A/N: Hey people, back again. I know I left things a little fuzzy in the last chapter. That was intentional but I only realize right now how truly confusing it was. Major apologies. This chapter will explain EVERYTHING to you . . . well, everything you need to know at the moment. LOL.

Special thanks to: Bite Beccy, Bail's Other Daughter, Steelo, Starryeyes10, Kitty X, martini1988, QueenOfAces, froggy0319, alix33, mjag, moonlight, nursejay80, AnMaDeRoNi, snugglebug, jaggurl, Anne, ficchic, dansingwolf, Radiorox, cbw, wishwaters, Rocket Rain, sgcgirl52, tlk29, JJScottishGirl, Blueangel, aj, French-navy girl, Marge, Jane, Tina Frank, highplainswoman, mac AND harm fan, Ali Baba, super ducky, tumblebuttons, AB, and Abigiale! Thank you so much for your reviews, I love them! (and let me know if I missed you for feedback . . .)

Tumblebuttons, I didn't mean what I said/didn't say and I'm really sorry. I know you're not reading this now, but on the slightly off chance you are – I was mean, undeservedly mean and I didn't screw up anything between you and "it". I never intentionally would. So . . . I don't know, could you start smiling again or something? You're bringing down my good mood.

The Way of the Will

Flashback to 180 days ago

Harm was alive. It was impossible, it was downright unbelievable. But if everything The Caller said was true, then I was about ready to slaughter Harm for leaving me like this. The smallest smile crept onto my lips. The first smile in many days.

I felt something stinging the back of my eyes and I doubled over with the strongest sensation of relief possible. I couldn't hold the tears back any longer. All the crying I had done for Harm, all the weeping I had done until I thought there was no water left in me, came out in one flood of emotion. I whimpered under the sheer force of it all and struggled to control my ragged breathing. I curled into a fetal position and wiped my eyes until my own touch stung. Heavy laughter mixed in with my exhaustion of tears, my mind circling on one solitary sentence.

Harm was alive.

I felt a ringing sensation in my heart, like a candle had just been lit within me and the warmth was gradually spreading. He was alive. I wiped my tearstained face and burrowed myself into the quilt of my bed. Today had been one hell of an emotional whirlwind.

The phone rang, the receiver just rattling a little with sheer vibration. I leaned over and picked it up, settling my head on my pillows and forcing myself to control my shaking voice.

"Hello?" I struggled, resisting the urge just to scream.

"Ma'am."

The voice was innocent with the slight edge of worry and I closed my eyes, heaved a deep relieved sight. It was Harriet. Instantly, a mental battle erupted within me. I should tell Harriet. I knew I should. But then I remembered The Caller and what he had said and I knew immediately it was an impossibility. I couldn't risk endangering Harm.

"Hi, Harriet."

There was a long hesitation on the other end and then, "Um, the reading of Commander Rabb's will is tomorrow . . ." A long pause of uneasiness and then, "Um, you're kind of . . . well, you're mentioned in the will and . . ."

"Thanks, Harriet," I interrupted the babbling lieutenant. "I'll be there. When and where?"

"It's going to be at JAG seeing as most mentioned in his will are at JAG," Harriet said, her voice evidently more comfortable. "Harm's lawyer's coming in and I was told the Burnetts would be there."

I felt a hard pang of guilt hit me when Harriet mentioned Harm's mother and Frank. They over anyone else deserved to know. But they couldn't. I couldn't tell them. Harm's life hung in the balance and that was something I would never be willing to wager.

"Thanks for the call, Harriet," I said softly, my palms suddenly feeling sweaty.

A long pause on the end of the line and then, "Are you sure you're alright, ma'am? It wouldn't be any trouble for me to come over."

"No, that's not necessary, Harriet," I said, more to convince myself than anyone. "You take care of your family."

There was a long breath on the phone then, "See you tomorrow?"

"You can set your watch by it."

I smiled rather faintly as I hung up and then rested my head on my pillow, my eyes staring outside my window and into the dark star-studded Washington sky.

Harm, where are you?

I rested my hands comfortably on my lap and stared outside the airplane window, watching the clouds roll by. In two hours I'd be in Padua. I felt a pang of guilt as I remembered my lie to the Admiral. Sure, I hadn't said I wouldn't go to Padua. But I was getting off on a technicality and I was damn lucky he wasn't in contact with the CIA.

I trailed my fingers over the 8 by 10 photos. I wasn't a believer in clones. The supernatural . . . maybe. But Franco Valvassori – that was apparently his name now – looked so much like Harm that I'm willing to, I don't know, surrender to voodoo or something if I'm wrong.

That maternal side of me wondered how Harm was getting along. Was he alright, was he eating properly – things that I never would have worried if he were "alive" and before my eyes in Washington were suddenly running through my mind. Was he sick? Could the CIA risk a doctor doing a full examination on Harm without blowing cover? If a doctor did, they would be sure to see the scars from Harm's various ejections. That would certainly raise some questions.

I rested my head against the back of my seat. Would he be different? Would he act the same, look the same? Would he be happy to see me? I felt a knot of anxiety swell up within me. I would sure as hell be happy to see him.

I looked at the photographs again, staring so hard I was practically willing Harm back to life. I closed my eyes, slipping the photographs back in my hand bag. I could remember The Caller. How he'd changed my life in one foul swoop . . .

"Colonel?"

My mind jolted back to earth. I was in the JAG conference room during the reading of Harm's will. I just couldn't help zoning off. Every time his name was mentioned – it just brought back a memory. I tucked a long strand of dark hair out of my eyes and stiffened up, almost at attention. "Sorry," I apologized, that line becoming a steady tradition.

The Admiral nodded at me almost sympathetically and I felt eyes swivel from me to Harm's lawyer. I flashed an apologetic smile.

Harm's lawyer, a Hugo Dumfrey, cleared his throat loudly and pulled out the thick wad of paper which I knew to be Harm's will out in front of him. The palms of my hands were sweaty and I kept rubbing them on the side of my jacket causing Harriet – who was sitting next to me – to look at me strangely.

"This is the last will and testament of Commander Harmon David Rabb, Jr. . . ."

I felt a bolt of sorrow strike me just then as his name was uttered. It was like a cold knife through warm flesh. My breath caught in my throat and I felt the tears prickling again but like the stone-wall Marine I was, I held it in. I felt someone touch my hand and I looked up in surprise to see Sturgis, looking very comfortingly at me and I realized then that it must be hard on him too. He didn't show it. Hell, he didn't look one bit sorry at Harm's funeral. I mean, I knew they were having problems. Harm at least confided that one bit of information in me before he . . . well, "died".

"To Commander Sturgis Turner I leave my Corvette." There was a surprised silence, broken only by a raised eyebrow from Sturgis. I smiled at him. It was just totally Harm to do something like that.

"To my mother, Trish Burnett, I leave the tapes," Dumfrey read on. His eyebrow sort of rose as he said the 'tapes' part but a nod of understanding went around the table so he didn't question it.

A long line of names went on and I felt myself drifting though quite unintentionally. Sturgis kept elbowing me to keep me awake and for that I was eternally grateful. And then I sort of wondered why I sat there. This was taking forever and what more was there to give? Harm's top secret home-made bombs? I rolled my eyes at my own joke. How pathetic is that?

"And to Colonel Sarah Mackenzie . . ." I felt myself literally stiffen with apprehension, "I leave my plane, Sarah, and my box of photos."

I can feel the confusion melting into my features. First of all – I don't fly. I'm morbidly afraid of heights. I can't stand them and Harm knows it. Is this his dying last joke or something? And what box of pictures? What pictures could he possibly possess?

"And to each of you, he left you one last letter . . ." Dumfrey trailed and I can literally feel my interest peaking. He left the pile of letters in the centre of the table and slowly – very slowly – the Admiral began to rummage through the pile, passing the letters to each of us. And that was when Tiner entered.

"Colonel, you have a phone call."

The glare the Admiral shot him could send Big Foot into hiding. But Tiner doesn't back down as any sane person would.

"He says it's urgent."

I feel my hands roaming over the envelope. Printed very clearly, in bold stiff letters was printed 'MAC'. I felt my fingers tingling and my body was suddenly pounding with a rush of adrenaline. Harm's last words . . . you know, supposedly.

I sighed, and held the envelope to my side. "Thanks, Tiner."

I exited the conference room and entered my office, placing the envelope very delicately on my desk, as though if I were too rough, it might break. I inhaled slowly and picked up the receiver. "Mackenzie."

A long silence and then, "Are you alone, Colonel?"

The voice sent chills down my spine and it was only then that I realized who was actually on the phone. "Yes."

"Very well." The voice was brisk and to the point. "Commander Rabb reached Padua last night, accompanied by another Agent who is currently unidentified. They bought train tickets – but to three different locations. It was then that my people lost them. We suspect they're in Venice, but that is currently unproven."

I felt my breath linger in my throat and I didn't realize until I tightened my grip on the phone how sweaty my palms were. The internal battle was still waging within me. Was Harm dead, or wasn't he?

"I'm faxing you some photos right now. If all goes well, we will be able to pinpoint their exact location in a few weeks. Months at the latest. The agent with him is unknown by name but by reputation is notorious."

"How do you know them by reputation if they have no name?" I asked, my voice weighty with apprehension.

"She's got many names," The Caller went on. "And my guys are good."

"And who exactly are your guys?" the suspicion rang clear in my tone and I could hear a bated breath on the other end of the line.

"Special intelligence officers."

"What agency?" my voice was sharp.

"Are you always this nosy?"

I laughed sort of sullenly. "I'm a lawyer. It's my business to know things."

Long silence and then, "You make a valid point . . . I'm NSA."

"And why are you following Harm?"

"Because he has something we need," The Caller said, his voice ringing loudly.

"What?"

"Intelligence."

"What kind of intelligence?"

Exasperated breath. "Intelligence he received from working with the CIA last year."

There was a long pause on my end. Harm and I had never truly talked about his term in the CIA. "So why are you telling me all this?"

"Because I need your help . . . we need your help."

"With . . .?" I trailed, no longer being able to keep the tension out of my voice.

"Getting him back."

And with that one simple sentence, my life took a dramatic turn . . .

I opened my handbag again. In half an hour we would touch down in Padua. 30 minutes. My tension was spreading wildly within my body, numbing all my nerves and senses. My heart was racing and I knew I just looked wild. Wild and nervous.

I pulled out an envelope from within my handbag. An envelope that I'd had for the past 179 days. One that I was used to holding, to watching, to admiring – one that was constantly haunting my dreams. On the front, in calmly printed letters it said 'MAC' and it was Harm's last letter . . . completely unopened.

My sense of logic was undeniable. These were meant to be Harm's last words. But Harm was still alive and if I were to ever read the contents of this letter, it should be under the circumstances set by him.

I leaned back against the chair and fidgeted nervously. I couldn't help that last sentence revolving in my head . . .

"Getting him back."

The call clicked off and The Caller stretched his back against an old moth-bitten sofa and sent an admiring glance at the man bound and gagged to a kitchen chair.

"Well, you have out-welcomed your stay, I'm afraid," said that Caller in a mockingly sad voice. "So I'm afraid this is the end of your stay, Mr. Hayes."

Albert Hayes's eyes widened as he stared down the barrel of the gun and his mouth, underneath the binding, was moving wordlessly. His last thought as his body slumped to the ground, heart failing in a matter of seconds was one of Harmon Rabb, the man he had just sold out and of that woman – the pretty one that Rabb was enamored with.

Let them be okay, he thought sullenly, his eyelids closing for the last time. Let them be okay.

A/N: Alright, I know I said Harm and Mac would reunite in two chapters last time (so, as in the next chapter) but because I spent this chapter reviewing everything that happened in the past; they'll reunite in two chapters as of now. So . . . they'll almost reunite next chapter. Sorry for the inconvenience, but I'll write the chapters quicker as compensation, okay? Please review . . .