Whew!!! Sorry for the delay. This chapter was hell to put together. Not sure I love it but, after four re-writes, it stays...mistakes are my own...on with the show!

Chapter 33 - Paper

Ahmadi Mansion

Tehran, Iran

The reflection in the mirror wasn't the prettiest, her normally flawless skin was bruised, battered, bloodied. Her cheek was swollen and each time she closed her eyes the headache grew far worse. A migraine, Mac deduced but the likelihood of getting proper medication for such an ailment was very slim. Farid was watching her like a hawk for the past day, alternating between laying in bed next to her or having guards watch over when he attended to business in the sprawling estate. She was rarely alone and he'd insisted on limiting food and water so that her body could purge itself of any food her infidel captor had given Nazanin.

At least she was allowed to shower alone this time when Farid realized she was hurt but not invalid. She had begged him to give her a moment alone and he'd reluctantly accepted but still remained just outside of the bathroom. She gripped the edges of the sink and took a breath, wincing as her ribs hurt with each rise and fall of her chest. Harm tuned her up pretty well although it was clear he used restraint. He was a very strong man and each strike of his fist into her body made Mac wish she'd never asked him.

The look in his eyes was another thing altogether and it haunted her dreams all night. The anguish written across his face, the tight jaw and the tears that he barely held back. This would hurt him emotionally, she knew but her intuition told her to go, so she went. Honor and duty may have had their hand in bringing her back to Tehran as well but ultimately it was a sixth sense. She was in far more danger in the States, so was Harm and at least, this distance would help the chips fall where they needed to.

Mac glared at the niqab and headdress hanging behind the bathroom door. She insisted on dressing herself but the material was already making her feel claustrophobic. She touched an edge and sighed. She could do this. She had to until Harm found her again.

When she emerged from the bathroom, Farid was nowhere in sight, nor were the guards that had hounded her the past day. She ventured out of the bedroom and to the living area where she dropped into a chair behind a large, ornate desk. Farid had bought the desk for her once he realized she liked to draw, anything to keep his favorite wife happy. It looked like something out of the Victorian era with filigree painted into the wood using intricate gold leaf patterns.

She pulled open a drawer taking out a sheet of paper and a pencil which she placed on the side. "I hope I did it right." Mac thought and began to fold the sheet using her fingers to make each edge crisp. She had done the same folds hastily and wasn't sure if the message she'd left Harm would be carried across. Would he even remember? It was a miracle that she recalled that distant memory as it was only in the second year of their partnership at JAG when he'd shown her the trick.

"What are you doing?" She'd asked when he took an empty sheet of paper and began to fold it. The flight from California felt longer than it should have and in the middle, between his long frame fidgeting in the small seat and any attempt of sleep, Harm had pulled open his briefcase and began to fiddle with a sheet of paper that he eventually folded into an airplane. "Aren't we a bit old for paper airplanes, Commander?"

He grinned and ignored her while his fingers ran over each fold. "You are never too old for paper planes, Major." He uncapped his pen and began to scribble one way and then another, opening up the page and then closing it again much to her amusement. "Look what happens if you fold it this way."

Mac took the paper from his hand and studied it, specifically the way certain words became apparent when it was folded the opposite way. "Harm! It's a note...that's how the petty officer got away with it." In one direction it was nothing but meaningless letters but if folded the opposite way the words appeared on the page. "How'd you figure it out?"

Harm shrugged. "Spies used to do this. They probably still do."

"So you're a spy now?" She teased and he merely nudged her playfully. His trick would break their case wide open.

Her fingers carefully constructed one paper plane and then another - each one she sent sailing through the air and if it caught the breeze coming in from the windows, it would fly a little higher, a little farther until eventually each page plummeted to the ground. That's how Farid found Nazanin, sitting behind her desk hurling page after page through the living area which was now filled with half a dozen fallen paper planes. "My love? What is this?"

"He would build those for me." She shrugged and hurled another one that nearly hit Farid right in the head. "I can not get him out of my mind, my love. It is like he is permanently etched there."

Farid seemed troubled by this, as evident in the way he looked at her. His eyes were sullen and Nazanin wondered yet again if his affirmations of love were genuine. He took one of the planes, stared at the page and then crushed it in his fist. "Time, my Sweet Nazanin. Only time may heal those wounds. Would you like to join me in the gardens? A walk outside would do you good. Plus, your rescuer wishes to know if you're alive."

Her rescuer? She furled her brow and realized Farid spoke of The Assassin. A chill ran down Mac's spine and not for the first time. The uneasy feeling began back in the hangar Gunny took them to, after hugs were exchanged and something about one of her most trusted friends felt...off. With Webb and Harm, the man acted somewhat normal but the very second they boarded the plane he was positively on edge, something a seasoned Marine would not be. The man had been to war, served in hellish conditions and still made it back mentally intact.

"Are you alright, Gunny?" She had asked a few times until he snapped and the look in his eyes was not of friend or subordinate but a man intent on killing anything that stood in his way. At first Mac shrugged it off as it was an intense situation - he was tasked to take care of the wife of another good friend - but the sneer that came with his expression. The way the man slammed two drinks back to back while pacing the private jet, made her wonder what was happening in Victor's mind.

Once they arrived in Tehran, his mask came on and so did hers. She didn't have a chance to reevaluate the prickly feeling, the way her hair stood up in the back of her neck or the general ill feeling when she thought about Victor Galindez. While he didn't manhandle her to get out of the vehicle, his fingers dug into her arm, his eyes were cold and unfeeling. The thought of him turning was impossible and yet… "Nazanin? I said The Assassin wishes to see you and I must comply, my love.""Why? Why must you comply? I've been through a terrible, terrible thing. I wish to rest.""And you shall but, he must see you, my Sweet Nazanin." There was an urgency to his request, she noted as if being prompted by someone else to do something he wasn't ready for. She noted it in the way he looked at her again, that sullen expression, he way his hand gently wrapped around her arm to help her up and then fell away as if burnt. "I am sorry, my sweet. You are likely not yet ready for my touch or my kisses and I will wait. I love you this much."

Nazanin followed behind, as she always did when they walked in public. He took a long path through the home, the guards following close behind down staircases and walkways. The Iranian heat welcomed them once they stepped out to the lavish gardens and the hidden pergola where a large table and chairs were set. Food was spread across the top and at the end sat two men: Victor Galindez and Sadik Fahd.

Mac and Harm's Apartment

Georgetown

Soft rays of sunlight shone through the panes of the French doors which led to the balcony belying the cold air that had settled over Washington. The rays drew long lines across the apartment, slowly moving as the sun rose.

It was one such beam which woke Harm who had fallen asleep in the armchair. His eyes blinked open, his body ached from being cramped into the chair. He hadn't meant to fall asleep.

The letter - her letter still sat on the coffee table and he snorted at the absurdity of his thoughts - where else would it be? Carefully he came to sit at the edge of his seat, his fingers trembling when he reached out to take though the allotted time still hadn't passed. He simply couldn't wait any longer.

Harm pulled at a corner, began to unravel the rest but a hard knock on the door had him stuffing the paper into his pocket and grumpily shuffling towards the loud banging that only became incessant the more time passed. Harm wasn't surprised to find Clayton Webb on the other side.

"Webb." He was surprised, however, to see the urgency in the man's eyes. "What the fuck do you want?"

"To make sure you're alright."

Harm didn't let him in, simply stood as an impassable wall between him and the Director. "You know? I think you like tormenting me."

"Rabb, are you gonna sit around and lick your wounds or are you gonna help me go after her?" He whispered and although Harm wondered why, he still stepped aside and let him in without question.

At once Webb brought an index finger to his lips signaling that Harm needed to remain silent and then pulled out a black device that looked like a cellphone. As he walked through the living room, Clay swept the device over the sofa, the coffee table and any surface he could find "Never been here before. It's cozy."

"It was hers...I moved in after we…after we... married." Harm's brow furled, he followed Webb around the apartment stopping when the device the spook held lit up like a Christmas Tree. "Do you know anything?"

"No. Chatter has been very quiet." Webb handed Harm the device, freeing his hands so that he could grab the lamp on the side table and take apart the base. There, attached to the electrical wires was a small, flat circle. "She should be fine, Farid adores her." Reaching into his pocket, he produced clippers and began to quickly snip the tiny cables and removing the listening device, holding it in his palm for Harm to see. "No chatter at all."

"Isn't that a cause for concern? The lack of chatter?"

"It's not unusual." Webb motioned for Harm to sweep along the fireplace, especially over the mantel where another listening device was embedded into the clock right in the center. That too was disposed of and when the spy took the sweeper and headed into the bedroom, Harm stood at the doorway and watched. "Look, I know you're pissed at me."

"Pissed? That's an understatement. I should kill you, I should torture you and kill you. You knew where she was, you knew... and didn't tell me shit. Why?"

Of course there would be more devices, two - one hidden in Mac's vanity and another inside the phone. Someone was listening at their most intimate time together and that thought made Harm sick to his stomach. "You'd want to go after her."

"And that is a bad thing, how? She's a Marine on an assignment she never should have been on."

"And Mac was an officer working for the Central Intelligence Agency. As callused as it sounds, we're not the military - that 'leave no man behind' concept is honorable but impractical as a spy."

"Mac's not a spy."

Webb pushed past Harm, crossed the living room and began to search over the table with Mac's bone cleaning tools as well as beneath the dining table. "I know you don't want to understand this but, the moment she came with me, the rules changed. I didn't force it on her, Sarah came willinging, you need to remember that."

No, it wasn't forced although Harm knew he had a hand in her leaving. An overwhelming shame came over him each time he thought back to the day she left. He never stopped her, not really because both pride and fear prevented him from acting like a helpless man. "It was my fault she left. I can't undo that and I'll carry that grief with me forever."

Everytime he noted the subtle changes in her appearance, the tiniest of scars or the burn mark on her arm, he would feel a lancing pain. God, he really did need some sort of therapy. "Clay, I need to make sure she's safe, that the bastard won't put a hand on her."

Webb pressed a hand to Harm's shoulder and squeezed, hoping it would calm the Naval officer somewhat. "How about we get out of here, grab a coffee. When was the last time you ate?"

Harm caught the subtle shift in Webb's tone, a command that was reaffirmed by the look in his eyes. "Yeah, fine. Let me grab my keys."

"Rabb, I think we should...oooff."

Harm's fist connected with Webb's abdomen the very second they stepped onto the sidewalk. It made the spook double over and the only thing that kept him upright was Harm's grip on the front of his jacket. "What the hell is going on?"

The short elevator ride had been his undoing. He began to think back to every single destructive assignment Webb had put them through. It was staggering, really, how the two of them still helped out, still carried on as if it were normal for JAG officers to simply skulk around for the Agency. When Webb pulled out a cellphone and began punching in code after code when prompted, Harm finally had enough.

Roughly he yanked Webb up and then slammed him into the archway to the building, the blow knocking out whatever wind was left in him. "Why the fuck are those things in her apartment?"

He loomed over the Director, waiting not so patiently for the man to recover from a coughing fit. Webb didn't immediately speak which prompted Harm to slam him once again. "Victor turned! He turned and he was in your place...I thought he was looking out for the two of you to let me know you'd returned with Sarah but, no… He's working for someone else and this is proof of it!"

Harm stared down at Webb's open hand and the five flat listening devices he'd pulled from the apartment each with it's electrical cables sticking out. He took one and stared at it and although surveillance wasn't Harm's forte, he'd seen these types before during a case. They were military grade, used by both Frogmen and Marines. Easy to place along with any electrical wires and so thin it could go mostly unnoticed unless you knew what to look for. "The Agency doesn't use these. Ours are much more sophisticated, you could have one on your jacket and not know it. These are military grade."

"That doesn't mean that Victor… that he…"

"He turned, Harm!" Clay shoved the devices into his pocket and leaned against the archway until he could stand on his own. "I think...Goddamnit, I think he's working for Sadik now."

Sadik. If there were any person in this World that Harm wished to eradicate it was him. His skin crawled at the simple mention of the terrorists name. The bullet wound in his chest that seldom hurt began to ache as if it were freshly opened. He closed his eyes and could still see Mac running towards him amidst the chaos of dirt and a haze and bullets whizzing around them. The bastard needed to die a painful death and he would gladly administer that final blow. But to think that Gunny, their Gunny would aid such a murderous bastard was absurd. "No. Spin that yarn with someone else Clay. Victor wouldn't… He's a friend, a good Marine."

"Haven't good Marine's turned?"

"No."

"Harm, think like a JAG...You've prosecuted these good Marines. Even well intentioned ones that still did things that went far above what is accepted as call of duty...Mac's uncle?"

He couldn't argue that point because, no matter how just the Marine believed their cause to be, many of them faltered. He had defended criminals, sent many to prison because no amount of training could stop that bad egg from bursting. "Why would he turn? Damnit, I need a reason… a good reason."

"I don't know." Clay pushed off the wall and stood in Harm's way blocking the man's path. "I know we're not the best of friends and I know I'm more of an enemy to you these days than anything else but, I'm telling you the truth."

"Why would you let her go with him?"

"Because I didn't want to believe it either...I wasn't sure of it until two days ago." From his jacket pocket he took out a black and white picture that showed the man now known as The Assassin holding a knife against another man's throat. The second image showed the gore, the blood, things a good Marine like their Gunny wouldn't do.

"There has to be a reason for that." Harm tried to rationalize. "Gunny wouldn't...he cares for Mac, he's a friend...Farid on the other hand.. "

"God damnit, Rabb! Get your head out of your ass! You're too busy fixating on Farid Ahmadi to realize something was off about Victor."

"It happens...too much time pretending to be someone else."

Webb understood that justification because he'd faked his identity so well that at times it took him a day or two to remember who he was. "Coming in from the cold isn't easy when you have a taste of real freedom. I was never as good as Victor but I've lost myself in the game before. It took months to feel normal and let go of my cover. For Sarah's sake...believe me."

Both men sat at a small booth at the rear of a greasy spoon. The last few years had turned Webb into a paranoid man, especially with news that Sadik Fahd was still alive and likely gunning for him. From his vantage point against the rear wall, he could watch the enterance.

Just outside, three members of his team were scattered up and down the street, a small security detail of highly trained former soldiers that now worked for the Agency. "We're safe here."

Harm glanced around, his eyes scanning the room although he didn't know what he was looking for. "Why Gunny?"

Clay shrugged. "You ever get a sixth sense about things?... I had this gut feeling, this hunch and had him followed in Tehran. Things were just lining up a little too easily for him especially with the Ahmadi family. He was allowed to come and go, trusted except for Farid. In his field report Victor stated that Farid never trusted him near Nazanin. So we made him go farther under cover."

"As the Assassin?"

"Yes...One of my men in country followed him to a warehouse in Karaj where he snapped that picture I showed you. Two days later, my man winds up dead, the wounds consistent with the same knife The Assassin used."

"Could be a coincidence."

"Maybe. But in his flat he had a recording of a conversation between Gunny and Sadiq Fahd." He pulled a small recording device with an earpiece and handed it to Harm. "I thought he was playing his cover until Sarah's name came up."

In his ear Harm heard two male voices. Most surprisingly, they spoke English, not Farsi as he thought Gunny would have to speak in effort to keep his cover.

Sadik: What of the girl?

Gunny: She believes she is Nazanin Ahmadi. No flash of recognition the times she's seen me. Nothing at all, like a blank slate. It's a little unnerving.

Sadik: Good...Victor, you will be rewarded, Fareeza did not die in vain, I assure you.

Gunny: All I ask is that you don't hurt the Colonel. Whatever happened to her won't be undone, the doctors believe the amnesia is permanent

Sadik: How can you be sure she is not fooling Farid Ahmadi? Sarah MacKenzie is a cunning woman.

Gunny: I'll bet my life on it for the memory of Fareeza.

Sadik: I must see her myself, in person, see the lies in her eyes.

Gunny: I'll get you inside but I want payment first.

Sadik: You Americans are so full of greed. Fine, Victor but I expect results and soon.

Harm rewound the device and played it again trying to pick up on every nuance he could find.

Fareeza.

The name was familiar and yet he couldn't quite place why. Even as he rewound the recording twice more, Harm didn't understand who they spoke of until he glanced up at Webb. "Fareeza is the woman who was killed in Afghanistan."

"The woman Gunny loved."

Webb nodded. "I'd like to think love wouldn't make him do something so stupid but…"

"I know." Love made him fly home with the idea of stopping the woman he loved from marrying another. Love made him follow her into a mission he knew nothing about. Love made him do so many other stupid things. Harm just didn't want to believe that love would make a friend and colleague betray them all. "When do we go after her?"

"Soon. I need to make sure neither of us are being tailed. Make them believe we're staying put, for now."

"Soon is not soon enough."

"72 hours. Just give me that time and if I can't get a team I trust together by then, do what you must."

Harm was exhausted when he stepped foot into the apartment despite it only being late morning. His meeting with Webb left him scared for Mac. His emotions took yet another blow. If Victor had turned, his wife was no longer safe although it was clear by the recording that he was trying to keep Sadik's wrath off of her. That would only hold on for so long and eventually they would realize that Nazanin was gone. Gone for good.

72 hours. God, that might have been six months, a year. Even a minute sounded awfully long. 72 hours and what? It had already been two days.

His hand came into his pocket brushing against the letter Harm so desperately wanted to read. He expected a 'Dear John' letter but instead found a short note in her handwriting:

"Harm,

Whatever We Started doesn't end with my leaving. Trust me like I trust you and only you.

I love you.,

Sarah. "

Harm read it twice but it was during the third read that he noticed faint markings on the page along with specific creases. Fold lines ran across the paper, intersecting at certain spots that he noticed when it flipped onto itself. "What?"

He opened up the letter, laid it flat and stared at the lines, some were subtle others more pronounced so that he used them to create the shape of an airplane. "Oh Mac."

"You're a spy now?"

He smiled fondly at the memory and how simple life was back then - the gentle flirting tone of hers that made his heart race. With his fingers he carefully flipped the page, folded the opposite way until he found coordinates faintly written between the flaps.

Quickly he ran across the apartment, popped open his laptop and punched in the digits until a satellite image of a large home popped open. It was Farid's estate but there was something more on the note. He unfolded and refolded the plane finding a set of words:

West. Tunnel. Secret. Garden.

He stared back at the monitor, moved the image around so that he could see better. There, on the West side was a garden and if he understood her message correctly, the flowers held a secret in the form of a tunnel. "Hold on, baby. I'm coming for you."

She was asking him to find her. And he would.