Before Chapter VII, a jag fanfic

[ A/N ]: I just realized I've been alternating from Canadian/British spelling to American (yes, colour with a 'u'.)

So if you see this around the fic, please excuse the idiocy, I just wanted to assure you I'm not some weird hybrid who uses both versions of the word, I'm actually Canadian, eh? It is only in this chapter that I started spelling "honor" without the 'u'. It's just been bothering me, I'll try to fix the earlier chapters later. (Honor, still looks weird to me.)

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"Defense counsel would like to request a continuance," I say

Alan Mattoni, who sits a mere two meters away from me, looks at me in disbelief, and then back at Bud, his co-counsel, for support, "Your honor, I don't think that's necessary. Defense is just procrastinating, they have all information that's available to them in their files. I don't see how one day could get them anything of importance—"

Harm stands up, "Your honor, we need to reassess the crime scene reports."

Judge Mary Patton, a middle aged woman who recently transferred from Delaware, looks at Harm over her wire-rimmed glasses, "Counselors, back room, now."

Harm follows Patton quickly, and I'm about to go too, when Larson grabs my arm, "Ma'am?" His voice is filled with so much desperation, I hesitate.

"Don't worry, Petty Officer. Commander Rabb and I just need to look things over one more time. We'll talk to you in a moment." I nearly have to pry myself from his grasp, but I finally meet the others in the back.

"Commander, this had better be good."

"It is, Ma'am. The Colonel and I have reason to believe that Petty Officer Larson has been withholding some information…"

Mattoni rolls his eyes, "You should have cleared that with him before."

"Yes, but this information is imperative to the case. We have reason to believe that someone tampered with the crime scene," Harm says. We never discussed it like that last night, but Harm's approach seems to be getting to Patton.

Judge Patton sighs, "Alright, 24 hours of continuance. We go on tomorrow, regardless of what you do or do not have, is that clear?"

I didn't expect her to acquiesce to easily. I hope I get her during my cases more often, "Yes, your honor." Harm looks about ready to kiss her, and gives a grateful smile.

Outside in the courtroom, we clear up. Harm takes his briefcase and hisses to Larson, "In my office, now, Petty Officer."

"What is it, Sir?"

We're walking towards the bullpen, and trailing behind us are two more officers, supposedly present to keep Larson in check.

Outside Harm's office, I ask the two men to wait outside, and they hesitantly agree. When in, Larson sits down in the chair and Harm shoots his questions at him, "Rossi did not come at you with the knife, did he?"

Larson's mouth hangs open for a moment, "No! He came at me! I swear to God, I'm not lying."

Harm comes beside me, "Even if he's telling the truth, our job is twice as difficult, Mattoni probably knew about this the moment he got the case."

I stand in front of Larson, trying to be as intimidating as possible, "You have withheld way too much information on this investigation, and frankly, I'm getting tired of it. If you want the Commander and I to do our jobs well, you need to tell us everything now!"

"Ma'am, that was not a lie," Larson says.

I arch my eyebrow, "I don't know if I should believe you, but…you say you shot Rossi because you believed you were in danger. How did the knife get to the other side of the warehouse?"

"I don't know. It was near him after I shot him!"

I turn my focus back to Harm, "If we lose the court martial, the best we can do is get his sentence down to 15 years…maybe a bit less if Alan is feeling generous. Let's go talk to Mattoni, Harm. We have no way of knowing how that knife got there."

Harm stops me, "No, Mac. What if Alan slipped by it, like us."

"But if he does know, he'll get it out in the open and we're finished. The judge will think the Petty Officer is a liar and a murderer."

Larson clears his throat, "I agree with the Colonel, Sir."

Harm looks at Larson, raw determination writ on his face, "We're getting on the phone with the Italian authorities. If you knew Rossi had that knife, Petty Officer, we're going to make sure that Judge Patton knows it too."

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"Lieutenant De Luca? I need to talk to you about the crime scene reports," I say into the receiver of the phone that is perched precariously on my right shoulder.

"Of course, Colonel."

I recap to him what Larson told us, and he too, seems baffled. I ask him who filled out the crime reports, and he says an officer under him. I say I want to speak to the man, but De Luca assures me that the man cannot speak English.

With an exasperated sigh, I ask, "Do you have any idea what may have happened to the knife?"

"Not at all. I'll ask around here, perhaps my team will have some ideas. I'll get back to you soon, Colonel."

"We need the results by tomorrow."

He agrees he'll do everything possible to help us, and I hang the phone up with a thank you. The moment it goes down, it rings again, and I bring it to my ear with a groan, "Mackenzie?"

"Sarah?" It's Clay.

I stiffen in my chair, "Yes?"

"I…I have some information about your case. I had to pull a few strings, but I can give it to you now."

I ready my notepaper, a bit disappointed that he didn't call to beg for me to take him back, like in the movies, "What is it?"

"The Agency was staking out the docks area near Naples, we found out Rossi was selling a massive amount of heroine in that area. One of ours started his post near the warehouse around ten, the night of the murder."

I furrow my brow, "That's at least an hour after Larson says he shot Rossi…"

"Yes, but they saw someone going in…"

"Who?"

"Carlo De Luca."

I freeze, the man who was supposedly helping us all this time was working behind our backs, "How do you know it's him."

"Freeman was the guy at the post," I smile, the guy seems omnipresent, "When you went to see Durcell and got out of your car, Jake says he saw De Luca in the backseat with you and Rabb. He only ID'd him right now."

"Thank you, Clay."

There's a pause, "You're welcome, Sarah."

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Harm has his arms crossed and is looking at the floor, "We need to get him here, now."

"I know…the Admiral. He can call the Italians, tell them of our situation."

Harm nods, and we make the way to Chegwidden's office. Coates gets us in with relatively little delay, and once inside, Harm gets right to the chase.

"How the hell did this happen?" Chegwidden says, looking up at the roof in exasperation, "Dismissed Colonel, Commander. Hopefully, that back stabber will be in here tomorrow afternoon."

I nod and whirl quickly on my heel, getting out of Chegwidden's way as quickly as possible.

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1734 ZULU

Sarah Mackenzie's Apartment

De Luca is currently on a plane to Dulles, and the court martial date has been pushed back two days. We have one day to interview him, assuming he gets here on time tomorrow. We'll meet him at the office around 1200; it seems he had to be forced to get on the plane. The man's looking guiltier with each passing moment.

"Why is this case so important to us…" I say, leaning forward on the couch and taking a sip of water from my bottle. I'm not singling out Harm, because I find that I too am working double time on Larson's dilemma.

Harm shrugs and looks at me, "Because…it hurts. Larson and Harper, they had so much ahead of them, now look."

I nod and find my gaze drifting towards a picture of Clay and I on my side table that I haven't put away yet. Harm's eyes have darkened, and he looks quite taken by the floor of my apartment.

He runs his fingers through his hair and whispers, "I'm glad that we worked this out."

"Me too." It doesn't take a genius to know he's referring to Paraguay.

"You know Mac, I could stand you leaving JAG, because I knew we'd still talk, keep in contact." He's thinking back to my Dalton days, "but now, I was just thinking how if we just saw each other everyday, and weren't able to stay in the same room together without feeling awkward, it would just…tear me up inside."

I nod and bite on my bottom lip, "I feel the same way, Harm. Please don't even forget that. Don't ever doubt my feelings for you." I put my hand over his, which has been resting for quite some time, stagnant on the couch between us.

He looks me and nods with a faint smile and sighs contentedly. I make no move to take my hand away, and he makes no indication that he's uncomfortable, so I let the stillness wash over us.

I decide to tell him, "Clay broke up with me yesterday."

Harm's hand twitches under mine, "He broke up with you?" I can't help but smile at this comment, "Is that why you came over to work on the case?"

I nod and close my eyes, tipping my head back slightly.

"Did he say why?"

I shake my head lazily, "It's not important." He doesn't question it any further.

My lips curve up, "It's funny. I seem to be a bit too indifferent about this dump, huh?"

Harm shakes his head, "In Italy, you didn't know if you loved him. I guess this tells you the answer. If there were no feelings to begin with, it isn't hard to make room for new ones, for the next man in your life." Harm grins, "Wherever the guy is, he should know he's a lucky bastard."

I take in a deep breath and sit up, "I think I know where he is."

Harm doesn't say anything. Instead, he twiddles with the top button on his shirt with his free hand, and after a moment, casually says, "Where?"

I put my water to my desk slowly, "It's hard to know exactly. I've seen him on aircraft carriers, and fighting battles."

"Colonel Farrow?" Harm asks quietly.

"I don't think John's ever flown in a tomcat," I say much more confidently than I feel.

Harm is silent. He pulls his hand out from underneath mine. My initial reaction is one of total and utter despair: he's rejected me again, all because of my idiotic behaviour in Paraguay. I struggle to fight back tears, but I promise myself I won't let any fall.

"I'm sorry Harm, I had no right," I try to catch his eye, but he just looks at his hands, "God."

I'm about to bring my hand to my face, to brush away some hair when he captures it in his own, "Don't be?"

"Okay," I say hesitantly, feeling a bit stupid at my simplistic response.

He moves in a bit closer so that I can feel his breath on my face. I freeze and realize he's just staring, blinking occasionally. He furrows his brow when I don't do anything and his grasp on my hand loosens slightly.

After a moment of gathering my thoughts, I forget Clay, my job, and all the possible repercussions of having a relationship with this man when I move in to kiss him. He hesitates, and I nearly pull away before I feel his hands on the small of my back. Harm pulls me closer, protectively, almost possessively, and I'm sure as hell not complaining. He pulls back slowly, examining my face as if to say 'are you sure'.

I don't dignify his uncertainty with a response, and merely put my arms around his neck and brush my hands at the collar of Harm's shirt, feeling the warm, clean material under the pads of my fingers. His shirt doesn't feel foreign, it feels just right.

I break the kiss and let my hands cradle his face gently, "I'm so sorry, Harm. About everything I said."

"You said that already in Naples, and I said it's alright."

"I want to say it again," I whisper, "and it wasn't."

He nods distractedly and moves in for another kiss, his fingers sneakily pushing my shirt up. I smile against his lips and let the tips of my fingers skim against his hair from the back of his neck, nearly, but not quite letting all my problems wash away.

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END CHAPTER VII