A/N: Hey people. As I mentioned in my previous chapter, I'm going to be going away for Spring Break (I assure you, it's gonna be hot, sunny, and I'll have the time of my life). Anyways, I just couldn't bare the thought of you all sitting here for two weeks with nothing from Encrypted Legacy to read so . . . I'm getting my good friend Steelo to steadily deliver you the chapters I know you're all dying for. That does mean I'm going to be writing like mad for the next four days so . . . reviewing keeps me in the game (hint hint)

Thanks to all those who reviewed! I greatly appreciate it. This next chapter goes out to you Steelo, for being the good friend you are! Oh yeah, and for sending me the French homework when I needed it and reminding me to do my math. And . . . wait, I'll stop, I'm babbling now.

Oh yes, and if you people could tell me what happens on JAG the next three Fridays, I would be eternally grateful. My email address is in my profile. Hugs out to all of you, especially the ones that tell me what happened on Friday! Please, please, I'm begging you here . . . I suffer from JAG-Overdose and might just have a seizure if I don't know what happen. Include all gory details between Mac and Vukovic . . . I need to loathe him for all he's worth.

Oh yeah, and just a little thing. I'd really like to know who you all think is the Phantom (I mean, surely you've got some guesses) and the Phantom has already entered our story so . . . again, email me, my address is in my profile!

Lock Down

"Where could Harm go!" I cried in despair for the umpteenth time. For Christ's sake, I'm almost as bad as Catherine. Almost. I swear we're both going stir crazy. The last time I felt this helpless was . . . almost never. I'm out of the bed, whatever the doctor said, be damned. If I don't stretch my legs, I'm going to blow.

"I don't know!" Catherine exclaimed back. "Did you see Webb's eyes when you said that he was screaming your name?" Catherine settled on the edge of the bed. "He looked as if he had just seen a ghost."

"He knows something," I agreed. "Something he's not telling us."

I sighed and Catherine did too. If someone walked into our room right now they might have thought they had just entered a morgue. Catherine looks down right depressed and I'm . . . well, not mourning Webb's loss . . . but depressed at lack of information.

"There must be something we've missed," Catherine concluded, after thirty-seconds of weighty silence. "We were at ground zero yesterday. He stayed with all of us at the hospital . . . and he didn't receive any information there. And then he went home – and there was a two hour space before I arrived but even then he didn't get any–"

"You went over to his house last night?" Mac broke out. She cocked her eyebrow up and with difficulty bit back the smile slowly forming on her face but to no avail. Catherine exhaled slowly. There were some things you just didn't tell other people. And this was one of them.

"Nothing happened," Catherine said quickly. We were fighting . . . and then I was about to leave but Webb stopped me. And then . . . I don't know. We were talking and I just fell asleep."

"And when you woke up?" I prod. Harm was right . . . I'm way too nosy for my own good. I gulp as I realize what I just thought. Harm. If Webb was right and the Phantom had him then there was a chance I'd never see him again. A good chance, at that.

"When I woke up he was yelling into the phone," Catherine said, with the air of someone straining their memory. "Harm and Boyer had just gone missing . . ." she trailed off and then stared at me. I turned away, my eyes swimming. Harm was missing and if my dream was correct . . . I didn't even want to think about that. "Oh, I'm so sorry, Mac," she whispered, realizing she's upset me. "They'll find Harm."

"And Beth," I replied reassuringly. "Webb'll bring them both back."

"Good," Catherine replied smirking. "Cause I'd hate to think that I'd never get to kick his ass for keeping us in here."

"Ugh!" I groan as my head collides with the cement. I grimace as I feel blood slowly sliding down my face as I bit back the pain that suddenly enveloped my body. The Phantom pulls my body back from the wall and slams my head to the ground again, sending a fresh new wave of pain coursing through my blood. I have barely enough stamina to even utter a whimper. I can hear shrieking in the background . . . Beth. I fight to try and stand but it's useless. The Phantom just kicks me mercilessly back down to the ground.

"Stop it! Stop! Ugh . . . get off me!" shrieked Beth and I squint through swollen eyelids to see Beth wrestling with Riley but he overpowers her and I feel her body slump to ground. I don't even have the energy to roll over to her to see if she's alright. I can't do a thing.

"You made a big mistake," hissed the Phantom in my ear. I don't respond. "All those years ago . . . and now you have to pay."

"I didn't mean to!" I exclaim dryly, blood flowing into my mouth. I spit the blood out on the ground, it tastes terrible. "It was a mistake . . . a drunken mistake . . . I shouldn't have . . . I'm sorry."

"It's a bit late for sorry," the Phantom snarled. "Come, Aaron."

The Phantom stocked out of the room. I turned my head ever so slightly so I could make eye contact with Riley. Surprisingly, Riley looked more like a scared little boy than anything. "Riley," I croaked through a blood caked throat, "please . . . you don't have to do this."

Riley's blue eyes met mine but he averted them quickly. "Oh, but I do," Riley said softly, walking out of the room. "I do."

"Webb, where are we going?" Harris asked calmly from the back seat of the SUV. I keep my eyes trained on the road and mumble out an answer. Harris pauses slightly, "what was the phone call all about?"

I give him the short form of things. Harris can be a real pain some times. He's useful to have around, but no one I'd want to go have a drink with after work. Harris seems generally interested. "So . . . what's our plan?"

"Our plan," I replied quickly, pulling the car to a stop in the JAG parking lot. "Is that we have no plan."

"Yes, and I follow that," Harris sneered sarcastically. "I'm not crazy, Webb. I'm not going to walk into a gas station in the wee hours of the morning, alone, and in the company of a serial killer. It's not my idea of fun."

"Quit whining, grab a pack, and get your ass moving," Webb barked at Harris as he swung himself out of the SUV. "Take these up to Admiral Chegwidden," he ordered.

"What?" Harris asked, following Webb rather than going in the direction he was supposed to. "Where are you going? What are you going to do?"

"I'm going to run some faces on Interpol," Webb replied calmly. "It won't take long. I expect you back in the parking lot in twenty minutes and no later."

"No, sir," Harris replied in a mock salute, and started off towards the main building. Webb walked briskly over to the other side of the parking lot and had just swung open the main door when he realized he'd left his jacket in the SUV.

That was close,' he thought to himself was he swiveled around, sighing as he retraced his steps back to the SUV. If he wasn't mistaken, this time he had the Phantom. But he needed those documents. And they were in his jacket.

Nearing his parking spot, he unlocked the door of the SUV and climbed in, searching for his jacket. It wasn't there. Webb drew back slightly, his face portraying disbelief. But he had had it in the hospital with him and after that . . . he had left it on the chair . . . in Mac's room . . . with Catherine . . . and the hospital was currently under lock down.

"Damn!" he swore silently. If Catherine got her hands on those . . . she could be in a lot of danger very fast.

And of course, to Webb, that was all that mattered.

"Hey!" Catherine called, after a moment of nervous pacing. "Webb left his jacket here."

I look over my shoulder at Catherine, boredom clearly etched on my face. "I didn't even notice he was wearing a jacket. He was to busy dodging you."

Catherine scoffed but made no other comments. Slowly, her hands snaked along the pockets of it, entwining her nimble fingers in its threads.

"What are you doing?" I ask, suddenly rising up from the bed.

"Nothing," Catherine replied guiltlessly as she roamed through his pockets. She pulled out a thick wallet with at least eight different IDs, a pack of sugar-free gum, pocket money from three different countries, a cover ripped off a magazine. 'Who would have thought Webb read Vogue,' Catherine mused silently. This was turning out to be a lot more fun than she had expected it to be.

Flipping over the other side of the jacket, she emptied out his other pocket, though just like the first it held nothing of any interest, other than another ID that swore Webb's name was Steven Culp (A/N: LOL, get it?) and Catherine was just at the end of her fun when she turned over the jacket and noticed something. Something called a hidden pocket.

"Having fun?" I called from the bed and Catherine shrugged as an answer the pointed to the heap of small Webb collectables she had thrown on the floor. I picked up his many IDs and began to flip through them.

"Hey, what's this?" Catherine mused aloud, pulling out a thick brown envelope. Slowly, her fingers roamed around the top, breaking the seal and royally ignoring the bold 'CONFIDENTIAL' sign properly stamped across the middle.

"Cat, I don't think you should be doing that," I warned softly, but I can feel little prickles of interest slowly creeping down my spine and despite my better judgment, I get off the bed and lean down beside her to take a look.

She pulls out eight sheets of white paper, each looking almost exactly the same. At the top printed in bold letters were names . . . names of all the victims, I noticed. A small picture of the victim was stamped in the middle and all basic information such as height and weight were typed systematically at the bottom. My eyes scanned the sheet of paper. At the bottom of each paper, Webb had circled something in red.

I read the circled section slowly. "The Commander was found stabbed by the dumpsters outside his apartment after returning from a date with his girlfriend."

I turned to the next page's circled section. "The Lieutenant's girlfriend stated that she had left his apartment at approximately one o'clock. The estimated time of killing was between two o'clock and five."

And then the next one. "After a night on the town with his girlfriend, the Commander returned to his house and the next morning was found dead in his bed by his housekeeper."

All the men . . . all were killed after they came back from doing something with their girlfriends. I could feel my head buzzing with thought . . . this was like some horrible horrible nightmare that kept resurfacing.

"Bloody hell," Catherine whispered and I whipped around to see her trying to stuff two sheets of paper back into the envelope. It's futile. I'm in perfect view of her.

"Catherine, what are those?" I ask and make a grab for them, successfully snatching them from her hands. Catherine looks at me with penetrating blue eyes. I've suddenly notice her face under her long blond hair has gone paper white. "What . . .?" I ask scanning the papers and then feel my heart slow to a stop.

On the front side of the paper was Lt. Commander Evan Hart's profile . . . with a giant red X through the middle of it. And on the other side was:

Name: Harmon Rabb, Jr.

Date disappeared: May 17, 2005

Last Seen: in CIA hospital after visiting female partner who had suffered a mild concussion. He then left with rio Amanda Boyer. The two were then seen at the JFK Airport before boarding the helicopter.

"But they couldn't think . . ?" I trailed off. "They couldn't possibly believe that this . . ." I trail off looking at the names, "this Boyer could be Harm's girlfriend . . . they have no proof."

Catherine stared at me, wisdom etching itself in her features. "I don't believe it's Boyer that they think is Harm's girlfriend." She gives me a pointed glare and I can feel the heat rising up from underneath my skin.

"We're just friends," I argue uselessly. She continues to stare at me but this time it's me that's the first to avert her eyes. I stare at the other sheet of paper tossed flimsily into the envelope.

Name: Beth O'Neil

Date Disappeared: May 16, 2005

Last Seen: Ciaro Café, Washington. Said Café is also believed to be a rendezvous for the Phantom and the CIA's lead suspect.

And written at the bottom of the page, Webb had scrawled something quickly in Russian.

"I couldn't read it," Catherine stated as she saw my eyes scanning the rough hand notes. "But . . ." she trailed off staring at me as I read the text over and over again. "I didn't know you could."

I stare at the text, taking in every word. Cold dread crawled over my body as I confirmed its meaning over and over and over again.

Last known partner, woman with blonde hair, blue eyes. Same age. Confirmation at Interpol. Former gfs confirmation.

"What does it say?" she whispered to me, her eyes connecting with mine. I relayed the information back to her and watched her features change from suspicion to confusion. "What does that mean?" she asked.

I stared at the paper, doubt forcefully replaced with certainty. "It means," I sighed, "that the Phantom is female."

A/N: Ooh . . . interesting new twist. Yeah, I guess you didn't see that one coming. And, dansingwolf, it's good for you for noticing the whole Beth-Lesbian thing. I didn't forget, it was just a while coming! Anyways . . . sorry I had to keep this chapter so short. I'm preparing for my big holiday in the sun and trying to get as many chapters as possible out to you. Anyways, I'm going to try and leave a bunch with my friend Steelo and hopefully Steelo can post them! So . . . review, and don't forget to tell me who you think the Phantom is and please please please (I'm begging here) tell me what happens on Friday's ep!