Thanks for the reviews gang! Very much appreciated:) This part is sadish. . At least, Mac's monologue is. :sniffs:

Enjoy!
Jackie

PART 12 – Bring Him Home

December 24, 2010
1945 Local
Room 3014
Bethesda Naval Hospital
Bethesda, Maryland

The holidays tended to be one of the most medically challenging days for some hospitals. In Bethesda, Christmas eve always boasted a series of accidents that could have been avoided (Christmas lights, roofs and ladders) to the patches of personnel with food poisoning due to undercooked meats. Whatever occurred that day had kept Sarah MacKenzie prisoner to the system – they wouldn't let her out until the doctor said so. It took until nearly a quarter after six for him to actually bother making the rounds and cut her loose. It wasn't entirely a bad thing, the lack of something decent to watch on TV had allowed for time to think and sleep, two things that had put her in a complete sense of unease.

Harm was alive, her heart told her so – call it female intuition or a thing between soulmates, it didn't matter, she knew it. He was alive. The problem was that she couldn't find him. Oh, she had tried, for a good hour to clear her thoughts and search, but it didn't work. The hustle and bustle on her floor wouldn't allow her to concentrate and when she finally had a coordinate, the doctor had stepped in and broken the trance. It was like that little connection of theirs had suffered an outage that couldn't be patched up.

And where the hell was Sturgis! The case couldn't have taken this long. She was looking forward to head out of this personal hell hole and to the hotel. Unfortunately, the staff wouldn't let her hail a cab, someone needed to pick her up. Sturgis had volunteered.

This wasn't quite the Christmas she'd envisioned when Harm was helping trim their tree. Visions of her and him wrapped in warm blankets, lying under the Christmas tree, the soft glow of Christmas lights. Hot chocolate and that sexy Mrs. Clause negligee which she was sure he'd love. "Damnit." It was supposed to be different now that they'd 'let go.' They weren't supposed to spend time apart, at least not like this. Mac jumped off of the bed, walked to the window and pressed her forehead against the cool glass. It was snowing outside, something she thought she'd never see again. It wasn't surprising, she was in the military after all, moving around was what they did. San Diego was a whole different world from Washington, a welcomed world. There was something magical about California and despite her rare longing to return to Washington, her home was on the other coast now, so was the man that she loved, so was his family – their family.

Sighing, she pressed her palm against the window. "Can't you cut him a break?" She said out loud, speaking to a God she wasn't sure listened to her anymore. "Couldn't you destroy me instead of him?" Guilt was something that Mac wore almost like a badge, it was something that would sneak in even if she knew she wasn't responsible. And yet, there was a nagging feeling that though she had not set these wheels in motion personally, something close to her had.

Closing her eyes, she tried again to contact Harm, to find him in the chaotic world outside her window. Was he hurt? Was he cold, alone, hungry? She couldn't tell, but knew wholeheartedly that he was alive. That was something to take comfort in, something to hang on to, to hope on. "Damnit, why can't I find him?" Mac's forehead made contact with the window once, twice, three times before she noticed someone standing behind her. Spinning around, she instinctively came into a fighting stance easing off when she realized that the intruder was a friendly one. "Sturgis, you do not walk up behind a Marine."

Sturgis had his hands up in surrender. The look on his face would have probably elicited a good laugh from the Marine, but not tonight. "I called your name three times, Mac. . ." Taking a deep breath he pointed at a small bag with her medication. "You ready to go, ma'am?" He grinned when she pinned that infamous Marine look on him, a look that intensified when he stepped aside to reveal a wheelchair. "Hey, if it were up to me I'd have them hook a rope to the window and let you repel down."

Frustrated, she pushed off of the window and slid into the chair. "This sucks."

"Doctor's orders, Colonel." He took a final look around the room making sure she hadn't left anything before wheeling her out. "I suppose the General came to talk to you." It was a statement not a question, he knew the answer to that. It was chit chat, simple talk, some way to start a conversation that neither of them wanted to have.

Mac sighed. "Yea, he did. . .Harm's not dead, Sturgis. . .I can feel it. . .I just. . ." She picked at an imaginary piece of lint on her uniform and shook her head. Why couldn't she find him? "I can't. . .that thing I do. . did. . .it's not working."

Sturgis frowned, as much as he wanted to believe that she and Harm had a connection, sometimes it was just difficult. Still, as a friend, he wanted to urge her on, he had to for some reason. "Try again? You hit your head when you fell. . .Maybe you just need to rest a bit?"

That was as good an idea as any. "I guess. . .So, how did it go today?"

"Not too good." The change in conversation wasn't as welcomed as either of them hoped it would be. He continued onward with Mayfield who'd taken the redeye to arrive in time for the trial. While the two were very prepared for the case, the civilian prosecuting lawyer had driven a hard blow bringing up their client's past and some shady activities which they couldn't disprove. He relayed all of this information as she signed the paperwork which released her from her prison. "Basically, we're treading water right now." Sturgis said, trying to help Mac out of the wheelchair and getting nothing but a slap on his hands. "Sorry, ma'am."

Mac rolled her eyes again and headed towards his car mumbling something about chivalry and men. "Anyway, Commander, can we pull this out of a rabbit hat?" She waited for him to open the door and then stepped in grateful to sit down again. Though she didn't want help, her head was still giving her problems, something she hoped a hot bath and lots of aspirin and coffee would heal.

He held the car door open for a moment and glanced at her. "Not without you, Mac. No. . .Look, as much as I was good. . .I'm rusty now, you're not. . .I think you can take ten years off from being a lawyer and still be a force to be reckoned with. . .I know this. . .this thing with Harm. . .I know it's killing you."

"It's not killing me." She defended weakly. It was killing her, thing is, she didn't know how much it would kill her if. . . Disbelieving Sturgis glared at her. Neither Harm nor Mac were opened books, but when emotions ran high, a little humanity broke through the cracks. "Alright. . .alright. . .I'm barely holding it together. . .I spent most of the day in tears and. . .I keep having images of. . ." Frowning, she glanced downwards then closed her eyes tightly, trying to prevent the fresh onslaught of tears. "What if. . ."

Sturgis squatted down next to her and placed a hand on her shoulder. "Mac, you can't think like that. . .Harm's tough, he's strong. . .Damnit, he's the closest thing I've ever seen to Superman."

"Even Superman has weaknesses." The one thing she would do is try to contact the Henry in the morning. Somehow, hearing it from the General wasn't enough. She needed to speak to Loftness and definitely Keeter. If anyone would have real information, it was Keeter. "Look, I'll help as much as I can. . .There is no way in hell I am going to expose our client's jugular to that slime ball civilian lawyer. . .Not on my watch. . .But I need time."

He figured as much, which was why he thanked God for one slight Christmas miracle. "We have until Monday. . .The judge agreed to break for Christmas weekend. . .He stressed that this needed to be settled before the New Year, so if you have any rabbits to pull out. . .now's the time to find your rabbit hat."

Mac nodded. At least the situation would get her mind off of Harm, she needed that now. "Alright. . .Sturgis, before we head towards hotel, can you make one stop? It won't take long, I promise."

As they drove the familiar roads from Maryland into DC, she couldn't help but think of the countless times she and Harm had taken that trip. Christmas eve had always been special to them. The one time of the year when miracles seemed to happen and yet, this year, that miracle was taken away from them. This was to be their first Christmas together, something that was meaning the world to her the more the days passed. Harm had worked through his anger issues revolving the holiday and was truly seeming eager to celebrate with her. "If you don't mind. . .I want to be alone for a bit." Mac said once Sturgis had pulled his car to a stop on the parking lot adjacent to the Vietnam Memorial.

It felt like forever since she'd walked there, glancing at the names of our country's heroes. Mac had never realized until that moment in time that she knew, exactly, where Harm Senior's name was. It was as if something was leading her right to him. She stopped a few feet away from the wall and glanced up, her eyes immediately focusing on his name. There were few people around, the harsh weather scaring most away. With a sigh, she dared to speak out loud, uncaring if the few stragglers would hear her or not. "It's been a long time hasn't it?" She swallowed down the lump at her throat. "I'm sorry if this is disrespectful in any way, it's not my intention. . .But, while I'm here, I figure. . .There are a lot of things that I need to say. . .I hope. . .I pray that I have a right to be here and that you listen. . ."

Mac stepped a little closer and closed her eyes, the weight of the world was on her shoulders. It suddenly didn't seem crazy to speak to a piece of stone. "Your son is a difficult man to love, you know that? He's stubborn, he keeps me on my toes, infuriates me." She chuckled slightly. "But, I can't stop loving him. . .It's impossible. . .I guess you know why I am here. . .Um, I'm not sure how the whole spiritual thing goes. Once you pass on, do you actually watch over us? Or is that something we on Earth hope on in order to make death more bearable?" She shifted slightly, the cold beginning to numb her just a bit, but it didn't matter, she had things to say.

"See, the thing is. . .if it's true or not, I still believe that you've been watching over Harm. . .and Trish and Sergie. . .I mean, you have to be watching over him, right?" Mac hadn't realized the tears until she felt them fall onto her gloved hand. Desperately, she removed her glove and pressed her fingers onto the etched marble, her voice falling to just below a whisper. "I know. . .I know I don't have the right to ask you this. . .but, I need him to come back to me. . .I need him to come home safe and sound. . .I know I don't have the right to ask you this. You were shot down, taken away from your family, held prisoner for so many years. . .I know of the conflicting feelings and emotions you went through, of the desires you gave in to out of desperation. . . I know what your wife went through, spending so many years alone with a son who was a spitting image of his father. I can't imagine what it must have done to her. . .what it still does to her."

She sighed nervously, almost as if she were revealing something that no one knew. "I think you're still in Trish' heart, sir. . .I know she's with Frank and she's in love. . .they have a beautiful relationship. . .I know you would want that for her. . .But, I think she still loves you and she always will." Mac gently brushed away the tears and wiped her hand on her coat before pressing it back to the wall. "I need Harm in my life – I can't live without him. . .I know that sounds cliché and overdramatic and stupid. . .especially coming from a woman who had once said she never wanted to be with him. . .I lied then. . .I needed him. ..No, I need him more than the air that I breathe. . .Things with Harm will be difficult, we have a tendency to butt heads at times. But, I want to fight for him. I need to because he's the only reason I've been living all of these years. He's the reason why I haven't had a drink in ten years. . .He's made me the strong lawyer I am today."

"He's the reason I can love unconditionally. . .I've never felt like this about anyone and I know for certain that I never will again." Mac remained silent for a moment and glanced up at the heavens to the sheet of snow that had begun to fall again. It was coming down harder now and despite the cold, she remained there, there were more things she needed to say. Things she needed him to understand. "Please bring him back. . .I don't want to know what it's like to live without him. . .I already suffered through that pain for. . .eternity, at least it seemed that way. . .I spent the last seven horrible years making myself believe that he didn't matter. That I didn't need him. . . I was lying to myself because he does matter and I do need him. . . I know I don't have the right to ask you this. .You've given up so much already. I believe you saved us that day in the Appalachians and every time your son's had a mishap with a plane. . . I know he's not dead now I just. . .can't find him."

That brought up another thought which was more frightening than Harm's death. "I have an idea of what you went through. . .In Russia. . .Please, don't let him go through that. . .I'd rather he die quickly than have to be locked away somewhere. .. Or worse. . .Tortured." One thing was true to her, if Harm would have been the one getting tortured in Paraguay and not Webb, she would have talked. She would have told Sadik everything he needed to know if it meant stopping Harm's pain. "Please don't hate me for coming here after so many years of absence. . .I just couldn't handle being that close to him again. . .Damnit, I love him. . .I love him so much that it's breaking my heart." Mac's head came down, her palm remained against the marble as the tears turned into sobs which she couldn't control.

She felt a hand at her shoulder and instinctively knew that Sturgis was there to help. "C'mon, Mac. . .Let's get you to the hotel." He turned her away from the wall and then stood there a few moments himself. "Bring him home." Sturgis snapped to attention and saluted before turning on his heel and heading back to the lot.

December 25, 2010
1623 Zulu
Location Unknown

Anniversaries, birthdays, holidays, none of those days passed without some sort of gift giving between the Gerard's. They weren't fancy and, most of the time, the gifts were completely impractical and useless, but in a land where the local mall was probably thousands of miles away, it was the thought that counted. Connor had spent most of the morning finishing the perfect 'gift' for his wife. The rain from the days prior had disallowed him to complete the project earlier. He'd found three dozen or so tumbled rocks by a freshwater river. Stealing a nail from the hardware facilities over on the base had been ludicrous, Ella had been angry at him for days about it. The item did come in handy for so much – including the stones which he was trying to make a hole in. Using a rock, he would hammer the nail in just enough to work on making the hole without breaking the rock. It had taken several tries before he got the workmanship just right. Then, using an elastic from his jacket he made her a necklace and bracelet. It wasn't much, but it was sort of. . .pretty?

Grinning, he looked at his masterpiece, finally satisfied in the location of the rocks. He ran it over his shirt, giving them a quick buff before heading inside. "Hon?" He called out to his wife, finding her sitting at their dinning table (three wood pilings, the one in the center being the largest) with their new friend. "Morning, Mack, how are you feeling?"

The stranger was quite the odd one, though, how normal could someone be when they didn't remember anything about their lives? He'd spent the previous day in and out of consciousness, the fever raging within until they'd managed to give him aspirin, some rain water and a few bananas. Thankfully, he'd managed to keep them all down. The nighttime was the worst. Connor could hear the man thrashing around gripped in some sort of nightmare. The word 'Sarah' had come up once again and he couldn't help but wonder about the woman who 'Mack' thought about so much.

Harm glanced up at Connor and then looked away. He didn't know these people and despite their hospitality, there was a nagging feeling that he was in danger. At the moment, he wasn't quite sure what to make of it but he was going to wait and see. Maybe he would snap out of this haze? "Feeling a bit better, thank you." His eyes shifted back to Ella's fingers which were drawing frantically on a sketch pad with a pencil. That morning he'd asked them about the situation, the answer both frightened and intrigued him. How could two people live like this for two years? They'd told him about their lives in Ireland, the world they left to pursue a mutual dream in avionics. That dream had led them to a major project in Sweden and, subsequently, into the arms of Neroli. "If you're prisoners here, how come you have certain. .. things? That sketchpad for instance."

Ella glanced up from her work and chuckled. "From time to time we would snatch things out of our working area. . .Sometimes the group was nice enough to leave us with things."

"Apparently not nice enough to leave us some electricity." Connor lamented, taking a seat on the floor next to his wife. "Nothing coming back to mind then, Mack?"

"I. . .No." Frowning, he glanced out the window and then back at the sketch pad which Ella was holding. "I wish I would remember something, but it's all a blur. . .except for that woman and for that matter, I don't know who she is." He crossed his arms in front of him and waited, expectantly, for Ella to finish. While Connor had been gone, she was asking him questions about that Sarah person and he'd described her as best possible.

Once she was done, Ella blew on the pad to remove eraser shavings and then showed it to her husband first. "I still have the touch." She leaned in and kissed him, then turned the sketch over to Harm. "Is that what she looks like?"

Momentarily, his breath caught. His heart began to beat with a heavier percussion. It was Sarah. "That's her. . .That's. . ." He chewed on his lower lip hoping to deter the tears that were starting to form. Damnit, why was he crying? Had that woman hurt him? Is that why he couldn't get her out of his mind? "It's beautiful, thank you."

Carefully, Ella ripped off the sheet and handed it to him. "Consider it a Christmas present, excuse me." Standing, she went over to their bed, pulling out something from under the pillow. "Speaking of Christmas presents." She slipped a bundle into Connor's hands and smiled. "Happy Christmas, my love."

Like a child at Christmas time, Connor opened up the cloth and took a look inside. "I love them." He said with enthusiasm, staring a new set of rocks which had been shaped and smoothed to use on his spear. "Close your eyes." He waited for her to comply and then slipped the bracelet onto her arm. "Ah, ah. . .no peaking, I'm not done yet. . ."

With curiosity, Harm watched the scene in front of him. Part of him found it nauseating, the other part found it cute. There was another part of him though that felt insanely jealous that they had someone and he was. . .well, alone. The couple kissed after the exchange. . .and then they kissed some more. Grabbing a piece of bamboo to use as a crutch, he excused himself and stepped outside, taking a seat on the raised floor. In the distance he could hear the rolling thunder, another storm was on the way, he could smell it. The thought alone made the hairs stand up on the back of his head. He lifted the sketch that Ella made and took a good look at it. Those lips. He thought, wondering what it would feel like to kiss and be kissed by this woman. This, so called, Sarah. A quick thought came to mind. . .No, not a thought, something more like a. . .daydream. Sarah was looking at him, eyes brilliantly beautiful and yet, so sad. Her hair was a slight bit shorter than in the drawing. Her lips had a dark shade of red and she was standing next to a man with dark hair and a blond woman. A smile which was tugging at her lips vanished as she looked at him and then, just as quickly turned to the other man giving him an affectionate smile. Harm frowned. Did that mean he was involved with a woman who was involved with someone else?

"Why do I care?" He lamented with a sigh. "I don't know who she is. . .I don't know who I am." For all of the raw beauty of the island and the warmth that the couple inside had shown him, Harm wanted to be home. "Wherever that is." Carefully, he folded the sketch and slipped it into the pocket of his pants. Lightening was crashing in the horizon, falling onto the water. The view made him catch his breath slightly. Had he ever seen this before? Was there water wherever he came from? What about the ocean, why was he so drawn to it? Something about the location made him want to sail – if he even knew how to do that. He envisioned himself on a white sailboat cruising past tall, jagged cliffs.

Reaching inside of the shirt, he took out the dog tags and stared intently at them. "Harmon Rabb Junior?" The name just didn't strike him, not at all. "That can't be me. . .It's so. . .odd." Maybe there was something to that Mack name which the Gerard's were calling him. He liked that name, it had to be his. "Mack. . .Yea, that works." He wondered if it was short for something, maybe a middle name or a hyphenated name of sorts? Whatever it was, he liked it; it worked. Smiling for the first time since he'd woken up, Harm glanced out onto the horizon feeling that he, at least, got something of his back. Pretending someone was sitting before him, he extended his hand in greeting. "Hi, I'm Mack uh. . ." Okay, well, that posted a problem. What would his last name be? He scratched his head in thought. "Rabb doesn't sound too bad." He thought aloud. Mack Rabb? Harm frowned. "That's almost as bad as Harmon is. . ." With a shrug, he stuck his hand out again to greet his imaginary visitor. "Mack Rabb." Alright, so it wasn't that bad, he could live with it for now. He had to.

"There you are." Connor's voice startled him. "You really shouldn't be out here. . .I mean, though they don't check on us anymore. . ."

Ella's voice chimed in behind her husband. "It's true, Mack. . .Besides, storm's (instead of "storms") coming. . .again."

Harm knew they were right, as much as he wanted to be outside a while longer, they didn't know who was watching. Not that death would be so bad at the moment. He wasn't sure what was worse, dying or continuing this loss of function. He sighed deeply, then turned away from his hosts. The waves were crashing a little rougher now, destroying some of the sand. Something about that act of nature made it feel as if he were the sand being washed away. He couldn't help but think of other things. Did he have a family? A mother? A father? A sister? A brother?

A wife? Glancing down at his ring finger he found nothing that would suggest he was married. Usually those who sported rings would have a tan line around the area when it was vacant for whatever reason. No wife. Was there anyone back home (wherever that was) missing him? "Let me just sit out here a little while longer. . .I'm. . .trying to. . .trying to remember who I am." The notion sounded silly to himself. He was thankful when the pair agreed and left him to his thoughts.

They had said something about him captaining a plane, but that was absurd! He didn't like planes, at all. Did he? Somehow the idea of being stuck in a tiny cockpit just didn't sit well with him. And what about the maneuvers that some of those military pilots did? The thoughts gave him vertigo. And yet, he'd seen the dog tags, he was definitely military. . .assuming those tags were his. There were other questions of course, like those of the scars on his body, mainly his back. Connor had mentioned that while they put him in dry clothes the scars had frightened them both. They weren't completely hideous but it covered the expanse of his back. It was obvious that the lashes were done by someone with a malevolent intent. No accident could have brought them up with such a calculating 'swooshing' movement. Without a mirror he wouldn't be certain what they were referring to and the thought scared him.

What kind of a man was he that someone had felt the need to hurt him in such a way? That brought up a whole other slew of thoughts. What if he was bad? Evil incarnate? What if this Sarah was a victim? Harm swallowed down the bile at those thoughts. No, he wasn't bad, he knew he wasn't. Or was he? It wasn't until he felt the raindrops pelting him that he abandoned his search and slipped back into the house. Connor and Ella were lying in their bed, cuddled together. Quietly, he stepped inside and slipped into the area of the floor that had been deemed his bed. Maybe sleep would do him good? Maybe he would remember?

From his vantage point he could see out the window, past the trees and to a patch of sky where the sun was trying to fight through. Once again, he couldn't help but wonder if someone was missing him at the moment. If he mattered to anyone.

1220 Local
Suite 225
Fairview Park Marriott
Falls Church, Virginia

There was something good about working a high profile case, the Navy tended to spring a bit more for the players to be comfortable, but not this comfortable. Before, Mac really hadn't had a chance to look around her surroundings, she was a bit too busy with other things and last night. . .well, last night the only thing she was capable of was sleeping and crying. Her puffy eyes this morning were a testament to that. Now, in the light of day, she realized that someone was taking great care in her comfort. This wasn't a regular guest room but a suite with French doors that separated the living room and bedroom area. The décor she could do without, animal prints, even though toned down, weren't in her personal tastes, neither were the four fake plants in the living space. If she were going to put a few plants up, they had to be real. Floral was another thing that she didn't like and this was everywhere, from chairs to bedspread.

Sighing, Mac stepped into the bathroom, running the shower as hot as it could go without causing any type of degree burns. She welcomed the feel over her body and aching muscles. Despite the comfort of the bed, she hadn't slept more than two hours at a time. The nagging feeling that she could do something was killing her. Helplessness never sat well with her, it was that which broke her down years ago when he'd dumped a Tomcat the night before her wedding. Mac closed her eyes and braced her hands against the shower walls. Damnit, from the moment the General had slapped her with the news, she couldn't help but think of that rainy night in May of 2001. Harm was found then, hours later and in bad shape, but he was found. She found him. Why couldn't she do that now?

Back then, things were different. Yes, there was some closeness between them, but those strings were being cut with every passing second that brought her closer to unhappy matrimony. Now. . .They were closer than ever, so much so that spending time away from each other hurt. God, how many times had she read stupid things like lovers feeling physical pain when away from one another? How many times had she found amusement at seeing people so out of sorts when their loved ones were away. She understood that it was a possibility. If that was the case, then why the hell couldn't she find him? Did that whack on the head have something to do with it or was their link severed because. . . "No!" She said out loud, startling herself. "Harm's not dead. . .He's not."

The link she wanted may not have been present, but she could tell, wholeheartedly, that he was still walking this Earth, somewhere. There was just something wrong, off kilter, something that she needed to figure out and fast. She turned off the water, stepped out of the shower and dawned on a fluffy terrycloth robe. Using another towel, she wrapped up her hair and thanked the stars for the miraculous wonders of heaters. Taking a mug and the carafe from the service tray, Mac poured herself some coffee, then wandered towards the window. The day was awful, cloudy and dreary. It matched her feelings at the moment. "We're still under the same sky though. . .Under the same stars." She heard her own voice repeating the words she'd told him the last time they spoke.

There was truth to that – Harm was still under the same sky. Wherever he was. "I guess we're in for a lot of empty nights, huh?" His voice had said back to her only she didn't really think they would be this empty.

Frowning, she placed the mug on the windowsill and pressed a palm to the window. "Oh, Harm." As an adult, the feelings were enough to consume her. She couldn't possibly imagine what they had done to a child. . .She knew, somewhat, what it had done to him and how he was paying for life. "Is this what you felt when you were waiting for your father to come home?"

Mac wiped off a stubborn tear, took her mug and stepped away from the window. She couldn't keep doing this, it was like self torture. With a heavy sigh, she sat on the sofa, then took the Wolf case files. The words became a jumbled mess much like she was. How the hell was she supposed to pull rabbits out of her hat when she felt like this? The ringing of the phone startled her. "MacKenzie." She spoke gruffly into the line.

("Mac?. . .What happened?" It was Harriet. "Mac? Are you. . .How are you?")

Sighing deeply, she clutched the phone as if it were her salvation. "Not good, Harriet. . .I guess you heard?"

(Harriet's slightly cracking voice was a testament to her answer. "Yes, we heard. . .Commander Mayfield called the office. . .I'm. . .I'm so sorry, Mac. . .What have you heard? Anything new?")

"Not as of yet. . .I can't get into details much, but as far as Cresswell told me. . .he ejected, they just can't. . .find him."

("Ejected? That's good, at least. . .Someone could have picked him up." Harriet was trying to remain positive. The Captain was always like a sort of superhero and those types were reluctant to go down without a fight. "Do you. .. should I tell anyone at the office?. . .Jen's here." She passed the phone to Coates and nodded for her to talk. "Ma'am. . .How are you?" From the sound of her voice, she wasn't doing too well either.)

Mac frowned, Harm had touched Jennifer's life deeply, helping out a young woman in trouble who he really didn't have to help out much. As a result they'd seen her blossom before their very eyes. Despite their ranks and age differences, Harriet and Jen were two of the best friends a girl could have. "I'm hanging in there, Jen. . .Listen, if you get in touch with Mattie. . .Don't. . .don't tell her about this. . .She's on vacation and the last thing I want is for her to worry."

(Jen agreed, "I was thinking the same thing. . .Though, she'll probably be pretty angry with us.")

"I know, but. . .Harm would want this. . .Look, I have to go. . .someone's at the door." She said heaving another sigh. "I'll call if I know more." After exchanging quick goodbyes, she practically bolted towards the door finding one Sturgis Turner on the other side. "What are you doing here so early?"

He flashed her a grin. "Merry Christmas to you, too, Colonel. . .And it's pass noon, by the way." Sturgis stepped in as Mac pulled the door back from him. "Yup, someone's definitely trying to toy with you." He waved his arm around the room before him. "This isn't cheap."

Mac rolled her eyes in indignation. "Yea, tell me about it. . ." The second knock on her door caught her by surprise. "Tali." She nodded at the younger woman on the other side. Mayfield didn't really have the chance to interact with Harm much, but she knew what the man meant to Mac.

"Ma'am. . .I'm so sorry."

Managing to wave off any other consolatory remarks, Mac stepped back and headed into the bedroom. "I'm going to change. . ." Quickly, she closed the French doors behind her, successfully closing her off from the pair in the other room. She leaned against the doors and swallowed down the lump at her throat. "You can do this, MacKenzie." Quietly, she whispered. Even if she couldn't do this, it was her job, something that had to get done.

Walking to the window, she couldn't help but look out once again. "We're under the same sky." Closing her eyes, she offered up a silent prayer hoping it would give him the protection he needed to endure whatever was going on in his life at the moment. "Bring him home."