As he parked outside his apartment several hours later, Harm was still oblivious to the conversation that had taken place in Mac's office. Not that he would have had much to add to the conversation right at that moment as he manoeuvred his SUV into its space. Despite the light steering on the car he was having problems, his lips clamped together in a thin line as he concentrated on turning the wheel. Getting it roughly into position he gave up, turning off the engine before reaching awkwardly across to open the door.

Driving to the hospital that morning, he'd managed to convince himself that being taken off duty was only a minor setback. His appointment at the hospital the day before hadn't turned out to be so bad. He hadn't enjoyed sitting through all the tests they'd run, but it had given him a chance to think. A week away for the office had its benefits; he still had some of the files from the Robinson case and now he'd have time to work through them. He could handle the doctors and the Admiral; he just needed to let them have their say, at least for a while. And Mac… He wasn't sure what he was going to say to her but he was sure he could sort it out. They always patched up their differences eventually.

Now, several hours later, his mood had swung completely the other way. With his head down as he walked across to his apartment block, he didn't notice there was another car parked outside. Walking from his car to his apartment door he was oblivious to his surroundings and he had the key in his front door before he actually realised he wasn't alone. Glancing over his shoulder he didn't acknowledge his visitor before looking away. Unlocking the door, he opened it and went in, leaving it open behind him.

Throwing his keys on the breakfast bar he waited, his back to the door. For a moment there was silence, the lack of noise tugging painfully at his already over-stretched nerves. When the door finally banged shut he turned around slowly, an impassive expression carefully fixed on his face.

"Checking up on me?"

Standing just inside the door, Sturgis wore an equally impassive expression. Still dressed in his uniform, his arms were folded across his chest, his feet planted slightly apart on the floor. His body language spoke volumes.

He shrugged. "I was passing."

Pushing himself away from the breakfast bar, Harm registered the flicker of guilt in his friend's dark eyes that belied his words but didn't call him on it. Even to his exhausted mind it was obvious why Sturgis was there. Now all he had to figure out was the quickest way to get rid of him. Turning his back on the other man he headed for the couch, unable to stifle a tired sigh as his body sunk into the cushions. Awkwardly shrugging off his jacket, he laid it across the arm of the couch before leaning back and closing his eyes.

"I went, okay?" he replied quietly, not caring if Sturgis could hear him or not. "And I'm signed off active duty for at least a month, maybe longer. Go report that to the Admiral."

"Harm." Opening his eyes Harm found Sturgis standing in front of him, frowning. "We're worried about you."

With a bitter snort, Harm closed his eyes again. "Yeah. Thanks."

"Harm-"

"Sturgis." With an effort Harm opened his eyes again. His tired mind registered the genuine look of concern on his friend's face but he couldn't find the energy to care. "I don't care if you're worried," he threw back, letting loose some of his frustration and anger. "I was doing fine on my own. Then people started interfering. Go back and tell them whatever you want. Just don't expect me to care about it."

For a second he thought he'd won. Sturgis looked surprised, angry and worried all in a split second. But then his shoulders straightened again. "You don't mean that."

With a heavy sigh Harm admitted defeat. "No, I don't." Sagging back into the couch he threw Sturgis a warning glare before closing his eyes again. "I don't need a babysitter though."

He felt the couch beside him dip as Sturgis sat down. "Do I look like a babysitter?"

"No."

"I rest my case."

They both fell silent, an unspoken truce settling over them. As the minutes passed Harm felt his eyelids growing heavier, sleep nudging at the edge of his consciousness. He wasn't surprised; since the shooting he hadn't slept well unless someone was with him. But he doubted even sleep would help him escape the feeling of despair that had been growing since he'd left the hospital. He was desperate to try though. Listening to his breathing gradually even out, his body grew heavier as his aching muscles relaxed.

"You need to talk to Mac."

Sturgis' voice was quiet, almost gentle as if he too could sense how precious the moment was. There was no mistaking though the determined note in his tone. Harm didn't reply, holding onto the last few seconds of peace. He could guess how the rest of the conversation would go. And there were certain truths that he wasn't ready to say out loud, not yet.

"She's worried about you."

Taking a long, deep breath he opened his eyes. Glancing left he found Sturgis leaning back in the couch, staring up at the ceiling. Taking the hint he did the same, the lack of eye contact giving them some distance from each other.

"She blames herself."

She shouldn't, Harm thought to himself, repeating the words out loud when he realised Sturgis was waiting for some sort of reaction. There was a pause and Harm could picture his friend frowning but he didn't look. A sick feeling of guilt was stirring in the pit of his stomach, one more negative emotion to add to the phalanx of others that were already starting to encroach again on his thoughts.

"Tell her that." Oblivious, Sturgis was still talking.

Harm shook his head, closing his eyes against the idea. "I can't."

"Why not?" Sturgis' confusion had been replaced with frustration.

"Because…" How could he explain it to Sturgis? The feelings went so deep, he couldn't form words to explain them. It was like he was standing in the middle of a maze. Logically he knew that he had got there somehow, and somewhere there must be a route out. But there were so many paths to choose from and they were all vying for his attention, each one promising him a way out. He kept finding himself on the wrong path, more confused and tired each time. Mac, the Admiral, Sturgis; they all wanted something from him. And then there was Robinson, the dead man invading his dreams every night, graphically reminding him that he'd made the wrong choice when he'd chosen to ignore the man's plea for help. He could hear Robinson now, could see Chief Petty Officer Shayler pointing his gun at them, his gloating face reminding him how badly he'd screwed up…

"Harm?"

Blinking, he focused on the room. Sturgis was crouched in front of him, their faces only inches apart. He opened his mouth to say something else but Harm cut him off, waving him away. As Sturgis backed off, using a coffee table to sit on instead of the couch Harm tried to get his thoughts together.

"It's not that I don't want to talk to her," he explained, pretending to pick the conversation back up as though the previous moments hadn't happened. "I just…can't." Swallowing hard he struggled to find the words. "She went to the Admiral, Sturgis."

Shaking his head, Sturgis looked ready to argue. "You gave her no choice."

No, his conscience reminded him, he hadn't given her a choice at all. But now one of his choices, one of the biggest choices of his life, might be about to be taken away. And no matter how much he accepted it wasn't Mac's fault it was still a bitter pill to swallow. Leaning his elbows on his knees he rubbed his eyes tiredly. He was going to have to tell someone eventually. Now was as good a time as any.

"I don't think I'm going to pass the flight medical, Sturgis."

Sturgis' expression softened but his tone was still determined. "You don't know that yet."

Taking a shaky breath, Harm voiced the words he'd been testing out in his head all morning. "Yes I do." His meeting with the doctors that morning hadn't gone well at all. They'd broken their verdict on his flight status to him gently but it had been like a blow to the gut. After the first few minutes he hadn't been able to take in their words at all.

Saying the words out loud to Sturgis wasn't any easier. Unable to meet his friend's gaze he stared at the floor, praying that Sturgis wouldn't reply with an empty platitude or words of sympathy. He wouldn't be able to handle that. When he finally risked a glance upwards he berated himself for having so little faith in his friend. Yes, there was sympathy in his dark eyes too but there was understanding too.

"What did they say?"

Sturgis had adopted the business-like tone he used in the courtroom and Harm gratefully followed his lead. "What I'd already guessed," he admitted, unconsciously rubbing his injured shoulder as he spoke. "Flying F-14s off a carrier is tough on your body. I'm not as young as I used to be. And, as the doctors pointed out, I can't seem to stay out of trouble."

Sturgis nodded, his lips quirking upwards at the last statement. "They're right, you can't." His expression turned serious again. "You'll still be able to fly though?"

"Yes." But not F-14s, his mind screamed at him.

His friend nodded again, obviously thinking everything over. "I'm sorry, Harm," he said eventually, meeting his gaze and holding it. "I know it means a lot to you. And I know you don't want to hear this right now but, for what's it worth, you're a good lawyer too. Don't forget that."

Try explaining that to Robinson's family, Harm thought but bit the words back. He was too tired to argue and he knew that once started, it was an argument that Sturgis wouldn't be prepared to drop. Instead he nodded, concentrating on massaging his aching shoulder instead.

Sturgis watched him for a moment then rose, wandering over to the window his back to the room. Harm waited, taking the chance to find a more comfortable position while Sturgis wasn't looking. He was just stretching out his long legs in front of him to ease the pressure on his injured side when Sturgis turned back round.

His expression was pensive. "You're going to have to tell her."

Shocked, Harm sat up straight again, ignoring the accompanying stab of pain. "No!"

"You have to."

"No. "Pushing himself off the couch, Harm headed for the kitchen, putting distance between himself and the argument. If it had been this hard to tell Sturgis how the hell was he supposed to tell Mac?

"You have to." Insistent, Sturgis had followed him. Now they were stood on opposite sides of the breakfast bar, Harm staring down at the top, Sturgis leaning forward trying to catch his eye. "Think about it. How is she going to feel when she finds out you haven't told her? She already thinks you don't trust her-"

Stung by his friend's words Harm looked up. "She told you that?"

"I read between the lines."

Harm swallowed against the lump that had unexpectedly appeared in his throat. Of course he trusted Mac. She was always there when he needed her. She backed him up on cases when other people wouldn't. She'd gone to Russia with him to search for his father and she'd been with him in the hospital emergency room after the shooting. His memory of her holding his hand was crystal clear.

"I do trust her."

"But?"

Rubbing his face with both hands, he tried to find the right words. "All my life I've wanted to be a pilot. Mac of all people knows what it means to me. She knew what might happen if she went to the Admiral-"

Sturgis jumped in. "But-"

Harm held up his hand. "I know, she had no choice. I understand that."

"So tell her that!" The frustration he was feeling was evident in Sturgis' tone. "She understands why you're upset. But you have to talk to her, buddy. You're not the only one having problems here. She needs-"

Harm turned away, effectively cutting his friend off. "I can't," he whispered, the overwhelming feeling of guilt robbing his voice of its strength. "Not yet." He could feel Sturgis' eyes boring into his back but he didn't turn around. He'd told Sturgis the truth. The knowledge that he would probably never fly another jet again was too painful, too raw. Mac had a way of making him face his demons and he had his fair share of those right now. He couldn't talk to her, not yet.

He heard a sigh as Sturgis walked around the breakfast bar to stand behind him. "Okay, don't tell her yet. But you're going to have to and soon. She deserves better from you."

His shoulders slumped, Harm turned to face him. "I know."

Sturgis examined him for a moment, frowning at what he saw. Finally he nodded. "Hang in there, buddy. It will get better."

Harm dragged up a weak smile. "Promise?"

His smile was matched, before Sturgis turned serious again. "They won't discharge you from the Navy or JAG. Remember that."

As much as he wanted to believe him, Harm couldn't, his demons about the Robinson case looming large. He'd screwed up. A man was dead. Was he the kind of lawyer JAG needed? Something of what he was thinking must have shown on his face because Sturgis suddenly frowned again. He turned away, trying to compose himself but his friend was already talking.

"There's something else, isn't there?" Sturgis was studying his face again, his dark eyes not missing anything. "Mac said there was something else going on that she didn't understand."

Mac wasn't the only one who knew how to make him face his demons Harm remembered suddenly, as the bitter taste of bile filled his throat. "Don't you think being shot and loosing my wings is enough?" he spat back, pushing past Sturgis to stand in the middle of the room. Sturgis didn't reply, just standing quietly watching him. Unable to stand still, Harm paced around the living area, coming to a nervous halt by the couch.

"Harm. You need to talk to someone."

It was the compassion in his friend's voice that nearly undid him. Swallowing hard, Harm forced his voice not to waver. "I'm talking to you."

"Not about what matters."

He'd always admired his friend's ability to cross-examine in the courtroom. Now he felt like a cornered animal. "Suddenly you're an expert?"

His aggressive tone didn't deter Sturgis. "This has got something to do with Robinson, hasn't it?"

"Of course n-"

"What happened to Robinson wasn't your fault."

Compassion again. Barely in control of his emotions, Harm strode to the door and opened it. "I don't need your help, Sturgis. And you can go back and tell the others I don't need their help either."

Reluctantly, his friend took the hint. He paused in the doorway, as if about to say something but apparently changed his mind. As the echo of his footsteps in the hallway faded away, Harm closed the door. Leaning forwards he rested his forehead on the smooth, cool surface and forced himself to breathe slowly.

He'd taken the wrong route again, screwing things up instead of making them right. A wave of guilt washed over him as he remembered the look on Sturgis' face as he'd walked out. And Mac… With a grunt of pain, he pushed himself away from the door. What was he supposed to do now? Dragging his fingers through his hair, he sat down at his desk and tried to get his thoughts together.

His mind kept bombarding him with problems. There were problems - like the loss of his flight status - that he didn't want to face. And then there was the problem of what to say to Sturgis and Mac, to make everything right, which he just didn't have the energy to solve. Instead he concentrated on a problem he could do something about – Robinson.

Sturgis had been right about one thing, he decided half an hour later, as he began scribbling down notes. He did still have a career at JAG - assuming they'd still want him once they found out how badly he'd handled the Robinson case. It was the one thing that was still under his control.

Reaching under his desk he retrieved his briefcase. The day before the Admiral had confiscated all the files for the current case he'd been working on. But he still had the paperwork that he'd copied from the Robinson files. Flicking through it he found the information he needed: the names and contact details of three of Robinson's colleagues.

Folding up the piece of paper with the names on it, he retrieved his jacket from the couch and tucked the paper in one of the pockets. Shrugging it on, he grabbed his car keys and headed for the door.