Judge Patton seems to have a little idiosyncrasy that I've noticed. She pushes her glasses up her nose every fifteen minutes in the least; particularly when she has something to say, and now she's doing it again.

She's announcing her decision. "I've reached a verdict. Would the defense please rise?" I get up, patting Larson on the arm reassuringly, "This court finds that there is no need for the for anything beyond this court martial, and that Petty Officer Larson shot Mr. Benito Rossi purely out of self-defense. I ask though, that the Petty Officer see someone about the trauma he went through and the loss he endured before he returns to active duty. This court is adjourned." She slams her gavel down.

"Congratulations, Petty Officer," I say, shaking Larson's hand. Harm follows in suit.

Larson gives a shaky smile. "Thank you so much, Ma'am, Sir. You're both great lawyers…"

"Are you going to see someone, like Judge Patton said?" Harm asks.

Larson looks down. "I think I will, Sir."

Larson salutes us and we do the same. He leaves the court room confidently, but holding back tears that will inevitably be shed later today. The man was not given proper time to mourn the loss of Harper – all he had was a few days in a six-by-six jail cell.

I close up my briefcase as Alan congratulates us. After a moment, I get up and see Harm is still sitting at his chair.

"We won."

I come beside him and pat his arm awkwardly, afraid someone might see us. I know it sounds stupid, but after last night, it seems that everyone is watching us. "Yeah…we did."

The now empty courtroom echoes when he steps towards the exit. Outside the courtroom, the Admiral greets us, "What took you so long?"

"Nothing, Sir," I say.

"You were there?" Harm asks.

Chegwidden crosses his arms. "You were good out there, both of you."

I smile. "Thank you, Sir."

He nods and turns around curtly. As we walk towards the bullpen, we can hear him barking for Coates. Harm chuckles and trails behind me slowly.

In my office, I sink into my chair with a sigh, "My plate is clean for the weekend. No work."

"Last time I thought that, the Admiral dumped another one on me about three minutes before I was going to leave. Don't get your hopes up," Harm says with a lopsided grin.

"Now, that sounds like someone who does have a truckload of work," I say, arching an eyebrow, "I am going to enjoy myself this weekend."

Harm crosses his arms and leans against the doorjamb. "Who said I had anything planned for the weekend?"

"You don't?"

"Actually, I may. I'm just not sure yet."

"Really? What was it you had in mind," I say, brining my hands in front of me.

He gets in into my office fully and closes the door behind him, "I was hoping you could tell me. See, I know the place, but I'm not sure about the time. Greensborough's?"

I'm jumping for joy like a ten-year-old on the inside, but I retain my composure by swiping some hair behind my ear distractedly. I've gone to the Greensborough's Restaurant once before, and that was with Dalton. I barely got to touch my meal before he had some mysterious stomach illness and we had to go home. He assured me it was just the lobster (of which he had no more than three bites), but I think he got a message from work.

Of course, Harm doesn't know I've been there before, so I give him the benefit of the doubt, "1845 on Saturday seems like a good time to me, depending on who you're going with."

"I think my correspondent will find that acceptable, Colonel. Thanks for your input."

"Anytime, Harm," I say with a smile.

He spins on his heel and walks out. A mere second later, his head pops back in, "Mac, do you think my…correspondent will like me to pick them up around 1820?"

"I don't know," I say, furrowing my brow, "If you came earlier, they'd have to get ready with you there, but if you came later, they would have to be ready before hand."

"Which one do you prefer."

I smile, "Surprise…your correspondent."

"Will do." He doesn't budge from his spot. Instead, he closes the door quietly again.

I get up to meet him. I need to tip my head to view his face and find myself smiling after a moment of looking at him, "You're awfully tall, Commander, and sometimes it bothers me."

"Why's that?"

I reach up and brush my fingers against his jaw line, "Way too much effort for doing things like this."

He leans down a bit and captures my fingers in his hand, "How's this?"

"Better."

"Good."

Our hands drop down when we hear a knock at the door. Sturgis enters carrying a stack of folders. Neither of us makes a move to help him, but stare instead.

"A little help here?" he says with a groan after a moment of standing expectantly.

Harm nearly stumbles when he rushes over to Sturgis and grabs his things. He places it on my desk with a sigh, "What's all this?"

"I have no idea. The Admiral couldn't find Petty Officer Coates, caught me in the hall and told me to deliver these to their respective owners," Sturgis says with a frown. He shuffles through the top of his pile and finds one very thin folder. "Here's yours, Mac."

I sigh with relief, "Thank God. Thought I was going to get all of those – I'm finally getting out this weekend."

"Where?" Sturgis says. He braces himself by putting his arm on the chair across from my desk as he rests a moment to regain his composure.

"Greensborough's," I say without thinking. Harm's eyes shift towards me and I open my mouth to correct my error but nothing comes out.

Sturgis eyes me incredulously and arches and eyebrow, "With Webb? Have a nice time-"

I laugh nervously, knowing quite well I sound like a bumbling idiot, "No. Clay and I broke up."

"Oh, I'm sorry."

"Don't be, she's alright," Harm nearly snaps, crossing his arms in front of him.

Sturgis frowns and looks at Harm skeptically, "I hope you have fun anyway. Now, I've got to deliver all of these – I am the new JAG paperboy after all."

"See you later, Sturgis," I say with a smile.

Once Sturgis exits (after much exertion to carry the files), I turn to Harm and sigh, "I don't know why I'm acting like this. Sorry."

"Don't worry about it," he says softly, "It's just…strangely nice. You don't get a lot of nice around here anymore."

"Tell me about it – but it is pleasant." He crosses his arms again and looks at the floor frugally. Suddenly, I doubt my previous outward confidence, "When you said correspondent, you meant me, right?"

He smiles smugly, "No, I meant that other marine I've known for nine years. Jesus, Mac, for a successful lawyer, sometime you can be so-"

"Alright, I get it," I say with a frown, "Now, if you want this marine of yours to be at Greenborough's in time tomorrow, you'd better give her some time to finish off this nasty report." I hold up the newly acquired folder.

Harm looks over his shoulder through the blinds of my office glass. In two quick strides, he's beside me, and he leans down again much like he did a few minutes ago. He eyes the door one last time before brushing his lips against mine, "Just wanted to test out this height another time."

I can't help but lean upward one last time to press my mouth to his one last time before he heads out the door with a grin. I shake my head to clear my mind after a moment of standing, frozen in place. I know I'm beaming like an idiot, but I don't care.

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1013 ZULU

Sarah Mackenzie's Apartment

"Mac, I've been thinking a lot about Larson lately," Harm says, bringing his hands together in front of him. He's dressed in a leisurely, dark suit with a gray shirt underneath.

I sigh, "Work again?"

"No, it's not the case. Just him. You know, he didn't get the chance to tell someone he loved how he felt."

"We've been over that," I say.

I lean forward from the countertop and go to the refrigerator to grab a drink. Inside, at the front of all of the clutter is a bottle of wine, the dark glass glints ominously in the light, making this particular beverage stand out above all others.

Harm points at it suspiciously, "Wine?"

"Clay left it here."

"He drank in front of you?"

I shrug, "Why, is it such a big deal? He never had more than a couple of glasses," I say, taking the bottle out to show him, "See, still more than half."

"More than half of this bottle." Harm grabs it and pulls out the cork in one swift motion. He goes to the sink, looking at me for consent. I do nothing to stop him, so he pours is out deftly. The dark red liquid spills into the drain quietly and quickly. Harm leaves the empty bottle on the countertop and turns to me again.

"Mac, did you have a nice time tonight?"

"Of course," I say with a nod and a slight smile. Dinner was more wonderful than I could have imagined; perhaps the food's taste was only enhanced by Harm's presence. "Harm, are you alright?"

He wipes his hands on the kitchen towel and folds it back up neatly. His fingers brush up against the countertop and linger there for a moment, as if he's contemplating something, before he turns around.

I retreat from the kitchen to sit on the couch. He flops down beside me, like he has done so many times over the past few weeks, "Just…I don't want to end up like Larson," he says.

I now see where he's going, "Larson is young, he'll find someone else, but I see what you mean. Besides, I don't think you will end up like him."

"How do you know?"

I nod and inch closer to him, "Because…I'm here, now. With you."

He leans in but freezes when his face is a mere two inches from mine. He breathes in and exhales slowly, I can feel his breath brush against my cheeks and tickle my lips, "I love you."

My eyes go wide – I'm speechless. After Paraguay, even with the events of the night two days before, I thought it would take him some more time to open up emotionally.

He hasn't moved from his spot, "I just thought I'd let you know while we're relatively young. I mean, nearly nine years and…nothing. I wanted to do it now, without wheelchairs, canes and I guess I'd regret it forever if we didn't say anything—"

"You're blabbering."

"I know…"

A smile tugs at my lips, and I know I'm torturing him, but I want to savor this moment. I've waited years for this, and I want to remember it, "I love you too, Harm."

We seem to go into a fit of passion as he lunges for my mouth hungrily.

"I love you, Sarah," he whispers repeatedly, in the sparse spots between the kisses as we pull back for air.

As much as I know it's stupid, I laugh out of pure joy after a moment under his relentless show of affection. Tears prick at my eyes and finally fall when I find myself sniffling and smiling at the same time. I wipe away at my eyes with the back of my hand quickly, but he grabs it with his own. I try to pull away, but my hand is firmly secured in the cocoon of his much larger ones.

"What? What's wrong, Mac?" He studies my face.

I find it strangely amusing that he's gone back to 'Mac' from 'Sarah', but I like it. It reminds me that I'm not only his lover right now, but also his friend. Perhaps I'm getting a little bit ahead of myself, considering the title of 'lover' is self-proclaimed.

"Nothing. Everything is great, better than before," I say, wrapping my arms around his neck.

"Yeah." He buries his face in my hair and inhales deeply. "It really is."

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[A/N] That's it folks! Thanks for all the wonderful reviews and encouragement! I hope to be seen around a bit more in the JAG fanfic area - so keep an eye out. Til my next fic...

- Fitzz

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