Here we are. New chapter...we're slowly approaching action. Very slowly, I know, but be trusting and keep on reading: hopefully you'll be satisfied, in the end. For the time being...thank you thank you thank you, readers, reviewers and fill in with your name . All of you. Thanks.

Yeah...I don't own them...but if I could borrow that cute Lt. Aldridge...one night...have a thing for glasses and shy guys...please...

Silent ad invisible, I took a seat at a small table, the wall behind my shoulders. One way less to watch.

1430 EST

HARM'S OFFICE

JAG HEADQUARTERS

"So, Webb?"

"So what, Rabb?"

"In the meanwhile, would you mind keeping your hands off my chair?"

The agent, after self-inviting in his office, had comfortably sat down behind his desk.

"Have your mother ever told you about offering the best to a guest?"

"Offering, that's it. And I have a few doubts about the guest part"

A door slamming told them a quite annoyed marine had only just joined the conversation.

"So, Webb?"

"Do you steal each other's lines, now? You know, you could make a nice pair"

"WEBB?!" two threatening voices rose, straight away soothed by his expression.

"This is what the audience wants"

"And when would you have become a sociologist, or an historian, as far as I'm concerned?"

"Even because Georgetown sweatshirt is definitely not your uniform"

"CIA, or do the best you can" Webb shrugged, nosing into the desk owner's furnishings "nice picture, Rabb" he ironically went on studying the picture taken only few months before "Iraq?"

"Afghanistan" the commander cut him off, grasping the frame and placing it on the desk with maniacal accuracy "now, would you mind explaining to poor mortals what secret service has to do with...with this?" he ended with an eloquent wave.

"I would think you'd like to put on airs, after the Peterson's commercial"

"Don't remind me about it..."

"So?" Mac insisted "if I'll have to strip I want to know the reason. And make it damn good, Webb!"

Harm froze, thunderstruck by that sentence meaning. He didn't know whether he felt pleased or terrified, facing the wild marine.

"No, no, no" the spook retreated, destroying his dreams "if we're lucky, we won't need your performance"

Furrowing her brow, Mac spelt, barely holding back "Given your luck, I really feel better"

"Well..."

"At least could you look away, please? So? What do you want Harm and me to do this time?" the look in the men's eyes telling her to add "apart from the obvious"

"Actually, it's quite simple. We found out somebody is selling information from this office..."

"FROM JAG?"

"Yeah, just so"

"What kind of information?"

"In great demand kind. Information about international investigation. Terrorism and illegal weapons trade. Since you have been cooperating with CIA, you're getting more and more...tasty"

"Do you mind not talking about us as walking beefsteaks, please? I thought the agency worked out of the country"

"The buyer...let's say he found the perfect domicile, as far as we're concerned..."

"What?"

"An embassy" Harm whispered.

"Luckily, he's a sensible businessman, and for a fair offer he sold us everything, but we took advantage of the movie – or rather, we manipulated the competition – infiltrating our people in the troupe. The subject felt...right, given our situation. What you'll have to do is trying and finishing the filming without losing your minds, while the agents find out the mole and make him or her "disappear" without more ado"

"Is that all?"

"I'm sorry, Rabb. This time you won't play Superman. Now, if you want to excuse me..."

With a fluid motion result of years long training, Clayton Webb left the office and disappeared. As if he'd never been there.

Silence. Two sets of eyes. One mind.

"Harm. No. I know that look. No. Although I want to prevent this. No"

"What, Mac?" the commander innocently asked her.

"They're already working on it"

"Two minds more won't hurt"

"Why are you taking for granted that I'll join you?"

"You haven't walked away yet, right?"

Mac didn't answered back. She limited herself to following in Webb's footsteps and leaving the room, without turning back.

"This night, my home?"

And she knew she would have to fear the worst.