Title: Flying High
Author: Pixie
Email: Pixie4@charter.net
Rating: R
Classification: Jag Story (Romance/Angst/Humor)
A note from the author: The feedback I've been getting on Flying High is beyond anything I ever could have dreamed of. The hours and hours of work and research that went into it have been more than amply rewarded by your kind words. Please know that although I may not be able to contact each of you individually with my thanks, I am deeply grateful for the time you have taken to share your words of pleasure and encouragement.
And now....on with the story.
**** Part 3 ****
1730 Zulu (0930 Local)
Whidbey Naval Air Station
Whidbey Island, Washington
Mac stared up at the behemoth. The P-3C Orion was one of the Navy's less aesthetically pleasing birds, that was for sure. Bulky and lumbering, it reminded her of an ungainly prehistoric bird, seemingly outclassed by its sleekly graceful descendants. She knew though, that behind the seemingly awkward exterior lay a gold mine of sophisticated equipment that made it one of the Navy's most prized possessions. She walked around it, followed by a flight engineer who blessed her with an unending litany of the plane's attributes, most of which she'd never remember, much less need to know for the trial. She climbed the boarding ladder and entered the dim interior, vaguely amused when the close confines made her think of past submarine assignments. The engineer followed on her heels, his enthusiastic voice a youthful counterpoint to her thoughts.
"This girl's a hunter, Ma'am. She's the eyes and ears of the Navy. P-3's have served in Rwanda, Mogadishu, Somalia, and Desert Storm. This particular bird flies aerial reconnaissance over the Pacific Ocean from Hawaii through the Bering Strait and on up into the Arctic Ocean. She's a sub watcher. Hunts 'em down, keeps an eye on 'em, makes sure nobody's up to any mischief."
"Too bad she can't spot mischief inside her own hold," said Mac under her breath. "Master Chief, can you show me where NCIS located the alleged contraband?"
"Yes, Ma'am. Follow me."
As they walked through the plane, her tour guide continued to regale her with praise for the Orion, and Mac took mental notes of anything that might be useful for the trial. More than once she shook her head at the stupidity and arrogance of the man who jeopardized the safety of this highly sophisticated aircraft in order to mule drugs.
They reached the aft section of the plane, and the master chief bent down to pry open a loose panel, revealing a narrow opening the size of a paperback book.
"This is it?"
"Yes, Ma'am."
"It's a pretty small space. Is this all NCIS found?"
"It's deeper then it looks, Ma'am, but as far as I know, yes, it's all they found."
"Hmm..." Her tone was noncommittal. She'd have to talk to Gibbs. Granted, the opening was big enough to hold several thousand dollars' worth of the drug, but she'd had the impression Mercer had been ferrying more than that.
"Thank you, Master Chief. That's all I need from you today. I may need you to come out for the trial, but I'll speak with your CO about the arrangements."
"Yes, Ma'am."
He excused himself and left her to finish her inspection. She spent a few minutes wandering through the empty plane, noting the complicated instruments and the sonar buoys ready to be deployed, then turned to go aft again, pausing at the sound of footsteps on the ladder. A moment later, a familiar dark head popped through the hatch, and she grinned. Something about planes always made him act like a little boy. Harm looked around and whistled, obviously impressed by the array of sophisticated instrumentation that met his eyes. Then his gaze settled on her, and the whistle died on his lips, replaced by a warm smile.
"Just the person I was looking for," he said.
"Oh?"
"Yeah. I had a question for you, but I seem to have forgotten what it was." He looked a little sheepish at that, and she laughed outright.
"Devil got your tongue, Harm?"
"Something like that." He grinned at her and she decided a change of subject was in order.
"Have you finished your interviews?"
His expression turned serious as he remembered what it was he had to ask her.
"I need to see your witness list before I can answer that. Have you compiled it yet?"
"Not yet. I hope to get it finished this afternoon. Can you wait on it?"
"I guess, but the sooner I can get a peek at it the sooner I can finish up."
"I'll hurry. I know you need to get back before Mattie gets home."
"Thanks." His head disappeared, then reappeared, the devilish grin once more making an appearance.
"Have I told you lately that I love you?" he asked.
"Not since last night." Mac couldn't help the smile in her voice. They'd parted reluctantly after dinner the night before, as though by some tacit agreement they'd decided not to rush the development of their newly acknowledged feelings, and she hadn't seen him this morning because she'd had an early appointment with the flight engineer.
"I do, you know."
She fought the urge to reach out to him, settling for a smile instead.
"I know."
He grinned and disappeared, and with a sigh, she turned back to her work. She walked back to the loose panel where Mercer had hidden the drugs and lay down on her stomach beside it, stretching her arm in and down to run her fingers along the inside corners and edges. She worked by touch alone, the dim interior light and awkward position making it impossible for her to see the place her fingers explored. The master chief had been right. The space he'd shown her had appeared small but now, as she stretched her hand to reach the bottom corners, she realized that it really was quite deep.
Something fluttered against her hand, and she twisted her arm, grasping it gently between two fingers so that she could pull it out. She sat back and looked at her find, puzzled as to why NCIS had missed it during the evidence collection process. The tiny scrap of paper looked like part of a fancy cocktail napkin, a portion of the logo still intact. It was red and gold, and the letters "GEN" were stenciled across it in raised white letters. The heavyweight paper reminded her vaguely of the napkins she'd had printed up for her aborted wedding to Mic. Unsure what it meant, or if it meant anything at all, she pocketed the scrap and stood up. She'd pass it on to Special Agent Gibbs and see if he and his crew could come up with any useful information from it.
2245 Zulu (1445 Local)
Whidbey Naval Air Station
Whidbey Island, Washington
Mac glared at the young petty officer who sat across from her at the conference table.
"Look. You can tell me what you know about Lieutenant Mercer and earn yourself a reduced sentence, or we can throw the book at you. Your choice."
"Ma'am, I swear. I don't know anything."
Mac rolled her eyes, unimpressed with the innocent act.
"Where did you get the drugs?"
"From Lieutenant Mercer, Ma'am, but he didn't tell me what it was. Just said it'd help make the time pass during the long flight home from Copenhagen."
"And you didn't think to ask him what it was?"
"No, Ma'am. He was my commanding officer for the flight. It didn't occur to me to question him."
Mac sighed. Every once in a while she met a sailor who didn't seem to be able to think for himself. This looked like one of those times.
"Did you pay for the pill?"
"No, Ma'am. He just gave it to me. Said to let him know what I thought of it."
"Did you see him offer them to anybody else?"
"Just Ensign Fremont, Ma'am. And you already know about him."
"Yes, I do."
Fremont had been just as clueless as Petty Officer Long. It didn't look like either one would be much help to her case.
"Well, Petty Officer, this is a first offense, and it doesn't sound like you really knew what you were getting into, so you might hope for a light sentence. I'm not handling your case directly, but I'll speak with the JAG assigned and let her know that you were cooperative."
"Yes, Ma'am. Thank you, Ma'am."
The young man, obviously frightened and worried for his future, couldn't do enough to thank Mac, and she sighed with relief when he was escorted out of the room. She felt for the young Petty Officer, aware that he'd fallen into this mess mostly through his own gullibility, and she was relieved that his involvement wasn't any deeper than it was. As far as she could tell right now, Mercer hadn't involved any of his crewmates in his drug trafficking scheme, choosing instead to go it alone, probably to avoid having to share the profits.
Thinking about profits reminded Mac that she hadn't seen Mercer's bank records, and she made a mental note to request those from NCIS first thing Monday morning. It was a safe bet that they'd rounded up every conceivable scrap of financial information and would be able to tell her more about the lieutenant's banking habits than she'd ever learn by staring at copies his bank statements.
She spent the next two hours making lists of the things she still needed to do before she'd be ready for trial, and transcribing her conversation with Petty Officer Long. When she finally finished, she was pleased with her efforts, and even better, aware that she'd finished the work she needed to do here in Washington. She was ready to go home.
Since today was only Friday and their flight out wasn't scheduled until tomorrow afternoon, she found herself hoping that Harm was nearly finished with his investigation, too. She'd never visited this part of the country before, and a little down time before leaping into the trial would be a welcome relief. She returned her notes to her briefcase and stood, stretching out the kinks in her back and legs and rolling the tension out of her shoulders.
An hour later she sat on her bed, files spread out around her, notebook in her lap, and a cold drink by her side. She wrote quickly, mentally organizing and reorganizing data as she went, working out the best order of presentation for her case. She knew she still had some gaps, but her case was coming together, and she felt fairly confident that with another few days of prep time she'd be ready. She looked up from her notes at the knock on her door, then set aside her pad and went to open it, not surprised to find her partner standing on the other side.
"Hey. May I come in?"
"Sure. Just give me a sec to clean up these files."
She closed the door part way, knowing that he'd understand her ethical obligations, and put away her files, tucking them neatly back into her case. When she opened it again, the movement chased a faraway look from his eyes, and she wondered what he'd been thinking.
"How's your case coming along?" he asked, when she shut the door behind him.
"Great. I've pretty much finished all I can do out here. I'm looking forward to a day off before we head back."
"Me, too. Thanks for getting that witness list to me earlier. It was a big help."
"No problem."
"Listen, I had an idea. Are you interested?"
"Depends on what it is." She gave him a wary look.
"I thought we could head in to the city tonight. Maybe grab some dinner somewhere? That way we don't have to get up quite so early in the morning."
"Harm, our flight isn't until 1430. We wouldn't have to get up early even if we stayed here."
He shrugged. "I've never visited Seattle. It'd be nice to see the sights."
Mac rolled her eyes at him. It drove her crazy when he used that tone of voice on her. He knew she couldn't resist it; probably also knew it was twice as effective in light of last night's confessions.
"Okay. Just give me a minute to pack up."
Her acquiescence drew a wide smile from Harm.
"I'll meet you at the car in five."
"'Kay."
He was gone before she could ask what he had in mind for dinner, but she shrugged and began folding her things into her duffle bag. She'd find out soon enough.
They were on their way in record time, and Mac relaxed back into her seat, cocooned in an exciting, yet oddly peaceful feeling now that she was alone with him again. The next eighteen hours belonged to them, and she planned to enjoy every minute of it.
She looked over at him, his features dearer to her and somehow more familiar than her own. An extraordinary magic or a higher power had stepped in on their behalf last night, and something she'd never thought possible had somehow come to pass. She wasn't sure where destiny would lead them from here, but she was pretty certain the ride would be an interesting one.
"What?"
He'd caught her staring, and she turned her gaze quickly to the window.
"Nothing."
"Uh huh...Why don't I believe you?"
"I was just thinking about how much has happened this week."
He reached for her hand, folding it into his larger one with a new confidence. Gone was the tentative touch of their trip to Norfolk. The way he held her now had a sense of possession to it, of ownership. She decided she liked the feeling, and squeezed his hand gently in reply.
"Did you ever think we'd get to this point?" he asked.
"No, actually. I didn't. I was fairly convinced there'd been too many wrong turns along the way."
"Where do you think we made our first mistake?"
"Are you sure you want to go down that road?" She wasn't certain this was a good idea. Their relationship still felt so new, like a newly hatched butterfly with untried wings.
"Mac, I want to put the ghosts to rest. We made a start last night, but there are still some shadows to chase. Do you mind?"
She thought about that for a while, but ultimately decided that if she was going to have to jump off a cliff before they could fly, she'd rather do it now and get it over with.
"Our first mistake?"
"Yeah."
"I think that one was mine."
"What was it?" He glanced at her curiously before turning his eyes back to the road.
"I think it was when you went back to flying."
"Really?"
"Yeah. I couldn't believe you would make a decision like that without including me."
"I'm sorry for that, Mac. I guess I was afraid you'd try to talk me out of it, and I didn't think I could bear to see the look of disappointment on your face when you realized how determined I was."
"You were determined, all right. Are you glad you did it?"
"Went back on flight status, you mean?"
"Yeah."
He considered that while he paid the toll for the ferry and drove into line behind the few other cars that were waiting for the next transport to the mainland.
"Yes. I am glad. I needed it to end on my terms. I needed to put Mace's ghost to rest."
"I can understand that."
Comfortable silence settled over them for a few minutes while Harm drove onto the ferry and they settled in for the short trip across the sound. By tacit consent, they didn't leave the car, choosing instead to remain in the bubble of privacy that seemed so comfortable just then.
"I think the next mistake was mine," he finally said quietly.
"Which mistake was that?"
"Sydney."
Images washed over Mac. Memories of that long ago trip that had spiraled them both into new trajectories, though for vastly different reasons.
"I think we both made mistakes there, Harm." Her voice, soft and sad, drifted through the empty space between them, landing on his ears like raindrops.
"What happened, Mac?"
"I'm still not sure."
"That night on the ferry, when I said 'not yet.' What did you think I meant?"
"I thought you meant you weren't ready to let go of Diane. I thought..." She turned away, but he reached across and caught her chin, turning her back to him.
"Mac. I need to know. I need to understand what happened."
"I was hurt, Harm. I felt rejected. It'd been more than three years since Diane died and you still couldn't let her go. I guess I decided I couldn't fight a ghost anymore."
"So that's why you went to Mic?"
"Part of it. I didn't want to spend my life alone. I was so sick of being alone, and when you turned me away...I don't know. I guess I gave up on us."
"I'm sorry, Mac. I never meant to hurt you."
She turned her body, angling toward him to get a better look at his face.
"I've never asked you this before, but what did you mean?"
"By not yet?"
"Yeah."
It was his turn to think about choices and consequences, and Mac gave him time, knowing it wasn't always easy to find the right words and then arrange them in a manner that would make some kind of coherent sense.
"I didn't mean it the way you took it, I can tell you that."
"So I gather."
His faint grin was sardonic, but he quickly turned serious again.
"Mac, even then I knew that there was the potential for something special between us, something few people are lucky enough to find. My 'not yet' didn't actually have anything at all to do with Diane. You'd banished her a long time before that trip."
"Then what was it?"
"I just... didn't want ambiance to be the reason we started something serious. I didn't want an ephemeral affair in the golden sun down under. I wanted more than that. I still do."
"Wow." It wasn't much, but it was the best she could manage just then. Harm seemed to understand, though, because his hold on her hand tightened again, and he reached across to tuck a stray hair behind her ear.
"Yeah. I think it was a perfect example of total communication meltdown."
"What a mess we both made. I ended up with Mic. You found Renee..."
"And neither person was right for us."
"No. They weren't. They would have been great for each other, though."
Harm laughed.
"You noticed that, too?"
"Yeah. Kind of an odd thing to notice, isn't it? I mean there I was, engaged to Mic, and I couldn't stop thinking what a perfect match he'd be for Renee."
They shared a grin before Harm turned serious again.
"That brings us to the next mistake."
"Which was?"
"The night Brumby left."
"We talked about that last night, remember?"
"I know, I just thought we should include it as one of our bends in the road."
"Well, it was that."
Harm started the car back up as the ferry bumped into the dock, and they waited their turn in companionable silence. Soon they were back on the highway, speeding toward Seattle in surprisingly light traffic, and Mac decided it was time to pick up the thread of their conversation.
"I think the next one was mine."
A gently raised eyebrow was his only response, so Mac took a deep breath and plunged in.
"The Guadalcanal."
"Mac, I think that was another time when we both screwed up."
"Maybe, but I think I did the most damage. I couldn't sit still long enough to hear what you had to say. I was just so... mixed up. I only knew that there was no way I was going to fight Renee for you."
"I wish you had stayed around to listen to my answer."
"Your answer?"
"You asked me if I'd be willing to give up Renee for you."
"I remember. You hemmed and hawed and I finally got fed up and left."
"Just in time to miss my reply."
"What did you say?"
He glanced over at her, catching her eye for an instant before directing his attention back to the road. His answer, delivered in a low voice, made her wish she could turn back the clock.
"I said I would. I would have given her up."
Mac caught her breath. A split second decision, made in a moment of absolute frustration and pain, had cost her years. She shook her head at her folly. Sometimes she hated that penchant she seemed to have acquired for always seeing the worst in him.
"I'm sorry," she said, her voice simultaneously sad and sincere. "I didn't know."
"I realize that. It's ok, Mac. It's behind us now."
"Is it?"
"What do you mean?"
"Think about it, Harm. How many times have we done this? How many times have we screwed things up? What makes us so sure we can get it right this time?"
He didn't answer her. Instead, he checked his mirrors and then pulled off the highway, coming to a stop on the shoulder. He put the car in park and turned to her, his expression serious.
"This time is different, Mac."
"How? How is it different? It's still you. It's still me. We're both just as hard-headed now as we ever were."
Her voice rose slightly despite herself. The thought of losing him tore at her, causing a faint tinge of fear to edge her words. Harm, however, seemed totally unaffected. He merely reached for her hands and waited for her to run out of steam.
"It's different because this time we know we love each other."
That stopped her tirade mid-thought. He was right. Before, they'd each been living their lives as individuals. Now, they were two parts of a couple, and somehow that simple fact changed things immeasurably. She took a deep breath and offered him a smile.
"You've got a point there."
His lips twitched.
"You think?" he asked.
"Don't go getting cocky. It's just one point."
"Hey. One point is still one point. I'll take it."
"Good. Now. Think you can get this thing moving again?"
"I suppose, but you'll have to pay the toll." His smile was wider now, almost wolfish.
"Toll?"
He leaned towards her, his intentions clear, and Mac felt her heart skip a beat even as her mouth curved into a smile. She met him halfway, accepting the gentle caress and returning it with one of her own. Then he sat back, shifted the car into gear, and began to whistle "Anchors Aweigh" as he merged back into the traffic. Mac relaxed into her seat for the rest of the drive, content to let the remaining miles pass in shared silence.
0310 Zulu (1910 Local)
The Edgewater Hotel
Seattle, Washington
When Harm pulled up in front of the hotel, Mac couldn't suppress a gasp of awe. The Edgewater was beautiful, located right on the waterfront, and obviously very high class.
"Harm? Are you sure about this?"
He smiled gently at her, his eyes warm.
"I've never been more sure of anything in my life."
The valet opened her door, and she stepped out onto the walk, waiting patiently while Harm handed over the keys, collected their duffle bags, and came to her side.
"You ready?"
"You knew I'd cave, didn't you?"
"What do you mean?" He had that innocent kid look about him again, and Mac folded her arms and spread her feet shoulder width apart, refusing to take another step until she got some answers.
"You had to have made a reservation, or we wouldn't be here."
"What can I say?" He shrugged his shoulders and offered a crooked grin. "I'm an optimist?"
"Harm, this place must cost a fortune!"
"I happen to think you're worth it." His voice, low and rough, sent a tremor up her spine. He grinned suddenly, and tapped her lightly on the nose. "Don't worry, though. Your virtue is safe. At least, it is as long as you want it to be." His predatory grin made her laugh.
He gestured toward the door, drawing her attention to the uniformed attendant who patiently held it open for them, and with a roll of her eyes and a shake of the head, she gave in. One thing she'd learned in her years of knowing Harm. Some battles just weren't worth fighting.
They approached the registration desk side by side, Harm still carrying both duffle bags, despite a halfhearted attempt on Mac's part to get hers back.
"May I help you, Sir?"
The clerk's voice distracted Mac from the bay view, and she turned her attention to the pretty girl on the other side of the counter who was all but swooning over Harm. Feeling suddenly proprietary, she linked her arm through his, and earned herself a raised eyebrow and a grin in response.
"Harmon Rabb Junior. I have a reservation."
The clerk took her dewy eyes off of him long enough to type a few words into her computer.
"Here it is. Two rooms, right?"
"One," said Mac, firmly. "We don't really need two rooms, do we, dear?" She batted her eyelashes at Harm, and had the perverse pleasure of watching him swallow painfully before he answered.
"Are you sure, Mac?"
She dropped the pretense, her voice soft and serious.
"I've never been more sure of anything in my life." She gave his words back to him, and knew that he recognized her comment for what it was, a commitment, a promise, a gift of her faith and trust. Her eyes locked on his, and everything else faded away, replaced for those few seconds by the absolute certainty that they were the only two people on the planet.
"Sir?"
Harm started slightly at the clerk's voice, and Mac allowed herself a small satisfied smile as he turned back to the star struck girl.
"Yes?"
"If you'll just sign here, please? And I'll need your credit card."
"Oh. Right." He reached into his pocket and handed over the small piece of plastic, then scribbled his name and accepted the pass card the clerk handed to him.
"You're in room 447. Take the elevator to the fourth floor. Turn right. Your room is the third one on the left."
"Bay view?"
"As you requested, Sir." The clerk's smile was bright, if a little whimsical, and Mac couldn't help the joy that whispered through her at the knowledge that Harm belonged to her. She felt the clerk's green eyes follow them all the way to the elevator, felt Harm's proprietary touch on her lower back as they moved, and knew a happiness that she gathered in close to her heart.
Their room was beautiful, decorated in a subtle nautical theme that Mac knew Harm would appreciate. She moved across to the window and pulled the curtains open, stunned at the vista that opened up before her. The hotel was positioned so that from where she stood, it looked for all the world like they were floating on water, and for a few moments, she simply stood and watched the boats, big and small, as they wandered across the bay. The sun was setting in another spectacular display that reminded her of the prior night's visit to Deception Pass and she couldn't help thinking that this time of day would always make her think of Harm.
He came to stand behind her then, sliding his arms around her waist and pulling her back against the firmness of his lean body while he dropped his head to nuzzle her neck. She looked down at his strong forearms where they rested just below her breasts, and caught her breath at the intimate contact that was both just right and somehow not enough. His low voice at her ear, accompanied by the tiniest nibble of her earlobe, convinced her that until this moment she'd never really been touched by a man.
"Are you okay with this, Mac?"
"It was my idea, as I recall." She tilted her head, giving him better access, fully aware that the huskiness of her voice communicated more effectively then the words themselves ever could.
"Yes, but you were just marking your territory. I won't hold you to it." He nuzzled a particularly sensitive spot just behind her ear, and she shivered, causing his arms to tighten around her in response.
She twisted around to look up at him, only mildly abashed.
"You saw that, huh?"
"You weren't exactly subtle, Mac." His lips quirked with masculine humor, and she suspected she'd inadvertently given his pride a boost it didn't really need.
"Neither was she."
"To be honest, I didn't notice." He dropped a feather light kiss at her temple, and one of his hands started to wander lazily up her back, tracing the contour of her spine.
She didn't believe him, and her expression must have given that away because he chuckled low in his throat.
"There's only one woman I notice, Mac. It's been that way for a long time."
"Oh really?" Her voice had dropped, deepening to something just shy of sultry, and she reached up to trace the v-neck of his shirt, careful to avoid skin to skin contact, certain she would go up in flames if, no...when, she crossed the line, because she had every intention of crossing that line with him tonight, of finally giving in to the desire that had plagued her for years.
"Really." He anchored her to him with one arm and buried his other hand in the silky strands of her hair, then dropped his head to taste the spot where her shoulder met her neck. In response, she tugged at the back of his shirt, freeing it so that she could reach bare skin, then moaned in pleasure at the delightful feel of his muscled torso beneath her palm. A surge of feminine satisfaction curled through her when he shuddered and drew in a ragged breath.
"Mac." His voice, low and husky, rumbled delightfully in her ear.
"Hmmm?"
"If we don't stop this, I can't guarantee you'll get dinner."
"That'd be bad, wouldn't it."
"Probably."
"Hmm..." she said again, though she wasn't feeling particularly concerned at the moment.
Harm brought his hand around to cradle her cheek, then tilted her face so that he could see her eyes.
"Mac..."
"Has anybody ever told you that you talk too much?" she asked, though her voice sounded uneven to her own ears. "Wouldn't you rather kiss me?"
**** To be continued...****
Look for part 4 on Friday night at 0200 Zulu.
AN: O.K., I know that was a cliffhanger, and I know you're not happy with me right now. It's not my fault. Melissa swears to me (though her grin was a bit on the evil side) that this was the only logical place to put the break. Never fear, the next part will post on schedule. I've even made contingency plans in case my Internet connection goes on strike again.
Author: Pixie
Email: Pixie4@charter.net
Rating: R
Classification: Jag Story (Romance/Angst/Humor)
A note from the author: The feedback I've been getting on Flying High is beyond anything I ever could have dreamed of. The hours and hours of work and research that went into it have been more than amply rewarded by your kind words. Please know that although I may not be able to contact each of you individually with my thanks, I am deeply grateful for the time you have taken to share your words of pleasure and encouragement.
And now....on with the story.
**** Part 3 ****
1730 Zulu (0930 Local)
Whidbey Naval Air Station
Whidbey Island, Washington
Mac stared up at the behemoth. The P-3C Orion was one of the Navy's less aesthetically pleasing birds, that was for sure. Bulky and lumbering, it reminded her of an ungainly prehistoric bird, seemingly outclassed by its sleekly graceful descendants. She knew though, that behind the seemingly awkward exterior lay a gold mine of sophisticated equipment that made it one of the Navy's most prized possessions. She walked around it, followed by a flight engineer who blessed her with an unending litany of the plane's attributes, most of which she'd never remember, much less need to know for the trial. She climbed the boarding ladder and entered the dim interior, vaguely amused when the close confines made her think of past submarine assignments. The engineer followed on her heels, his enthusiastic voice a youthful counterpoint to her thoughts.
"This girl's a hunter, Ma'am. She's the eyes and ears of the Navy. P-3's have served in Rwanda, Mogadishu, Somalia, and Desert Storm. This particular bird flies aerial reconnaissance over the Pacific Ocean from Hawaii through the Bering Strait and on up into the Arctic Ocean. She's a sub watcher. Hunts 'em down, keeps an eye on 'em, makes sure nobody's up to any mischief."
"Too bad she can't spot mischief inside her own hold," said Mac under her breath. "Master Chief, can you show me where NCIS located the alleged contraband?"
"Yes, Ma'am. Follow me."
As they walked through the plane, her tour guide continued to regale her with praise for the Orion, and Mac took mental notes of anything that might be useful for the trial. More than once she shook her head at the stupidity and arrogance of the man who jeopardized the safety of this highly sophisticated aircraft in order to mule drugs.
They reached the aft section of the plane, and the master chief bent down to pry open a loose panel, revealing a narrow opening the size of a paperback book.
"This is it?"
"Yes, Ma'am."
"It's a pretty small space. Is this all NCIS found?"
"It's deeper then it looks, Ma'am, but as far as I know, yes, it's all they found."
"Hmm..." Her tone was noncommittal. She'd have to talk to Gibbs. Granted, the opening was big enough to hold several thousand dollars' worth of the drug, but she'd had the impression Mercer had been ferrying more than that.
"Thank you, Master Chief. That's all I need from you today. I may need you to come out for the trial, but I'll speak with your CO about the arrangements."
"Yes, Ma'am."
He excused himself and left her to finish her inspection. She spent a few minutes wandering through the empty plane, noting the complicated instruments and the sonar buoys ready to be deployed, then turned to go aft again, pausing at the sound of footsteps on the ladder. A moment later, a familiar dark head popped through the hatch, and she grinned. Something about planes always made him act like a little boy. Harm looked around and whistled, obviously impressed by the array of sophisticated instrumentation that met his eyes. Then his gaze settled on her, and the whistle died on his lips, replaced by a warm smile.
"Just the person I was looking for," he said.
"Oh?"
"Yeah. I had a question for you, but I seem to have forgotten what it was." He looked a little sheepish at that, and she laughed outright.
"Devil got your tongue, Harm?"
"Something like that." He grinned at her and she decided a change of subject was in order.
"Have you finished your interviews?"
His expression turned serious as he remembered what it was he had to ask her.
"I need to see your witness list before I can answer that. Have you compiled it yet?"
"Not yet. I hope to get it finished this afternoon. Can you wait on it?"
"I guess, but the sooner I can get a peek at it the sooner I can finish up."
"I'll hurry. I know you need to get back before Mattie gets home."
"Thanks." His head disappeared, then reappeared, the devilish grin once more making an appearance.
"Have I told you lately that I love you?" he asked.
"Not since last night." Mac couldn't help the smile in her voice. They'd parted reluctantly after dinner the night before, as though by some tacit agreement they'd decided not to rush the development of their newly acknowledged feelings, and she hadn't seen him this morning because she'd had an early appointment with the flight engineer.
"I do, you know."
She fought the urge to reach out to him, settling for a smile instead.
"I know."
He grinned and disappeared, and with a sigh, she turned back to her work. She walked back to the loose panel where Mercer had hidden the drugs and lay down on her stomach beside it, stretching her arm in and down to run her fingers along the inside corners and edges. She worked by touch alone, the dim interior light and awkward position making it impossible for her to see the place her fingers explored. The master chief had been right. The space he'd shown her had appeared small but now, as she stretched her hand to reach the bottom corners, she realized that it really was quite deep.
Something fluttered against her hand, and she twisted her arm, grasping it gently between two fingers so that she could pull it out. She sat back and looked at her find, puzzled as to why NCIS had missed it during the evidence collection process. The tiny scrap of paper looked like part of a fancy cocktail napkin, a portion of the logo still intact. It was red and gold, and the letters "GEN" were stenciled across it in raised white letters. The heavyweight paper reminded her vaguely of the napkins she'd had printed up for her aborted wedding to Mic. Unsure what it meant, or if it meant anything at all, she pocketed the scrap and stood up. She'd pass it on to Special Agent Gibbs and see if he and his crew could come up with any useful information from it.
2245 Zulu (1445 Local)
Whidbey Naval Air Station
Whidbey Island, Washington
Mac glared at the young petty officer who sat across from her at the conference table.
"Look. You can tell me what you know about Lieutenant Mercer and earn yourself a reduced sentence, or we can throw the book at you. Your choice."
"Ma'am, I swear. I don't know anything."
Mac rolled her eyes, unimpressed with the innocent act.
"Where did you get the drugs?"
"From Lieutenant Mercer, Ma'am, but he didn't tell me what it was. Just said it'd help make the time pass during the long flight home from Copenhagen."
"And you didn't think to ask him what it was?"
"No, Ma'am. He was my commanding officer for the flight. It didn't occur to me to question him."
Mac sighed. Every once in a while she met a sailor who didn't seem to be able to think for himself. This looked like one of those times.
"Did you pay for the pill?"
"No, Ma'am. He just gave it to me. Said to let him know what I thought of it."
"Did you see him offer them to anybody else?"
"Just Ensign Fremont, Ma'am. And you already know about him."
"Yes, I do."
Fremont had been just as clueless as Petty Officer Long. It didn't look like either one would be much help to her case.
"Well, Petty Officer, this is a first offense, and it doesn't sound like you really knew what you were getting into, so you might hope for a light sentence. I'm not handling your case directly, but I'll speak with the JAG assigned and let her know that you were cooperative."
"Yes, Ma'am. Thank you, Ma'am."
The young man, obviously frightened and worried for his future, couldn't do enough to thank Mac, and she sighed with relief when he was escorted out of the room. She felt for the young Petty Officer, aware that he'd fallen into this mess mostly through his own gullibility, and she was relieved that his involvement wasn't any deeper than it was. As far as she could tell right now, Mercer hadn't involved any of his crewmates in his drug trafficking scheme, choosing instead to go it alone, probably to avoid having to share the profits.
Thinking about profits reminded Mac that she hadn't seen Mercer's bank records, and she made a mental note to request those from NCIS first thing Monday morning. It was a safe bet that they'd rounded up every conceivable scrap of financial information and would be able to tell her more about the lieutenant's banking habits than she'd ever learn by staring at copies his bank statements.
She spent the next two hours making lists of the things she still needed to do before she'd be ready for trial, and transcribing her conversation with Petty Officer Long. When she finally finished, she was pleased with her efforts, and even better, aware that she'd finished the work she needed to do here in Washington. She was ready to go home.
Since today was only Friday and their flight out wasn't scheduled until tomorrow afternoon, she found herself hoping that Harm was nearly finished with his investigation, too. She'd never visited this part of the country before, and a little down time before leaping into the trial would be a welcome relief. She returned her notes to her briefcase and stood, stretching out the kinks in her back and legs and rolling the tension out of her shoulders.
An hour later she sat on her bed, files spread out around her, notebook in her lap, and a cold drink by her side. She wrote quickly, mentally organizing and reorganizing data as she went, working out the best order of presentation for her case. She knew she still had some gaps, but her case was coming together, and she felt fairly confident that with another few days of prep time she'd be ready. She looked up from her notes at the knock on her door, then set aside her pad and went to open it, not surprised to find her partner standing on the other side.
"Hey. May I come in?"
"Sure. Just give me a sec to clean up these files."
She closed the door part way, knowing that he'd understand her ethical obligations, and put away her files, tucking them neatly back into her case. When she opened it again, the movement chased a faraway look from his eyes, and she wondered what he'd been thinking.
"How's your case coming along?" he asked, when she shut the door behind him.
"Great. I've pretty much finished all I can do out here. I'm looking forward to a day off before we head back."
"Me, too. Thanks for getting that witness list to me earlier. It was a big help."
"No problem."
"Listen, I had an idea. Are you interested?"
"Depends on what it is." She gave him a wary look.
"I thought we could head in to the city tonight. Maybe grab some dinner somewhere? That way we don't have to get up quite so early in the morning."
"Harm, our flight isn't until 1430. We wouldn't have to get up early even if we stayed here."
He shrugged. "I've never visited Seattle. It'd be nice to see the sights."
Mac rolled her eyes at him. It drove her crazy when he used that tone of voice on her. He knew she couldn't resist it; probably also knew it was twice as effective in light of last night's confessions.
"Okay. Just give me a minute to pack up."
Her acquiescence drew a wide smile from Harm.
"I'll meet you at the car in five."
"'Kay."
He was gone before she could ask what he had in mind for dinner, but she shrugged and began folding her things into her duffle bag. She'd find out soon enough.
They were on their way in record time, and Mac relaxed back into her seat, cocooned in an exciting, yet oddly peaceful feeling now that she was alone with him again. The next eighteen hours belonged to them, and she planned to enjoy every minute of it.
She looked over at him, his features dearer to her and somehow more familiar than her own. An extraordinary magic or a higher power had stepped in on their behalf last night, and something she'd never thought possible had somehow come to pass. She wasn't sure where destiny would lead them from here, but she was pretty certain the ride would be an interesting one.
"What?"
He'd caught her staring, and she turned her gaze quickly to the window.
"Nothing."
"Uh huh...Why don't I believe you?"
"I was just thinking about how much has happened this week."
He reached for her hand, folding it into his larger one with a new confidence. Gone was the tentative touch of their trip to Norfolk. The way he held her now had a sense of possession to it, of ownership. She decided she liked the feeling, and squeezed his hand gently in reply.
"Did you ever think we'd get to this point?" he asked.
"No, actually. I didn't. I was fairly convinced there'd been too many wrong turns along the way."
"Where do you think we made our first mistake?"
"Are you sure you want to go down that road?" She wasn't certain this was a good idea. Their relationship still felt so new, like a newly hatched butterfly with untried wings.
"Mac, I want to put the ghosts to rest. We made a start last night, but there are still some shadows to chase. Do you mind?"
She thought about that for a while, but ultimately decided that if she was going to have to jump off a cliff before they could fly, she'd rather do it now and get it over with.
"Our first mistake?"
"Yeah."
"I think that one was mine."
"What was it?" He glanced at her curiously before turning his eyes back to the road.
"I think it was when you went back to flying."
"Really?"
"Yeah. I couldn't believe you would make a decision like that without including me."
"I'm sorry for that, Mac. I guess I was afraid you'd try to talk me out of it, and I didn't think I could bear to see the look of disappointment on your face when you realized how determined I was."
"You were determined, all right. Are you glad you did it?"
"Went back on flight status, you mean?"
"Yeah."
He considered that while he paid the toll for the ferry and drove into line behind the few other cars that were waiting for the next transport to the mainland.
"Yes. I am glad. I needed it to end on my terms. I needed to put Mace's ghost to rest."
"I can understand that."
Comfortable silence settled over them for a few minutes while Harm drove onto the ferry and they settled in for the short trip across the sound. By tacit consent, they didn't leave the car, choosing instead to remain in the bubble of privacy that seemed so comfortable just then.
"I think the next mistake was mine," he finally said quietly.
"Which mistake was that?"
"Sydney."
Images washed over Mac. Memories of that long ago trip that had spiraled them both into new trajectories, though for vastly different reasons.
"I think we both made mistakes there, Harm." Her voice, soft and sad, drifted through the empty space between them, landing on his ears like raindrops.
"What happened, Mac?"
"I'm still not sure."
"That night on the ferry, when I said 'not yet.' What did you think I meant?"
"I thought you meant you weren't ready to let go of Diane. I thought..." She turned away, but he reached across and caught her chin, turning her back to him.
"Mac. I need to know. I need to understand what happened."
"I was hurt, Harm. I felt rejected. It'd been more than three years since Diane died and you still couldn't let her go. I guess I decided I couldn't fight a ghost anymore."
"So that's why you went to Mic?"
"Part of it. I didn't want to spend my life alone. I was so sick of being alone, and when you turned me away...I don't know. I guess I gave up on us."
"I'm sorry, Mac. I never meant to hurt you."
She turned her body, angling toward him to get a better look at his face.
"I've never asked you this before, but what did you mean?"
"By not yet?"
"Yeah."
It was his turn to think about choices and consequences, and Mac gave him time, knowing it wasn't always easy to find the right words and then arrange them in a manner that would make some kind of coherent sense.
"I didn't mean it the way you took it, I can tell you that."
"So I gather."
His faint grin was sardonic, but he quickly turned serious again.
"Mac, even then I knew that there was the potential for something special between us, something few people are lucky enough to find. My 'not yet' didn't actually have anything at all to do with Diane. You'd banished her a long time before that trip."
"Then what was it?"
"I just... didn't want ambiance to be the reason we started something serious. I didn't want an ephemeral affair in the golden sun down under. I wanted more than that. I still do."
"Wow." It wasn't much, but it was the best she could manage just then. Harm seemed to understand, though, because his hold on her hand tightened again, and he reached across to tuck a stray hair behind her ear.
"Yeah. I think it was a perfect example of total communication meltdown."
"What a mess we both made. I ended up with Mic. You found Renee..."
"And neither person was right for us."
"No. They weren't. They would have been great for each other, though."
Harm laughed.
"You noticed that, too?"
"Yeah. Kind of an odd thing to notice, isn't it? I mean there I was, engaged to Mic, and I couldn't stop thinking what a perfect match he'd be for Renee."
They shared a grin before Harm turned serious again.
"That brings us to the next mistake."
"Which was?"
"The night Brumby left."
"We talked about that last night, remember?"
"I know, I just thought we should include it as one of our bends in the road."
"Well, it was that."
Harm started the car back up as the ferry bumped into the dock, and they waited their turn in companionable silence. Soon they were back on the highway, speeding toward Seattle in surprisingly light traffic, and Mac decided it was time to pick up the thread of their conversation.
"I think the next one was mine."
A gently raised eyebrow was his only response, so Mac took a deep breath and plunged in.
"The Guadalcanal."
"Mac, I think that was another time when we both screwed up."
"Maybe, but I think I did the most damage. I couldn't sit still long enough to hear what you had to say. I was just so... mixed up. I only knew that there was no way I was going to fight Renee for you."
"I wish you had stayed around to listen to my answer."
"Your answer?"
"You asked me if I'd be willing to give up Renee for you."
"I remember. You hemmed and hawed and I finally got fed up and left."
"Just in time to miss my reply."
"What did you say?"
He glanced over at her, catching her eye for an instant before directing his attention back to the road. His answer, delivered in a low voice, made her wish she could turn back the clock.
"I said I would. I would have given her up."
Mac caught her breath. A split second decision, made in a moment of absolute frustration and pain, had cost her years. She shook her head at her folly. Sometimes she hated that penchant she seemed to have acquired for always seeing the worst in him.
"I'm sorry," she said, her voice simultaneously sad and sincere. "I didn't know."
"I realize that. It's ok, Mac. It's behind us now."
"Is it?"
"What do you mean?"
"Think about it, Harm. How many times have we done this? How many times have we screwed things up? What makes us so sure we can get it right this time?"
He didn't answer her. Instead, he checked his mirrors and then pulled off the highway, coming to a stop on the shoulder. He put the car in park and turned to her, his expression serious.
"This time is different, Mac."
"How? How is it different? It's still you. It's still me. We're both just as hard-headed now as we ever were."
Her voice rose slightly despite herself. The thought of losing him tore at her, causing a faint tinge of fear to edge her words. Harm, however, seemed totally unaffected. He merely reached for her hands and waited for her to run out of steam.
"It's different because this time we know we love each other."
That stopped her tirade mid-thought. He was right. Before, they'd each been living their lives as individuals. Now, they were two parts of a couple, and somehow that simple fact changed things immeasurably. She took a deep breath and offered him a smile.
"You've got a point there."
His lips twitched.
"You think?" he asked.
"Don't go getting cocky. It's just one point."
"Hey. One point is still one point. I'll take it."
"Good. Now. Think you can get this thing moving again?"
"I suppose, but you'll have to pay the toll." His smile was wider now, almost wolfish.
"Toll?"
He leaned towards her, his intentions clear, and Mac felt her heart skip a beat even as her mouth curved into a smile. She met him halfway, accepting the gentle caress and returning it with one of her own. Then he sat back, shifted the car into gear, and began to whistle "Anchors Aweigh" as he merged back into the traffic. Mac relaxed into her seat for the rest of the drive, content to let the remaining miles pass in shared silence.
0310 Zulu (1910 Local)
The Edgewater Hotel
Seattle, Washington
When Harm pulled up in front of the hotel, Mac couldn't suppress a gasp of awe. The Edgewater was beautiful, located right on the waterfront, and obviously very high class.
"Harm? Are you sure about this?"
He smiled gently at her, his eyes warm.
"I've never been more sure of anything in my life."
The valet opened her door, and she stepped out onto the walk, waiting patiently while Harm handed over the keys, collected their duffle bags, and came to her side.
"You ready?"
"You knew I'd cave, didn't you?"
"What do you mean?" He had that innocent kid look about him again, and Mac folded her arms and spread her feet shoulder width apart, refusing to take another step until she got some answers.
"You had to have made a reservation, or we wouldn't be here."
"What can I say?" He shrugged his shoulders and offered a crooked grin. "I'm an optimist?"
"Harm, this place must cost a fortune!"
"I happen to think you're worth it." His voice, low and rough, sent a tremor up her spine. He grinned suddenly, and tapped her lightly on the nose. "Don't worry, though. Your virtue is safe. At least, it is as long as you want it to be." His predatory grin made her laugh.
He gestured toward the door, drawing her attention to the uniformed attendant who patiently held it open for them, and with a roll of her eyes and a shake of the head, she gave in. One thing she'd learned in her years of knowing Harm. Some battles just weren't worth fighting.
They approached the registration desk side by side, Harm still carrying both duffle bags, despite a halfhearted attempt on Mac's part to get hers back.
"May I help you, Sir?"
The clerk's voice distracted Mac from the bay view, and she turned her attention to the pretty girl on the other side of the counter who was all but swooning over Harm. Feeling suddenly proprietary, she linked her arm through his, and earned herself a raised eyebrow and a grin in response.
"Harmon Rabb Junior. I have a reservation."
The clerk took her dewy eyes off of him long enough to type a few words into her computer.
"Here it is. Two rooms, right?"
"One," said Mac, firmly. "We don't really need two rooms, do we, dear?" She batted her eyelashes at Harm, and had the perverse pleasure of watching him swallow painfully before he answered.
"Are you sure, Mac?"
She dropped the pretense, her voice soft and serious.
"I've never been more sure of anything in my life." She gave his words back to him, and knew that he recognized her comment for what it was, a commitment, a promise, a gift of her faith and trust. Her eyes locked on his, and everything else faded away, replaced for those few seconds by the absolute certainty that they were the only two people on the planet.
"Sir?"
Harm started slightly at the clerk's voice, and Mac allowed herself a small satisfied smile as he turned back to the star struck girl.
"Yes?"
"If you'll just sign here, please? And I'll need your credit card."
"Oh. Right." He reached into his pocket and handed over the small piece of plastic, then scribbled his name and accepted the pass card the clerk handed to him.
"You're in room 447. Take the elevator to the fourth floor. Turn right. Your room is the third one on the left."
"Bay view?"
"As you requested, Sir." The clerk's smile was bright, if a little whimsical, and Mac couldn't help the joy that whispered through her at the knowledge that Harm belonged to her. She felt the clerk's green eyes follow them all the way to the elevator, felt Harm's proprietary touch on her lower back as they moved, and knew a happiness that she gathered in close to her heart.
Their room was beautiful, decorated in a subtle nautical theme that Mac knew Harm would appreciate. She moved across to the window and pulled the curtains open, stunned at the vista that opened up before her. The hotel was positioned so that from where she stood, it looked for all the world like they were floating on water, and for a few moments, she simply stood and watched the boats, big and small, as they wandered across the bay. The sun was setting in another spectacular display that reminded her of the prior night's visit to Deception Pass and she couldn't help thinking that this time of day would always make her think of Harm.
He came to stand behind her then, sliding his arms around her waist and pulling her back against the firmness of his lean body while he dropped his head to nuzzle her neck. She looked down at his strong forearms where they rested just below her breasts, and caught her breath at the intimate contact that was both just right and somehow not enough. His low voice at her ear, accompanied by the tiniest nibble of her earlobe, convinced her that until this moment she'd never really been touched by a man.
"Are you okay with this, Mac?"
"It was my idea, as I recall." She tilted her head, giving him better access, fully aware that the huskiness of her voice communicated more effectively then the words themselves ever could.
"Yes, but you were just marking your territory. I won't hold you to it." He nuzzled a particularly sensitive spot just behind her ear, and she shivered, causing his arms to tighten around her in response.
She twisted around to look up at him, only mildly abashed.
"You saw that, huh?"
"You weren't exactly subtle, Mac." His lips quirked with masculine humor, and she suspected she'd inadvertently given his pride a boost it didn't really need.
"Neither was she."
"To be honest, I didn't notice." He dropped a feather light kiss at her temple, and one of his hands started to wander lazily up her back, tracing the contour of her spine.
She didn't believe him, and her expression must have given that away because he chuckled low in his throat.
"There's only one woman I notice, Mac. It's been that way for a long time."
"Oh really?" Her voice had dropped, deepening to something just shy of sultry, and she reached up to trace the v-neck of his shirt, careful to avoid skin to skin contact, certain she would go up in flames if, no...when, she crossed the line, because she had every intention of crossing that line with him tonight, of finally giving in to the desire that had plagued her for years.
"Really." He anchored her to him with one arm and buried his other hand in the silky strands of her hair, then dropped his head to taste the spot where her shoulder met her neck. In response, she tugged at the back of his shirt, freeing it so that she could reach bare skin, then moaned in pleasure at the delightful feel of his muscled torso beneath her palm. A surge of feminine satisfaction curled through her when he shuddered and drew in a ragged breath.
"Mac." His voice, low and husky, rumbled delightfully in her ear.
"Hmmm?"
"If we don't stop this, I can't guarantee you'll get dinner."
"That'd be bad, wouldn't it."
"Probably."
"Hmm..." she said again, though she wasn't feeling particularly concerned at the moment.
Harm brought his hand around to cradle her cheek, then tilted her face so that he could see her eyes.
"Mac..."
"Has anybody ever told you that you talk too much?" she asked, though her voice sounded uneven to her own ears. "Wouldn't you rather kiss me?"
**** To be continued...****
Look for part 4 on Friday night at 0200 Zulu.
AN: O.K., I know that was a cliffhanger, and I know you're not happy with me right now. It's not my fault. Melissa swears to me (though her grin was a bit on the evil side) that this was the only logical place to put the break. Never fear, the next part will post on schedule. I've even made contingency plans in case my Internet connection goes on strike again.