Saturday, July 11th

Harm woke up because his wife was kissing her way down his chest. He smiled as he stretched and opened his eyes. The clock was a little past nine in the morning. She worked her way up his chest, and he met her lips in a deep kiss.

"I need to use the bathroom," he mumbled as he felt her hand move down his body. He pushed her away to get out of bed.

"Hurry up," she offered a sexy smile.

He went to do his business and hurried back to the bedroom. "This is a nice way to wake up," he moved over her as he got into bed.

"And I can see that you are awake," she pulled him in for a kiss.

"What do you expect when you wake a guy up the way you did?" he moved down her body, cupping her firm breasts.

It was a while later when Mac moved off him and slumped down on the bed. "Man, that was great."

Harm pulled her close. "Having the kids at their grandparents for the weekend was a smart move."

"I agree," she kissed his chest.

"What time is it anyway?" he wondered.

"09.46 and ten seconds," she untangled herself from him. "Time to rise and shine."

"I already did rise and shine," he wiggled his eyebrows at her.

She laughed softly. "I'm taking a shower."

He watched as her naked form disappeared into the bathroom, threw the sheet aside and got up.

Later

A little later in the day, Mac found Harm in a lawn chair looking thoughtful as he played with a set of wings. They had gone for a hike after their late breakfast; then Mac had stopped by a neighbor to see how she was after a small surgical procedure.

She put that day's newspaper on the table and sat down in the chair across from him. "Your wings?"

"They were Steve's," Harm held them up. "He gave them to me when he left flying. Told me that it was no point in dwelling on the past. He didn't look back. Not once."

"Out of necessity," Mac assumed. "He knew there was no turning back, so he focused on the future. Flying isn't everything," she nudged his thigh with her foot.

He smirked. "It was for me."

"I know," she studied him. "Are you obsessing about Steve?"

"I'd like to find out what happened to him," Harm admitted.

"Steve had a daughter, didn't he?" Mac asked.

"Yeah, she's ten and living with her mother. Steve had her every other weekend," Harm sat up and leaned forward, leaning his elbows on his thighs. "I can't go see them yet. Steve's death isn't official news."

"Why did Gina tell you?" Mac wondered.

"Because she needed to tell someone she trusted," he shrugged. "I don't know. Gina and Steve were close, good partners."

"I know the type," she reached out and ruffled his hair. "Were they anything more?"

Harm shook his head. "No, I didn't get that impression."

"You said something about his sister dying," Mac motioned for him to go on.

"Yeah, it was while I was out of the Navy for six months. Steve called me just as I had finished my first CIA flight; he was all worked up. Kimmy died of a drug overdose. She had kicked the habit a few years earlier and gotten her life back on track. Then suddenly Steve found her dead in her apartment," Harm hesitated. "I went to the funeral and stayed for a few days. He wanted to investigate, but since it was an overdose and there was no evidence that she had gotten help shooting up, he wasn't allowed to use official resources on it. Gina told me that he intended to investigate on his own time and he probably did."

"Gina thinks that the two deaths are related somehow?" Mac assumed.

Harm nodded. "Yeah, it sounds like it."

Mac hesitated. "What will you do now?"

"It's nothing much to do until Steve's death has been publicized," Harm shrugged. "I won't do anything at the moment. But if Steve thought that someone on the force was dirty, they probably were."

"I hate it when the bad guys win," Mac reached for the paper and handed it to her husband, pointing at a section.

Harm glanced at it, then sat up straight. He read through it. "So, it's official."

Mac stood and ran her hand through his hair. "Don't do anything stupid," she kissed his forehead and turned to leave.

Monday, July 13th

Scorpion Bar

Harm opened the door and stepped inside. The bar was dirty and in a severe need for some cleaning and maybe a new paint job. By the bar two men sat, they were as nasty as the place and drunk enough to be half asleep. The bartender did seem drunk himself. Harm just nodded and looked around, spotting Mike in the far end of the room, he headed for him. Mike worked for internal affairs and had been a good friend of Steve.

"Harm," Mike greeted him.

"Mike," Harm sat down across from him. "Bad news about Steve."

Mike nodded. "The funeral is on Wednesday. Have you seen his ex and daughter?"

"I'm going there later today," Harm hesitated. "How much do you know about Steve's death."

"I know one thing, Steve was getting too close to something," Mike leaned over the table. "The bastards killed him."

"Who?" Harm wondered.

"Steve was working undercover for us," Mike looked around. "I can't tell you a lot but know that I'm on it."

Harm nodded. "I'd like to find out who did this."

"You have a good-looking wife, nice kids," Mike set his eyes into Harm's. "These guys don't mess around, Harm. Stay away."

"Is it the same guys who killed Steve's sister?" Harm wondered.

"How do you know about that?" Mike raised his eyebrows.

"I know that Steve didn't believe she killed herself," Harm reasoned.

"She didn't," Mike looked across the room where two guys entered the bar. "We should get out of here. Can't be too careful."

"Is Gina safe?" Harm asked.

Mike wouldn't meet his eyes. "She won't be if she doesn't back off." Mike stood and walked away without turning back.

Later, Harm's office

Harm?"

"Harmon Rabb?"

He looked up. "Mac?"

"Where were you?" she wondered.

He put the file down. "Just speculating," he smiled. "What can I do for you?"

"It's lunchtime," she studied him. "We were going to check out that new place."

It dawned on him that he had completely forgotten about their plans. "I'm sorry, I had forgotten," he stood. "It's been crazy today. I'm just trying to get a handle on things so that I can take leave in a week with a good conscience."

"It's okay," she reassured.

"Sir?" Commander Graves stopped as she noticed Mac. "Sorry, it can wait."

"When you don't knock, and you've got that look on your face, it usually means that it can't wait, Graves," Harm pointed out. "What's up?"

"I've been looking over Steve Campbell's autopsy report. It concludes that he died of an overdose. Suicide." Graves was talking so fast Harm had to concentrate to follow. "There will be no investigation, sir. It's crap," she hesitated. "Excuse the language, sir."

"Where did you get the autopsy report?" Harm wondered.

"I know someone," Graves hesitated.

Harm nodded. "Go on."

"Steve Campbell had enough heroin in his blood to kill three cows and a couple of horses. And he had defensive wounds on his right wrist," Graves looked between Harm and Mac with huge eyes. "There's evidence that he was tied up, both his arms and feet. He was obviously fighting it because the forensic anthropologist found damages to the bones. They found traces of hemp on him. A rope can be made out of hemp, sir. The medical examiner wrote it off as an overdose, sir. It's obviously a cover-up."

Harm saw that Mac was looking at him in a less than approving way. "You got Graves involved in this?"

Harm hesitated. "Mac, I…"

"Harm, are you investigating Steve Campbell's death?" Mac asked point blank.

"No, I'm just looking into a few things," he reasoned. "Clearly I'm on to something."

"Sir, this guy's murder is being covered up," Graves agreed.

"Graves, close the door," Harm ordered.

Graves did as she was told.

"This doesn't leave this room," Harm looked between Mac and Graves. "Internal Affairs is looking into Steve's death. He was working undercover for them. It's all connected to his squad. Someone is corrupt, and it's most likely drug-related."

"How do you know?" Mac wondered.

"I talked to someone there. A friend of Steve's," Harm admitted. "He's leading the investigation. Look," he found Mac's eyes with his. "I won't get involved. I promise you."

"You better," she warned.

Graves looked between them. "So this means that we won't look into this?"

"It's not our case to look into," Harm reached for the file she was holding. "Is this a copy?"

"Yes," Graves hesitated. "Are you throwing it away, sir?"

"I'm keeping it under lock and key. We're not supposed to have it," he reminded her as he put the file in his desk drawer. "Good work, Commander. Dismissed."

Mac waited for Graves to leave them. "I don't like this Harm."

"Mac…"

"Don't Mac me," she warned. "You're playing a dangerous game. I know Steve was a good friend, but you can't fight everyone's battles. You're falling into old habits, and I worry that sometime your luck will run out, Harm."

He let out a sigh. "I wish you could trust me."

She clenched her jaw stubbornly. "Do you really not understand how dangerous these people are Harm? Corrupt cops and drug lords."

"The bottom line is that you don't trust me," he accused.

"I'm going to lunch," she turned around and headed for the door. "I'll see you tonight.

"Fine," he mumbled and let out a sigh.

"Sir, there's a Mike Warner on line one," Petty Officer O'Neil said from the doorway.

"I'll take it," Harm said.

"I can ask him to call back if you want to leave for your lunch with the Colonel?" O'Neil suggested.

"No, I'll be eating in my office today," Harm reached for his phone and pushed one.