A/N: Again, thanks for the reviews—makes it much easier to write the next part of the story when you're sure what your writing is at least acceptable. :-D

Of course the characters don't belong to me...if they did I'd write all this into the really-real scripts. The song is Incubus' "Drive."



For Every Action 7: Taking the Wheel

Harm jumped out of the shower and ripped the door to Mac's room open. "Mac! What?" He said not catching the pale fear on her face. From his vantage point--half out of the door half behind it--Harm saw the glass in her hand and anger trembled through him. "What the hell is that doing out of the evidence lock up?" While she was pacing around the room, he took a minute to anchor a towel around his hips. He glared waiting for her answer.

"Harm," she looked up at him. He caught the cold edge of panic in the voice, but it was warmed by hot pride driven temper. Always the efficient Marine, She stepped back from him and shoved the rising panic back down. "I didn't take this from lock up." Harm looked past her, forehead wrinkled in concentration. Realization hit him. "Your date? Tom wasn't it?"

"Yeah, Tom."

"I 'd wager a guess that he's our killer."

"Me too." she said looking down at the glass in her hand. "All right there are a couple of complications—one he's the XO on the Gates." she waited for the lecture, but only received a tight lipped scowl. "And" She paused taking a deep breath, "obviously he wouldn't just hand me this very obvious documentation of guilt then stick around to be arrested right?"

"Right." Harm dragged the word out giving Mac a look that screamed "stop trying to sugar coat it."

"Last night he said he was taking his brother out west."

"Out West?"

"Mmm-hmm." she nodded.

"That's it." Harm stalked back into his room and when she didn't follow immediately he seized the opportunity to slide his boxers on. Trying to calm his nerves he took several slow breaths before hauling a white under shirt on and pounding back across the bathroom and into Mac's pacing path. As the two slammed into one another sparks that had as much to do with anger as their natural chemistry flew. Grabbing the top of her arms he shook her less than gently. "Do you realize that you let a murderer walk off, get on an plane and disappear?"

"I didn't know he was a murderer at the time, Harmon." she said shaking loose of his hold and landing a punch to his gut before he could dodge her. Doubled over, Harm watched her sit on the edge of the bed. He saw it then, the same look she'd had when a maniac stalked her, the same blank eyes that meant she'd shut her emotions off—like a good Marine. "Mac," he said straightening up, "Are you all right?"

She nodded but couldn't trust her voice. Why? The look she shot Harm asked.

"He didn't hurt you?" She shook her head. "Good. 'Cause I'd hate to kill a Superior Officer." Her weak smile allowed him to loosen the knots in his stomach just a little. "The men you pick." he chuckled and pulled her shaking head to his shoulder. When he saw the color return to her cheeks, he turned her face toward his. He watched the old questions pool in her deep brown eyes. "I'm not going to let them hurt you anymore, Mac." With that promise, he laid his mouth gently on hers. A whispered request, a physical promise to protect—he left with her the choice to accept or push away.

Mac let the sensation of his promise wash over her. Being a "ninja-girl" was all well and good, but every now and then she (like every other woman) longed to be cared for, protected, loved. Placing a hand on Harm's cheek, she took the kiss a fraction deeper, steeping herself in the feel and taste of him before she broke contact. She raised her eyes to his.

Harm understood looking into her eyes that her response was a conditional acceptance of that promise. He held her face a moment and searched her eyes. The old questions are still there. Looking deeper he whispered, "Along with a few new ones I imagine," before moving his forehead to hers.

"Let's go find out where this guy went." He said lacing his fingers through hers.



~*2*~

"So why did he kill them, Mac?" Harm asked as they made their way to the airport in New Orleans.

"Maybe he was having an affair with one of them?"

"Or all of them?"

"Could be." She responded with a nod.

Harm drove the small, white Dodge while Mac made phone calls to the NO FBI office. When she hung up, she nodded at Harm. "They'll send an agent to help us get the information we'll need to find him. They have his name—they're looking for passport activity already."

"Good." Mac reached into the backseat to put her cell in her purse.

"Mac? Did you bring civvies?"

"Some," she shook her head, "but not many."

"I'm just thinking we'll stick out like sore thumbs in summer whites—unless he went to Antartica." Harm tried a joke.

"True." she laughed thinly giving him a small but genuine smile.

Once the car had pulled to a stop in the long term parking lot, Mac reached across Harm to pop the trunk. Harm very nearly lost control at the unusually impatient gesture. Mac, oblivious to Harm's personal distress ran to the trunk, pulling out one of the files she'd made copy of back at the base in Pascagoula. "March 1, 2002." she whispered, looking at the date in the victim's record.

Recovered from his earlier agitation, Harm started pulling luggage out of the trunk. "Now what was so important that--" stopped not willing to give himself away quiet yet.

"She had a DUI in Slidel, LA on March 1, 2002."

"Who?"

"Angela Pearson, Petty Officer Pearson, EM2(SW), USS Thomas S. Gates."

"And?"

"Tom's wife. She was killed by a drunk driver. I'll have to check his service record for the date, but I'm pretty sure we just found our motive."

Harm took the file from her and put it back in her briefcase. "They're probably waiting for us inside, Mac."

"Yeah." Mac said and moved to pick up her small suitcase. Seeing the far off look in her eyes, Harm decided to bring her back to reality by closing his hand over hers. Mac looked up at him, pointedly at his shoulders boards. Harm shrugged and impulsively bent taking advantage of her shock. The light kiss he planted on her cheek was more than friendly and certainly against the rules while they were both in uniform. Arching a brow at her, he let that smug smile say it all: "What'cha gonna do about it, Marine?"

Arriving at the information desk, they were greeted by an Agent Samuel Paul. He handed Mac a thick file, "This was faxed here for you, and this," he said handing Harm a single sheet, "is the passenger manifest for Flight 813 to Wyoming."

Harm called the JAG Headquarters from the airport where they waited for their plane to Wyoming to board. Though not all together thrilled, Chegwidden was glad to hear that they had discovered the killer's identity. Mac was already on her phone by the time Harm had hung up. Tapping her foot impatiently, she waited through the fourth ring and was about to hang up when Elaine Stuart picked up the phone. "Lt. Stuart?"

"Yeah, Who's this?"

"This is Colonel Sarah McKenzie, we met at--"

"The Steel Beach concert." the other woman finished for her.

"Yeah. Um, I need to ask you about Tom." Mac looked at Harm taking a deep breath trying to keep the conversation light and friendly. "I saw him for dinner lat night, and he said he was going out West to see his brother." She paused thinking of a way to phrase her question. "Do have any idea how I might reach him at his brother's."

"Is the Commander in some kind of trouble?" Mac considered carefully before lying to her. "No, no, I have to leave town this afternoon, and I wanted to say good bye."

"Oh. That's odd, I didn't think Tom had a brother." Mac sucked in a breath and gave Harm that the-plot-thickens look.

"That's all right Elaine, I'll just call him when he gets back. Bye." She pressed the button to hang the phone up and groaned. "Lt. Stuart doesn't remember the Commander having a brother."

"Colonel McKenzie, Commander Rabb!" the shout came from Agent Paul who waived something furiously at them. "He screw up—big." Handing the fax to Mac he looked at Harm. He checked in a motel in Larimie, then used his credit card to pay for the room."

Harm looked at Mac, his eyes all suspicion. "That wasn't very bright." Mac arched a brow and nodded as the PA announced boarding for their flight. "Thanks, Agent Paul." Harm nodded and picked up Mac's carry on along with his. Despite the situation, Mac smiled at the small, unconscious gesture.

The flight was long and thought both tried, neither slept for the first half hour. Mac eventually pulled out her new gadget. She'd given in to impulse when she'd visited the PX in Biloxi. Unraveling the cord to her head phones, she slid them over her ears and turned the Ipod on. The music that flowed from the little speakers at her ears soothed her, allowing her to relax. The light acoustic guitar twanged behind the smooth vocals. Mac closed her eyes and listened. She wasn't even aware of Harm' eyes on her. Though she was quiet and he was certain she didn't know she did it, Mac sang with the music pouring from her headphones. Listening to Incubus (directly or indirectly) they both drifted into sleep.

Sometimes, I feel the fear of uncertainty stinging clear. And I can't help but ask myself how much I'll let the fear take the wheel and steer. It's driven me before, and it seems to have a vague, haunting mass appeal. But lately I am beginning to find out that I should be the one behind the wheel. Whatever tomorrow brings, I'll be there with open arms and open eyes. So if I decide to waiver my chance to be one of the hive will I choose water over wine and hold my own and drive? It's driven me before and it seems to be the way that everyone else gets around. But lately I'm beginning to find that when I drive myself my life is found. So whatever tomorrow brings, I'll be there with open arms and open eyes. Would you chose water over wine...take the wheel and drive.

Mac awoke to a light touch and gentle shake of her shoulder. "Ma'am," the pretty young flight attendant said, "Ma'am we'll be landing soon. If you and your husband could fasten your seat belts?" She smiled as Mac opened her mouth to protest, but closed it again then she walked down the aisle to the next sleeping passenger. As sleep slowly drifted out of her, Mac stretched her legs and felt the weight on her shoulder and across her waist. No wonder she thinks we're married. She rolled her eyes as she tried to snake her arms around Harm's waist in search of his seatbelt. Finally digging the catch out from under his heavy sleeping form she buckled him in and started to sit back up. His hand on her back stopped her. His eyes fluttered open and stared unseeingly at her. "Mac." He slurred sleepily as he ran his hand up her back and into her hair. Trying to decide whether to wake him or let him drift back to sleep, she settled on the latter as he guide her head to his chest and brushed his lips over her temple. Sighed contentedly Mac decided to enjoy it while it lasted. While neither of us is awake enough to be scared senseless. Sighing again she laid her arm across his hips and let herself be held.

Harm woke to the large aircraft being put gently onto the runway. Around him other passengers were gathering their belongings as the plane taxied toward the gate. Harm felt the weight on his chest and across his hips and had no desire to move. Smiling he looked down to find his hand buried in Sarah's hair holding her to him. A catch in her breathing told him that she wasn't asleep, only relaxed. What's wrong with liking this? Why am I scared to tell her I want her like this all the time? He questioned himself as she pulled gently against him. He let her go and looked out the window rather than at her. He cleared his throat and stretched his long arms out in front of him. Anything but look at her right now. Anything. "So we'll head to this motel, ask which way he headed, and hope to catch him at his next stop. Right?"

Mac looked at him, something searching in her eyes and shook her head. "Yeah, sure. I'll call Agent Paul as soon as we get on the road. Ask him if where're any more leads." He shook his head. All business, Mac's back. He thought with a sigh. She pushed her herself from the cramped seat and stretched her entire body in one fluid movement. One movement that had Harm's blood moving more swiftly than he was comfortable with. Rising and propelling her a little roughly out of his way, Harm collected his carry on and walked toward the head. Mac for her part stared after him with a look that would have killed a lesser man. With a grumbled oath she left the plane, headed for the baggage claim.

~*3*~

As they pulled to a stop in front of the motel Harm grabbed his note pad and climbed from the passenger side of the car. Following him closely, Mac placed her cover on her head. Looking over at him, she spotted is cover in the back seat. "Hey Sailor?" She called after him, looking pointedly at his uncovered head. Harm rolled his eyes and claimed the cover from the back seat.

This is going to be a looooong trip. Mac thought as she lead the way into the motel office. After fifteen minutes of questions, the office manager said the man had mentioned a spread, Cloudy Oaks Ranch, in conversation. Backing out of their parking space, they were surprised to see an old man, presumably the janitor, aiming a rifle at Harm's head. He called loudly over the screech of tires as Harm screamed out of the parking lot. "You leave Commander O'Hare alone! You hear me?" he fired a shot in the direction Harm had taken the car. "Leave him be!" He fired another shot that shattered a window. They heard the man continue screaming as they sped away. Harm looked toward Mac who was trying to hide a bleeding gash on her arm. The darkening night sky made it difficult for him to see what she was doing, but the street lights above them hummed to life, and the bright red blood staining through her uniform shirt was a shock to Harm. "Mac!" He reached over to move her hand, and saw the blood. Letting go he fished out his cell phone and dialed 911. Mac, all the while, tried to clam him down. "I need directions to a hospital." he stated, and told the dispatcher that the incident had happened in the car. After he hung up he made a u-turn and sped in the direction of the closest hospital. She calling the ER to let them know we're coming in.

"Come on, Harm, It's a scratch." she tried to laugh, but she'd been unable to stop the bleeding. And she was starting to feel a little light headed. "I've done worse to my self cutting fruit." she tried to joke again, but her words word slow and slurred.

Realizing she was slipping, he reached over and put a hand on her thigh. "You don't eat fruit, Mac." Giving her thigh a hard squeeze, Harm starting quizzing her on Marine Corp regulations. In five minutes he was pulling her out of the car carrying her into the ER.

Two Hours Later

"Fifteen stitches is not minor, Mac." he sat down and rubbed the bridge of his nose.

"It's not life threatening either, Harm." she replied feeling a little weary since they'd gone over this three time already.

"You're going back to Washington. I'll find O'Hare." And kill him with my bare hands for sicking that maniac old man on us. His eyes drifted to the guaze covered wound near her wrist.

"In a pig's eye, Rabb." She was pissed. "I'm a Colonel in the United States Marine Corp, Commander." She put all the emphasis she could on the word. "I'll be going to hunt down O'Hare as soon as the doctors release me."

"Mac, I--" he stopped as she held up a hand.

"Harm, you're allowed to be concerned, you are not allowed to bully me." She looked at the wounded on her arm. "I helped Chloe's dad coach one of her soccer practices once." the memory had her smiling and her smile had Harm's stomach tied into serious knots. "One of the girls went down during a play. She bounced back up, but it took a second. I ran out to make sure she was all right. She looked at me and smiled, 'Coach says you didn't play hard enough if you didn't get hurt.'" Mac looked at Harm and pulled her arm through the sleeve of her uniform. Soon she was sitting on the gurney in her camisole. "Hey, Harm. Run and get my extra uniform jumper?" She asked starting to remove her ribbons from the bloodied jumper. "Thanks." She called as he turned to walk to the car.

Harm came through the ER doors and found Mac's doctor. Cornering the man he asked: "Will she be all right if she leaves now."

The doctor nodded. "She should be fine. Though I would normally keep her over night for a wound that nicked a blood vessel..."

"We'll be staying in town over night."

"If you have any problems, Commander," He said placing a card in a surprised Harm's hand. "Call me at either number. Any time." The doctor started to walk away but turned, "Don't be so surprised, Commander, the Navy put me through med school." The smile on his face grew as he walked down the hall.

Harm got Mac's uniform to her and got her into the car. Over the next hour he found a Wal-Mart where they could both buy inexpensive civvies, and a hotel where they would have to share one room—that had two beds.

Mac was taking her turn in the bathroom first. Giving the stitches on her arm a new dressing she considered throwing her new jeans on before vacating the bathroom. With a shrug she threw the gauze and tape into her make up bag. Hell, he's seen me just out of the shower, what 's a look at my jammies gonna hurt? Picking up the bags she' brought in with her she opened the door, stepped out and nearly killed Harm.

He tried to swallow, but his mouth had gone too dry. The sight of Mac in a column of ivory silk had been nice, the sight of her just out of the shower, naked had nearly cost him his mental health, but seeing her in what was basically a navy blue man's t-shirt had him floored. His heart hammered against his ribs.

Oblivious to her effect on him she pushed her hair out of her face. "Bathroom's all yours,Fly boy." She looked over and saw him staring. She looked down at the t-shirt emblazoned "Fly Navy" across the chest and shrugged. "They didn't have any good night shirts." She turned to put her clothes in the bag on top of the dresser. In a split second, Harm was at her side, turning her around and kissing her. Really kissing her. It had nothing to do with protecting her, or being angry with her, it was totally about wanting her. Tearing his mouth from hers, Harm tried to tell her what he felt, tried to explain, "Mac, I--" he stopped, but wrapped his arms around her waist, and tried again. "Sarah," the name came out a whisper against her lips. He couldn't find the words. Instead, he guided her to the bed and showed her all the things he had always wanted to say but couldn't.

Later as he held her close, she smiled, and he searched her eyes again. All the old questions are gone. He thought brushing his lips against her forehead. Closing his eyes, he drifted into a peaceful sleep holding the woman he loved.