the threat of Ariel discovering who they were was a credible one.  It had already taken a few favors in high places to keep the media from sniffing down the right paths.

"Webb said he'd take care of it," the Admiral told them.

Mac frowned.  "The CIA doesn't usually get involved in criminal investigations.  It's a bit outside their venue."

The Admiral smiled.  "True.  He's planning to run it as a training op for some of his young agents.  He said to tell you both to consider it his wedding gift."

Harm gave a strained laugh.  "You people are all having way too much fun with this."

At that, Sturgis grinned.  "I met Clayton Webb not too long ago.  Interesting guy.  Did you know the CIA has a pet name for this little outfit?" He made a circular motion with one finger to indicate the four of them.

"Really?"  The Admiral didn't sound thrilled.  "What is it?"

"They call you the Combat Lawyers.  Apparently, the three of you have seen a pretty significant amount of action."

Harm, Mac and Chegwidden traded looks.  Yes, you could probably say that, Harm thought. 

"Back to business," the Admiral said briskly, dismissing the topic.  "I called in a favor with the Coast Guard.  They're going to keep the Radiant Heart under fairly close observation, so they'll be nearby if you need them.  I've programmed the phone with the number for the watch office at MSO Tampa.  They'll know who you are."

Harm looked at Chegwidden in surprise. 

"Isn't that a bit extreme?" Mac asked, beating him to the punch.  "Despite the fact that this is a rape investigation, there's no evidence to suggest we'll encounter any kind of violent behavior.  According to Mrs. Antony, she was drugged, not subdued."

"Call it a safety net."  The Admiral leaned back in his chair, stretching.  "Between them, Steiner and Ariel control everything that happens on that ship.  I don't want to take any chances."

"Understood, sir."  Mac stifled a yawn.

Harm suddenly realized how tired he was.  "Is there anything else we need to know?" he asked the Admiral.

Chegwidden paused, then nodded.  "One more thing."  He seemed suddenly uncomfortable, and Harm's stomach knotted in trepidation.

Uh oh, here it comes, he thought.

The Admiral pinned the partners with a frank stare.  "I know this assignment has dipped into some pretty gray areas for the both of you.  Speaking personally, I have no problem with anything you choose to do in this situation.  I have spoken briefly with my superiors concerning some of the legal and ethical ramifications, and have received assurances that nothing that happens during the course of this investigation will affect either your careers or your positions at JAG."

Harm kept his attention focused on the Admiral to avoid looking at Mac.  Their working relationship had always been an issue when it came to their feelings for each other.  In some ways it was the core of their friendship, something they were afraid to sacrifice even for love.  Was the Admiral really saying they could have both?

Chegwidden studied the two silent officers for a moment, then shrugged.  "Well, I suppose that's the reaction I was expecting, but I thought it needed to be said.  Make of it what you will."

Harm and Mac both nodded.

Sturgis broke the awkward silence.  "Hey, Mac. Do you mind if I drag this guy out for a beer before calling it an evening?"  He pointed at Harm.

She raised her eyebrows in surprise, but gave Sturgis a neutral smile.  "Just don't keep him out too late."  She looked up at Harm.  "Tomorrow's going to be a busy day."

To Harm's surprise, there was no significant look attached to the comment.  Whatever pain she carried-- and Harm knew it was there.  He wouldn't feel that sharp stab of guilt if she didn't-- she wasn't lashing out at him.

Instinctively, he reached out to stroke her hair.  She looked tired.  "You going to bed?"

"Yeah."  She stood and went to retrieve the two cases of equipment.  "I'll go ahead and pack these with our stuff.  Goodnight, all."  She nodded to the Admiral and Sturgis, kissed Harm lightly, and left.

After the door clicked shut, Chegwidden turned to Harm.  "It's really none of my business, but you are a fool if you let her get away, Commander."

Harm couldn't help a bitter laugh.  "Yes, sir."

Sturgis stood.  "Why don't we go get that beer."

Harm looked doubtfully at his friend.  "You're not going to lecture me, are you?"

Sturgis smiled.  "Only if I have to, my friend.  Only if I have to."

#

"All right, spit it out."  Harm stared at the bottle in his hands rather than at his friend.  They were seated at the end of the hotel bar, well away from any other patrons.

Sturgis gave him an innocent look.  "Spit what out?"

Harm chuckled.  "Nice try, Sturg."

The handsome black man laughed with him, but then his humor died.  "Do you love her?" he asked plainly.

Harm sighed.  He was tired of trying to avoid that one.  "Yes."

"So what's the problem?"

Harm stared into the mirror behind the bar.  "Who says there's a problem?"

Sturgis laughed, the sound vaguely mocking.  "If there wasn't a problem, you'd both be glowing tonight.  Especially Mac.  But the last time I checked, it looked like the only reason she's still holding it together is because she's too stubborn to quit."

Harm closed his eyes for a moment against the pain that statement generated.  "That's Mac," he agreed.

Sturgis turned to look at him, anger highlighting his features.  "I'm not going to have to hit you to get through that thick skull, am I?"

Harm met his gaze.  "No, Sturgis," he answered patiently.  "I hear you loud and clear."  But how did he explain the absolute, numbing terror he felt any time he got close to this issue?

Sturgis gave him an evaluating look.  "She's not going to die," He said quietly.

Oddly, Harm wasn't surprised his friend had figured it all out so quickly.  He knew Harm's obsession with his father's disappearance.  He'd been there when Diane was killed. He understood.

"She almost bled to death in my arms," Harm pointed out. 

Sturgis wisely didn't try to argue an irrefutable fact.  "She's not going to die," he repeated.

"You can't promise that.  Diane did.  Jordyn did."  Harm had to resist the urge to clench his hands into fists.  The fury he felt at the injustice of those deaths hadn't dimmed with the passage of time.  Neither had the feeling that some part of himself had been torn away.

Sturgis sighed.  "Here's a different question for you, then-- Do you think you will ever, in your lifetime, find a better woman than Mac?"

Harm snorted.  "No."

"Can you even imagine being with another woman after her?"

"We're not lovers, Sturgis." The admission tasted bitter on Harm's tongue. He glanced at his friend.

Sturgis shrugged.  "Doesn't matter.  And you haven't answered my question."

Harm looked down at his beer.  Could he imagine other lips?  A different smile?  Another laugh?  Some other body molded against his, smelling of coffee and cinnamon?

"No." He took a drink of his beer, deciding then that self-pity really wasn't going to help.  He cracked a smile, trying to lighten his mood. 

"Being in love isn't supposed to be this hard, is it?"

Sturgis chuckled.  "Having never been there myself, I'm hardly qualified to say."

"So what would you do, if you were me?"  He met Sturgis' gaze.

Sturgis frowned as if the answer were obvious.  "I'd marry her and live happily ever after."

"Well, I don't suppose I've got a choice on that first part."  Harm bit his lip after he said it.  There I go with the self-pity again.  He saw an answering flash of anger in Sturgis' eyes.

"Oh, I think you have a choice," the other man told him.  "I don't think you're going to back out of the investigation, so I guess you don't have much choice whether or not to say the words… but you do have to choose whether or not you're going to mean them."

Harm stared at his friend.  The rebuke stung, though he suspected he deserved it.  All the years with Mac-- dancing precariously along the cliff edge between friendship and love-- flashed through his mind.  It really had come down to this, hadn't it?  One choice.  Jump or don't.  In the past, not jumping had always resulted in an acceptable status quo-- friendship with the thought that, maybe, someday, they'd find their way to that other place, the one at the bottom of the long, scary drop.   But now the cliff edge was crumbling.  They weren't going to be able to stay balanced there much longer.

One choice.  Harm stared at his reflection.  It really is pretty simple, after all.