Title: Old Friends

Chapter Three

By: LizD

Written: June/July 2004

Disclaimers: No disrespect to JAG's cast, crew or creators. With love and thanks.

Old Friends - Chapter Three

Sunday Morning

USS Guadalcanal

Location Undisclosed

Harm stepped off the Helo onto the deck of the Guadalcanal and was greeted by the resident JAG. "Welcome aboard sir."

"Lieutenant," was his disinterested reply. Normally he would love to be back at sea but not today.

"The captain would like to see you in his quarters, sir."

Harm looked back over his shoulder to nod at Coates.

"He wanted to see you alone, sir." The lieutenant corrected.

"Coates, I'll catch up with you. Make sure I have the coroner's report when I get there." He barked at her and ordered the Lieutenant to have his gear stowed. He would find his own way to the captain's quarters.

Harm was in no mood for – well, no mood period. No mood to deal with the incompetent JAG, or the captain's ego, the SecNav's political agenda or Coates' cheerfulness. He was there to do a job. Not because he was the best man for the job. Not because his soon-to-be-former CO had every confidence in him. Not because anyone thought that Harm was any better or worse than anyone else, but because a job needed to be done and Harm was the only one available – the only one still standing. God he was beginning to hate that about himself.

The call came in from the Admiral at the crack of dawn. It came before Harm had a chance to figure out what he was going to say to Mac or do about their situation. He hadn't decided how much time he was going to give her to cool off, and he didn't know if he was supposed to apologize or expect an apology. There was so much to consider but the orders to the Guadalcanal put all of that on hold. He did call her before he left – but she didn't answer, and the machine wasn't on. That – to him – spoke VOLUMES as to where her head was at that morning. She had meant what she said. He would have to deal with it when he got back. Now there was work to do.

A prisoner – suspected Al Qaeda terrorist – died while in custody aboard the Guadalcanal. Before it got to the media, it needed to be thoroughly investigated by someone at JAG HQ to ensure there was no cover up. The new JAG had not been confirmed as yet, so Chegwidden was still in charge. The admiral chose Harm. Some how Harm felt like it was a final zing from his commanding officer – to give him an impossible task and sit back and watch the pilot-come-lawyer-come-hero try to save the day or at least his career. 'Had to be better than baseball," Harm thought.

Harm was clear, there was no real expectation of a positive outcome. If it turned out that the man was not Al Qaeda and someone on the crew was found negligent or – God forbid - GUILTY, or the USA was found in anyway responsible it would add fuel to the anti-American fire building in the world. If it were ruled natural or self-inflicted causes – the world court of public opinion would cry cover up anyway and the USA would still lose. If it turned out that this man was actually BIN LADEN, one of his Lieutenants, or the Anti-Christ, then his death would have robbed the American people and the rest of the world of their due justice and again the USA would be no better than vigilantes. There was no way Harm – the point man on this (read: fall guy) – had a chance in holy hell of pulling this one out of his butt so that some how his career didn't suffer because when the shit hit the fan, he would be standing right in front of it – and the shit was starting to pile up.

Harm banged on the hatch to the captain's quarters.

"ENTER." He bellowed.

Harm waited at attention until the captain turned around. Captain Jack Wickstrom was the new skipper on the Guadalcanal. Harm did not have a lot of information about this man and at the moment really didn't care. The captain was slightly older and from the looks of it this was his first – probably his last – command. That had to make a man desperate.

"Commander Rabb" the captain stated. He turned to glare at him, but his expression quickly changed to surprise. "What the hell happened to you? You look like you went fifteen rounds with Mike Tyson."

Harm didn't look that bad, but his eye was black, he had stitches on what looked like a pretty nasty cut and there was a bandage on his hand. Harm also looked a little punch drunk. Actually he was exhausted and could barely focus. That last thing he was interested in doing was bonding with this new captain, a man who was fighting for his career, which was now in Harm's hands.

"Reporting as ordered, captain." Harm evaded the question/remark as he had with Chegwidden.

Harm actually felt worse than he looked.

He had gotten home from the emergency room some time in the middle of the night (he had no idea when). He had a splitting headache. The injury over his eye required three stitches and the doctor who stitched him up had all the finesse of a pile driver. Harm could only imagine what kind of scar it would leave. He didn't care. He was tired. Tired of the whole damn thing. Tired of the fight – tired of losing – tired of trying to do the right thing and having his motives called into question or his feelings dismissed. He couldn't be selfless without being accused of being a martyr. He couldn't be selfish without being attacked for being spoiled. He couldn't be confident or cocksure without being accused of being arrogant, rude, or narcissistic. And God forbid he was right – for then he was superior and haughty. Don't even get him started on his unorthodox methods, breaking the rules and not being held accountable. No, Harm had been held accountable. In his own mind, he had paid dearly for every misstep, misunderstanding and misdirection. The pound of flesh exacted for his selfless or selfish nature was more than any judge would award. Now, he had had it. He was just plain tired – dog tired – of the whole stinking mess that was his life at forty.

On his way out to the ship, he tried to put the last twenty-four hours in perspective and to make some decisions about how he wanted to proceed with Mac. Her rage at first blush seemed irrational, but upon deeper reflection he tried to sympathize with what she had been going through for the past year. He was surprised that she was able to hold it together for as long as she did. If he had had to deal with all that, he probably would have done something much worse than pick a fight with a friend and break a few things.

In spite of the actual chain of events, Harm felt that the straw that broke the camel's back must have been Webb's death. It made sense that she would take that out on Harm – the man who never liked Webb with her and was trying to take his place. Sadly for Harm he could not (or did not) see the role he had played in the past year of Mac's life, her relationship with Webb or more specifically the night of the incident. He had done nothing wrong. He showed her the respect and consideration and love that she deserved. Boy, oh boy, our hero could be blind, deaf and dumb when it suited his purpose.

Harm tried – albeit briefly – to entertain the notion that it wasn't about ALL Webb. Maybe the bigger issue was the endometriosis and the possibility that she may not be able to have a baby. He could certainly understand her anger, he was angry too. Frustrated is a better word for it; something was taken away from them before they had a chance to decide. Was it the same for him as it was for her? No, not at all. He could never really know how deeply that affected her or how it would affect any woman. He appreciated that. While he would really love to see her pregnant with his child that was not as big an issue as he thought it would be.

It never occurred to Harm that maybe that news might make Mac feel like less of a woman and that she might need (what had Gates said?) a little validation in that arena. For Harm, that was not in the realm of plausibility. Mac was as desirable in fatigues after a six-day march across the desert covered with dirt and smelling like – well whatever – as she was in an evening gown. Mac was all woman – strong, smart, independent, soft, tender, all rolled up a package that was easy on the eyes and easier on the skin. The desire she drew up in him the other night was too hot to handle. He had to stop it.

But something had to set her off, what? Sledgehammer, anyone? Ton-of-Bricks?

Did he remember any of the specific spew she spat at him? Not really, none of it was new and most of it was easily shot down under cross. No, he was not going to hold her responsible for what she said in the heat of the moment. He just needed to find the trigger and be sure not to trip it again.

As for getting clocked with the picture, well she didn't mean to hit him – it was an accident. Pretty ironic to have his eye nearly taken out by a picture of the two of them in a frame that he had given her a couple of Christmases ago. The actual injury was no worse than he had gotten playing basketball or flying jets. No big deal. She would over react when she saw the stitches and his black eye – damn that doctor – but it was really no big deal. It would heal.

What Harm couldn't get behind or beyond was the kiss. Why did she have to kiss him? Why take it to that level? He was not pushing any agenda; he could be there to support her as a friend until they were ready to move their relationship forward TOGETHER. They weren't in the right place to do that on Friday night. He had to stop it; there was no other choice. It might have appeared to her at the time that he had rejected her again. It might have looked like he was not willing to do what he said he was going to do. But Mac was not acting like herself – aggressing on him, trying to … what? Seduce him? He knew she was in pain over the loss of Webb but Harm would be damned if he was going to be used to that extent to comfort her through the death of another man. He didn't deserve that. He deserved better.

Yeah, he was still angry about the kiss. After the screaming stopped and the blood was clotted, he exited down the hall without much more than an 'I'll call you tomorrow' and a scared dazed look on Mac's face. He knew he could take her rage, take her anger, take her pain because she needed someone to take it. But he could not take her fickleness. He would be damned if he was going to play stand in, second string, back up in her bed. He put his fist through the window on the front door of her building to drive that point home. When he saw the blood on his hand he laughed at himself. What are a few more stitches among friends – old friends?

"Reporting as ordered, captain." Harm stood at rigid attention.

"One man?"

"I have a legalmen with me, sir."

"Doesn't JAG feel that the gravity of this situation warranted two men?" The captain sneered.

"No, sir." Harm did not feel the need to explain to the captain that he had talked the admiral out of sending another investigator out with him due to the sensitive nature of the investigation. There was no need to ruin anyone else's career.

I hate to break this to Harm, but that is not why the admiral sent him alone. The real story is that Admiral Chegwidden did have every confidence in Rabb and knew that if there were something being hidden that Rabb would ferret it out. Harm was his first choice because of his skills and abilities and his Pit bull like tenacity. Furthermore, the admiral had no intention of sending Harm alone, but Mac had not answered her phone. The fact that Harm had shown up looking like he had been in a bar fight the night before led the admiral to believe that Harm and Webb had gotten into it over Mac. There was no denying that Harm and Mac looked pretty tight at the retirement party. AJ would have paid good money to see that battle and from the looks of Harm, he could only imagine that Webb looked worse. The admiral had no idea how wrong and right he was.

Harm's desire to take the assignment on by him self fueled the admiral's belief that something along the fight-for-the-girl happened. He didn't care what was going on between those two; he was sending his best people. Mac would be the second person on the investigation. And he knew that they would act professionally when it got down to it. So there was no need to discuss it with Rabb. As soon as the admiral caught up with Mac, she was on her way. The admiral did not see this as a career ending assignment; he saw it like any other investigation – he was looking for truth and wanted the guilty to be held accountable. There was only one real concern that AJ had, he would - more than likely - not be in charge when the investigation concluded and depending upon the political aspirations of the new JAG and his or her opinion of Rabb and/or MacKenzie, they may indeed be hung out to dry. But that was beyond his control.

Sending Coates was more like a gift to her than an aide to Harm. Sadly for Harm that meant that he had to find someone else to watch over Mattie – in steps Tom Johnson – the long lost father who will take her away from him the first chance he gets. Poor Harm. He loved Mattie like a daughter and he had little or no right to her. He would do whatever was best for her even if that meant losing her to her natural father, but he didn't have to like it. And leaving Tom Johnson staying at his apartment to watch over Mattie was too much to ask – but there was nothing else he could do. Again he was trapped into doing the right thing for everyone else while he lost.

Harm looked back at the captain. Harm was ready for a fight with some one he could beat and if the captain wanted to start it, Harm was damn sure going to finish it.

"I have read your jacket, Commander." The captain continued. "You are known for you unorthodox investigative tactics and your ability to find fault where none exists."

Harm said nothing but remained at attention. He was biding his time.

"I won't stand for that on my ship. My people will not be implicated in something that they had no hand in, and I will not tolerate even one of my people being sacrificed on the political alter. Have I made myself clear?"

"Sir, are you suggesting that --."

"I am not suggesting a damn thing, Commander. I am telling you that you are free to investigate at will, and everything you need will be made available to you – HOWEVER – you will find nothing to indicate that my crew was involved in this … this … this man's death."

Harm felt that the captain was giving him an order. He didn't take that very well.

"I hope that my findings will be the same as your belief, sir." Harm said sarcastically.

The captain turned and glared at him for a long moment. Harm met his eye and stared him down. "DISMISSED."

"Aye, sir." Harm turned and left. Well, the ground rules were set.

Harm had Coates round up and secure every person that had any contact with the prisoner– known only as Iyad. He would interview each one of them and didn't want them to have an opportunity to sync their stories. The first person he interviewed was that last person to deal with the Iyad. That was the doctor that declared him dead – Lieutenant Mark Cumberland.

For more than two hours Harm grilled the poor doctor. Asked him over and over and over again what was the cause of death. The doctor kept going back to his report and saying that the exact cause of death was unknown as was the precise time of death. Iyad's body had been flown to Germany so a formal autopsy could be done. Harm didn't like the answers Cumberland was giving him and could not get Cumberland to make a supposition. He asked who the treating doctor was and when Harm was told that the treating doctor had been rotated out – he began to feel the cover up.

"I want all the medical records for Iyad and for anyone else who was in sick bay with him for the past --- two weeks."

"Sir?" The lieutenant said tentatively. "Iyad was transferred to us only five days ago."

"Transfer? Transferred from where?" Harm demanded realizing he had started at the wrong end.

"I am not sure sir."

"I want the records, Lieutenant." Harm restated. "Dismissed – you are still confined to quarters."

Harm blew through the rest of the interviewees in short order mainly because they all had the same NOTHING to say. Then he locked himself in his stateroom. He was going over reports and medical files. He was bleary eyed. Coates knocked and came in without being given leave.

"Sir." She said for the third time. "Sir – you need to get some rest."

"Later, Coates." He barked when he realized she was standing next to him.

"Sir, you need to eat something and get some rest."

"I have my first report due to Chegwidden in less than six hours, I need to have something to tell him."

"Then what I brought should help." Mac's voice came from the hatch. "Iyad – not his real name - was an Afghani working with the DOD. He was a double agent – but there is no way of knowing where is true loyalties lay."

She stepped though the hatch and placed her brief case down on the table. It was clear that she was in a great deal of pain but was sucking it up in her typical Marine Mac fashion.

"Colonel, ma'am?" Jennifer said.

Harm was on his feet in an instant and motioned for Mac to take the chair. "Jennifer, bring the colonel some water, would you?"

Jennifer left to get the water.

"What the hell are you doing here, Mac?" He demanded with a combination of frustration and concern but there was relief in his voice. He had been worried about her for nearly two days. At least now he could watch over her.

"Reporting as ordered." She said as she eased herself down into the chair. "Looks like you could use my help."

"Damn it Mac. You shouldn't have come." He cleared a space on the rack so that she could lie down which she refused. "I can't believe your doctor allowed you to get on a plane."

"Try four of them, a helo and the drive to Norfolk."

"Damn it Mac." He squatted down next to her and put his hand on her back and rubbed gently.

She saw the cut over his eye and immediately put her hand up to his face. "Oh God, I am so sorry."

He brushed her hand away. "Don't worry about it." He couldn't let her touch him; it brought up too much of what he was fighting against.

She saw the bruise and cut on his hand and squeezed her eyes tight against the reality. She knew she had caused that too. Somewhere inside of her she was hoping it was all a very bad dream. When she opened them again, it was real. "Harm, please forgive me."

"Nothing to forgive – my own stupid fault." He was going to brush the whole matter aside.

"Don't do that Harm." She warned.

"Mac, we can't do this here." He pushed himself away and sat down on the rack.

"We have to." She continued. "This can't wait."

"It will have to."

"Harm – please."

"Mac, you should have recused yourself." He stopped her.

"Why?" She demanded. "Because we had a fight?"

"Because you are sick."

"I am not sick – I have a condition." She corrected.

"A condition that needs medical attention." He countered.

"I have been living with this for months – probably years – just because it now has a name doesn't mean that I can't do my job."

"Damn it Mac." He got up and moved to close the hatch.

"Look I didn't tell you so you could take care of me."

"Why did you tell me?" He looked back at her.

She looked at him for a long moment and felt his old words forming in her mouth, "You know the reason."

"Do I?"

Jennifer banged on the hatch. She was back with the water. "Ma'am, they are having trouble locating quarters for you. They weren't expecting you."

"She will stay here." Harm said clearly. Jennifer looked up at him. "Have them find me other quarters – I don't care if it is with the enlisted."

"Yes, sir." Jennifer nodded and stepped back out.

"Harm you didn't need to do that." She took the offered water.

"You'd rather be hot bunking yourself with the marines down on --."

"Harm, we need to talk."

"Look, Mac. I have said all there is for me to say. I will be there for you – you can count on it. That is all." The words may have been the same but the sentiment was not filled with the same kind of love and concern that he had used the other night. "There is nothing that you have said or done that has changed that." Clearly a lot had changed for Harm.

She looked sad. "Have I really ruined it for us?" She said forcing her voice not to crack.

"Mac, I said --."

"I know what you said and what you didn't say." She turned toward him. "Is that really what you want? After all this time? Everything we have been through? All the mistakes we have made – this last one is going to be the one to finish any chance we had for good and always just when it looked like it was all turning around for us?"

Harm looked away. 'US,' he thought – 'There is no us.'

"You have to let me apologize … to try to explain." She paused briefly. "Don't you think you owe me that much?"

"What I owe you?" His ire was building. "We will not do this now." He ordered.

"Harm, do you love me?"

"What the hell kind of question is that?" He turned away. "I said we can't do this now – I am not going to -."

She cut him off again. "Harm, do you love me?"

He turned back to her. "How do you expect me to answer that?"

"The truth - for once - would be nice." She was not about to back down. "And in plain words."

"THE TRUTH?" He threw back at her. "Now you are asking for the truth! You never wanted to hear it before – why now?"

Mac braced herself for the fight she knew they had to have. "Harm, everything we have or hope to have hinges on your answer to that question. If you love me – the way I love you – then most of the issues between us will fade away and the rest of it can be worked out."

He leaned back against the hatch and crossed his arms over his chest. He was braced against the fight and was clearly ready to do anything to stop it. "Well, counselor I think you just nailed the crux of our problem."

"So answer the question." She felt like she was making headway.

"The question is …" Harm started in his best lawyer like demeanor. "Do I love you the way you love me?"

Mac held her breath – her question had been twisted – he out lawyered her. She felt the air being sucked from the room.

"The answer is TRUTHFULLY and in ONE PLAIN WORD … No."