A/N: Confession: I wrote the final chapter of this story almost two weeks ago. While I'm pleased with it, I've had a hard time with this one. Even now I think it's "meh," which shouldn't be for an important chapter. But it's time to put this story to bed, so it is what it is.

Will Harm remember everything?

Remembering

The Beach at Mesilla
0925 Local

"Mac?"

"Harm! Oh my God, it's really you! You're alive." Mac covered the short distance, then flung her arms around him. Her tears flowed freely—tears of joy for the man she loved.

She gushed her words. "Everyone told me you were dead. I didn't want to believe it, but I couldn't find you. I tried so many times, like the time you were lost in the Atlantic. No matter how hard I tried, I couldn't connect with you. I believed they were right. Damn it, Harm why did you keep silent all these months?"

Harm stiffened and pulled away. "What did you call me?"

"Harm."

"Why?"

Mac frowned. "Because that's your name."

He shook his head. "No. My name is David Reed."

"Harm, this isn't funny."

"Do I know you?"

"Of course you know me. You just called me by my name."

"But I…" He squeezed his eyes and rubbed the bridge of his nose. "I… Dammit, why can't I remember? Every time I try… The pain… I can't… I feel so…"

Something was wrong. Very wrong. "Harm, you need help. Come on. Let's get out of this sun."

"I don't know if I can make it back home."

"Then come with me. It's not far." She motioned toward the beach house.

"I don't know if I should. He told me not to trust anyone. Said it might not be safe."

"Who told you that?"

"Wade. Said trusting the wrong person could cost my life."

"Do you trust me?"

He looked at her a long time before answering. "Yes."

"Then come with me. I'm going to get you through this."

David's (Harm's) Bungalow
0945 Local

"This is it," A. J. Chegwidden. Parked the rental car in front of the small house. Both he and Tim looked at their surroundings before walking to the door. He knocked several times, to no avail. Peering in the window, he could see the place was inhabited. Someone had been here recently.

"What do we do?" Tim asked.

"Someone's been here recently. Hopefully, it's Rabb and he'll show up soon." A. J. spotted a short Hispanic man watching them from across the road. "Wait here," he told Tim before sprinting toward the man.

"Do you know the person who lives in that house?" His Spanish wasn't the best in the world.

The man shook his head.

"Damn."

"I speak English."

A. J. breathed a sigh of relief. This would make things a lot easier. "So, you don't know him?"

"He keeps to himself."

"Has he had any visitors lately?"

"No."

That was a good sign.

"Only one man ever comes."

"Average height, brown hair, always wears a three-piece suit?"

"Sí. We call him El Traje."

Clayton Webb. "The suit."

The man nodded.

"So he hasn't been here recently?"

"Last time a woman was with him."

The visit with Catherine Gale. It was a good sign that no one had seen him since, but he also knew Webb could sneak in with no one knowing.

"But Carlos thought he saw the man in the village last evening. I told him he was wrong. The man wasn't wearing a suit."

"When's the last time you saw the man who lives here?"

The man paused for a moment. "This morning. He runs."

"He ran away?"

The man shook his head. "No. He runs every day. Usually home by now."

"Which direction did he go?"

The man pointed toward the beach.

"Gracias."

A. J. rushed crossed the street to where Tim waited. "Webb's in town. Harm's gone for a run. We need to find him. I don't have a good feeling about this."

Hernandez Beach House
1000 Local

I'm going to get you through this.

"David" sat on the sofa, looking out toward the beach and the water below. There was something familiar about those words.

I'm going to get you through this.

Another time. Another place. Another life. The woman calling herself Mac was the same one he'd dreamed about. Last night he'd come so close to remembering. Why did everything seem blank today?

"Mac" crossed the room to hand him a bottle of water and a couple of white tablets.

He took the water but hesitated about the pills.

"It's just Tylenol. For your headache."

Finally, he gave in and took the pills. He sensed she meant him no harm. She took a seat opposite him.

"We knew one another, right? How?"

"We worked together at JAG headquarters in DC. We were partners for almost six years before… Before you disappeared."

"I'm a lawyer?"

"We both are. You're in the navy and I'm in the marine corps."

So I was in the military. "And my name is Harm?"

"Harmon Rabb, Jr."

"Why are you called Mac?"

"It's short for my name. Sarah Mackenzie."

So Sarah and Mac were the same person. He had remembered some things. "I dreamed about you. I was confused. Were you Sarah or Mac? I wanted to remember. I just couldn't."

"What do you remember?"

"They tell me I was in a plane crash. I can't remember anything before the time I woke up in a hospital in South America. Apparently, someone pulled me from the wreckage and took me there. Doctors said I had a head injury. That's what caused my amnesia."

"Why do you think your name is David?"

"Chad told me. And it's the name on my passport. He said it's dangerous for me to go back to the states. Told me I should be careful about trusting anyone."

"Do you trust me?"

Without hesitation he said, "Yes."

Village of Mesilla
1030 Local

Clayton Webb watched from his vantage point near the bungalow where Harmon Rabb Jr. had lived for the past several months. Catherine had talked. He silently cursed himself for bringing her here. He should have known better. Since they'd become "involved," Clay thought he could trust her.

Had his ego gotten so big that he thought she'd risk her career for him? How could he have been so stupid? The presence of Chegwidden and Fawkes told him all he needed to know.

Clay had once put his own career on the line to save Tim Fawkes. He hoped Tim would do the same for him.

He would have if you hadn't turned. Now your life is in danger.

Chegwidden wouldn't hesitate to take him down. He may have set behind a desk the past several years, but the former Navy Seal would be a formidable opponent. Chegwidden wouldn't hesitate to put a bullet in him.

Clay couldn't risk trying to get to Rabb. His "mission" was a failure. He had to leave Mexico, never to return.

And the sooner the better.

Hernandez Beach House
1045 Local

Mac looked at the man now dozing on the sofa. Harm. He was alive and here with her. But did she really have him back? He'd called her Mac, but only because he said he'd dreamed of her. That was a good sign, but his memories of the past were few. The headaches concerned her. He should have been back in the states, getting the medical attention needed to overcome this amnesia.

Harm said the name David Reed was on his passport. As far as he was concerned, that was his name. Would he ever remember?

And who was Chad Wade? Why did he bring Harm to Mexico and why did he say it wasn't safe for Harm to trust anyone?

And why did Clayton Webb say Harm was dead?

A memory from long ago surface. Lt. Abbey Cowan. Translated Clayton Webb.

Chad Wade. Clayton Webb. Mac would bet money the man calling himself Chad Wade was Clayton Webb. That son of a bitch had known Harm was alive, and he'd kept that knowledge from everyone. Why?

One thing was certain, she'd kill the man with her bare hands if he was here.

Mac had to call the admiral and let him know what was going on. She slipped quietly from the room to make the call.

Tiner answered the phone.

"This is Lt. Colonel Mackenzie. I need to speak to the admiral right away."

"He's not in ma'am."

"When will he be back?"

"I don't know. No one does. He left a couple of days ago. He left Commander Turner in charge."

"You don't know where he is?"

"No, ma'am. He said it was personal, and that we weren't to contact him."

"Okay, thanks, Tiner. If you hear from him, please have him contact me immediately. It's important." She ended the call before Tiner could ask questions.

Mac paced the floor. What should she do? The admiral didn't want anyone to contact him, but this was important. He'd want to know. She dialed his number and prayed he would answer.

One ring. Two. Three. Four. Five. She'd almost given up hope when a voice on the other end said, "Chegwidden."

"Admiral this is Mac. There's something you need to know." She quickly relayed everything she knew.

"Harm's with you now? Where are you?"

"I'm in a little seaside village called Mesilla. Staying at my do— At a friend's beach house. Admiral, I'm certain Clayton Webb knows where Harm is. I'm not sure what he's up to, but I fear it's not good."

"I know it isn't. I'm here in Mesilla, and we need to get Harm out of here as soon as possible."

Mac gave him directions to where she was staying, then walked out onto the front to wait for his arrival. Five minutes later, she saw him and another man walking toward her. "Admiral, I'm glad to see you. How did you know Harm was here?"

"It's a long story, Colonel. I'll explain everything on the flight home."

"There's one problem. Harm doesn't remember. He thinks his name is David Reed. I'm not sure—"

She didn't hear anyone walk up behind her.

"Admiral. What are you doing here?"