Disclaimer: JAG belongs to DPB, Paramount, CBS et al. This is for fun, no copyright infringement is intended.


- Harm's apartment, early evening

"You!" screamed Harm once more. Fuming he got into the spy's face. "You are behind this! What have you done? Set me up again?"

Totally unaware of the enraged lawyer Webb went downstairs and reached the door of the apartment. Looking both ways he took out a small case. He picked the lock in less than thirty seconds.

"Harm, Harm," he muttered, shaking his head. "I'm just glad Palmer is locked away in Leavenworth."

Harm opened and shut his mouth several times but wasn't able to utter a single word. He barely managed to slip in behind the spy before the door was closed. There were many things he considered this man to be able to do - picking a lock had never been on the list. At least not in such an easy, casual manner.

Webb carefully made his way through the dark flat and peered out of the window. Satisfied he returned to the door and flipped on the light. Then he just stood there and took in the room.

"Oh, yeah, feel at home!" scoffed Harm regaining his composure. "You want something to drink? And I think there's still some tofu in the fridge. - Hey, what's so funny ... what's wrong?"

The spy had stridden down the living room, past the bed and into the bathroom. For a moment a smile had tugged at the corner of his mouth but was now replaced by a frown. Harm joined him and peered over his shoulder. A white uniform shirt was left to soak in the sink, a big reddish mark clearly visible.

Harm gasped. "Jesus! Is it ... blood?"

"Cranberry juice," stated Webb flatly.

"What?!"

Webb shook his head. "I owe you a shirt, Harm. But why -?"

He let the sentence hang, turned and walked out before the stunned lawyer could react. Unfortunately Harm was standing in his way.

"Ooooh, I hate this!" yelped Harm after the other man had gone right through him.

He was still shivering as he returned to the living room. But then a new wave of rage washed over him. The spy was listening to his answering machine!

The first message was from his mother - she reminded him of his promise to visit her soon.

"Sorry, Mom. I'm a little bit tied down here at the moment," Harm mumbled ruefully.

The second message was a male voice, recorded at 19 minutes to two: "Commander Rabb? I've thought over the things you've said and I ... I think there's something you should know. Please, call me back. Here's my phone number."

"Shit! Why can't people just start with their names?" Webb hit the stop button and replayed the message. He pulled out his cell phone and quickly dialed a number. "Webb. I need a name to this phone number."

While the agent dictated the figures, Harm paced the room.

"Who the hell is this? I've never heard that voice before. And what have I said to him?"

Webb closed his cell phone and Harm came to stand at his side as he played the next message. His brows raised in surprise.

"Harm, sorry I had to cut you off, but that other call was important. Pick up the phone. Harm? Look, we need to talk. Call me on my cell phone and please - PLEASE do what I've said and stay away from there."

"We talked on the phone? Here? How did you know I was at home? And what did you mean with 'stay away from there'? Where shouldn't I go?" Harm looked curious at the man next to him. Webb scowled at the phone like it was an enemy.

Harm frowned and nodded slowly. "You weren't surprised to see that shirt. Cranberry juice - how did you know that?" The next call interrupted his thoughts.

"Harm, it's me - Mac. Please call me back as soon as you get this message!"

"Mac," he whispered softly. He smiled absent minded.

The machine beeped and played the last message. Webb's voice once again, this time clearly worried. "Harm, you're there? Call me back immediately!"

Silence filled the room after the machine stopped. Webb closed his eyes and shook his head. He looked suddenly very tired.

"Damn it, Harm. What have you done?"

"I wish I'd know," answered Harm honestly.