Chapter 4
Inside the sanctuary of her office, Mac had collapsed into a chair, shaken to her very foundation. She remembered well the chill that had run through her when she'd stumbled upon that picture five years ago, a mirror image of herself in a Naval Academy uniform. Actually seeing the woman in the flesh, looking into unfamiliar eyes that stared out at her from her very own face ... the word 'unnerving' seemed woefully inadequate, but it was all she had.
You're exaggerating, some rational compartment of her mind pointed out. You're not identical. It's just an extremely eerie similarity ... made all the more so by the fact that she's supposed to be freaking dead!
She could still feel the stab of anguish that had resulted each time her partner had given her a look meant for someone else. It had faded with time, but now it seemed as if that anguish was soon to become a constant presence.
And if it could unravel her so effectively, what must it be doing to Harm?
There was a soft knock on her door, and the subject of her concerns stuck his head into her office, looking lost. "May I come in, or do you want—"
"No, come in. Please."
Harm closed the door behind him and stood in front of her desk. "You okay?"
In this case, the right answer was not the truthful one. "Sure," she said, pasting on a calm demeanor. "What about you?"
The helplessness that flickered across his features worried her further. "I don't know."
Mac rose from her desk and came around to sit on the corner closest to him. "Harm, you saw her body. Didn't you? I mean, if I have yet another twin out there—"
"It was her." The quiet vehemence of his reply convinced her not to question. "I think I'm angry, and I'm trying not to be, but... I just don't know." He held up Diane's NSA badge for her to examine. "She says she needs legal help, and that she'll explain it all to us. I told her to come to my place at 1900."
Mac tried unsuccessfully to read his expression. "Us?"
"If you're okay with it. I know it'll be extremely weird for you. I should probably fill Sturgis in, so I'll ask him to come along, if that helps at all."
It didn't, since she knew the three classmates could easily go off on a nostalgic side trip and leave her in the dust. But that wasn't the point. "I'll be okay with it if you want me to be," she said carefully.
At that, Harm almost smiled. "I want you to be there," he said softly. "You've always been good at locating my sanity when I misplace it."
In spite of the surreal situation, Mac was warmed by the statement, and she gave him a wry grin. "You realize how close I was to throttling you earlier, right?"
He winced. "I know. We have a conversation to finish."
"It can wait. At least until after you've recovered from the shock of this whole deal."
"That could be a while," he muttered, half to himself. Abruptly, though, he straightened up, as if summoning his confidence. "Anyway, we've got a meeting, don't we?"
"We do. I'll meet you in the conference room."
"We're going to work this out, Mac. I'm not sure how, but when it's all said and done, all this is going to make sense, and things are going to be all right."
She smiled bravely. "I know."
That wasn't the truth, either.
#
Harm had been pacing the confines of his apartment, occasionally wiping his palms on the rough denim of his jeans, when the first knock came. He whirled, hands seizing into fists that he had to force to unclench as he crossed to the door. He reached for the doorknob, then paused.
Time to put on your game face, Hammer, he told himself. Grabbing the knob, he yanked it open. Sturgis stood in the hallway, his jacket balled uncomfortably in his hands.
Harm couldn't help the sigh of relief that escaped him.
Sturgis flashed a smile. "I figured you wouldn't want to be alone with either of the ladies yet."
Harm wondered how much he was supposed to read into that statement, then decided to drop it. The last thing he needed at this point was to second-guess an all around good guy like Sturgis.
"Thanks." He stepped back to allow Sturgis to enter, then turned toward the kitchen. "Can I get you something to drink?"
"I'm fine." Sturgis wandered inside while Harm ensconced himself behind the bulwark of his counter. He had a large pot on the stove.
"What's cooking?" Sturgis asked.
Harm glanced at the covered pot. "Vegetable soup."
"I didn't realize this was a dinner thing."
"It's not. The soup won't be ready for hours. I just... needed to chop things." Harm shrugged uncomfortably at the admission.
Sturgis chuckled and leaned his elbows on the counter. "Therapeutic vegetable massacre?"
Harm snorted in short-lived amusement. "Something like that."
They fell silent. Sturgis watched with interest, whether real or feigned, as Harm peeked under the pot's lid, then puttered about with a dishcloth, cleaning.
"Did you and Diane end up dating?" Sturgis asked suddenly.
Harm turned, his stomach twisting at the memories.
His old friend watched him sympathetically. "I know you two were only friends at the Academy, but I'd heard some rumors after that—" He shrugged. "You and I didn't cross paths for a while and then... well, Diane's funeral didn't seem like the place to indulge my curiosity."
Harm braced himself against the counter as resurrected hurt rose to the surface.
"Diane took leave... after my crash." He stared at the countertop, watching it blur in his vision. "She just... showed up one day, with a suitcase in one hand and a bottle of champagne in the other, and said she'd come to cheer me up."
"Champagne?" He could hear the note of curiosity in Sturgis' voice.
Harm nodded. "To celebrate my 'triumphant return to the air,' she said." His voice broke on the second-to-last syllable. He gripped the edge of the counter until it cut into his fingers. "Until that moment, it hadn't even occurred to me that I might get back into an airplane—any airplane. Diane considered it a foregone conclusion." He straightened abruptly. "She was just like that. In less than five seconds, she upended my entire world, Sturgis."
"Sounds like all she did was turn it right side up again."
Harm ran a hand through his hair, feeling the newly trimmed stubble on the back of his neck. Mac had a thing about his hair when it was freshly cut. Every chance she got, she'd run her fingertips across those short hairs and grin impishly. It was one of his favorite expressions.
Shaking his head sharply, Harm forced himself to reorient his thought. He was terrified of the idea that he might get Mac and Diane mixed up somehow. "She did. I'm not sure I would have made it through the review board or rehab without her." He paused as the memories washed over him. "Somewhere in there, we stopped being just friends... but it was never official."
Sturgis regarded him for a moment. "'Official' as in...?"
Harm looked away. "Exclusive." He waved a hand vaguely. "I was here in Washington, she was in San Diego or deployed. We never connected as often as we wanted to, but when we did..." He looked away. "I guess we were too young and stupid to realize what we had while we had it. And then one day..." He snapped his fingers sharply. "It was gone, just like that."
For a moment, the gulf of anguish that lived perpetually in the back of Harm's mind threatened to rise up and swallow him, but he fought it back. He wasn't sure how long it took, but when he finally came back to himself he found Sturgis staring off into the distance, his expression profoundly sad.
He didn't get to ask about it, though, as another knock sounded at the door. Sturgis' expression cleared immediately as he turned toward the sound. "Do you want me to get it?" he asked.
"Yeah, if you would." Harm gave his friend a grateful look.
"Care to guess who it'll be?" Sturgis asked lightly as he walked toward the door.
Harm checked his watch, which read 1900 exactly. "It's Mac."
Sturgis opened the door. Mac raised one hand in a jerky wave, a strained smile appearing and disappearing in the blink of an eye. "Hi, Sturgis." She was dressed in chocolate brown slacks and a deep red sweater with a swoop neck. A slender gold chain decorated her throat. From the kitchen, Harm watched her, struck as always by her unconscious beauty.
Sturgis ushered Mac inside, his warm bass voice filling up the awkward silence. They walked over to the barstools lining the back of the counter. Mac tossed her jacket across the back of her usual chair and plopped her purse beneath it. Harm set a bottled water down in front of her. Their eyes met across the counter, and something inside Harm unexpectedly loosened.
"Hey, Mac." He smiled a real smile, happy to see her no matter what the circumstances.
She picked up the water bottle, twisted it open, and drank. "Hi, yourself." Her brief smile was both shy and warm.
A knock at the door shattered their rapport.
"I'll get it," Sturgis said quickly. He trotted dutifully to the door. Harm heard him greet Diane, and her subdued answer. On the far side of the counter, Mac turned to watch, her elbows braced against the edge. Sturgis stepped back, allowing Diane to enter. Harm blinked in surprise. Diane wore jeans, but her turtleneck was a deep red—the same color as Mac's.
Mac straightened abruptly as Diane walked into the room. The two women stared at each other. Then Diane raised one hand to shake a finger in Mac's direction.
"You know, I shouldn't be surprised at that. Red is my best color."
Mac stared at her, mouth working soundlessly.
Diane pressed her lips together, a flush rising in her cheeks. "Um... yeah. Listen, Colonel—"
"You can call me Mac." From behind, Harm couldn't read Mac's expression, but he could see the tension in her shoulders.
Diane nodded. "Okay. Mac. This is going to sound really strange, but would you mind if we found a mirror somewhere? I think I need to see us side-by-side before it drives me completely nuts."
To Harm's surprise, Mac nodded. "Me, too." She gestured to Diane. "Come on, there's one back here." As the men watched in bemusement, she led the way toward Harm's bedroom.
When they were gone, Sturgis turned to look at Harm with a faint expression of horror.
"What?" Harm asked.
"I'm just hoping you don't have a secret fantasy about twins."
#
Side by side, the two women stared into the bathroom mirror.
"My hair is a little darker," Diane said after a moment. Mac wondered if the relief she heard in her voice was real or just her own projection. She also chose not to mention the fact that she highlighted her hair.
"I'm a little taller," Mac added.
Diane looked down. "No, I think that's just the shoes."
Mac followed her gaze and had to agree. Diane had on casual sneakers versus her own boots. "You're 5'9"?"
"Yeah."
"Me, too."
They stared at their combined reflection. Diane blinked first.
"I keep thinking the weirdness will go away, y'know?" She gave Mac a rueful look.
Mac sighed. "I guess we're just going to have to get used to it." She paused, then forced herself to go on. "I used to wear my hair like that." She indicated the loose, swept-under curl that rested on Diane's shoulders.
Diane turned to look at her directly. "What made you change it?"
"Harm—" she blurted, then shook her head. "No. He didn't make me change it." She couldn't meet the other woman's eyes. "He just—I never knew who he was seeing when he looked at me. And then when I saw a picture of you, I understood why."
Diane stared at her for several long minutes, absently nibbling at her lower lip as she did. "Can I—can I ask you something before we go back out there? About Harm," she hurried to add.
Mac's gut clenched. "Okay."
"Is he... happy being a JAG? I was never sure." She shrugged uncomfortably. "He always said he loved trial law, but next to flying..." She straightened. "I saw he's wearing his wings again. He swore he wouldn't, but I always believed... eventually..."
Mac stared at her, realizing for the first time just how much Diane had missed. And for the first time since their bizarre meeting, she felt a ray of hope.
She found herself smiling. "Yes, I believe he's where he wants to be." He'd come back to JAG, after all.
As if her answer had lifted a weight from Diane's shoulders, the other woman nodded and turned back to the mirror. Mac's gaze followed and they once again studied their oh-so-similar features.
"You weren't by chance adopted, were you?" Diane cocked her head to the side, her expression quizzical.
Mac snorted. "Nope. You?"
"No." Diane heaved a sigh. "It was worth a try, though."