Disclaimer: As always, I don't own JAG

A/N: I really enjoy the feedback, so keep it coming!

Part 10

It was two days later. Harm hadn't said very much after the talk with the doctor. And the few words he had said were not very pleasant, mostly angry comments to the nurses. He wasn't actually the nurses' favorite at the moment. But the last 24 hours he hadn't been talking at all. He had withdrawn into himself, thinking. What had he done to deserve this? All his plans for the future shattered to pieces two days ago, hell he had no future. He couldn't merry Mac that was sure. He would just be a bother to her, and anyway, being a marine and having a husband in need for constant nursing was as good as mutual exclusive. Of cause he still loved her, but she deserved something better, and she couldn't resign her duties for him. That was no option.

Mac went through his pain with him; he didn't seem to notice it. She had tried to get him to talk, but without success. She had finally fallen asleep in the chair by his bed, and had just woken up a little while ago.

She gently let her hand slide over Harm's cheek and looked him deep into the eyes. "We are getting through this together, you hear me," she whispered. She had no idea how many times she had tried to comfort him and reassuring him that somehow everything would be all right, but it was like talking to a brick wall. He just stared into the roof. The room was silent again.

Suddenly tears started to roll down Harm's cheeks. He slowly turned his head and looked at her; the small movement of his head made him wince in pain, and felt the room started to spin. Sharp pain and dizziness always followed when he tried to move his head. Mac was relieved that there finally was a reaction, but to see him in so much pain tore at her heart. She caressed his cheek. Their tears mixed as she gave him a soft kiss on the spot where her hand just had been.

Almost stifled by sobs he cried out; "but you don't know what it's like to be in constant pain. And how humiliating it is that I can't clean myself and have to use a catheter. I can't even turn around in bed without help, God damn it. I'm fuckin' useless, a damn vegetable." All his built-up anger, frustration and pain came out in one big blast, and Mac was there to take it. She tried to wipe away some of his tears with her sleeve, but it was a futile assignment.

"I know it won't be easy, but we will find a way to deal with this. I love you and will always be there for you. And you are not useless, don't ever say that", Mac again tried to comfort him.

"I love you too, and because I love you so much I want my ring back. You deserve something better than me," Harm's voice was calm and his tears stopped.

Mac couldn't believe what she'd just heard. "You got to be kidding," was her first reaction. Was he really saying what he did? "That's bullshit and you know it. It's your pain and anger talking. I love you, and I'll stay here with you until you realize it. It's you I want to merry, no matter what happens. Period!" She gave him a firm look and carefully put his hand into hers, and made sure that he noticed it.

But Harm was quite insistent about it. He had thought a lot about it lately. "Please don't make it harder for me than it already is. It's the hardest decision I've ever made, but it's for the best, for both of us." He continued. "You don't have to be my helping hand and I don't have to see you waste your life and career because of me. I couldn't take that."

"Give a damn about my career. To get you back on track is the most important thing right now. I'll stay if you want it or not." Mac adjusted her position in the chair and made it clear that she wasn't going anywhere.

"Please go, I don't want you here, Harm made the most of it to sound convincing.

"Could you just put a sock in it? I'll stay, period!" Mac had turned on "Marine mode" and Harm knew that it would be impossible to convince her to leave. Why was she so damn stubborn? Oh God, he loved her so much, but he had to let her go. He had convinced his pain-filled mind that it was for the best, so it had to happen.

"Please don't make this so hard, I'll call the guards if I have to. Don't you realize that it's for the best?" Harm made a last desperate effort to make her go away. His eyes filled with tears once again. "Please!"

- - - - - - - - -

The mood in Harm's hospital room matched the weather outside. Rain was pouring down and Webb got soaking wet as he ran from his car to the office building. He had been in meetings all day. The boss had made sure that he had his hands full, with all kinds of crappy cases. But nevertheless he had made progress in the search for Palmer. He had helping hands now. Of course Benson did whatever Webb told him, so he had got the passenger lists from all potential flights Palmer could have been on. And last night Webb had been sitting in his office studying the lists to long after midnight. He didn't know why, but his gut feeling said that Palmer was one of the passengers on the list in front of him, and he usually trusted his gut feeling. Drops of water dripped down from his wet coat and landed on the list for flight AA397 to Santiago. He already had a man on the case, tracking down and talking to the passengers over the phone. With one foot in the Marine Corps and the other in the CIA, Gunnery sergeant Victor Galindez was the perfect man for the job. The fact that he was of Mexican origin and of cause spoke Spanish was just a bonus. It hadn't taken much persuasion to get him in on it, and a quick phone call with admiral Chegwidden cleared Gunny's schedule for the next weeks. He already had the necessary permits so he started right away. Since Webb officially wasn't on the case, Chegwidden had arranged that the gunny officially never would leave JAG the time it would take to get Palmer. But what he did unofficially was another matter.

- - - - - -

Tracking down the passengers wasn't easy. Not too many of them had left a phone number while ordering the tickets. So Victor had to track the people it would be possible to reach. The list in front of him had around 100 names. He put the phone down and crossed out another name on the list. No one had heard or seen anything out of the ordinary, and now it was only a few names left on the list. Gunny started to think that his work was useless. Palmer probably had a perfect disguise like always, so no matter ho good description he gave of Palmer it wouldn't help. But h really wanted to help and he wasn't a quitter, so he took a deep breath and looked at the next names on the list. An elderly married couple, Marge and James Rutherford, traveling to Santiago to visit their son, who worked for an American shipping company there.

Victor picked up the phone dialed the number that was given. A few seconds later there was a man at the other end of the line, "Rutherford".

"Mr. Rutherford, my name is Gunnery Sergeant Galindez. I'm with the CIA."

"The CIA? We are ordinary people, we haven't done anything wrong." Mr. Rutherford seemed utterly surprised. It' wasn't everyday someone from the CIA called.

"No, you haven't done anything wrong. I'm calling since I understand that you and your wife were passengers on flight AA397 from Washington DC to Santiago early last Wednesday. Is that correct?"

"Yeah, why," Rutherford wondered.

"We believe that a man wanted for an attempted murder was on that flight, and would like to get it confirmed. So I would like to know if you saw someone who, if only remotely, matches this description." Victor continued describing Palmer.

"No, I can't say that. But just wait a minute, I'll get my wife. Maybe she has seen something. She is much better in remembering people than me." Seconds later Mrs. Rutherford was on. Victor sighed and described Palmer for the umpteenth time. And of cause, Ms Rutherford hadn't seen anyone who matched the description.

Mrs. Rutherford found this very fascinating. She and her husband in the middle of a CIA case, she couldn't wait to tell her friends. She wanted to know more.

"What's the wanted mans name, maybe I've heard something," Mrs. Rutherford asked curiously.

"Sorry, that's classified," Victor stated, studying his fingers intensely. This started to get boring.

He gave them his number in case they should remember something and was about to hang up, when Mrs. Rutherford suddenly almost shouted; "wait, I just remembered something. There was a man, a businessman I think. He was talking to a little girl and called himself Clark, but later when he talked to the girl's mother he called himself Edwin. I thought that was strange and pointed it out to you, James, didn't I?" Her husband nodded consenting. "But he didn't look like the man you described though, not at all. He had a lazy eye," Mrs. Rutherford continued.

With that Victor was again fully concentrated, his fingers were suddenly not so interesting anymore, but his voice stayed calm and polite as always. The less these people knew the better. "That's interesting. We'll take it into consideration, and as I said, call if you should remember anything else," Victor said politely. "And I hope you'll understand that this information is classified until the case is closed," he continued, and thereby ruined all the fun for Mrs. Rutherford, who murmured at the other end of the line.

After some polite words Victor said good bye and hung up. He let his finger run over the names on the list. It stopped at one name, Edwin Anderson. Of cause there could be thousand of reasons that this man called himself Clark, and Victor knew that they hadn't got the time and resources to go around half the world after the wrong guy. This had to be Palmer. Victor picked up the phone again and dialed another number. "Webb, I think we maybe have a lead."