Hey Gang!

Hope everyone had a good weekend. Very sorry for the slow postings, school is in the way, not that it's a bad thing 3 months (or so) to go! We've had the same teacher for the last 3 courses and he's good but MAJOR tough instead of Anatomy it was Micro-Anatomy and instead of Pathology right now it's Micro-Pathology. We're basically learning a bunch of stuff we really do not need to know in order to understand things better. I understand it just fine without the microish stuff, but whatever, can't do a thing about it.

Suffice to say that we HAVE to study EVERY night. Because EVERY DAY we have a TEST. Yes, EVERY DAY we have a TEST! E-V-E-R-Y D-A-Y. . . T-E-S-T! I'm burning out!

We don't hit vacation until this Friday and then we are off from school for a week which I HOPE TO GOD goes by SLOWWWLY, I need a break. (We were supposed to be out for two weeks, but Hurricane Wilma demolished those plans. Sucks to be us.)

Alright, so moving right along. . .

UPDATES! (Mucho Important)

Return To Me will have a sequel also called Return To Me (Pt 2 – To Learn How To Keep You). The stories will go through a slight name change THIS one will be Return To Me Pt. 1 To Learn How To Love You. – Why? Because this story has deviated BIG TIME from the original reason why I called it return to me. It's also. .Oh, about 223 PAGES or more and I don't want to keep adding to it. There is also this file I have with a bunch of things that were supposed to happen, but haven't, so I want to add those in. Part 1 shouldn't last too much longer, it will start wrapping up in the next few chapters, I hope to get a lot of it done over X-mas break.

Once the Return To Me's (LOL) are done, we go to "The Webbs We Tangle Ourselves In" or whatever other name I will give it. From there I have a selection, one where Mac's an NCIS agent and she and Harm get together to solve a big crime of a serial killer, the other is one that Mac's a lawyer Harm's still a pilot and due to an accident she defends him however, Diane hasn't died so she's in the way of Harm and Mac. .. You get the picture. I have a vampire story I've been toying with and the Harm Clone story. So yes, that will keep us busy for a while. Alright, enough chit chat. ;)

On with the story!

Enjoy! Happy Holidays,

Jackie
PS: For all of you wishing Vic well, there is a lovely scene in this chapter. Heheheh!

PART 27 – Promises And Classified Information

1020 Local
California State Prison
Sacramento, California

Randy Quinn had always been a spontaneous type of person. True, when one was involved in narcotics some plan of action was necessary, but for the most part the spontaneity is what worked best. He'd been in the business for a good twenty years without incident, mostly because police and government officials which he had in his pocket. He never expected someone like Smith (Harm's alias) to come along and so effectively derail everything that he had worked for. At first, he believed it to be something Manda Patterson had her hand in. A woman that ambitious was to be feared – he only figured it out too late to really matter.

It was the reason why they stopped being lovers, Manda was a cast iron bitch who believed she had everything coming to her. She was cold, calculating and manipulative – a real bitch. In fact, it was a miracle he was still alive, a miracle she hadn't tried to have him rubbed out while he wasted away in prison. For that he was truly thankful.

Days locked away in a Maximum Security facility really was no picnic. He was locked in for nearly 22 hours a day. It was near impossible to keep business running from a place like that, but he still managed, somehow. Visitations were kept to the bare minimum which is why he was perturbed that anyone would be there that day at all. The warden had stated that it was of outmost importance and that tended to worry him. What else could have gone wrong?

The moment Harm walked in through the door, he struck a chord. There was something familiar about the man's frame, his walk. Though the man looked completely different from the one he had a deal with months ago, he knew who he was. "Smith?" Only the name wasn't Smith and he was slowly starting to see that it was all a set up. "You set me up."

"Yes, I did. And the name is not Smith. ..I'm Captain Harmon Rabb, US Navy Reserves and in my spare time, a Private Eye." He pointed at the seat across from Quinn. "May I?"

"Be my guest, not like I have much of a choice." He waited for Harm to be seated and took the time to have a good look at the man. He was much younger than 'Smith' and certainly not Australian. His bodyguard had mentioned a thing or two about the accent slipping from time to time. But, Quinn was blinded by the dollar signs and the excitement of a new venture. "I have to commend you, Captain, it's not easy to bring me down."

Harm nodded in agreement. "I'm aware of that."

"The deception ran long and deep and was perfectly executed." He really was impressed. Twenty years in the business and one man manages to bring him down. What are the odds? "I'm curious. . .Who sent you? I mean, I can pretty much figure out that people like me are not wanted in society. . .But, you're a PI which means that someone hired you."

The man was correct on that, although the reasons weren't ones that Harm chose to discuss with anyone. "It was a case and I can not get into details. . .Safe to say, some people are resting a little better today." The two men stared at one another, mutual respect between criminal and hero nearly choking the two. It was time to discuss business, but a different type of business where Harm would be the only one to truly prosper. "How would you like to deal?"

"I assume it's a deal that will reduce the sentence?" Not that there was much more to 'reduce,' few people changed their minds once a life sentence was issued.

Harm had discussed the situation with the warden and while no real terms had been set, there was at least a small agreement which enabled Quinn to come up for parole. "Not reduce it, but make you eligible for parole." Quinn didn't seem happy. "Hey, it's something considering being involved with narcotics is almost as bad as a homicide."

"Hmm." He never liked the fact that he was being deemed a killer. The term entrepreneur seemed to suit his talents so much better. Besides, as far as he knew, no one had been hurt, he'd specifically made sure it was being sold to the higher ups for parties and rock stars – a little recreational drug usage never hurt anyone. At least that's what he believed although he never used himself. "You know, in all of my years I can count on one hand how many times I've used."

Snorting in disbelief, Harm moved his arms across his chest. "I've never known a pusher that didn't use. . It just goes with the territory."

"Last time I used was ten years ago, Captain. . .Believe it or not, all pushers aren't users. . .Have you ever used?"

Harm shook his head. Alright, so he wasn't in the mood for games with Quinn, but it really didn't matter at this point. He was in and he wasn't planning on leaving without the goods on Patterson. If it meant chatting it up to make the other man comfortable, then so be it. His interviewing skills would soon kick into full effect. "No."

Quinn's expression changed and a Cheshire cat grin spread onto his lips. "No? You haven't ever had an addiction to something?"

"Not drugs."

"No, not drugs. . .Sex, alcohol, smoking. . .A woman?"

"What does that have to do with anything?"

Shrugging, Quinn tugged at the cuffs that had him bound to the metal table before him. "Nothing, just making chit chat is all. . .Trying to make you see that addictions are subjective and not always dangerous. . .And sometimes they are dangerous. . ."

This clearly wasn't heading in any direction that Harm was looking for. His other choice was to hit dead on and there was a perfect way to do that. A perfect way and a perfect name. "Manda Patterson."

Those two words hit straight for Quinn's heart. His head spun around so quickly, it almost snapped his neck in two. Part of him was worried, the other was curious as to what stupidity Manda had done to have a PI after her. Generally, they'd been cautious, her more so than him, using a fake company to hide behind. "How do you know that name?"

"You were partners."

"Lovers. . .And that was an age ago."

Harm didn't look convinced. "Really?" He said with a grin and then reached into his pocket to pull out a picture dated to a year prior. "This really isn't that long ago. . .it's almost a year old." The two were kissing, intimately kissing.

"A kiss? Please, Captain. . .A kiss is just a kiss." Considering the amount of problems she had given him – starting from her stealing from his enterprises and finishing with him having to throw her out of his life – it would have been very simple for Quinn to just give her up. Too simple. Fact was, he still loved her. Yes, he still loved her and hated her – both at the same time. It was quite the conundrum. "Alright, so we were involved, that isn't a crime."

"No, it isn't. . .But, when your business adventures start combining with her own; considering the type of business that it is. . ."

Quinn waved him off, well, as best as one could with his hands tied. "What do you want?"

"Information on her. . .I want names, numbers, anything you can think of to help me bring her down."

It was an easy request for information that he truly didn't have. Oh, yes, he knew where to find it, in fact, some of the information Quinn himself had stolen off of Manda's personal computer and stashed it away in his penthouse, but that didn't mean he was going to give in so easily. "And why would I give you that?"

Harm shrugged. "Protection."

"From?"

"Her." He said simply, without much preamble or fanfare. After all, there never was honor among crooks. "You know, for a fact, that the moment she realizes someone was in here poking around you are dead."

Yes, he did know that for a fact, actually, Quinn still couldn't figure out how he was alive. Maybe the girl just didn't have the guts to do him in. Maybe she was waiting on something to happen before she made a decision? It was clear to him from the get go that she would want him dead. So clear that he'd made a shank the first night in. He never slept without it. "If that's the case, why aren't I dead?"

"You tell me." They stood at a stalemate, each waiting for a push or a pull; some sort of give to pin the winner. Harm had his theories about Quinn and Manda. Sometimes he believed they were both still working together, but that seldom happened when part of your operation was behind bars. To start with, you didn't want to take any of that heat; detachment was the best answer. Sighing, he leaned against the table. "Alright, let's stop this. . .Let's talk without riddles for just a moment. . .I know you two had something and I know that, for whatever reason, it ended. And that had nothing to do with this." He pointed between himself and Quinn.

"Manda is an ambitious woman, Captain. . .She doesn't care what she does to get what she wants."

Finally, some truth. "And what did she want?"

Frowning, Quinn set his head on the table. "Everything that I owned. . .She saw an opening and she took it. As a result, she left me heartbroken, miserable and needing a bit of an adventure. . .Trust me, had she not screwed me over, you wouldn't have ever gotten as close as you did."

"I'll consider that a compliment."

"You should. No one has ever gotten in so deep. . .I must admit, you had me fooled with your Aussie accent." He grinned slightly, then sobered. "What do you need exactly?"

"Help me bring her down." Harm said, his voice finding a new animation. He was finally on the same wave length with Quinn and wasn't looking on backing down. "I am looking for some opening. . .Anything."

The desperation in the other man's voice confused him greatly. Here was a guy that had managed to effectively destroy him and he was looking for an opening? "You know, I don't understand why you need me. . .I mean if you managed to nab my operation, hers can't be THAT difficult."

It probably wasn't THAT difficult if he'd have another method to cracking Manda Patterson. Thus far, all of his attempts had been futile. It was clear that she was being underestimated. "You underestimate her, Quinn. . .Manda Patterson is a piece of work."

"Trust me, Rabb. . .I think I know just what kind of piece she is." His own innuendo brought to mind something that he hadn't considered. Was Rabb trying to seduce her? If so, had the man lost his mind? If it was one thing the woman was excellent at, it was the art of seduction. She'd made a life out of it and seduced everyone to get to the top. Hell, even he'd been a victim – albeit willing – but still a victim. "If you're trying to bed her to get what you want, it won't work. . . She thrives for things like that." He said with a grin. "Not to say that she's a . . .a well, slut, but. . .she'll use sex if it gets her what she wants."

"I haven't bedded her."

Quinn's eyes glowed mischievously. He pointed at Harm with his cuffed hand almost in an accusatory way. "But you want to."

Oh how far away was he from the truth. "I was hoping to get what I wanted without bedding her."

That answer definitely got the other man's attention. Raising a brow in disgust, Quinn took a good look at Harm. "You aren't queer are you?"

"No. . .Look, can you help me or not?" The conversation had officially hit its breaking point. If there wasn't information for him, then this was completely futile. Right now, it was due or die time and he couldn't spend more time in Patterson's company, not without being compromised. Not without giving something that he wasn't willing to give to her. When he didn't receive an immediate answer, Harm got the hint. "Thank you for your time, Mr. Quinn. . .Enjoy your time here." Standing up, he turned towards the door.

"Wait, Rabb. . .Sit back down." He pointed at a chair with his uncuffed hand, and then waited patiently. Yes, he loved Patterson, but what did love have to do with anything? This was business, something that tended to last longer than love, at least in his world it did. "Look, I don't have names or numbers. . .My mind doesn't work too well. . .But, I can make a few calls and get you everything you need in nauseating details."

"Skip the nauseating parts." Harm said cheekily.

"There's a catch though."

"There always is."

Quinn ignored Harm's remark and set in his own agenda. "First, if you go after her, I want you to make sure she ends up behind bars."

"That was part of my agenda. . .What else?"

"Second, I want you to arrange for me to go to a smaller prison and not this super max crap. . .I am not a serial rapist or murderer, contrary to what the public thinks."

Harm nodded. "Alright, I'll see what I can do. . . What else?"

"I need to be put under some sort of protective custody. . .When she finds out, and I know she will find out that I ratted on her. . .Let's just say that my days are numbered, that is if they aren't already." With a sigh, he let one of his cool and collected walls drop. Randy Quinn was exposed. "I've begged the warden to move me, but he isn't inclined to it. . .I don't want to die over this bitch, Rabb. . . As much as I love her, she isn't worth a damn. . . Promise me. . .Promise me you'll have at least this happen? Promise me you'll keep me alive."

The tone of the man's voice frightened Harm slightly. Men like Quinn never begged to men like him. They were always strong, tough and calculating. If that wall was slipping it meant that he was really scared. Though Harm didn't agree with Quinn's marketing methods, he couldn't deny that he needed the other man's help. "I promise." Little did he know, this was one promise he wouldn't be able to keep.

1944 Zulu
USS Patrick Henry
Somewhere in the Atlantic

Vic had never been so happy to be on a carrier before in his life. "Oh, thank you God." The moment he stepped out of Death's F-18, he came to his knees on the tarmac, kissing the ground in an act that seemed so pathetic to the fliers. Could anything else scream 'legal weenie' as much as that did? In a word, the flights (Yes, they were more than one – two to be exact.) sucked. While Vic didn't believe in Karma, if there were such a thing, it was biting him back in the ass and big time.

As Colonel MacKenzie had told him, he and Death were scheduled to fly out of San Diego on an F-18 Hornet. At some point they were to refuel and then join the carrier out in the middle of the Atlantic. But, things seldom worked the way they were supposed to. The moment the plane took to the skies, it was clear something was wrong. Death kept cursing and punching in numbers into the onboard computers. Seemingly out of nowhere, a storm cell appeared, wreaking just a little more havoc on the flight and Vic's stomach itself. He had filled up three puke bags and they hadn't even gone through half of the country.

Then Death got the wonderful news that he was to fly to Pensacola, switch aircrafts and fly one with newer equipment to the Henry. The transfer of planes didn't run too smoothly. Bad weather prevented them from landing and Vic was quickly running out of barf bags. Though the flight to the carrier from Pensacola was rather smooth, his body had had enough. The landing scared the crap out of him. Sure, he'd landed on a COD before, but this was completely different. For one thing, on a COD, you couldn't see what was going on. Being this close and the fact that Death was waved around once due to an odd pitch on the deck, wrecked whatever nerves he had left.

Numbly, he allowed the carrier's public aid to escort him to the JAG office. "Sir, you look hammered." The pretty young Ensign said with a slight smile. "I'll tell the Captain that you've arrived and let him know you are still trying to get your sea legs."

Vic was green, positively green. It was impossible to throw up anymore and yet, his stomach lurched when he stared out of the port hole to the sea below. "Thank you, Ensign, dismissed." He managed to keep it together long enough to make it to the head, his stomach empting contents that he didn't know he had anymore. "Oh, shoot me, please. . .Someone shoot me."

He'd been hoping the Ensign would hold onto the news of his arrival, but a call over the PA system clearly stated otherwise. "Lieutenant Commander Vukovic, report to the captain. . ."

Yes, Karma was a bitch and it was going to get a whole lot worse before it got a whole lot better. When he stepped into the bridge, someone caught him by surprise. When had the Captain of the ship changed? He studied the man wearing his eagles and shook his head in disgust. This wasn't good. "Lieutenant Commander Vukovic reporting as ordered, sir." He stood ramrod straight, glancing directly towards the front and the beautiful blue skies.

Captain Stacy Loftness had only been in his current position for exactly one month. He'd worked his way through the ranks of the Navy, beginning as a Plebe at the Naval Academy and even serving most of his time aboard this very ship. He was a jet jock once (though, truthfully, he still flew as much as he could to keep current) and so good at being one that he'd even become the ship's CAG. To the higher ups, when Captain Tobias Ingles had given up his command of the Patrick Henry for bigger and better things, Loftness was their next choice. The man was tough, smart, honest and demanding, all of the things that made an ideal Captain.

The man was known to be tenacious as hell with a memory that operated more like a computer hard drive than anything else. He just didn't forget a face and Vic's was one he was certainly hoping to forget. "Lieutenant Vukovic." He said with a sardonic smile as he stepped towards the younger man. "I'm sorry. Lieutenant Commander? Who'd you bribe to get those three bars, Vic?"

"I earned them, sir."

"Yea, right." Loftness had first come in contact with Vic when, by chance, he served a month on the USS Ronald Regan. Vic was enlisted then and Loftness was a mere Lieutenant j.g. with the air wing. They never liked each other. Of course, that had to do more with Loftness catching Vic smuggling contraband onboard and selling it later. It also had to do with the constant crap the younger man would say about fliers and the Navy in general. Digging around, he'd found the only reason why Vukovic was led into the Navy had to do with a certain judge who decided that serving in the high seas was worse than being locked up in jail. Vic disagreed and made it clear, at all points and time, that he was not fit to be a sailor.

Someone had, eventually, talked some sense into him and by some sort of miracle Vic had wound up in OCS and then law school. He'd crossed paths with Loftness twice during that time. Once while in OCS when Loftness was called to give a special presentation for those wishing to enter flight school. The second time was when Vic defended one of Loftness' fliers while at JAG HQ. A case that was a slam dunk, he'd obliterated in no time and an innocent man wound up in the brig for ten years. Needless to say, he and Loftness just never would see eye to eye.

Taking a wave, the ship lurched slightly and Vic controlled his bodily functions before he embarrassed himself all over the bridge. "Been land locked too long, Commander?"

Vic shook his head. "No, sir. . .Flew in on a Hornet. . .And." Oh hell, he couldn't hold it anymore, making a break for the hatch, he managed to step outside quick enough to spill whatever was left of his stomach. "Argh. . ."

The Skipper and the XO stood by the hatch, both unsuccessfully trying to conceal their laugher. "Vukovic, you're a poor excuse for a sailor, son. . .Call your CO, let her know you've arrived and then get your ass to sickbay and I don't want to see you roaming around my ship until you've gotten your sea legs back, am I understood?"

Managing to stand, only by leaning against a railing, Vic nodded. "Aye, sir. . .I'll just. . .Excuse me." He pushed past the two, holding a hand over his mouth just in case. This was going to suck.

1228 Local
Joint Legal Services Southwest (JLSS)
San Diego, California

The conference table was covered with all sorts of files as three officers and one petty officer sifted through them carefully. "Ma'am, do you have any idea what the Staff Sergeant would have been looking for?" Jennifer Coates asked cautiously.

Mac pinned her with a hard glare. "He wasn't a Staff Sargent. . .He was just a schmuck named Ted Jarvis. . .Please don't give him a rank he doesn't deserve."

Both Harriet and Jen stared at each other, they were worried about their friends and though it was understandable for Mac to be feeling the way she did, the outburst still bothered them. "I'm sorry, ma'am. . .Do you have any idea what Jarvis would have been looking for?"

As she was about to answer, Bud stepped into the conference room with a big grin. "Sorry I am late, ma'am, I just got off the horn with Captain Loftness on the Henry. Vukovic has arrived but will likely not be in contact with us today."

"Why?"

Trying to contain his grin was becoming impossible. "Well, it seems that Vic isn't a fan of supersonic flight and hasn't quite gotten his sea legs back on track. . .They have him in sick bay, pumping fluids into his arm with an IV. He'll be down for a day or two."

Mac sighed, as much as she wanted to be unsympathetic about it all, she understood too well the joys of going supersonic, or lack their of. "Hey, can't blame the man, if you aren't a pilot, going supersonic just sucks." She shrugged, then picked up another file, going through the outline to make sure all of the contents were in place.

"I liked it." Bud said, taking the seat across from Mac and next to his wife. "The supersonic flight, I mean. . .Remember that time on the Seahawk? Captain Rabb took me up before we headed out. . .I loved it."

Harriet rolled her eyes. Boys and their toys. "Yes, ma'am, he kept babbling about it ALL day for a good week or two."

"At least it was just a week or two, Harm babbles about it any chance he gets." They all chuckled, knowing too well that their favorite pilot could tend to get carried away about his profession.

"You've been on 'Sarah' before, haven't you, Colonel?" Jen asked out of curiosity. Mattie had told her a story that was told to Mattie by Harm about a flight gone wrong. She wondered how much of it Mattie embellished. "Mattie told me about a flight that you got. . ."

"Shot." Mac said with a groan, unconsciously rubbing the area on her thigh. "Harm and I decided to play hooky, we took off from Blacksburg, flew around for a bit and suddenly the damned plane starts to stall. Before we know it, we are landing in this field, I get shot, we get stalked by poachers, have to spend the night in a cave doing the body heat thing. . ." Stopping a moment, she looked up at her friends and grinned. "Alright, so I liked the body heat thing. . .Anyway, thankfully the bad guys got nailed and we lived to tell the tale."

"Mattie also told me about Russia?" Jen prodded, smiling impishly. She knew the story, or, at least, Mattie's version. "Something about a MIG?"

"Harm has loose lips, so does Mattie for that matter." She scratched her head, wondering just how many of their 'adventures' Harm had brought up during the years. "We went searching for Harm's father. . .Harm believed he was still alive and to make a long story short, we had to. . .ugh. . . 'borrow,'" She said with quotation fingers, then continued, "a MIG in order to get from point A to point B. . .well. . .They shot at us and we had to eject."

Neither Bud nor Harriet knew that side of the story, it simply wasn't discussed especially when Harm had come back with a look of such sadness. They figured it was best not to ask, in time they would tell. But, Harm and Mac never did and for sure she wouldn't discuss the finer points now. "You were shot down!"

"Shhh, Bud." Mac admonished with a sigh. "Yes, we got shot down. . .And we had to eject." Her hand came to her neck which she massaged gently. "I don't think my neck's ever been quite right since then. . .None of this leaves this room, alright? And that isn't an order, it's. . .a request from a friend."

The three agreed and took back into digging around the files. It was Harriet who, an hour later, passed one over to Mac. "Ma'am, why would we have records on Captain Rabb here?" To her knowledge, and not that she knew everything, but for the most part, she had never heard of Harm being tried in San Diego. There would be no real reasons to have his files there.

"Let me see." Mac carefully went through the file (it was a large one, very large, too large) surprised to see classified things that not even she'd been privy to. There were details of his flights during Desert Storm and Desert Shield. The pages were listed chronologically spanning through his crash in the Atlantic to his time in the CIA and culminating with his current project – the F-14. Mac closed the file quickly acting like a child who had been caught snooping around her parent's drawers. "Jesus. . .There are things here we. . .we shouldn't know." She brought a hand over her mouth, covering it as the shock permeated through her. "I understand Jarvis being pissed. . .But, this. . .What the hell does he want all of this for?"

Harriet leaned over and pressed a hand to Mac's arm. "Mac, I don't pretend to know what's going on, but are you two in danger? Is he in trouble?"

"I don't know." She didn't see how she'd be in danger but him. . .danger was synonymous with Rabb.

Bud stood up quickly, "I think we should call the Captain, Ma'am."

Mac waved him off. "You can't. . .He's on a supposedly classified training session with the squadron. . .He doesn't need the extra stress anyway. . .I'll talk to him when he gets back home." Exhausted, she pinched the bridge of her nose. "You can get me his office on the hospital on the horn, I need to speak to Gunny."

"Aye, ma'am."

She looked up at Harriet and Jen, then pointed at the files. "It's alright, I'll take care of these, go back to your duties. . .Thank you." Stunned, she remained in her chair, her eyes going through the file before her. Carefully, she paged through each sheet, reading things that she knew he'd never tell her about. Things that were classified were seldom discussed, even between partners or lovers. It was SOP and she understood that. But now, seeing them in black and white in with such detail, it scared her to know just how much he actually gave up for saving her so many years ago. Her fears of him joining the CIA were given validity when his debriefing on his first CIA flight mentioned things like 'bomb' and 'escape.'

Now there really were things to discuss along with more mysteries to unravel, but all of that would have to wait. The only thing she could do was say a prayer that he would be safe and that he would come home.

One Day Later
1345 Local
NAS Pensacola
Pensacola, Florida

Perfect blue skies were the backdrop against which a group of sleek, grey, speed demons played. They changed each other, and occasionally sped together, their commanders pointing them in directions that took them to newer highs and faster speeds. It was moments like this that Harmon Rabb Junior wondered why he didn't pursue returning to flying with more openness. He accepted that he had an 'eye problem' and never bothered to do a damned thing about it. Funny, for a man as tenacious as he, that was surely a dumb move.

"Hammer, I want you to hit ninety degrees straight up. See if you boys and girls could still take the pull." NAS Tower radioed, as Harm and his team of four pilots and four RIOs took four remodeled Tomcats into the skies.

Harm made the adjustments on the plane. "Roger that. Rocket, keep an eye on the computers." He told his RIO as he prepared his body for the steep climb. At his age, it simply wasn't the same to go supersonic. Yes, he could take it, he was well trained, but it wasn't the same, he wasn't in his twenties anymore and after a few hours he felt as if he'd been crushed by a semi. Harm held the stick steady, cruising upwards until he heard the tower telling him other wise. "Damn, I forgot how good it felt to be in one of these babies."

Rocket chuckled. "Tell me about it. . .The bug's ain't too bad, but they're no 'Cat." He held on as Harm took them into a roll and then swooped downwards, inverted. "Damnit, Hammer, take it easy, it's been a while."

"Me too, Rocket. . .A little hot dogging is in order." He pushed the plane, making it do things that went beyond the scope of training.

It was surreal to return to Pensacola after so many years away, but as he was about to report for reserve duty, the details had been changed. He'd barely had a chance to say goodbye to Mac before he was boarding a C-130 along with this reservist squadron. They usually flew Hornets and the moment someone mentioned the Tomcat's involvement, all of the squadron members were more than happy to oblige, they'd all (save three) been involved with the F-14 at one point or another.

It struck Harm as curious that the Navy was spending money again on an aging plane. True, there was nothing old or aging about the ones they were flying today. They looked the same, but the flying capabilities were astounding, it was as if someone had thrown in an extra engine for kicks. It flew sharper than ever, cutting the skies with such ease that it was almost too easy to fly.

There was a reason why they were flying these planes today, a reason why the Navy chose to follow the Super Tomcat 21 project, despite their dealings with the Super Hornet and the Raptor. It was all classified, even to Harm and his group. In fact, they were all forced to sign forms stating that this flight never happened. It didn't really matter that civilians and other military personnel could see the F-14s, the best method of hiding was to do it in plain sight.

Exhausted, Harm turned down a trip to the local bar and decided on a meal over at the O-Club. He was seated in a corner, minding his business when a shadow caught his attention. Glancing up, he found the figure to which the shadow belonged. "Vukovic."

"Captain." Vic said, nodding politely to the other man. Harm was in his class Cs and reserves or not, a senior officer was a senior officer. In a place like this, he needed to at least pretend to respect Harm. "Fancy meeting you here." He waved at an empty seat on the table and was surprised when he was allowed to sit down. "What are you doing in Pensacola?"

Harm took a sip of the beer he was nursing, then grinned. "Classified."

"A lot of things are classified when it comes to you, aren't they?" Stupidly, he figured that wasn't giving too much away. True, there were rumors circulating that Harm had once been CIA, but most people rarely fully listened to the rumor mill.

"What's that supposed to mean?"

Vic shrugged. "Well, you seem to be very knowledgeable in. . .things. . .I wouldn't be surprised if you spent time working for an agency or two."

"What's it to you?"

"Nothing, just trying to make conversation." When a waitress arrived, he ordered his meal and then settled in. Maybe sitting with Rabb was a mistake? "How's the Colonel?"

Alright, so maybe Mac was right about Vic. Maybe he did have an agenda, all the more reason to keep him close and dig up dirt, if possible. "She's great, actually. . .Missing me." He shot out the last two words so smugly and they had their effect – Vic cringed visibly. "And I'm missing her. . .So. . .what brings you out to Pensacola? I thought you were on board the Henry?"

"I was, yes, but some stupid jet jock decided to stab his wingman with a steak knife. . .He escaped from on board confinement when I questioned him, so, as punishment Captain Loftness, well, he had me escort the guy back here. . .Trial starts tomorrow." It was foolish for his part to underestimate the prisoner, but he did and as a result, got a little more than just a lashing from the captain. "Creep ended up stabbing me in the leg too." He pointed to his right thigh and sighed. "All in a day's work."

"Well, it was nice catching up, but I need to call Mac and then hit the rack. Good luck, Commander." Harm stood, put a few bills on the table to pay for his meal, and then headed out of the club.

Something didn't make sense to Vukovic. As far as he knew, Harm was stationed to the base in San Diego, if he was in Pensacola, something big was going on. Something that he wanted to find out about. Digging out his cell phone, he dialed the digits of a familiar number. "Hello, with Secretary of The Navy Hewitt please. . .Yes, this is Lieutenant Commander Vukovic. Thank you, I'll wait." Patiently, he remained on the line, Hewitt had a tendency to work long hours, a plus when you needed something from her at an odd time of the day. "Caroline, hello, this is Vic (Yes, they were on a first name basis). This might be a bit of an intrusion but I want to know about a certain Naval Reservist. . .Yes, well, but he's dating Colonel MacKenzie, so it is work related. . .Yes, his name is Captain Harmon Rabb Junior." Nothing was so classified he couldn't get into it and in just a few minutes, he had his answer. All he had to do was play it to his advantage. The trip was turning out to be a good one, yes it was.