Hey gang! Okay, a few things. 1- Harm is going to be a bit off. . .kilter in this chappie. Can't really blame him, it's a bit uncharacteristic. But he and Mac have finally gotten somewhere, they eluded Temir and Steele only to have something happen to her. It's understandable, he'll get into shape soon. 2- There is a story I am working on that would have taken place had JAG been renewed. It's a Harm and Mac story. Since it wasn't renewed, I WILL still post it, but when I am done with this one. Originally, I was going to post it directly after the season ender. I really really like that story. You'll get it. It's called "Return To Me."

Hmmm… dunno what else. Hang on, I guess. ;)

This story will be long, which, for you junkies will be a good thing. I have 76 pages written and keep getting ideas. ;) We might have a wedding at the end. ;) We'll see. Hehehe.

Thanks to: joanoa, smithknk, mariarita, xobabygurlxo, Brittany4445, starryeyes10, jnp, dansingwolf, LiseGirardi, Martini, JadeAlmasy, Dessler, BiteBeccy, aserene, LtjgMegAustin, cbw, southernqt, froggy, harmfan, Judy, jtbwriter, Abigaile, XBlueShadowX, jaggurl, Lurkz, alix33, Nix707, echorage, aserene, chantelmac, Ink, Wuchel, CarbyGurl, Cristina and anyone else I missed for the feedback :) - If you left feedback and are not in this list, lemme know please!

PART 8 – Who Is Clark Palmer?
September 15, 2005
1830 Zulu

JAG Headquarters

Falls Church, Virginia

'Who is Clark Palmer?' The words echoed in Harm's head, beating against his brains like some sort of jackhammer. He felt as though he'd been sucker punched as the pieces started to fit – Mac wasn't at work and he knew she had to be. So there was only one logical conclusion, Palmer had taken Mac. "Where's the Colonel, sir?" By now he was biting the inside of his cheek, willing himself not to cry. Out of all the things that have happened and the things that could have happened, this was, by far the worst. Temir, Levine, Steele, Ragle, Sadik, Tanveer, Coster, non of them knew how to really get to Harm and Mac, what they had were files and information without much depth. But Palmer, he was a work of art. Psychotic art, but art, nevertheless.

"That's what we're trying to find out." Creswell slid a see-thru, plastic bag towards Harm. Inside was a typed letter, as in, coming from a standard typewriter. The paper used was basic loose leaf with no watermarks, or any symbol of sorts to give an idea as to where it came from. And there, in smeared typewritten letters were the words: 'It took me so many years to finally see that the way to destroy good ol' Harmon Rabb was to use one Sarah MacKenzie. With much love, Clark Palmer.'

Below the words was a small black and white picture of Mac who seemed to be unconscious. A small, orange timestamp read, 'September 15, 2005 – 0845 EST.'

Harm literally fell into the chair as the weight of it all finally crashed around him. His ears kept tormenting him as he could practically hear Palmer's voice reciting that letter in a sing song voice. For a moment, he thought he was going to be sick. "Son of a b. . .damned son of a b!" The letter rumbled as Harm made a fist. His body shook from the anger as his eyes scanned the letter once more for a hint, a clue of sorts. There were non, at all. "Permission to search for the Colonel, sir."

Creswell stared blankly at the man, he didn't have any facts. He didn't ask any questions and was, as Admiral Chegwidden warned him, driven by emotions. "No."

But, Harm wasn't going to take that for an answer. Standing to his full height he slammed the bag on the desk. "Sir, I resigned my commission once to go after her. Be damn well certain I will do it again without hesitation."

"Commander, mind the tone you take with me and calm down." He was trying to remain impassive on it all, if only for the sake that he knew they had a history, it was clear one or the other would break over anything that went wrong, but he wasn't going to let Harm go off and get himself into trouble.

"Calm down? She's. . .my best friend in the whole world. . . She's everything to me and I am not going to let this bastard get away with this!"

"SIT THE HELL DOWN, COMMANDER!" Creswell wasn't the type to ever let those in his command run amuck. And it was apparent that in the Commanders current frame of mind, he wasn't really ready to play ball. He waited for Harm to sit back down and ignored the man's indignant look as he walked around the desk and took a seat next to him.

"It would be nice if you let me get in a word or two before you go ballistic on me. . .I've asked those involved to include you in their search. . . But we need information first." Leaning forward he grabbed the note and fingered it slightly, with a sigh he handed it over to Harm. "I might be a hardass but I am not a stupid hardass. . .And I am a Marine damnit. We, more than anyone, believe in not leaving our men or women behind." He placed a hand on Harm's shoulder, an uncharacteristic response from him, but even in his short time in command, he was starting to see his people more like family. "I know you care for her a great deal. . .but running on emotions will only get you so far. . .You're a lawyer, Commander, a good one. Start thinking with the head of an investigator and not with the heart of a lover."

Harm's face blanched slightly. Jesus, was there anyone that didn't know they were together? Creswell's small, knowing smile, was the only response he got. Taking the note, he withdrew a slow, shaky breath. "Where was this found?"

"Apparently someone hand delivered it to JAG ops. I have Gunny Winthrop's security team going through all the tapes, seeing if the security camera got anything we can use. . .I only got this an hour ago. I opted not to call local police, they only seem to bumble our investigations." He saw the look on his officer's face and he figured, the best way to allow the man not to break down was to continue with facts and information. "Since I couldn't get in touch with you, I sent two of our guards to the Colonel's home. They knocked on the door, but no one answered. Her vehicle is still outside of her building complex. . .NCIS should be there within the hour, maybe you should meet up with them?" Without hesitation, Harm stood up not even bothering to come to attention or get final orders. As he turned to leave, he heard Creswell's voice. "Commander, take Commander's Roberts and Turner with you."

"Sir?" His face furled in confusion.

"I think you need all of the moral support that you can get."

Harm, once again, made to leave, then stopped and turned with his hand on the doorknob. "Sir, please keep this information between us for the time being. The Colonel and I went missing before and it. . .it affected people, a lot." Creswell nodded and soon, Harm went off in search of his two friends.

1900 Zulu

Georgetown

Bud and Sturgis glanced at each other, both offering a strange expression as Harm maneuvered his SUV through the city. He'd been silent the whole time over, ignoring his two friends as they mused over the Washington Nationals' road to the playoffs. They both found it rather odd, but chose not to say anything in light of how strange it was to have Harm practically demand them to join him. 'The General told me to take the two of you.' He said simply and offered no more information, only his complete and total silence.

It was probably a good thing that neither of them could read minds, if they had, they'd have heard the slue of curse words that would make even the most foul mouthed sailor blush. Harm's head was a ticking time bomb, one that was coming up with gross scenarios of what he would do to Palmer if he laid a hand on Mac. On the drive, those thoughts would vanish for thoughts of a different kind. 'You're being driven by emotions and those emotions are going to get us killed.' Mac had told them once, as they were evading the supposed KGusedtoB, in the search for his father. So he couldn't run on emotions. . .no emotions. . . Yea, right.

Chegwidden had told him something of the sort as well, when he had blindly run off to rescue Mac in Paraguay. And now, he was realizing it was all true. How foolish and ridiculous was it that the moment he heard the words 'Clark Palmer' he was one step away from running out the door and blindly searching. But searching for what? He hadn't even asked the questions that needed to be asked. He didn't even know where the note was found or where she was taken from.

With a sigh, he eased his SUV into a spot behind Mac's Corvette. Maybe this was just a dream? Another nightmare to add to his torment. Maybe he was going to wake up and find her warm body laying next to his? Gulping down the lump at his throat, he practically threw himself from the car, leaving Bud and Sturgis trying to catch up.

The ride up the elevator was a heated one. Harm was kicking himself for all of the investigative 'mistakes' he made. "Damnit." He cursed, slamming his head into the side wall. He hadn't even called Leavenworth. He hadn't even found out if Clark Palmer was loose. Truthfully, after his final battle with the, self professed, forensic artist, he never really checked up on Palmer. What was that famous little term? Out of sight, out of mind? Maybe something's shouldn't be left out of mind.

Bud stared at Harm as though the man had lost his mind and in a brief moment before the elevator signaled it's arrival to Mac's floor he managed to ask, "Sir, what's happening?"

The three strode out of the elevator, moving in single file down the hallway, stopping outside of Mac's apartment. Should he go in, or shouldn't he? He had a key and she may very well be hurt in there. Sturgis brought a hand over and turned Harm to face him. He'd never seen his friend acting this oddly. With a fear, Harm let the word slip out. "Palmer." It was almost as if voicing it would make it that much more real. "Clark Palmer." Handing the plastic bag to Bud, he clenched his jaw, then made to try and enter Mac's apartment.

"NO!" Bud rapidly took the key away from him and stepped in front of his two colleagues. "Sir, remember once he wired your door. . .What if the Colonel is still in there?"

Harm's face furled in annoyance. Damnit, give another point to the emotionally driven Commander. He'd completely forgot about that, how Palmer had him bound to a chair with a charge set at the door. If it wasn't for Bud, he would have been blown to smithereens. "Jesus." His fingers shook as he slowly removed them from the door handle. "Call NCIS and tell them to bring over a bomb squad, Commander." Moving slowly away from the door, he urged Sturgis and Bud to do the same. "And stay back."

It was a good thing that the General had called NCIS to handle this. Harm hated DC police and their bumbling ways of handling things. Too many times the detective's so called 'skills' had damaged evidence, hidden things. Hell, once or twice they even planted things. As they stood there, Sturgis waited for Bud to finish his call and then, with a confused expression turned to Harm. "This might seem like an odd question. Then again, I haven't been at JAG as long as you guys. . .Who the hell is Clark Palmer?"

Ah, that was the question of the day, the one Harm hadn't answered when his CO asked. Though, he supposed, it was all there on his records somewhere and if it wasn't, he was sure Creswell would procure some way of getting it. "A nightmare." As he said those words, his dreams came back to haunt him. "Oh God." There had been something to them, a reason why they kept repeating mercilessly. Even talking to Mac about it hadn't helped, sure they died down some, but he still had them. And if Palmer had gotten to her, it would all make sense. The 'evil' version of himself in the dream wasn't him, it was Palmer, who had once used his artistic and forensic skills to become Harm for the day in order to murder a client. If Bud hadn't rescued him, he'd have killed a lot more people that day, including Mac.

Sturgis was looking at his friend as if he'd lost his mind. As Bud returned from calling both NCIS and the General, but handed the phone over to Harm who NCIS needed to speak with. So he chose another route to get information. "Bud, who's this Clark Palmer?"

Furling his brow, the young Lt. Commander recalled that Turner hadn't been aboard back then. Hence, he missed all of the fun with Palmer and Harm. "He was a DSD agent. The Commander and I were near Twenty-Nine Palms on a case when a Marine helo crashed for unknown reasons. In the middle of it all we found a mix up with a UFO." He paused for a moment to gauge Sturgis' reaction, which was that of an unbelieving person. "Well, it's sort of true, Commander. . .Cept there were no little green men. Anyway, to make a long story short. Harm infiltrated this base that belonged to the Bradenhurst corporation which was just a name the DSD was hiding under. Palmer caught the Commander, who then escaped and gave the information he found to the higher ups. Turns out their UFO did hit the Marine helo. . . As a result, Palmer lost his job and went underground."

Putting his hands on his head, Sturgis slowly massaged his temples. "Let me guess, he has a beef with Harm?" The younger man nodded and with a sigh Sturgis said under his breath, "UFOs, Marine helicopters and rogue agents. Things have never been quiet at ops, have they?"

Harm handed Bud back his cell phone, catching the end of the conversation he added in some of the finer points. "He has more than a just a beef with me. Palmer's like a disease, one that just waits around until it finds the appropriate time to attack."

"Woah, woah, woah. . .Harm, I've known you for a long time. I've never, ever heard you talking like this."

"He tried to kill me several times. The first was when I broke into the installation. The second, after he disappeared into thin air, he got into my apartment and knocked me out. Then he made some mask out of latex because he needed to kill a witness I was questioning. Bud and I stopped him. . ." Harm went through the rest of the instances one by one. He told them, well, mainly, Sturgis, about the first time Webb faked his death and Palmer had decided to go after Harm. 'Wilderness of Mirrors,' was the term Webb had used to describe how Harm would be living through life and, eventually, it did come back to haunt him. Palmer made to drive him crazy, making him believe he was seeing his dead father and nearly murdering his girlfriend, Jordan Parker. To top it all off, for Mac's wedding to Mic, he'd planted a knife in the gift Tiner had purchased for them. Then tried to have Harm murdered as they were trying to clear Marine Sergeant Krohn of his wife's death.

Letting out a low whistle, Sturgis shook his head. "Has anyone checked in with Leavenworth? I mean, you'd figure they'd know he escaped, right?"

Bud sighed. "The General is looking into that now."

After nearly fifteen minutes of discussion over Clark Palmer, the NCIS team arrived in the building headed by non-other than Special Agent Gibbs. Agents McGee, Dinozzo and Todd came in behind him, all dressed in the NCIS field jackets. Gibbs didn't bother with pleasantries, he knew, Harm still didn't like him, despite the fact that his hunch had probably saved the man from going to Leavenworth. "We have a bomb squad downstairs and I have a few other field agents working on evacuating the building. . .Rabb, according to Commander Roberts, MacKenzie might be in there?"

"We're not sure." He spat the words out, hating that they were wasting so much precious time. He should have been able to just bust through Mac's door and rescue her, like he did Jordan. But, Bud was right and Palmer was just too unpredictable. "This guy, he's good. . .I don't want to take a chance on Mac's life if she's in there."

It was odd seeing the normally stoic and tough Commander acting so oddly. The way he said his partner's name made Gibbs realize that he'd been right since the beginning, they were involved. "That's a good idea. You three should head out of the building as well."

"I'm not going anywhere and don't even try to get me out of your way." Harm warned giving even more validity to Gibbs' beliefs.

"Alright, just let us do our jobs." When he interviewed Mac about Harm, he'd noticed something in the woman, a hurt at not knowing a piece of her co-workers history. While the others had been shocked, Mac had been concerned and it wasn't a type of friendly concern, but that of a woman who hurt over a man she loved.

2030 Zulu

Location Unknown

Virginia

Swimming. If she had to give a word to describe the state of her head at the moment it was, swimming. Mac hadn't been hit over the head, the blinding pain a good whack on the skull could bring on wasn't whatever this was. No, she felt like her brains were scattering, running away, not allowing her to put together one good, coherent thought. 'C. . .mon.' She said to herself, willing her mind to work enough for her to move her extremities, but that wasn't working either.

Mac tried to speed up her breathing, hoping that, somehow, it would get her adrenaline going, her mind working. And slowly, it did. The first thing she realized was that she couldn't open her eyes. No, that wasn't it. She could open her eyes, but the reason she couldn't see was because she was blindfolded. Next, she tried moving her arms, only to find that her hands were tied. . .no. . .cuffed behind her back with the metal of the cuffs biting into her skin.

Trying to move her legs, she found them to be either cuffed or tied as well. And that is when panic started to set in. 'How the hell did this happen?' She asked herself wondering if this was all a dream or if she was living a nightmare. Trying to sit up still proved to be too much for her swimming head, so, instead, she lay down on the metal surface. If she was a betting woman, she'd lay her money on her being locked inside some sort of van. 'Okay, MacKenzie, think. . .how did this happen?' It wasn't as if it mattered how it happened, but, then again, if she remembered some detail then she could gauge who had her captive. There was something relieving about knowing at least that much.

'Let's see. . .you woke up at Harm's. Set the coffee, then headed home.' But that is where things started to get a bit fuzzy. Once she arrived at her apartment, a wave of depression had rocked her. She wasn't in the safety of Harm's arms anymore. She didn't have his words helping her through such a trying time. No, she was alone, and in a moment of self pity, Mac crawled into her bed and cried herself to sleep. Upon waking up, she found she was late for work and dismissed the notion of calling in sick.

Then, as if he'd been able to read her mind, there was a knock at the door. Harm had sent her flowers, or so the card said. He'd sent her roses, three dozen to be correct. They were big, beautiful flowers with an aroma that was filling her apartment. Literally ten minutes after the courier had left, she'd started feeling. . .odd. Her body felt weak, almost as if she had no control over her extremities. And her mind, she couldn't keep a thought on anything. Her heart was thundering hard against her chest and, the only thing she could think of was reaching the phone to call Harm. Mac never made it, she tumbled to the ground and before she could try to pick herself up, her world went black.

What she didn't know, however, was that the roses weren't sent by Harm. And all of that rose fragrance, generated by a small vent inside of the vases, was mixed with a special chemical agent used to shut the body down for a certain period of time.

Feeling a sideways movement, Mac realized the van, or whatever vehicle she was in, had started to move. Maybe it was on the move the entire time that she was trying to get her body coherent again? The van hit a bump and her body hit a wall. She bit her lip, hoping to muffle a groan as the trip got worse and her body was batted around. Mac's head hit the side wall at least three times before the vehicle came to an abrupt stop.

With a muffled curse, the driver took a hold of a pair of binoculars and stared out onto the abandoned mill he was using as his 'batcave.' A group was surveying the site, testing the soil and, no doubt, looking to buy. This was not good. "Damnit, can't things ever run smoothly?"

Mac stilled her body, breathing slowly as her mind tried to go through each and every file. She didn't know that voice, it hardly even sounded familiar. The person was definitely male, but, past that, she was drawing blacks. 'Damnit.' She cursed inwardly. 'Give me a sign.'

Grabbing a camera with a high powered lens, he took photos of the group, their cars, license plates and every other detail needed to find out who the people walking over his land were. He would take care of them, one way or another. He was determined for no one to find his hiding place. It was a smart move after all, hiding in plain sight. Hell, even the government did it why couldn't he?

2145 Zulu

Mac's Apartment

Georgetown

"All clear." Special Agent Davis Rollins said as he slipped out of the protective suit that he and his fellow bomb squad workers wore. "We searched the whole building and couldn't even find a pipe bomb." Entering Mac's apartment had been quite the difficult task. They'd spent a good amount of time slipping small cameras under the front door trying to find any device possible. Another small camera, mounted on a tiny remote control vehicle, was able to be inserted by an agent that had climbed to Mac's balcony and broken a small hole in a window, enough to fit the piece.

Finding that there was no device on the door, they allowed for the squad head in, hoping that Mac was still inside and alive. But when special agent Rollins stepped out with a grim look on his face, Harm didn't even need to hear the words. She was gone.

Gibbs nodded. "Thanks Davis." He patted the younger man on the back then turned to Harm who, just as he proposed, would not go away. "Rabb, you knew MacKenzie, I say you and I go in first. . .see what we can find."

"Sounds like a plan." Harm said with a soft voice as he entered Mac's apartment heading first towards the kitchen. At first look, nothing seemed out of place save for the dirty plate and half-empty coffee cup on the kitchen table. "Gibbs, have your men bag these. . ." One of the things he learned was that, sometimes, normal looking things served as clues.

Then again, sometimes, the best clues, were the big, bright and bold ones like the yellow roses on Mac's coffee table. With purpose he headed towards them, ignoring the odd look that Gibbs was giving him. "Found something?"

"The roses." He stared at them for a moment. Then, after yanking a pair of latex gloves from Gibbs, he grabbed the card from the coffee table and read it out loud. "Sarah, all my love, Harm." With anger, he dropped the card down as if he'd been scorched which got Gibbs' attention. "These aren't from me. . . I didn't send these."

Gibbs walked over to the table and, with gloved hands, spun the vase gently, trying to find some discernable sign. "Think maybe one of your friends might have sent it?"

Harm shrugged. Why would any of their friends send Mac something with his name on it without telling him first? Yes, they did have that argument at his place, but that didn't mean anyone knew. "Why would they put my name on it?"

As Gibbs raised the vase up, the slight movement had made the vent start to work again. With a sputter, a cloud of white spritzed into the air, flying directly onto Harm's face. "Shit. Back away!" He quickly covered up his mouth and nose with his jacket, backing away as he watched the little cloud hover in the air.

But, the residual chemical agent had other ideas. Even before Harm had a chance to take a step back, he'd inhaled. Almost immediately, his body started to feel the effects. He was slowly losing control of his body. The motor skills were shot to hell and he found himself tumbling downwards. His mind, he couldn't get that working either, at least, not in time to brace himself for the fall. "Gibbs. . ." He managed to choke out before his body solidly hit the floor.

Acting quickly, Gibbs held his breath and grabbed Harm by the underarms, pulling the tall Naval officer out of the apartment and into the hallway. He opened up Harm's collar, making sure he was getting enough air. Thankfully, he was still breathing. "Rabb? Commander Rabb, snap to!" He smacked Harm on the face a few times, trying to get the man to regain consciousness. "Damnit!" Glancing upwards he saw his team standing over them with a unified expression of confusion. "Kate, call an ambulance. . . Dinozzo, see if you can find us some gas masks. ." Glancing down at Harm, he frowned slightly. Who the hell had the Commander and Colonel pissed off to get them in this much hot water?

. . . . . . .
AN: I don't watch NCIS. I've seen half of an episode or two, but I needed some people working the case. NCIS works for the moment, until Harm will need to go a bit higher up. ;)
. . . . . .

NK - Valwhat! Yea I did warn you! So I am not mean! And keep your valwahtevers to yerself! ;)

Christina - All is forgiven! Congrats on the addition to the family:) And yep, gonna write after it ends. My brain won't let me sleep else I jot things down. :P

aserene - fatal, doubtful, kinda boring if Harm or Mac are dead. And you can grrr at me all you want, just make sure you get them rabisshot! ;)

LtjgMeg - Palmer is fun though but he has a side kick. ;) There ar a bunch of people on JAG that need to be offed - But I need Palmer at the moment, no attacking the man!

jaggurl - Yea, dramatic. At first I was going to ahve them have a HUUUUUUGE fight and make both Harm and Mac feel really guilty, but I figured the torture of Mac being taken was enough. ;)

Tina - Yea, TELL me about it. I've ignored her problem in stories, I chose this one not to because I had that "scene" written in a long time ago even before I realized this story would be the third of the series. Palmer is up to no good. . . A lot of no good. That's all I can say. The producers will sue me if I say more. ;)

Wuchel - Yep, and I think Palmer totally could pull off the hiding in plain sight. He's a fun villan!

southernqt - Preggers? Hmmm hasn't been decided. But, isn't that the most ridiculous crap ever? Would ahve been smarter if they would have decided to wait since Mac was "grieving" for Webb not that whole cop out! DPB shame on you!

carbygurl - Glad to keep you interested. No guesses? Boooooring! ;)

jtbwriter - Sneaky! Sneaky! That's all you could call me! Sneaky! Okay :sniffs: sneaky it is!

dansing - LOL! Yep, loved that bit about the rosegarden. I typed it up, stopped and cracked up. Sad really. I can go overboard with angst, but then I start getting ulcers. Learn to stop writing when you start sobbing over your own parts. Course that is just pms. LOL!

cbw - I thought so too. They get somewhere, talk about something serious then WOOSH! Which is why Harm is going to be out of sorts.

martini- Palmer isn't dead. In the actual show he's still in Leavenworth, stole a bunch of money and stuck it in some overseas account with Harm's name on it. Mind you, no one has bothered to check that a lowly Naval officer has so much flo in his account. Well, Okay, his stepdad is the VP for Chrysler, that excuses things. ;) - Sorry mindless rambling!

harmfan - LOL! Non, I didn't even realize. LOL! Lemme know if I do it again. And I'll be nice, normally when I find out something iritates someone I keep on doing it. Hehehe Muahahaha. I have pet peeves, a lot of them. Oh, I don't take offense at much. Sucks to be me really. LOL! Non. What a moron I is!

Lurkz - Hey, he's a fun bad guy and not a made up bad guy. I had too many of those already. Nice just to keep up with one. ;)