Driving around certain areas of Washington at 02:00 hours was not a good idea. Mac knew that even without taking into account the hungry looks that she was attracting as she drove past the young men hanging around the streets. She wasn't in the habit of cruising around in the middle of the night. Sleepless nights were part of her life and normally she could fill the time without leaving the safety of her apartment. Tonight though her common sense had gone missing. She couldn't even remember picking up her car keys and leaving her apartment. But here she was anyway: a couple of blocks away from Union Station.
Pulling over outside Harm's apartment, she turned off the lights and switched off the engine. Her fingers tapping the steering wheel nervously, she scanned the area outside, looking anywhere but at the apartment building in front of her. This was stupid, she told herself again. For normal people this was the middle of the night. Normal people would be asleep. And her partner had looked beat when she'd last seen him earlier that evening. Chewing at her bottom lip she considered her options, trying to inject some Marine logic into her thoughts. Coming to a decision she reached down to turn on the ignition again.
A reflection in her side window caught her eye and instinctively she looked up. There was a light showing in one of the apartment windows: not a bright light, more of a glow. It could be anyone's she told herself even as her gut told her it was Harm's.
So much for Marine logic.
Climbing the stairs to Harm's apartment she kept repeating the same mantra to herself over and over again; this was stupid, really stupid. Waking up Harm in the middle of the night was not something he was going to let her live down. He'd been getting along just fine without her. Worrying about him was asking for trouble - particularly when she had to face him the next day at the office.
Visions of just how embarrassing it would be to face Harm the next morning if she was about to wake him up swam into her mind. Standing outside his front door she faltered as the insanity of the situation hit her full on. And then she knocked anyway.
Head cocked to one side she listened for any signs of life inside the apartment. The building was naturally quiet, even during the daytime. Tonight was no exception and except for the muted sound of traffic outside she got the distinct impression she was alone. This is stupid the voice in her head reminded her, the derision in its tone making her take a step back from the door. On the verge of taking another, she froze as the door opened, and a thin crack of light cut through the darkness in the hallway.
"Mac?"
Harm looked as if he'd seen an apparition, Mac noted vaguely, her limbs still refusing to work. As he stared back at her, naturally expecting her to say something, she finally found her voice. "I was just passing," she offered weakly, cringing inside as the words tumbled out of her mouth.
"At 2am?"
"02:17 actually," her internal clock offered helpfully.
"Right." His sceptical tone had her wishing the floor would open up and swallow her but then his lips quirked up in the ghost of a smile. "You'd better come in then."
Stunned, she watched as he pulled the door wide open and then disappeared from sight. Rousing herself she followed him, closing the door behind her before turning back to watch him pad his way over to the kitchen.
"Sorry about the mess," he offered, unwittingly answering one of the multitude of questions that were invading her mind as her eyes adjusted to the gloom in the apartment. "Haven't had time to clear up yet."
"Sure," she replied distractedly, forcing her feet to move as she surveyed the chaos that was Harm's apartment.
Pulling up a stool, she took a seat at the breakfast bench and tried to tune out the mess around her. She failed. Dirty pans were sitting in the sink; tea rings stained the worktop that Harm usually kept spotlessly clean. A pile of clean laundry was sitting stacked on the floor by the sofa; his cover and uniform overcoat had been left lying on his desk next to his briefcase. Okay, for most people maybe it wasn't that messy she conceded, trying to quell the first stirrings of concern. But for Harm, a man who applied the same military precision to his apartment that he did to his office, it was a disaster area.
The appearance in her field of vision of a cup of tea brought her back to the present. Summoning up a smile of thanks she wrapped her fingers around it, revelling in the warmth before turning her attention back to her partner.
He did look tired she realised, confirming what she'd thought at the office earlier that day. Dark patches under his eyes contrasted with the paleness of his skin. And as he sat down opposite, his own cup of tea in his hand, it struck her how loose the USN sweats he was wearing looked on him.
He still looks better than he did in the hospital the little voice reminded her. An image flashed in front of her, painful in its intensity, and she grabbed the mug tighter, taking a sip out of it to shield her face.
"You okay?"
"Fine," she lied, forcing a smile on her face as she met his look of concern, "Anyway, shouldn't that be my line?" she added, deliberately keeping her tone light.
Suddenly Harm seemed fascinated by the contents of his mug. "I'm okay," he reassured her, his refusal to meet her gaze telling her all she needed to know. "Done nothing but sleep the last couple of weeks," he offered, obviously feeling some need to explain. When he did look up at her a moment later there was a familiar shy, self-depreciating grin on his face and she knew he was about to change the subject. "I've been doing some work on this case the Admiral gave us," he told her, waving at a yellow legal pad and pencil lying on the couch. "You want to take a look?"
Not waiting for an answer he got up and headed for the couch, his tea in one hand. Slowly Mac followed him, trying to evaluate the scene in front of her objectively. Her gut feel had been right earlier that day; the man might not enjoy being cosseted but he obviously wasn't one hundred percent either, despite his protests to the contrary. The evidence around her proved that. The fact that he hadn't bothered to question her appearance at his door in the early hours of the morning worried her even more. Silently cursing ex-fighter jocks with egos the size of Texas who seemed to think they were indestructible she took a seat next to him on the couch and settled down to listen to what he had to say.
An hour and a half later, he'd done nothing to ease her concern. They'd spent the time going over the details with a fine toothcomb, mapping out the shell of their defence case. Certainly Harm had picked up the intricacies of the case with ease but from Harm she'd expected no less. If she was honest, for such a fairly straightforward case, having two such experienced lawyers assigned to it was probably overkill. While she suspected that their client had been one of the instigators of the fight that had broken out during a spell of shore leave, she was sure he wasn't guilty of some of the more serious charges - theft and damage to property to name two - that he had been accused of. Even just reading through the basic groundwork she and Harm had covered tonight she was certain she could give the prosecution a run for their money in the courtroom. All they needed to do now was flesh out their defence case with details, and as far as she was concerned, that was a job that could wait for tomorrow. Harm, however, wasn't seeing it that way.
"I don't know, Mac. Have we covered everything? What about his shipmates? We need to talk to them -"
"We will, Harm, but not at four in the morning," she pointed out, reasonably.
"What about the guys at the store? The timing is crucial on this. If they were in the store then it blows our case out of the water."
Taking a deep breath, Mac forced herself to keep calm in the face of Harm's growing agitation. "We will. Starting tomorrow."
"Well, you know, I ought to go do the follow up interviews. You're lead counsel. I should be doing the groundwork for you."
"Harm, we'll do it between us, like we always do when the Admiral has us working together."
She'd intended the words to be reassuring but to her surprise they had the opposite effect. Lips pursed, Harm looked away. This is a straightforward case, she reminded herself, struggling not to be blinded by the growing waves of urgency that were emanating from her partner. They'd handled cases like this numerous times before. Torn between feelings of frustration and concern, she felt her heart clench as his right hand unconsciously drifted up to massage his injured shoulder. Concern winning the battle, she shuffled closer to him on the couch. "Tell me what's wrong?" she asked, gently.
He answered her with a curt shake of his head. Frustration getting the upper hand again she was about to back off when Harm spoke. "We have to get this case right," he explained to her, emphasising the words with his hands, his eyes refusing to meet hers. "It's important, Mac."
Feeling like she was reading from a book that had half its pages missing, Mac went for the safest answer she could think of. "They're all important, Harm."
She flinched as Harm jumped up from the couch, his pen and paper falling to the floor. "Don't you think I know that?"
"Of course I do -"
"So why don't you want to talk about this case any more?"
Retrieving the pen and paper from the floor, Mac used the brief distraction to choose her next words carefully. "I will, Harm. Tomorrow," she promised, meeting his gaze and holding it. "Just not tonight."
Harm stared back, his blue eyes angrily challenging her. She held her ground, her feeling of concern racking up a notch as she caught a flash of desperation in his eyes. Then suddenly the fight went out of him. Silently she watched as his shoulders sagged and he ran his hand tiredly through his hair. With a heavy sigh he slumped back against the couch and closed his eyes.
"Harm?"
Her worried tone had the desired effect. Opening his eyes, he rolled his head sideways to look at her.
"What, Mac?"
"Are you going to tell me what's going on?" Watching his face closely, she thought for a moment that he might actually answer her question. Then the self-depreciating smile reappeared.
"There's nothing wrong..." he began, tailing off as she scowled at him.
"There is," she insisted, leaning in towards him. "Is it the Admiral?" she asked, voicing another one of the questions that was bouncing around in her head, "Because if it's about him assigning me as lead counsel then you've got nothing to worry about. If they'd been another case to assign you to he would hav -"
With a sigh, he cut her off. "It's nothing I can't handle." Rolling his head back the other way he stared up at the ceiling, his eyes half closed. Preoccupied by his sudden lack of animation, she jumped when he spoke again.
"Why are you here, Mac?"
He'd spoken quietly, his voice almost a whisper and it took her a second to realise what he'd said. As the words sunk in she thanked God that he couldn't see her face. Panicking as she realised she didn't have an answer, or not one that she was ready to face up to, she settled on the first solution she could think of. Escape.
"I'd better be going," she replied brightly, getting up and heading for the breakfast bar to retrieve her car keys before Harm could respond. "You must be tired. It's been a long day and we're going to be busy tomorrow -"
"No."
Harm's voice stopped her in her tracks. "No, what?" she asked, something in his tone making her turn around despite her best intentions. She found a pair of eyes watching her over the back of the couch.
"Don't go," he explained after a pause, frustrating her attempts to read him by lowering his chin as he spoke.
"It's late, Harm -"
"Which is why you shouldn't be driving around out there on your own."
"It'll be light soon -"
"So why not stay here for a couple more hours and drive home when it's light?"
Shaking her head, she looked down at the keys in her hand. "I don't know..."
"Please, Mac?"
The keys instantly forgotten, she looked up at him. His mental shutters went up as soon as he realised she was watching him, the confident Flyboy mask slipping back into place, but not before she caught another glimpse of desperation in his eyes.
"Okay, but on one condition," she heard herself offering as her heart overruled her mind. "You get some sleep."
The Flyboy mask slipped for a second then recovered. "I'm not tired, Ma -"
"That's the condition, Harm. Take it or leave it."
Hating herself for pushing the point, Mac told herself that it was for his own good. She could count on the fingers of one hand the amount of times he had said 'please'. She couldn't ever remember him saying it in that desperate tone of voice before.
"Okay," he agreed, surprising her again.
"Good." At a loss what to do next she stepped back to the breakfast bar and put down her keys again. When she turned around, Harm was pushing himself up from the sofa.
"I'm going, I'm going," he protested with a weak grin, as he headed for the bedroom area.
Matching his smile with one of her own she stepped back to let him pass, only to reach out for him as he weaved dangerously. "Whoa sailor!"
"Must be more tired than I realised," he joked weakly, a grimace of pain crossing his face as she grabbed at his arm to steady him.
With a muttered curse she loosened her grip, cupping his elbow to guide him instead. "Sorry."
"'S alright."
As they made their way towards the bed, Mac had a million questions running through her head. She wasn't going to get any answers for them, not tonight at least. Harm was dead on his feet and whatever was bothering him he'd obviously decided to keep it to himself. He'd open up - eventually. She was just going to have to be patient.
"Here you go."
With a tired sigh he lowered himself to the bed. "Thanks."
As he started to get undressed, she busied herself tidying up. Hanging up his overcoat in the closet she returned to the bedroom to find him struggling to get his arms out of the sleeves of his sweater.
"Let me give you a hand there," she offered, reaching down to tug on the sleeves before he could protest. After a short tussle the sweater gave up the fight and she pulled it over his head. As it came away she found her eyes drawn to the newly healed scars on his skin; the one on his shoulder where the bullet had gone in, the one on his side where the surgeon had operated to take it out. An inch higher and...
"I'm fine, Mac."
Blinking, she focused on the face in front of her. "I know," she replied, swallowing around the lump in the throat. Dragging up a smile, she blanked out the sympathy in his eyes, knowing that if she acknowledged it she'd be lost. Desperately needing a distraction she knelt down and starting untying his shoelaces. Slipping his shoes off she lined them up neatly by the bed. Standing up again she reached for the waistband of his trousers. A sharp hiss from Harm as her fingers brushed his skin had her grabbing back her hand as if she'd been burnt.
"Sorry, cold hands," she stuttered, hiding her hands behind her back.
To her surprise, Harm looked just as embarrassed as she felt. "Yeah, cold hands," he agreed, a nervous chuckle accompanying his words.
Backing away, she flashed him a faint grin. "I'll leave you to it then." Not waiting to hear his reply she headed for the safety of the couch. Slouching right down so that she was hidden from view she closed her eyes, willing her thumping heart to slow.
A short while later she opened her eyes and risked a quick look over the back of the couch. The main light in the sleeping area had been switched off but the bedside lamp was still on. The outline of the bedcovers told her that Harm had made it into bed but somehow she doubted he was asleep.
There was so much going on here that she didn't understand she acknowledged, her own tiredness suddenly washing over her. First there had been the shooting and the resultant investigation. Then she'd had to deal with the case in Norfolk, whilst still worrying about Harm. Now Harm was back and her gut feeling was that her problems were only just beginning.
Praying that for once her gut feeling was wrong, she curled up on the couch and retrieved the case notes Harm had made. Forcing herself to concentrate, she began reading. Tomorrow, she decided, she would have a talk with the Admiral. This case was obviously bothering Harm and being assigned as second chair, she guessed, had a lot to do with it. If she could sort that out then maybe, just maybe, the other pieces of this puzzle might fall into place.
Pulling over outside Harm's apartment, she turned off the lights and switched off the engine. Her fingers tapping the steering wheel nervously, she scanned the area outside, looking anywhere but at the apartment building in front of her. This was stupid, she told herself again. For normal people this was the middle of the night. Normal people would be asleep. And her partner had looked beat when she'd last seen him earlier that evening. Chewing at her bottom lip she considered her options, trying to inject some Marine logic into her thoughts. Coming to a decision she reached down to turn on the ignition again.
A reflection in her side window caught her eye and instinctively she looked up. There was a light showing in one of the apartment windows: not a bright light, more of a glow. It could be anyone's she told herself even as her gut told her it was Harm's.
So much for Marine logic.
Climbing the stairs to Harm's apartment she kept repeating the same mantra to herself over and over again; this was stupid, really stupid. Waking up Harm in the middle of the night was not something he was going to let her live down. He'd been getting along just fine without her. Worrying about him was asking for trouble - particularly when she had to face him the next day at the office.
Visions of just how embarrassing it would be to face Harm the next morning if she was about to wake him up swam into her mind. Standing outside his front door she faltered as the insanity of the situation hit her full on. And then she knocked anyway.
Head cocked to one side she listened for any signs of life inside the apartment. The building was naturally quiet, even during the daytime. Tonight was no exception and except for the muted sound of traffic outside she got the distinct impression she was alone. This is stupid the voice in her head reminded her, the derision in its tone making her take a step back from the door. On the verge of taking another, she froze as the door opened, and a thin crack of light cut through the darkness in the hallway.
"Mac?"
Harm looked as if he'd seen an apparition, Mac noted vaguely, her limbs still refusing to work. As he stared back at her, naturally expecting her to say something, she finally found her voice. "I was just passing," she offered weakly, cringing inside as the words tumbled out of her mouth.
"At 2am?"
"02:17 actually," her internal clock offered helpfully.
"Right." His sceptical tone had her wishing the floor would open up and swallow her but then his lips quirked up in the ghost of a smile. "You'd better come in then."
Stunned, she watched as he pulled the door wide open and then disappeared from sight. Rousing herself she followed him, closing the door behind her before turning back to watch him pad his way over to the kitchen.
"Sorry about the mess," he offered, unwittingly answering one of the multitude of questions that were invading her mind as her eyes adjusted to the gloom in the apartment. "Haven't had time to clear up yet."
"Sure," she replied distractedly, forcing her feet to move as she surveyed the chaos that was Harm's apartment.
Pulling up a stool, she took a seat at the breakfast bench and tried to tune out the mess around her. She failed. Dirty pans were sitting in the sink; tea rings stained the worktop that Harm usually kept spotlessly clean. A pile of clean laundry was sitting stacked on the floor by the sofa; his cover and uniform overcoat had been left lying on his desk next to his briefcase. Okay, for most people maybe it wasn't that messy she conceded, trying to quell the first stirrings of concern. But for Harm, a man who applied the same military precision to his apartment that he did to his office, it was a disaster area.
The appearance in her field of vision of a cup of tea brought her back to the present. Summoning up a smile of thanks she wrapped her fingers around it, revelling in the warmth before turning her attention back to her partner.
He did look tired she realised, confirming what she'd thought at the office earlier that day. Dark patches under his eyes contrasted with the paleness of his skin. And as he sat down opposite, his own cup of tea in his hand, it struck her how loose the USN sweats he was wearing looked on him.
He still looks better than he did in the hospital the little voice reminded her. An image flashed in front of her, painful in its intensity, and she grabbed the mug tighter, taking a sip out of it to shield her face.
"You okay?"
"Fine," she lied, forcing a smile on her face as she met his look of concern, "Anyway, shouldn't that be my line?" she added, deliberately keeping her tone light.
Suddenly Harm seemed fascinated by the contents of his mug. "I'm okay," he reassured her, his refusal to meet her gaze telling her all she needed to know. "Done nothing but sleep the last couple of weeks," he offered, obviously feeling some need to explain. When he did look up at her a moment later there was a familiar shy, self-depreciating grin on his face and she knew he was about to change the subject. "I've been doing some work on this case the Admiral gave us," he told her, waving at a yellow legal pad and pencil lying on the couch. "You want to take a look?"
Not waiting for an answer he got up and headed for the couch, his tea in one hand. Slowly Mac followed him, trying to evaluate the scene in front of her objectively. Her gut feel had been right earlier that day; the man might not enjoy being cosseted but he obviously wasn't one hundred percent either, despite his protests to the contrary. The evidence around her proved that. The fact that he hadn't bothered to question her appearance at his door in the early hours of the morning worried her even more. Silently cursing ex-fighter jocks with egos the size of Texas who seemed to think they were indestructible she took a seat next to him on the couch and settled down to listen to what he had to say.
An hour and a half later, he'd done nothing to ease her concern. They'd spent the time going over the details with a fine toothcomb, mapping out the shell of their defence case. Certainly Harm had picked up the intricacies of the case with ease but from Harm she'd expected no less. If she was honest, for such a fairly straightforward case, having two such experienced lawyers assigned to it was probably overkill. While she suspected that their client had been one of the instigators of the fight that had broken out during a spell of shore leave, she was sure he wasn't guilty of some of the more serious charges - theft and damage to property to name two - that he had been accused of. Even just reading through the basic groundwork she and Harm had covered tonight she was certain she could give the prosecution a run for their money in the courtroom. All they needed to do now was flesh out their defence case with details, and as far as she was concerned, that was a job that could wait for tomorrow. Harm, however, wasn't seeing it that way.
"I don't know, Mac. Have we covered everything? What about his shipmates? We need to talk to them -"
"We will, Harm, but not at four in the morning," she pointed out, reasonably.
"What about the guys at the store? The timing is crucial on this. If they were in the store then it blows our case out of the water."
Taking a deep breath, Mac forced herself to keep calm in the face of Harm's growing agitation. "We will. Starting tomorrow."
"Well, you know, I ought to go do the follow up interviews. You're lead counsel. I should be doing the groundwork for you."
"Harm, we'll do it between us, like we always do when the Admiral has us working together."
She'd intended the words to be reassuring but to her surprise they had the opposite effect. Lips pursed, Harm looked away. This is a straightforward case, she reminded herself, struggling not to be blinded by the growing waves of urgency that were emanating from her partner. They'd handled cases like this numerous times before. Torn between feelings of frustration and concern, she felt her heart clench as his right hand unconsciously drifted up to massage his injured shoulder. Concern winning the battle, she shuffled closer to him on the couch. "Tell me what's wrong?" she asked, gently.
He answered her with a curt shake of his head. Frustration getting the upper hand again she was about to back off when Harm spoke. "We have to get this case right," he explained to her, emphasising the words with his hands, his eyes refusing to meet hers. "It's important, Mac."
Feeling like she was reading from a book that had half its pages missing, Mac went for the safest answer she could think of. "They're all important, Harm."
She flinched as Harm jumped up from the couch, his pen and paper falling to the floor. "Don't you think I know that?"
"Of course I do -"
"So why don't you want to talk about this case any more?"
Retrieving the pen and paper from the floor, Mac used the brief distraction to choose her next words carefully. "I will, Harm. Tomorrow," she promised, meeting his gaze and holding it. "Just not tonight."
Harm stared back, his blue eyes angrily challenging her. She held her ground, her feeling of concern racking up a notch as she caught a flash of desperation in his eyes. Then suddenly the fight went out of him. Silently she watched as his shoulders sagged and he ran his hand tiredly through his hair. With a heavy sigh he slumped back against the couch and closed his eyes.
"Harm?"
Her worried tone had the desired effect. Opening his eyes, he rolled his head sideways to look at her.
"What, Mac?"
"Are you going to tell me what's going on?" Watching his face closely, she thought for a moment that he might actually answer her question. Then the self-depreciating smile reappeared.
"There's nothing wrong..." he began, tailing off as she scowled at him.
"There is," she insisted, leaning in towards him. "Is it the Admiral?" she asked, voicing another one of the questions that was bouncing around in her head, "Because if it's about him assigning me as lead counsel then you've got nothing to worry about. If they'd been another case to assign you to he would hav -"
With a sigh, he cut her off. "It's nothing I can't handle." Rolling his head back the other way he stared up at the ceiling, his eyes half closed. Preoccupied by his sudden lack of animation, she jumped when he spoke again.
"Why are you here, Mac?"
He'd spoken quietly, his voice almost a whisper and it took her a second to realise what he'd said. As the words sunk in she thanked God that he couldn't see her face. Panicking as she realised she didn't have an answer, or not one that she was ready to face up to, she settled on the first solution she could think of. Escape.
"I'd better be going," she replied brightly, getting up and heading for the breakfast bar to retrieve her car keys before Harm could respond. "You must be tired. It's been a long day and we're going to be busy tomorrow -"
"No."
Harm's voice stopped her in her tracks. "No, what?" she asked, something in his tone making her turn around despite her best intentions. She found a pair of eyes watching her over the back of the couch.
"Don't go," he explained after a pause, frustrating her attempts to read him by lowering his chin as he spoke.
"It's late, Harm -"
"Which is why you shouldn't be driving around out there on your own."
"It'll be light soon -"
"So why not stay here for a couple more hours and drive home when it's light?"
Shaking her head, she looked down at the keys in her hand. "I don't know..."
"Please, Mac?"
The keys instantly forgotten, she looked up at him. His mental shutters went up as soon as he realised she was watching him, the confident Flyboy mask slipping back into place, but not before she caught another glimpse of desperation in his eyes.
"Okay, but on one condition," she heard herself offering as her heart overruled her mind. "You get some sleep."
The Flyboy mask slipped for a second then recovered. "I'm not tired, Ma -"
"That's the condition, Harm. Take it or leave it."
Hating herself for pushing the point, Mac told herself that it was for his own good. She could count on the fingers of one hand the amount of times he had said 'please'. She couldn't ever remember him saying it in that desperate tone of voice before.
"Okay," he agreed, surprising her again.
"Good." At a loss what to do next she stepped back to the breakfast bar and put down her keys again. When she turned around, Harm was pushing himself up from the sofa.
"I'm going, I'm going," he protested with a weak grin, as he headed for the bedroom area.
Matching his smile with one of her own she stepped back to let him pass, only to reach out for him as he weaved dangerously. "Whoa sailor!"
"Must be more tired than I realised," he joked weakly, a grimace of pain crossing his face as she grabbed at his arm to steady him.
With a muttered curse she loosened her grip, cupping his elbow to guide him instead. "Sorry."
"'S alright."
As they made their way towards the bed, Mac had a million questions running through her head. She wasn't going to get any answers for them, not tonight at least. Harm was dead on his feet and whatever was bothering him he'd obviously decided to keep it to himself. He'd open up - eventually. She was just going to have to be patient.
"Here you go."
With a tired sigh he lowered himself to the bed. "Thanks."
As he started to get undressed, she busied herself tidying up. Hanging up his overcoat in the closet she returned to the bedroom to find him struggling to get his arms out of the sleeves of his sweater.
"Let me give you a hand there," she offered, reaching down to tug on the sleeves before he could protest. After a short tussle the sweater gave up the fight and she pulled it over his head. As it came away she found her eyes drawn to the newly healed scars on his skin; the one on his shoulder where the bullet had gone in, the one on his side where the surgeon had operated to take it out. An inch higher and...
"I'm fine, Mac."
Blinking, she focused on the face in front of her. "I know," she replied, swallowing around the lump in the throat. Dragging up a smile, she blanked out the sympathy in his eyes, knowing that if she acknowledged it she'd be lost. Desperately needing a distraction she knelt down and starting untying his shoelaces. Slipping his shoes off she lined them up neatly by the bed. Standing up again she reached for the waistband of his trousers. A sharp hiss from Harm as her fingers brushed his skin had her grabbing back her hand as if she'd been burnt.
"Sorry, cold hands," she stuttered, hiding her hands behind her back.
To her surprise, Harm looked just as embarrassed as she felt. "Yeah, cold hands," he agreed, a nervous chuckle accompanying his words.
Backing away, she flashed him a faint grin. "I'll leave you to it then." Not waiting to hear his reply she headed for the safety of the couch. Slouching right down so that she was hidden from view she closed her eyes, willing her thumping heart to slow.
A short while later she opened her eyes and risked a quick look over the back of the couch. The main light in the sleeping area had been switched off but the bedside lamp was still on. The outline of the bedcovers told her that Harm had made it into bed but somehow she doubted he was asleep.
There was so much going on here that she didn't understand she acknowledged, her own tiredness suddenly washing over her. First there had been the shooting and the resultant investigation. Then she'd had to deal with the case in Norfolk, whilst still worrying about Harm. Now Harm was back and her gut feeling was that her problems were only just beginning.
Praying that for once her gut feeling was wrong, she curled up on the couch and retrieved the case notes Harm had made. Forcing herself to concentrate, she began reading. Tomorrow, she decided, she would have a talk with the Admiral. This case was obviously bothering Harm and being assigned as second chair, she guessed, had a lot to do with it. If she could sort that out then maybe, just maybe, the other pieces of this puzzle might fall into place.
