A/N: Hey everyone . . . um, once again, I want to thank you all for being the great readers that you are. I'll keep this author's note short and to the point. Thank you all for making my first fanfic so enjoyable to write. I don't think it would have been nearly as much fun if I didn't have you all reviewing me.

Crying Angels

The sunlight bathed the small port in Norfolk, projecting its warm bliss on the USS Angel. In the light, the Angel looked even more massive and impressive than ever before, its emblem gleaming brightly and its flag beating proudly against the wind. Around its waters, hundreds of people gathered, sheltering their eyes from the sun as they looked up at the awesome sight.

These were the targets for a bombing assassination. These were the to-be-victims of what could be considered a terrorist plot. These were the people whose lives hung in the balance of good and evil. And they knew nothing about it . . .

"So we're just going to sit her and wait?" I asked Catherine, who was still leaning on the same part of the van that Webb had – ahem – positioned her on. For a moment, Catherine didn't say anything. She kept her eyes trained on the crowd, her blonde hair magnified in the sun's brilliance.

"No," she said softly, her blues eyes darting every which way. "Just watch . . ." she trailed and then suddenly jumped off her leaning position. "Okay, Webb's gone. Let's go."

"Webb left a long time ago," I replied, shooting my eyebrow up.

"Yeah, but he waited at the corner to see if we would stay."

I opened my mouth and then closed it again. That sounded like a Webb thing to do.

"Where are we going?" I whispered as Catherine ran off down the port, pushing her way through the thick mob of people, leaving me well behind in the dust.

"Onto the Angel, where else!" Catherine hollered, pushing her way past an extremely fat lady. I followed, trying to get my thoughts straight. Onto the Angel? But no one was allowed onto the Angel except for the SECNAV and the President!

"Cat," I cried, grabbing her arm and pulling her aside. "Just think for a moment. Stop and think. How the hell are we supposed to get on the Angel? They won't let anyone on. Not anyone."

Catherine sighed at me and pulled my arm off her. "Oh ye of little faith."

"The bomb's on the Angel," I said with absolute conviction as we stood at the back entrance to the port's Security Cabin. I watched as soft blue waves lap up on to the Angel's hardened walls and felt an increasing sense of urgency.

"Oh, I have no doubt about that," Riley said, heaving open the back door and falling through. I entered the lodge in after him. It was bare and wooden and held things such as life jackets and other things.

I stared at him. "What are you doing?" I picked up a lifejacket. "Are we supposed to float to the Angel or something?"

"Very funny," Riley replied sarcastically, throwing the lifejacket to the side. "But believe it or not, we do actually have a purpose here." He began to pace around the room, stomping at different sections of the floor.

"Wow," I replied leaning my back against the door. "I'm surprised." When Riley did not return any smart-alecky comment, I became interested. "What are you doing?"

"A dance routine," Riley shot back, his usual self reforming. He stomped on the floor once more, this time with both feet. He caught me looking at him again. "I'm looking for a trap door, idiot."

"Why, so we can dig a tunnel to the Angel?"

Riley stared at me exasperatedly. "Look, can you just go wait outside? Knock if you see anyone coming."

"Because then you can hop into the tunnel and hide from the bad guys."

"Go!"

I shrug. "Fine," I then turned back. "But we're wasting valuable time."

Riley turned around as I left the room, closing the door behind me. "Don't I know it," he muttered savagely to himself, as he continued to stomp on the floor.

Webb stared at the Angel from the window of the Security Cabin. Somewhere on that ship there was a bomb just waiting to kill them all. The thought gave him shivers, his only comfort being that at least Catherine and Mac would be safe.

"Sir."

Webb turned around to face a short man dressed in the traditional Navy Security uniform. He was short, even shorter than Webb, with dark cropped hair and a thick moustache that was in bad need of some trimming.

"Yes?"

The man looked uncomfortable as he shuffled on his feet. "We sent a security squad out to the Angel just half an hour ago." He averted his eyes so that he was staring at his feet. "Um, Sir, there are no traces of a bomb."

Webb felt his anger surface to his skin and he bit back his tongue to keep him from verbally lashing out at the man. "Well, you're mistaken."

"Sir, the President is on his way here," the man said quickly. "And everything has already been checked over. I'm afraid I'm going to have to ask you to leave."

"You're going to what?" I echoed in disbelief.

"Please, Sir. Security doesn't need empty threats." The man looked tired. "We already have enough on our plates. There is no bomb on the Angel. We already gave it a once over."

"Then give it a twice over!"

"Look, Sir," the man replied angrily. "We are busy now please take your crap somewhere else!"

Webb looked at the short fiery man and shook his head in disbelief. Webb turned around and had taken one step out the door before two voices caught his ears.

"Have you taken the crate up to the Angel yet?"

"No. I'll go do that just now."

"Well, hop to it you imbecile! The President's coming!"

Webb, his eyes alight with inspiration ran down the security steps and swiveled his head as his sight scanned over the crowd. The sun shone brightly overhead, causing Webb to squint. And then he saw it – the two crates with the black print stamped on them across the side 'ANGEL'.

Webb ran over to them, and knelt beside the largest one. It was almost as big as him. He surveyed the box. It would be painful for him, but . . . it had the potential to work. Webb ran his hand along the wooden planks of the outer framework and spotted the crack between the door and the crate walls. He smiled to himself and then dug his fingernails in, bending the door outwards and towards him. Pulling open the door, Webb looked inside the crate. It was dark and even the outer light didn't do it much good. Inside there was a rolled up red carpet for what Webb assumed as going to be used for the President and – as Webb deemed – other useless junk.

Clay shook his head as he dumped out the things and hid them behind the shack. It was amazing he wasn't caught but with so many people, no one paid any attention to anyone else. Clay surveyed the long thin crate, looked up at the sun, took in a fresh breath of air and climbed in, shutting the door behind him. He stood, uncomfortable bent, in the dark. Now all he had to do was wait . . .

Mac turned her head, looking at the Angel and Catherine, her expression magnifying the intensity of her disbelief. Catherine ran her hand along the rusted chain, wincing as it stung her skin.

"Well," she said briskly. "You first."

"You're kidding me!"

"What?" Catherine asked, innocently unperturbed. "They used to do it all the time in the olden days."

"I don't care about the damn olden days!"

Catherine sighed, rolling her eyes. "Fine. I'll go first."

The chains connecting the Angel and the dock were thick, sure, but they were chains overlooking the water. Mac looked at them in disbelief. How the hell was she supposed to climb them? They were rusted and stung against bare skin. And they were unsafe.

Unfortunately, neither Catherine nor Mac care about those minor facts at the moment . . .

"No," Mac said, gritting her teeth and pushing herself in front of Catherine. "I'll go first." she grinned at her. "If I fall, I need to push someone down with me."

Catherine hit Mac. "If you fall, I'll kill you."

"Whatever," Mac called, climbing monkey style up the chain. She could hear whistles being blown from underneath them. Well, it would have been miraculous if they had climbed on the Angel and not have been noticed. That and it would have been an extreme disgrace for security.

"No, seriously," Catherine returned, gritting her teeth as she climbed up after Mac. "Fall, and I'll kill you."

"I cannot believe we're doing this," I gritted my teeth as I slipped into the scuba soot, adjusting the oxygen tank on my back. Riley, who already had his mouth bit in place and was now breathing out of borrowed oxygen, just nodded and then shrugged.

Trust Riley to know that all safety cabins keep extra scuba gear for investigation purposes. Trust Riley to know that they keep them in an underground vault accessed by a trap door in their one safety cabin. Trust Riley. A few days ago, I would have trusted him as far as I could have thrown him. But today was different. Everything about today was different.

I pulled the zipper up my wet suit and looked at Riley for some sign of nervousness but he was completely cool and rational. Very levelheaded. We stood at the edge of the dock behind the kayak rentals so we were rather out of the way of the public but not so inconspicuous that we didn't have a few people pointing in our direction. Riley completely ignored them and I did my best to too.

Riley pulled his mouthpiece out and motioned for me to do the same too. I followed his orders.

"Have you done this before?" he asked me.

"Once or twice."

"Okay then," Riley breathed. "Then just follow my lead."

And standing backwards, Riley slipped off eel like into the water. I stared at him, his body now a thin black line beneath the water. Riley surfaced and motioned with his hand for me to follow him. I turned backwards and followed suit, praying we wouldn't be too late.

In and out, that was the plan. It was simple enough. In and out . . . in and out.

Webb held in a groan as someone mercilessly threw the crate on the ground. He could hear the sound of voices but they were so slurred in his mind that he couldn't understand a word of what was said. God help me, he thought, his eyes closed. This idea was supposed to be good. And virtually painless, as an afterthought. He smiled slightly, at the irony of it all. The Angel was about to blow up in – ahem – how many minutes? Give or take three, about 20. And he was stuck in a wooden crate in its halls.

Webb banged on the front of the crate and almost surprisingly, the door flew open, spraying dust on Webb. Webb coughed and then sneezed into his sleeve, standing up on shaky legs. He looked around the room. Where am I?

He realized almost instantly. He was just beneath the deck. He could see the flight of steps leading up to the sunshine covered sky. He turned left then right and looked down the hall. Now where the hell would said Phantom hide a bomb?

Webb took one last look around the hallways and set off down the corridor. Where the hell is it? We're running out of time!

Webb breathed slowly, running fast. What is the most opportune place for a bomb?

Well, it wouldn't matter, Webb's more anxious side of the brain snarled back. It's going to blow up the whole damn ship!

But where would it do the most damage?

And then Webb realized it, almost instantaneously. The center of the ship. The maximum blow up the point. The one point where all the walls would cave in and the deck would come crashing down. The brig.

"We're on!" Mac gasped in relief, hurling her body over the side of the ship and onto the deck. Mac laid, her back on the wood looking up the side, and she let out a strangled set of laughter. The blue sky had a different color wash over it. It was no longer the clear blue it had been a half an hour ago. It was grey, a light sort of stony grey.

"Hey, if you don't mind!" Catherine called, her hands still clinging to the rusted chains.

"Sorry!" Mac replied, reaching over the side of the Angel and pulling her partner up, her mere actions pronouncing the fact that she really didn't care how hurt Catherine was right now, they had no time to spare.

Catherine pulled herself over the edge and then sat for a moment, just panting under the slowly fading sun. "Come on," she gasped, pulling herself to her feet. "We've got to go."

"Yeah, but where?" Mac returned, as they disappeared below deck, taking more shelter in the dark than they were in the light.

Catherine stopped. "Where would Lindsey and Harris plant the bomb?"

"Where it would do the most damage."

Catherine sighed, "which is?"

Mac ran her hand through her long dark hair, her eyes frowning. "The center of the ship. It'll hurt the Angel the most."

Catherine nodded and pulled Mac's arm behind her. "Well, we don't have any time to lose."

Riley broke the surface of the water, his blonde hair shining like a beacon surrounded by the dark blue depths of the sea. Beside him, Harm surfaced, looking thin and dark in the wet suit. Riley pulled out the mouth piece and Harm did the same.

"Where do we climb on?" he asked, spitting water out of his mouth at the same time.

"Platform," Riley replied back, pointing to the large jutting surface of a wired platform hanging to the side of the Angel. "She's not exactly quite finished yet. They were repairing her yesterday."

"Then how come . . ." Harm trailed.

Riley shrugged and both Harm and he cut swiftly to the water. Riley hoisted himself up onto the platform and then leaned over to pull Harm up. Climbing up the stairs, Riley and Harm entered the bowels of the USS Angel.

Riley began unzipping his wet suit and threw Harm the waterproof bag where they had put both their clothes.

"So, where do we look first?" Harm asked, unzipping his wetsuit as well.

Riley paused as he pulled on his shirt. "It would probably do the most damage in the center of the ship."

"So we're headed there?"

"Yeah."

Riley threw his scuba gear to the side and was about to head down the hallway when Harm stopped him by putting his hand on his shoulder.

"Aaron," Harm said his voice deep and sincere. "I'm sorry for all the trouble I've caused." The flyboy smile appeared on his face. "You're all right, you know."

Riley smiled back at him with a grin so bright it could have matched Harm's. "You're alright too, Rabb."

Harm and Riley shook hands and then slapped each other on the back. "So," Riley said, his smile fading into a more serious look. "Have any idea where the bomb is?"

And that's when they heard the voices . . .

"Webb!"

"Beth!"

Clayton Webb looked at Beth O'Neil with a mixture of surprise and shock. They stood in the brig, Clay dusty and rumpled, Beth only slightly dampened by the heat.

"How did you get here?"

"I could ask you the same question!"

"What's going on?" Riley barged in and then looked at the both of them. "O'Neil, how did you get here?"

"Who's here?" Harm asked, entering the room. "Webb!"

"Harm!" Webb cried back.

"Harm?" a startled cry came from the other end of the hallway.

Harm recognized the voice immediately. "Mac!"

"Mac's here?" Webb interjected. "She's supposed to be in the car!"

"Webb!" another startled cry.

"Catherine!"

"Who?" Riley interjected.

"Catherine's here!" Beth cried joyously.

"Beth!" Catherine exclaimed.

Almost immediately, the brig was filled with six people all talking at once.

"You and Mac aren't supposed to be here," Webb accused scornfully.

"And so much for getting help," Catherine retorted, eyes equally angry.

"I'm so glad you're okay," Beth exclaimed, interrupting Webb in mid comment.

"You're glad I'm okay?" Catherine echoed in disbelief. "I'm glad that you're okay."

"Alright, everyone!" Riley called through the noise. "SHUT UP!"

The noise instantly dampened and amongst the silence, the light sound of beeping was heard. Almost mechanically, all the heads in the room twisted to see a small compact thing jutting out of the wall. And it was flashing.

"The bomb," Mac whispered, moving slowly towards it. Harm grasped her hand and held her back, shaking his head quickly. Turning around, he called to Beth.

"Beth, remember when we were in Manila!" Harm called to her, facing the bomb.

"How could I forget?" Beth returned.

"You took care of the bomb back then," Harm said slowly. He looked at the crisscross of wires and the beeping lights. "Any chance you could do it again?"

Beth stared at the bomb, her face pale. Her fingers ran themselves over the colored wires while her face portrayed intense concentration. "Maybe." She turned her head towards Harm's. "But we've got to get out of here."

She spoke to the whole group now. "This bomb was handmade. It's different than others I've had to deal with. But it'll still have the same main power wire. But," she paused, looking at the group with dark determined eyes, "if I pull the wrong one, the Angel goes down."

Her words fell hard on the group. "So," she replied. "I want you all to jump." Shock followed her words. "No, seriously," she replied aggressively. "I'm not risking all your lives just because I screwed up."

"Well, we're not risking yours," Harm interjected. There were nods of agreement followed with his statement.

"If we jump, you're coming with us," Webb agreed almost immediately.

"But then we're all dead anyway because of the radioactivity!"

Riley stopped and then spoke clearly. "I've got an idea." The room quieted slightly. "You guys jump – " he stared sternly at Webb as he opened his mouth to speak " – and I will stay behind with Beth to deactivate the bomb. I've seen this kind of bomb before. I believe I can be of some help. But not with you all here."

"Aaron, you really don't have to –" Beth interjected but Riley interrupted her.

"You can't do this alone," Riley whispered savagely in her ear. "Let me help you." Beth looked into his dark and serious eyes, the eyes that magnified pure honesty. "For the good of the country," he whispered.

"For the good of the country," Beth echoed, her voice equally as quiet.

Harm wound his arm snakelike around Mac's, her body pressed near his. He turned to look at Beth. "Take care, okay?" Harm leaned over and kissed Beth on the cheek.

"You too," Beth replied. "Now get out of here."

Harm and Mac stepped forward to the edge of the Angel. Mac gripped Harm's hand hard and Harm returned her squeeze, giving her a smile to comfort her. "One," Harm whispered and he could feel Mac tensing. "Two . . ." Mac stole a glance at Harm's determined face. "Three . . ."

Both jumped. Webb, Catherine, Riley and Beth stared at them over the edge as both Harm and Mac's bodies broke the surface and began to swim for shore.

"You ready?" Webb asked Catherine and Catherine nodded, her face just a tiny bit pale. Webb turned around to Riley. "Hurry up with this mess, alright? We'll see you two on shore."

Riley nodded his face paler than Catherine's. "Goodbye, Webb."

Beth looked at Catherine, suddenly feeling bleary-eyed. "Catherine," she said, taking a step forward as Catherine and Webb – holding hands – stood on the edge.

"Yeah?"

Beth stared at Catherine for one hesitant moment before pulling her into a hug. "Don't leave it too late," she said softly and then before Catherine could ask what she meant, Beth withdrew her arms. "See you on shore."

"Right," Webb said, and then wrapped one arm around Catherine and then they both jumped, leaving Riley and Beth rooted in place.

"We've got five minutes," Riley whispered.

Beth turned to him, "You can still go if you want."

Riley stood in conviction. "I'm not leaving you."

Aaron Riley pulled the Angel out of its anchored position in the Harbor, his heart weighing heavy. For the good of the country, he reminded himself continuously. For the good of the country.

Beth O'Neil sat in the Brig, her eyes not leaving the bomb for one second. Only the small black screen, written in broken red digits, the numbers began to decrease fast. They had only seconds left.

Standing up, Beth walked almost mechanically forward into the control room where Riley was steering the Angel into open water.

"How much time?" he asked softly.

"50 seconds now," Beth replied in a whisper. Riley slowly pulled his hands off the steering wheel and looked at the ground heavily. "There was never any hope," he said quietly, his voice comforting. "You couldn't have done anything."

Beth nodded sadly, and leaned her head onto Riley's shoulder. "I know."

Riley wrapped his arms around her and pulled her into a fierce hug. "You're so brave."

"10 seconds," Beth whispered.

Riley's eyes lingered on hers for one second, before he leaned in, his lips capturing hers for a brief moment. "Goodbye, Beth."

And from underneath the stony grey sky that enveloped Norfolk, a small explosion shook the water, as the Angel inhaled its last breath. Four people stood soaked to their skin on the edge of the water, tears rolling down their cheeks and dripping emotionally into the sea. And with them the sun poured its rays upon the remnants of the Angel, as universe and heart cried with them . . .

Epilogue soon to come . . .