Chapter 2

Activity in the bullpen ground to a near-halt. The staff pretended to be occupied with other duties, but everyone was curiously monitoring the bizarre encounter taking place in the middle of the room. While none of them had a clue what was going on, the complete and utter shock written on the features of the normally unflappable commander had made an immediate impact.

Bud was the only one with the knowledge necessary to figure it out, and once he had, he managed to ignore the apparent impossibility of it all and move quickly.

"Sir, ma'am," he said quietly, breaking through the powerful, tense gaze the two shared.

Diane blinked at him, the memory returning after a moment. "Uh, it's good to see you, Ens—ah, Lieutenant Roberts."

"I guess I can say the same, ma'am, although I'm really confused right now."

"You're not the only one," Harm echoed in a low, sardonic voice.

Diane's gaze returned to the commander's, once again locking with his in a palpable connection.

"I know this is a shock, Harm—"

The commander's eyebrow rose in understated vehemence. "A shock?"

Bud knew that tone of voice. He shoved his own overwhelming curiosity away in the interest of protecting his superior and friend from broadcasting what would undoubtedly be a difficult conversation.

"Sir," he interjected quickly, "wouldn't you rather use your office to ... uh, catch up?"

Harm straightened, his typical cool demeanor snapping back into place. Mostly.

"Good idea, Bud." He gestured for Diane to follow as he led the way to his office. Once there, he opened the door for her, then closed it securely once they were both inside.

No sooner had the door clicked shut than the bullpen began to hum with murmurs. Harriet studied her husband's face and read something in it that she'd never seen before. Taking a guess, she asked tentatively, "That wasn't Colonel Mackenzie, was it?"

He shook his head. "No."

That left only one explanation, and her eyes widened. "Was it—?"

"I think so."

Sturgis wandered into the bullpen then, noting the commotion with a puzzled expression.

"Stand down, folks," he commented, coming over to join the two flabbergasted lieutenants. "What's the story in here?"

Bud hesitated, knowing how wrong the explanation would sound. "Sir, Commander Rabb had a fairly strong reaction to a visitor, and people are a little confused about it."

Sturgis's gaze flicked over to his friend's closed door, the puzzled crease between his eyes deepening. "Why, who was it?"

Bud gave him a helpless look. "That's the thing, sir. It was—I mean, it is—I don't even know if she has a rank anymore, but... Diane Schonke is here."

Immediately, Sturgis's eyes flashed, and he lowered his voice. "That isn't funny, Lieutenant."

"Sir, you don't have to tell me that." Bud's response was uncharacteristically forceful. "I was the one who found her body."

The commander stared at him for a moment, then shook his head. "I was at her funeral," he said distantly. "My father did the service, for God's sake..."

Bud braced himself for his next question. "Sir, not to be disrespectful in any way, but was there by any chance a closed casket?"

#

Inside the office, Harm just looked at Diane, still trying to reconcile two very different images in his head. She was here, standing in front of him with the same bright eyes and glowing presence he'd tried so hard not to forget: but she was also lying on that stretcher back in Norfolk, too, cold and lifeless. He'd been there, damn it. He'd seen her, touched her, even had thoughts of kissing her goodbye.

And yet, he couldn't chalk this situation up to a madman's twisted scheme or a concussion-induced hallucination. She was here. There was no getting around it.

"I'm sorry," Diane began before he could convince his mind to formulate a proper question. "Before I try to explain all this, I want to say that. I know how badly I must be freaking you out right now, and—"

"Oh, you do, do you?" Something warned him that lashing out at her wasn't a good idea, but the shock of it all had paralyzed his sense of tact. "Do you know how badly you freaked me out when I opened up that body bag six years ago, too?"

This time, she was the one who went white. "You were there?" she whispered.

"It was my case!" At the horror and guilt in her dark eyes, his anger cooled somewhat, replaced by more confusion. What else didn't she know? What the hell was going on here?

"You were dead," he told her flatly, his voice beginning to waver. "I know what death looks and feels like, and trust me, you fit the profile. Now you come to me after six years—six years—and tell me that it was faked?"

Her lip trembled, but she held her ground. "Not entirely. I really was shot by that creep Holbarth. What happened afterward is something that I didn't have a whole lot of control over until after I recovered, and by then..." Her eyes pleaded with him for understanding. "I'll tell you everything. I promise. Just please don't lock me out of your life. Not until you've heard me out. There's so little left of the life I remember, and I've spent so much time wondering what I'd do if I could see you again..."

"So have I," Harm admitted, his voice barely audible.

Impulsively, Diane stepped forward and wrapped her arms around his neck. After a moment of awkwardness, he closed his arms around her, evoking a long-buried memory, and he knew he couldn't just push her away.

She stepped back after a few seconds, looking away. "I probably shouldn't have done that."

Harm braced his hands on the desktop behind him. "I'm not sorry you did. But, Diane—" Even saying her name again felt strange. "—I'm going to need some time to work through all this in my head, and I don't know how long it's going to take."

"I know. I'm not going to ask you to go back in time. I just want—" She sighed. "I need your help. Whatever happens as a result, I'll accept."

"Okay." Some of the tension in his frame eased, and he looked at her with something akin to a smile. "You look good."

She smiled. "You, too. Older, of course."

He rolled his eyes. "Thanks a lot."

"I meant it kindly." Her scolding grin brought up a score of memories. "More secure—maybe even wiser—in both good ways and bad." A shadow fell across her face. "I suppose I'm responsible for more of the bad than the good."

He wasn't sure how to respond to that, so he chose to stay silent until she spoke again.

"Who did you think I was?"

Harm froze. "What?"

"When you first saw me, you called me 'Marine'—?"

Oh, Lord. "That's, um, complicated."

#

At approximately the same time, Mac came striding through the bullpen, a woman on a mission. No more messing around. If that self-centered jetjock happened to be in his office, he wasn't getting out until she could get her point of view through his thick skull.

Bud and Sturgis both moved to head her off.

"Ma'am, this isn't a good time."

She didn't break stride. "It never is, Bud."

Sturgis planted himself in front of her and placed a gentle restraining hand on her arm. "Mac, trust me, you'd be hard-pressed to pick a worse time."

She glanced down at the hand on her sleeve. "Knock it off, Sturgis. Let him prepare his own defense, all right?"

"It's not about that, Mac." Something in his voice caught her attention. A quiet reserve that said she could do real damage here if she wasn't careful.

She paused, staring into his dark eyes. Sturgis was a sensitive man, and a cautious one. A warning from him wasn't to be taken lightly. And yet...

And yet. Harm couldn't hide behind his well-intentioned friend. With a tight smile, she sidestepped Sturgis and headed toward Harm's office.

Behind her, the two men exchanged helpless looks, then turned smartly on their heels and made haste in opposite directions. They, like everyone who worked at JAG headquarters for any length of time, knew when to get out of the line of fire.

Mac opened her partner's door without knocking—and walked into possibly the most surreal experience of her life.