Hello, my dear people! I wanted to expressly thank Radiorox, minimindbender, KMacZ and MAJ8395 for sticking to this story, even though it probably moves a bit too slowly for the tastes of many. But I did set up to make this kinda long and definitely introspective rather than an action piece. Next week my vacation is ending (I am a teacher) and we are returning to school so I am not sure how often I will be able to write. In any case, I would like to put out another part of this before the Sunday is over. So anyone who cares, stay tuned ;)


Logically he knew that Meg would need an office and logically it would be Mac's office currently unoccupied by Mac, but he still couldn't help but feel resentful when she stepped out of it the next morning. He forced a smile and returned her greeting, but then headed straight into his own office with an excuse of getting rid off his briefcase and checking on his daily planner. While that was true, he also needed a moment to himself. It was not Meg's fault that she got that office. It was not Meg's fault. He would just have to cope. Meg did not deserve a single nasty or sarcastic word.

He let out a sigh as he flung his cover rather carelessly on the desk and turned on his computer to check his e-mail. Waiting for the machine to boot, he took a photograph out of his breast-pocket. Mac holding the sunflowers. He ran his fingers over it like a thousand times before. There were creases marring the photo and the edges have become well-worn. It was still his favourite.

The phone call from the previous night was haunting him. On one hand, he felt immense relief at the fact that she contacted him, wanted to talk to him - or rather wanted him to talk to her. On the other hand, he still had no idea where she was or what state she was in, mentally and physically. And given his earlier encounter with Webb, if she was actually safe... He was wracking his brain of how to find her, but since she called his landline he had no way of tracing the number. And if she had been using her own cell, it would lead him nowhere. A quick thought of involving the CIA and using his old contacts was quickly disregarded. Because there was always Webb and right now Harm didn't want him anywhere near Sarah Mackenzie. He had no idea what had happened to the spook. The last time they had interacted was back at the Manderley beach. And though tired and full of remorse and naturally upset over Mac breaking up with him, he seemed fine. He was definitely not fine now. He could only hope she would call him again. He needed to convince her to confide in him.

Harm carefully propped the photo up against the lower edge of the computer screen. He no longer cared if anyone saw. He no longer cared if anyone gossiped.

One lively knock on the doorframe later Lt. Commander Megan Hartley in her pristine dark blue uniform, fair hair swept into an elegant chignon, stepped into his office, smiling.

"I wouldn't make myself too cosy if I were you," she said. "General Cresswell expects us both in two minutes. Or rather he expected us twenty minutes ago, but you were not here. You know him better than I do. Does he like to be kept waiting?"

"Go ahead, make fun of an old tired sailor with a jet lag," he answered and heaved himself up. "And no, I don't really know him much longer than you. He dispatched me half across the world practically the moment he arrived. Maybe this is my last hour and you are coming along just to drag my body away when he is finished with me."

Meg only laughed. "I have just gotten my nails done, so dream on, sailor."

They made their way over to the General's office. Once inside, Harm tried to read Cresswell's mood. And as usual, was completely unsuccessful. The man could be as cool as a cucumber or have a raging inferno inside. There really was no way to tell.

"Commander Hartley, I hope you have settled into your new office and communication with the staff," Cresswell said instead of a greeting. He did not motion for the officers to sit down, though he let them stand at ease.

"Yes, sir," Meg answered. "I had the advantage of being previously acquainted with Lt. Commander Roberts and of course, Commander Rabb, so I already had someone to turn to. And the rest of the staff proved very obliging and helpful as well."

"You and the Commander here were partners before, correct?"

"Yes, sir. We worked together for about a year."

"I have read in your file that you actively requested a transfer. Why?"

Meg took a deep breath and blinked. Harm immediately noticed her one second of hesitation. If he thought he would finally get to know, he was disappointed.

"At the time I had a personal crisis, sir. Instead of letting it affect my work here, I deduced I could be more useful to myself, my family and the Navy at another post. I also had much to learn and figure that one day, if the opportunity arose and I deserved it, I could return to D.C."

Cresswell did not probe the statement any further.

"Considering your name was on top of a shortlist of names I was recommended when looking for a replacement for Colonel Mackenzie, I dare say you do deserve it. I also suppose you should have no trouble working with Commander Rabb again," Cresswell said and handed both of them a file. "The Mary Hudson harassment case. Considering the two alleged assailants argue they never raped her and the rest of their behaviour was, in their words, just harmless fun, their Article 32 hearing begins next week. Commander, you will prosecute the two sailors," he nodded toward Meg. "Rabb, you defend."

Harm took the file with disgust but said nothing. Something about defending sexual predators, which the two Reed cousins definitely were, grossed him out maybe even more than defending a possible murderer. He couldn't help feeling that by giving him this particular assignment the General started his punishment for his erratic, maybe even disrespectful demands to be released from his TAD early. How long or severe the punishment would be remained to be seen for the moment.

"Dismissed, Commander Hartley" General said, walking over to the window, his back turned to them. "Commander Rabb, stay a moment longer."

Meg shot Harm a curious, questioning look, before leaving the room. He only gave her half of a crooked smile, before she closed the door. Creswell let him sweat for a few long minutes, then, without turning to face him, said: "Have you found Colonel Mackenzie yet?"

"No, sir." For the moment Harm decided not to divulge the information about the sad, late-night call. It was too intimate. Too personal. "I was hoping you might point me in the right direction, General."

"Unfortunately I have no knowledge of the Colonel's present whereabouts," Cresswell said, still staring out of the window. "What exactly do you know about her condition, Commander? Considering her physical file here at the headquarters had not been updated at the time of her... episode in court, I suppose it is a fairly recent development."

But it was not, was it? The illness had been ravaging Mac's body from the inside, silent, slow but steady and completely unmerciful, for months, if not years. It wasn't until a minor, inconvenient back pain turned serious for Harm to notice something was wrong and Mac to realize her spirit may be made or iron but her body was still just vulnerable tissue. From the moment he had found out he wondered what could have been done sooner and different. And when he braved the depths of internet articles and discussions, he realized there had been something that perhaps would have helped. And he was the one who could have done it. If only he had suggested the baby deal happened in three years. In two. Right then. Or there was a painful solution, which also crossed his mind. Had he not interfered with her relationship with Mic Brumby, she would have married him. No matter that he did not believe the marriage would last. She could have had her baby with Mic. She could have had her dream and be happy. And had she divorced Brumby then, he would have been there, again, for her. And for her baby. Always. And then perhaps, she would carry his baby as well. And he would love them all.

But the General was waiting for an answer, so Harm only said: "The Colonel has found out right before Admiral Chegwidden retired. So yes, it is fairly recent."

"Why did she tell you of all people?" The question was curious and genuine, even if the wording was hardly diplomatic.

"Because she trusted me," Harm said. No way in hell was he going to inform Cresswell of the old promise to have a baby, which now might never happen. And yes, she trusted him and that was the most important part of all this anyway. "Because she considers me to be her best friend."

Cresswell finally turned to face him. "And what exactly do you consider her in regards to your own person, Commander? And let me remind you that if I value anything in my officers, it is complete honesty. I can work with an honest man. I can do my best to help him as much as my limits allow it. But I need him to tell me the truth. Can you do that, Commander?"

"What it is you wish to hear from me, sir?"

"I have heard rumours about you and the Colonel. I would like to know which ones I can simply dismiss and which ones are true in case they might affect your work or the order in my chain of command."

Harm looked Cresswell in the eyes. "Ask me anything you need, sir." The General returned his stare and the inquisition began.

"Have you ever had an intimate relationship with Colonel Mackenzie?"

"Intimate - yes. Physically intimate - no."

"Explain."

"We know each other through and through. And even though we have had our falling outs, some more serious than others, we are always there to have each other's back. She knows most of my secrets. And I know hers. But we have never slept together, even though I imagine the office scuttlebutt says different."

"Is it true that she took off after you to Chechnya?"

"And to Siberia before that. Yes."

"Is it true that you threw your resignation into Chegwidden's face to go after her to South America?"

"Yes."

"Is it true that she somehow magically found you in the middle of the ocean?"

"As far fetched as it sounds, yes."

"So you would say the loyalty and devotion run deep in both of you?"

"Yes."

"Rabb?"

"Yes, sir?"

"Do you love that woman?"

Harm closed his eyes but then opened them again. If Cresswell wanted honesty, he would give him exactly that. "I do love her. With all that I am."

"Thank God. If you have given me a line about loving her as a friend I may have just rolled out your transfer papers right now. Does she love you?"

Harm swallowed. "I don't know, sir. But I would like a chance to finally find out."

Cresswell finally sat down, contemplating everything for a minute.

"I believe you are sincere, Commander. I respect your feelings towards the Colonel. But if and when she decides to return, I expect both of you to behave to the highest standards set by the Navy and the Marine Corps. I do not care about the state of your personal relationship as long as it doesn't affect the running of this office. And should your relationship cross the proverbial line and become an actual romantic partnership, I expect to be informed. I am not the one to bend any rules, Commander, but there are things I might be able to figure out."

"Thank you, sir," said Harm a bit warily. He had expected proper dressing down and instead he was being given ... a blessing to go and pursue Mac? Not even Chegwidden had ever done that. "Unfortunately I don't know where she is. Or how she is. I was hoping you might have some information on that account."

Cresswell shook his head. "Sadly, no. After I ordered the Colonel to take a medical leave, she told me she would not stay at her place, but wasn't sure herself where she would go. I asked her to contact me or Coates when she feels up for returning to her duties, but given the truly bad state she was in, I did not expect her to call anytime soon. I must admit that your concerns made me worried. In retrospect, I wish I had insisted on her informing me of her whereabouts. But at that point, I felt like I was prying. I am, sorry, Commander. I really am. Should you find out where she is and where she might be considering to return, I would be grateful to be notified."

Harm returned to his office deep in thought and dejected, so much so that he startled upon seeing Meg quickly bending down and straightening back up behind his desk.

"Oh, sorry," she apologized, her cheeks sporting a lovely peach blush. "You took a long time to get out of there, and I have already collected some evidence on the Reeds and their deeds," she grinned. "Wanted to leave it on your desk, but I guess I threw it down with a bit more gusto than I should have. I just saw something fly off the table and decided to right my wrongs," she explained, returning the fallen object back on the desk, right next to the computer monitor. Her smile fell down a bit when she realized it was a photograph of a dark-hair woman.

"That's OK, Meg," Harm assured her. The Reeds vs Hudson case. Sure, why not. He needed something to take his mind off darker, more personal things. "Anything wrong?" he asked Meg, who suddenly seemed to have lost her focus and words.

"No, not at all," she answered, manoeuvring herself around the table and him back to the door. "I'll just leave you to your work. Wrack your brain how to play this case before you lose it, you know. And to me of all people!"

"You cannot really take credit for good lawyering if you know the defendant is guilty from the start!"

"Details, details! I am still going to count it as a win!"

In spite of everything, he had to laugh a little. It had been so long since he had a genuine laugh he was almost surprised to find out how good it felt. How good it felt when things were simple and clear. Meg was apparently encouraged by his reaction and turned back to him one more time.

"By the way, remember how you wanted to see a picture of my kids?"

"Sure. You have one here?"

"Yep. But I'll do you one better. They are coming for a visit tomorrow. Would you like to take us all to dinner?" she said with feigned presumptuousness.

He laughed again. Of course, he said yes.


Hours later the laughter was a distant memory only. Again. He was sitting pensively on his sofa. 22:57. He was holding his guitar but never pressed the strings, for fear the soft weep of the instrument might somehow make him overhear a ringing phone. 23:15. He was waiting, his palms covered with nervous sweat, one of his feet jumping nervously up and down. 0:32. The only light in his apartment was the small lamp on his working desk. Then finally, at 0:56 there was a ring. He did not wait for the second one, snatching the phone of its cradle and saying breathlessly: "Mac?"

The answer was a silent whisper.

"Yes."