The last time I was in Texas I was about three and, well, my memories of that visit are a little fuzzy to say the least. The cemetery is real, according to the web site I went to, but if it's not or if I got anything wrong I'm sorry.

M

San Fernando Cemetery

1000 hours

San Antonio, Texas

Harm parked the Navy fleet sedan outside 746 Castroville Road, three and a half miles west of the heart of San Antonio. Meg's truck was parked a few spaces away. He got out and went over, placing his palm on the hood.

The engine was still warm.

The cemetery was large, a mixture of mausoleums and headstones covering a great amount of the lush green grass. The grounds were well kept and there were fresh flowers on many of the graves. It was incredibly beautiful, Harm had to admit, but the fact that it was a cemetery automatically creeped him out a little bit. It was an irrational reaction brought on by far too many horror movies as a child and being too worried that he would be failing his mother if he was weak enough to go to her with his nightmares that still wouldn't go away even now that he was thirty-five and entirely cognizant that monsters don't exist except with human souls and that the dead will no rise from their graves to attack you if you step foot on the wrong blade of grass.

Having been there only once before, Harm was hesitant to venture into the cemetery, but he did so anyway. San Fernando Cemetery was nowhere near as massive as Arlington where he, regrettably, went far too often for funerals and to visit the graves of those he had lost, but Harm had always had better directional instincts while flying than he did on the ground, compounded by the childhood fears that made his spine tingle in an entirely unpleasant way, on top of his knowledge that Meg had left the office to get away from him and his well-meaning prodding on the subject of her daughter made him somewhat less than willing to enter the cemetery. But, Harm decided, he had flown a F-14 over hostile territory; he didn't think a peaceful cemetery would pose much of a threat.

Harm didn't count on the anger of Meg Austin, though.

"YOU SON OF A BITCH! WHY THE HELL COULDN'T YOU JUST LEAVE ME ALONE?" Meg yelled when she saw Harm standing a few feet away from where she was sitting on the grass in front of her father's grave. "I'M AT MY FATHER'S GRAVE, YOU BASTARD! LEAVE ME THE HELL ALONE!"

Harm, who had never heard Meg swear once in all the time they'd known each other, was a little shocked, but he didn't let it show. "Meg, calm down. I'm not here to fight with you. I want to help you, and your daughter. I think I might have a plan, but I need some more details from you before I put anything in motion."

Meg swiped at the tears that were falling down her cheeks, angry that Harm had caught her when her defences were so low. "I don't want your help and I don't want you to make plans. Just get Mac and go home. Go back to DC. I can handle this on my own."

"Yeah, 'cause coming to the cemetery to cry to your dead father, that's a real productive route to take," Harm said. "I know you love your father and want to turn to him for help right now, but he's gone, Meg. I'm still here. And I swear that I will do everything I can if it means that your daughter gets to grow up and have a normal life. But you have to help me, and you have to let me help you."

"I don't want your help," Meg said again, though it was clear her resolve was weakening.

"Meg, Mac and I spoke with Admiral Bradley and we've worked out a plan to both protect Lily and catch the monster that killed those other children," Harm said gently. "The thing is that we need your help."

Sighing heavily Meg turned around, turning to her father's final resting place as if the answers to everything she wanted to know lay there just waiting for her to take a look. Harm could understand needing advice from the father that wasn't there, and he had never tried to hide that fact, but he had never been witness to the desperate need for fatherly advice from someone long since departed. He wondered if that was what he looked like every time he went to the Wall, if he had worn that expression for the seventeen years he had searched for his father. He wondered how many times Mac had been right where he was then and if she had felt the same uselessness and desperation to help that he was experiencing at that moment.

"What did you have in mind?" Meg asked after a long silence where Harm was torn between the automatic impulse to go to Meg and try to make things right and the knowledge that when he was in her position he would have—and had—bitten the heads off of anyone who tried to help him.

JAG Headquarters

1250 hours

San Antonio, Texas

After talking with the SACof theinvestigationMac had called Lieutenant Commander Theresa Coulter because, even though they were impossibly hard on her, she was the best there was when it came to murdered children. The FBI hadn't been able to get the forensic specialist they wanted for the case so she had offered to get Terri involved. Apparently the SAC had heard about Terri and was pleased that Mac felt so confident that she would be able to get her to work the case with them.

Terri had been reluctant to help out until Mac had mentioned that, not only was a little boy dead, but a little girl was in danger as well. After she had said that—and Mac refused to feel guilty in any way shape or form for playing on Commander Coulter's emotions so shamelessly—Terri had said she would be on the next flight out.

After she finished making her phone calls Mac had nothing to do but catch up on the past murders to see what else had been carried over to the Jason Wade murder.

"Hey," Harm said from the doorway, "you get through to the Feds?"

"They're on their way," Mac nodded. "So is Commander Coulter," she added.

Harm tensed up for a moment. They hadn't really spoken to each other since he called to tell her that they had caught Annie Lewis' killer and that her twin, Dar-Lyn, was safe.

"Was that the wrong move?" Mac asked when she noticed her partner's expression.

"No, Terri's the best," Harm said, leaving the doorway and moving to sit next to Mac. "I just… well, she's not so great with the living sometimes and Meg's got enough going on without hearing every single detail of what could happen to her daughter if we're not careful," he improvised quickly. He was concerned about that, but mostly he didn't want the memories of what had happened to Annie and what could have happened to Dar-Lyn brought back up.

Mac seemed to buy his excuse and she looked at Harm, trying to decipher what else was bothering him. "Did you find Meg?" she asked gently.

"Yeah. She's up talking to Bradley now," Harm said. He didn't volunteer where he had found Meg and Mac didn't ask. "Remember when things were simple and this was just a wrongful death suit?" he asked, rubbing his hand over his face as if that would take away the emotions and the pain that had settled over everyone involved in the investigation.

"No," Mac said softly. She reached out and took Harm's hand in hers, her delicate fingers wrapping securely around his in an effort to ground him and remind him that not everything was death and chaos and pain. "What do you say we get out of here for a while? Take a long lunch, spend some time away from this case before it destroys both of us. We're pretty much stuck until Terri does her thing and the FBI goes over the evidence for themselves, and I doubt the Admiral will have a problem with us cutting out for a few hours."

"I'd like that," Harm said, squeezing her hand lightly.

Mac stood up and circled the table, not letting go of Harm's hand. She pulled him to his feet and slipped her arms around his middle, her head slipping into the curve where his neck met his shoulders. Harm wrapped his arms around Mac, his head dropping to rest atop hers. They fit together so perfectly and it felt so good to just hold each other that neither one felt any motivation to move for several minutes.

"Thanks," Harm said when they finally did separate. Mac didn't need to ask what he was thanking her for.

"Anytime," Mac replied, brushing an imaginary piece of lint from his shirt before reaching for the doorknob. "Ready?" she asked, fingering the fabric of her cover while her fingers curled around the brassy knob. Harm nodded, picking up his own cover, and Mac opened the door and led the way out of the conference room. They locked the door and made sure that it was secure before heading to the elevator.

The Grind

1325

San Antonio, Texas

The Grind was a little coffee shop not far from the JAG offices that was busy enough that it didn't seem deserted but empty enough that it didn't have the oppressive feel that a big chain coffee should gave off. Harm and Mac ordered coffees and food, a salad for Harm and a roast beef sandwich for Mac, and then found a table in the corner where they could enjoy their meal.

"Do you want to talk about it?" Mac asked after a few minutes of rather tense silence.

"Talk about what?" Harm asked.

"Whatever's making you take your anger out on that defenceless piece of lettuce," Mac said, pointing at the abused bits of 'rabbit food' that Harm was stabbing with his plastic fork.

Harm dropped his fork and sighed heavily. "I'm just trying to figure out how the Wade's are involved in the other murders."

"Maybe they're not," Mac said. "Maybe they're not serial killers. They might just be abusive parents who went too far one time and tried to hide the fact that they killed their son by having the body mutilated somehow," she said. She dropped her sandwich. Suddenly dead animal didn't appeal to her quite as much. "Harm, please don't dwell on this. We left the office to get away from this case, remember? To spend time together, without thinking about children dying and the innumerable horrible things we've seen in our lives."

"I know," Harm said. "It's just kinda hard to let go, you know?"

Mac frowned at his wording, mental flashbacks to Sydney kicking her in the gut for several painful seconds before the Marine in her started fighting back and the woman in her reminded her that harm had finally let go and that they were together at last. She reached across the table and grasped his hand, ignoring the fact that they were in uniform and in public. She needed physical contact and she knew Harm did, too, so she threw any thought of regs out the window. "I say we should go back to the house, get into some comfortable clothes, curl up together, and we talk everything out," Mac suggested. Harm looked sceptical. "Talking helps, Harm. We can both afford to take half a day off, especially since the FBI and Commander Coulter aren't going to arrive until the morning. Meg has her truck and I'm pretty sure she'll be leaving the office early today, too. The Admiral won't mind. I'm positive."

"Okay," Harm said, though somewhat reluctantly. He felt like he should be doing something to stop the killer but he knew that there was nothing anyone could do until they had more to work with. Harm just prayed that once reinforcements arrived they would get what they needed to begin actively searching for the killer.

Neither one was all that hungry so they left their meals where they were and headed back out to the car. Mac called the Admiral and secured them both for the day. Bradley was fine with them taking some time, knowing that cases where children were the victims were the hardest to investigate and that those involved often needed time to escape for a little while before the case took them over completely. He told Mac that he was sending Meg home as soon as she finished outlining the details about the school and about Lily that they needed to accurately secure the child and Mac promised to look out for the younger officer.