AN: You know what? Some other writers say they live for reviews and I didn't quite believe them. But now I know what they mean...to recieve over 50 positive reviewsfor the first chapter of your story, does make your effort worth it. So again, this chapter is dedicated to those who review almost all chapters and keep me going. Thanks for your support.

Disclaimer: I won the story, but not the people in it. If only I did...

Now, here we go again...

The clash of the windows of Mac's office as she slammed the door could clearly be heard as everyone else was still silent. Sturgis felt he was walking the gauntlet as he summoned up enough courage to walk out into the bullpen. He would have even preferred the experience of real swords pounding down on him. The barely concealed looks of contempt from his fellow officers played heavily on his overflowing guilty conscience. He knew he could act defiant, but quickly decided against it.

At the end of the hallway, he came face to face with a very angry 6 foot 4 inches tall Navy Commander. It was the first time they saw each other after Sturgis had left him on board of the U.S.S. John Kennedy. Judging by the look on Harm's face he had hell to pay for what he had done. But instead of being mad at Sturgis for what he had done to him while investigating the shooting, Harm seemed to be even more mad at him for the pain he had just inflicted on Mac.

Towering over him, Harm sneered "Don't you ever come near her again!" For now, it had to do. He would deal with Commander Turner later. First, he had to talk to Sarah.

Finally, the sobs subsided into sniffles and hiccups. Leaning back into her chair, she turned it toward the window, hoping the sun would dry some of the tears from her stained face. She felt drained and tired. So damn tired. Of everything. The fight between her and Sturgis had just been the last drop. And that was before she realized Harm had heard everything. Seeing him standing there in the bullpen had been the end of her. Beyond that, she didn't dare think yet.

Behind her, the door opened and closed gently and she knew it could only be one person. Momentarily angry at herself for not locking her door properly, she struggled to find her voice. When she found it, it was quivering slightly.

"Please, Harm, can you give me a minute?"

She expected to hear the door open and shut again, as most of the time Harm respected her wishes, but instead she heard his voice, more gentle than normal.

"I can give you more than a minute, Sarah, if only you're willing to help me out."

The hint of fear in his voice didn't go by unnoticed. Curious by this tone and the choice of his words she turned her chair around to face him. He looked as pale as she did. Yet, at the same time, she was met with a determination he didn't even show in most of his cases. Even though he momentarily seemed taken aback by her tear stricken face, he quickly composed himself. Taking a deep breath, he took the plunge. "I don't think I have to tell you I heard everything just now. And I'm sorry that he had to drag you through this. But I have to ask you something, and I can only hope you'll be honest with me." Another breath, a very shaky one at that. The nerves made it almost impossible to speak. But he had to, if he wanted something to happen between them.

Yet, he was cut off, as usual. He was ready now, she wasn't. And by the time she was ready, he wouldn't be. The unavoidable story of their life. Even if this could have been the breakthrough, it wasn't meant to be. Because he was cut off.

"Harm…please. Not now. Don't ask anything now, because I wouldn't know what to answer. It's such a mess. How can I face them again? How can I work here again without all of them staring, wondering, asking without words, as if the looks aren't obvious enough."

"Mac…they're your friends. They're on your side. Nobody out there is gonna ask awkward questions, nobody's gonna act any different around you than you're used to. Even if they're wondering, they will keep their mouths shut…or else I'll make them." The last piece was added with a genuine flyboy smile, meant to appease her. She gave a little wan smile back, but wasn't totally convinced.

"Thanks Harm, but please…could we talk later? Right now I just wanna try and leave this place while I still have the guts to come out." "I'll cover for you. You just go home now." His smile was one of a friend this time and she gladly accepted his offer. "Thanks Harm. I owe you." She quickly grabbed her briefcase and coat and headed out, brushing past him. Just before she opened the door, she turned to face him. "We'll talk about this later Harm. Soon. I promise we will." Not awaiting his reply, she opened her office door and dashed through the bullpen as if she was hunted down.

So she owed him. Yes she did, big time. And they would talk later. She could bet her pretty six on that one. They would talk, alright, needed to talk. And they both knew the subject. Patience was a virtue, but sadly, he wasn't blessed with much of it. And most of it was spent on his latest flying job, which ironically enough, seemed to be the trigger of the argument between Mac and Turner.

He silently grunted while closing his office door a little too firmly, hoping the underlying message of 'don't enter my inner sanctimony' would be clear to all. He just wasn't in the mood.

It had been one hell of a week, ending with a bang. Sure, he'd successfully re-qualified for flight-status, but other than that…he'd been put through hell and back.

And now even Mac was dragged head-first into his currently problematic life. With one question popping into his mind every other second. Was Sturgis right about Mac?

The answer scared him before it was given. If his once-upon-a-time friend wasn't right, if this had only been an assumption, a petty way of trying to win the fight…his heart would be shattered again. Like so many times over. Just when he'd tried to mend it after Paraguay.

But if he was…could it be? Could they be? Could they possibly move beyond this strained, hanging on by the thread friendship? Did he dare ask?

Ha! That was it. That was the problem in its nutshell. Did he dare ask? He hadn't dared to before. He, Commander Harmon Rabb Jr., United States Naval Officer, respected attorney and cocky flyboy, had never before openly dared to ask the question. Nor answering it, for that matter. Sure, he'd tried to show her, numerous times, but whenever the opportunity to say the words that were apparently needed to get them together arose…he usually froze like a deer caught in the headlight of an oncoming truck, before running as fast as he could. A lot of pushing, but when push came to shove…nothing.

But somehow, this time he would make a difference. He'd had enough. They would get through this one way or another. He would not lose her. Period. He would give her the weekend to get herself together, but than they would talk. The talk. Grinning like an idiot, proud of his new resolve, he started on some very overdue paperwork with the gusto of a starving man.

Well...?