To Hell and Back

by byrhthelm

A favour refused and a chance meeting with an old and dear friend turns Harmon Rabb's world on its head.

12. Chapter 12

To Hell and Back

Chapter 12

Harm strode into the bull pen, exchanging routine but pleasant morning greetings with his fellow attorneys and with the various enlisted ratings who caught his eye. But beneath his cheerful demeanour he was grimly determined to catch the elusive Captain Armbruster at his desk and attempt to resolve the fraternisation case against Chief Slocombe and Ensign Wainwright. He had enough time between now and staff call, an hour away, to at least nail the man at his desk and arrange an appointment with him.

Tossing his cover onto the credenza just inside his office door, he stowed his briefcase in the knee hole in his desk and sitting down he reached for the telephone. He drummed his fingers impatiently as he waited for the phone on the other end of the line to be picked up and heard it ring six times, before, with a muttered "Dammit to hell!" he went to replace the handset on its cradle. But before he had moved the instrument more than a couple of inches from his ear he heard a squawk coming from the earpiece.

"…doza, sir, how may I help you?"

Harm hurriedly brought the phone back to his face, "Senior Chief, good morning! This is Commander Rabb at JAG Corps… again!"

"And you want to speak with Captain Armbruster, sir?"

"Correct, Senior Chief. Is he at his desk this morning?"

"Yes, sir."

"Could you then either patch me through to him, or ask him to set a time convenient for him of course, for me to come and speak with him?"

"One moment, please, sir," Senior Chief Mendoza said and then came a click in Harm's earpiece that told him he had been put on hold. 'At least, the Navy don't have kitsch music to suffer while you're on hold, especially Vivaldi's damned Four Seasons!' he told himself. But it was small satisfaction while he was kept waiting until a second click heralded the resumption of the interrupted conversation.

"Commander Rabb, sir?"

"Yeah, I'm still here!" Harm responded.

"Sir, Captain Armbruster can see you this morning at eleven hundred, that is, if it is convenient to you, sir."

Harm allowed himself a wry grin, the Senior Chief's last few words had been no more than a polite formula. When a four-ring Captain said that he could 'see' a Commander at eleven hundred, then that Commander had better be in the Captain's outer office at ten fifty five hours.

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Chegwidden looked at the faces around the table in the conference room and allowed himself a silent nod of acknowledgement. Just for once it appeared that every one of his twenty attorneys, less of course, Colonel MacKenzie, so a total of nineteen, was at Headquarters, rather than being TAD or away for the day on an investigation. 'A rare circumstance, indeed," he thought.

'And it was just as well!' he added the sour, silent rider, as he looked at the pile of case files sitting in front of Legalman One Coates. "Alright, Coates, let's have 'em!"

Coates kept a straight face as she passed the topmost two files, each bearing the NCIS stamp on their covers, to the Admiral who glanced at them and nodded. "NCIS are holding three sailors from the destroyer Thomas J Evans, who are alleged to have attacked a civilian bar owner at Annapolis. They have said nothing to NCIS except to attempt to justify their actions, and then when they realised that they were in serious trouble, they then said 'attorney' and clammed up. Commander Imes, as this involves a counter-allegation of sexual assault by the bar owner on a female member of the ship's company, you can defend them. Commander Mattoni, the prosecution is yours. I want this wrapped up quickly people. The longer a case like this drags out, the more likely it is to give the Navy a black eye. Even if the allegation of sexual assault is proven, the Navy does not tolerate vigilante justice."

Caroline and Alan exchanged silent glances but other than "Aye, aye, sir," said nothing.

"Next!" Chegwidden rasped to Coates who dutifully handed him another pair of files. "Commander Rabb!"

"Sir?"

"How's that fraternisation case coming on?"

"I'm still waiting to see the promulgating officer, sir."

"He's at Sea Systems Command in the Navy Yard, isn't he?"

"Yes, sir."

"Good. Then when you got to see him, you can kill two birds with one stone. MM3 Reynolds got into a fist fight with an MM2 Stravinsky. As a result of his injuries received during that fight Stravinsky collapsed and died. At least that is what is alleged by their CO, a Commander Eleanor Buckley, who has raised a charge of Involuntary Manslaughter against Reynolds." Chegwidden shook his head, and in a rare display of his feelings muttered, "Sailors have always fought among themselves, but these fights rarely end in the death of one of the participants! But never mind that," his voiced raised to a normal conversational level again. "Reynolds is being held in the Navy Yard Brig, so is permanently available for interview, and if you're going to Sea Systems…"

"Aye, aye, sir!" Harm replied, outwardly cheerful but silently bemoaning this extra case.

"Lieutenant Commander Arnold, you'll prosecute."

"Aye, aye, sir!" Louise Arnold replied, feeling a tremor of excitement run down her spine at thought of facing her former mentor across the courtroom aisle.

"Alright, Coates, what's next?"

"The Porter case, sir," Jen Coates replied passing another two files marked NCIS across to the Admiral.

And so it went on until all nineteen attorneys present had at least one new case with which they were to deal, either to prosecute or defend. Harm felt grateful that he had escaped with only two new cases but he also felt a twinge of amusement when Chegwidden gave the recently promoted Lieutenant Commander Elizabeth Fairchild a case of DDO to prosecute, and then in the next breath gave her another DDO, but this time as defence attorney.

One the staff all had been dismissed and were headed back towards their offices he couldn't resist murmuring to Liz Fairchild, "Don't, whatever you do, mix those two cases up! It just wouldn.t seem right for one of the guys to have two prosecuting attorneys and the other to have two defence counsel."

"Thank you, sir!" Liz Fairchild replied with as much sarcasm as she judged she would be able to get away with, "That thought had already occurred to me! But if I do run into problems, then I'm sure my gallant mentor will be able to help me out, won't he, sir?"

"Of course he will!" Harm, the aforementioned gallant mentor, grinned and replied heartily, "After all, that's why they pay me the big bucks!"

xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx

Harm managed to finish his opening statement for the cruelty to animals trial before he grabbed his cover and briefcase, making sure the Reynolds file was in it along with the Slocombe and Wainwright file, and hurried down to the first floor to sign out at the Marine manned CP, noting that his destination was the Navy Yard for Sea Systems Command and the brig. For a moment he debated signing out a navy car from the motor pool but a memory of yesterday's fiasco gave him second thoughts. Sure, he had indicated when he signed out that he should be back at HQ by twelve thirty hours, but so far nothing in this fraternisation case had worked out as he had anticipated, and who could tell what hidden convolutions this second case held concealed under the surface. So, just in case today's business dragged out longer than he had anticipated he threw his briefcase into the Lexis and climbed in after it.

After checking in at the Marine Corps Manned security desk, Harm navigated his way along the hallways and up to floors until he found the office complex he wanted. Passing through a bull pen where a score of desks were manned by various ratings he tapped on the doorframe of Senior Chief Mendoza's office promptly at ten fifty four hours and then walked in. The Senior Chief stood and his eyes quickly took in Harm's uniform, his eyes widening slightly at the combination if an Aviator's wings and the JAG Corps mill rinde. "Commander Rabb, sir?" he asked by way of greeting.

"That's me, Senior Chief," Harm replied cheerfully. "Here to see Captain Armbruster."

"Of course, sir, one moment please." He picked up his phone, dialled a single digit and waited for the reply. "Captain, sir, Commander Rabb from JAG Corps is here for his meeting with you."

Mendoza listened to the answer and then replied smartly, "Yes, sir. Right away." He looked up at Harm, "The Captain says to go straight, in, sir!"

"Thank you senior Chief," Harm acknowledged the other man and turning tapped once on the door frame in the opposite wall and on hearing the invitation to enter, turned the door handle and walked into an office which surprised him by its small size. No bigger than the Senior Chief's outer office, but well lit by the large window overlooking a stretch of manicured lawn and the Anacostia River. Today was a chill January day, without a cloud in the bright blue sky and the light so intense that Harm had had to wear sun glasses while driving, showed Captain Armbruster's office to the maximum advantage.

Captain Armbruster stood to meet his visitor and Harm found himself looking at a stocky muscular man with a shock of white hair atop a deeply tanned face dominated by an imperious nose and a pair of penetrating blue eyes. With something like a shock Harm realised as he closed the gap between door and desk that Armbruster was no older than Harm was.

"Rabb?" Armbruster asked for confirmation.

"Yes, sir," Harm replied, and was once more slightly startled as the senior officer extended a hand to him. Armbruster's grip was firm, but not uncomfortably so and his face relaxed as he took his visitor's measure and Harm realised that he just passed some sort of test.

"Take a seat, please, Commander. I would ask how I can help you, but you've come to discuss the Slocombe slash Wainwright case, I take it?"

"Yes, sir."

Armbruster shook his head, "Pair of damn fools!"

"Agreed, sir," Harm concurred.

It was Armbruster's turn to be surprised, and it showed on his face, "You agree? I thought you were supposed to be their defence attorney, or have I got that wrong?"

"No, sir. You're right I am their defence attorney, but it doesn't stop me from thinking that they are a pair of damn fools. Damn fools who I am duty bound to attempt to get off the charges you have laid against them."

"A novel way of looking at it. When it comes to trials I always thought it was a case of 'my client, right or wrong'?"

"It is to an extent, sir. Even if and when we know a client is as guilty as sin, we do swear an oath to do our utmost in the client's interest."

"Not in justice's interests, Commander?"

Harm allowed himself a half-smile, "If you'll pardon the liberty sir, there's not much in common between the law and justice. Once a court has pronounced its verdict then that verdict, no matter how flawed it might be, is the truth."

"Unless it is overturned on appeal," Armbruster remarked lightly.

"There is that, sir. But, if you'll forgive me, we're drifting off the subject, sir."

"We are, but this is a conversation I would like to continue at some stage. Now… Master Chief Slocombe and Ensign Wainwright?"

"Yes, sir. Do you know how long they had been romantically involved?"

"Since last summer, I believe."

"And their conduct was such that their relationship was apparent?"

Armbruster shook his head, "No it wasn't," he thought for a moment, "If I were to be charitable I would say that they conducted themselves with the utmost discretion. If I weren't feeling charitable I'd say they were downright deceptive."

"And are you a charitable man, sir?"

"Under normal circumstances I would like to think so, Commander. But when the aggrieved wife of one of the parties involved writes to a Commanding Officer and accuses her husband of conducting an adulterous affair that is not only morally reprehensible, but also flies directly in the face of Navy Regulations, then charity goes flying out of the window."

"So you acted solely on the evidence contained in the aggrieved spouse's letter, sir?"

"Not quite, Commander. I called both Wainwright and Slocombe in to my office and asked them directly if they were conducting a romantic and sexual affair. They both admitted that fact. So, there was nothing else I could do other than prefer charges against them. If they had been two officers, it wouldn't have been so bad, they weren't really acting in a manner that was prejudicial to good order and discipline, but fraternisation regulations are unforgiving. Any fraternisation between commissioned and enlisted is contrary to those regulations, and then again, there was the question of adultery."

"I do take your point, sir, but how would you feel matters were changed if I were tell you that the adultery charge won't stick."

"Won't stick?" Armbruster asked in surprise.

"No, sir. The letter you received was from Slocombe's ex-wife." Harm paused to add weight to what he was about to add, "A woman whom the Master Chief divorced on the grounds of her adultery – her third affair in the dozen or so years they had been married. I also have it from separate interviews that Slocombe and Wainwright did not begin their relationship until after Slocombe's divorce was finalised. A divorced man cannot be convicted of adultery unless his partner is also married. And I believe that is not the situation in this case, sir?"

"No… no, it's not. And Mrs Slocombe, or the former Mrs Slocombe, made no mention in her letter that she was now divorced."

"So, you would be happy to strike the charge of adultery from the charge sheet, sir?" Harm asked.

"If that is the case, then yes, of course, I'd strike the charge.

"Yes, sir. Now moving on Conduct Unbecoming an Officer, Conduct to the Prejudice of Good Order and Discipline and Disobeying an Order or Regulation. Which is it to be, sir?"

"How do you mean?" Armbruster asked his eyes almost pinning Harm to his seat.

"Sir, the only other sin counting against Slocombe and Wainwright is that they were having an affair. Well, sir, you can't charge them three times for the same offence. If you'll pardon me speaking freely."

"H'mm… a bit like double jeopardy?" Armbruster sought clarification.

"Not quite the same thing, sir, but heading along those lines, yes."

"So… I probably shouldn't be asking the defence attorney in the case, he might just give me the answer that lies in his clients' best interest," Armbruster's eyes twinkled shrewdly, "But if we were speaking hypothetically, what would your rational decision be?"

"Well, it is customary for these cases to be tried jointly, sir. Which means that both the accused would face the same charge. That throws the Conduct Unbecoming an Officer out of the window. Leaving either the disobedience or conduct to the prejudice."

"And which of those would be more appropriate, Commander?"

"I believe in the majority of cases that the Navy has taken the disobedience to orders route, sir."

"So… let me see, in the space of half an hour you have knocked the charge sheet own from four to one charges…"

"Yes, sir," Harm fought to conceal any hint of a smile that could indicate how triumphant he felt at this moment. He still had other cards to play.

Armbruster shook his head slightly, "So… that would be all, Commander?"

"Not quite, sir," Harm corrected the senior officer politely.

"Do tell," Armbruster replies dryly.

"Were you aware, sir, that Master Chief Slocombe finishes his twenty years in a matter of a couple of months, in May to be exact?"

"I wasn't sure of the date, but yes, I knew he didn't intend to re-up."

"And I believe his page eleven is clean, sir?"

"I see where you're going with this, Commander. Are you trying to convince me that the Master Chief should be allowed to slide on this one because…"

"Because one indiscretion shouldn't wipe out twenty tears of faultless service, sir? Yes, I guess I am, sir. Don't you think perhaps that a man ought to be measured by all his actions, rather than just by one? After all, sir, Slocombe wouldn't be the first man to be led astray against his better judgement by a pretty face. It's been pretty endemic in humankind ever since Eve offered Adam a bite of that apple."

"In some ways I wish could just withdraw the charges…" Armbruster began.

"You can, sir." Harm assured him.

"How? Regulations are unforgiving in these cases."

"Regulations are, agreed sir, but OPNAVINST aren't quite so cut and dried. Regulations read that fraternisation between enlisted and commissioned is prohibited and is liable to charges under the UCMJ. However OPNAVINSTRs give Commanding Officers such as yourself, a little latitude in how to deal with these cases. You said earlier you had no choice, that you were constrained by the regulations, so you charged Slocombe and Wainwright. Would it perhaps make a difference to know that they intend to marry once Slocombe receives his discharge?"

"Not really, Commander. Again, regulations are quite specific, 'subsequent marriage does not excuse fraternisation'."

"And I'm not saying it should, sir. But if you had been aware that OPNAVINSTRS state that in fraternisation cases, they can be dealt with by administrative action would you have been so ready to prefer charges? You could ship one or both parties out of your command to billets on the opposite sides of the world if you wished. You can't do that to Slocombe, he's on his last six months of service, but there's nothing to stop you reassigning Wainwright to Adak, Keflavik or Garcia Hernandez, or anywhere else in the world for that matter. But you don't even have to go that far, you could simply give each of them a letter of reprimand if they give you an undertaking that they would put a hold on their relationship until Slocombe is a civilian, that could be seen as counselling, a step that is also recommended in OPNAVINSTRs. So, you see, sir, that you needn't resort to disciplinary action as a first step, unless you wish to make it a formal order for them to cease their relationship, and again that is a recommended step before you get to preferring charges. Wainwright is a young woman, she's smart, polite and with her whole life in front of her, and remembering that a court-martial conviction will give her a federal offence with which she would have to live for the rest of her life, is that really something you want to inflict on her, sir?"

"What would you suggest I do, then Commander?"

"A letter of reprimand to each, on condition that they cease their relationship while both are still in the Navy. And if you note on Wainwright's fitrep marking her not for promotion this year – a lapse of judgement would be all that you need to say to justify the non-recommendation – and then have her reassigned. That would remove any temptation for them to continue their relationship clandestinely. Good order and discipline would be maintained, and you would have the satisfaction of seeing the letter of the law upheld and preserving two careers. One of which has already benefitted the Navy, and the other that has the potential to do just that as well."

Armbruster looked across his desk at Haem, "You make a passionate advocate, Commander, as well as making a lot of sense. Yes, I agree it would be a shame to wipe out Chief Slocombe's career with the one stroke of the pen, but you know as well as I that discipline must not only be upheld, it must be seen to be upheld."

"Well, sir, if you really feel that some sort of formal action is taken, may I suggest that you give them both a Captain's mast. That should convince them that their transgressions are not going unpunished and at the same time, relieve the threat of a federal conviction hanging over their heads."

Armbruster nodded slowly, "I'm not prepared to act precipitately on this Commander. I must consider all the ramifications. But, I will let you have an answer by midday tomorrow?"

"Thank you, sir!" Harm said, heaving a silent relieved sigh.

"So, if that is all, Commander? I'm sure you must be nearly as busy as me!"

Harm stood, "Aye, aye, sir! And thank you for your time, sir!"

Harm found his way out of the building with little difficulty and once outside he looked around to get his bearings. He knew where he was, and he knew where the brig was, but he had never had to get from Sea Systems Command to the brig before and it took a moment or two to figure out the optimum route. Once he had that fixed in his mind, he crossed the street to where he had parked the Lexus and once more climbed aboard, not totally dissatisfied with the outcome of his meeting with Captain Armbruster, and cautiously optimistic that the man might withdraw the charges and take appropriate administrative measures.

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When Harm had arrived at the brig and signed it at the security desk, he was led to a grim, bare concrete room with one window set high near the ceiling and lit by a single sixty inch fluorescent tube positioned directly over the table which was, as was customary, bolted to the floor. He didn't have long to wait before Reynolds was escorted in to the room by two burly Masters at Arms, and a flicker of annoyance showed itself on Harm's face as he saw that Reynolds hand were cuffed and attached by a length of chain to a stout leather belt, which in turn was linked by another length of chain to fetters around his ankles.

"Is all that ironmongery really necessary MA Two?" Harm demanded of the older of the two.

The Master at Arms looked uncomfortable, "It's protocol, sir. Reynolds is being held for killing another sailor, sir."

"Reynolds is being held in pre-trial confinement on a charge of involuntary manslaughter. He has not yet been convicted of any offence. Besides, look at him! Reynolds how much do you weigh?"

"Sir! One hundred twenty four pounds, sir!"

In addition to a skinny frame, Reynolds couldn't have been any taller than five feet seven inches and looked as if he might fit in a paper grocery sack out of which he didn't look strong enough to punch his way.

"Well, I don't think Reynolds poses any sort of threat to me, so how about you getting all that ironware off him?"

The MA2 shook his head, "Sorry, sir. No can do. The only person who can authorise that is the OIC brig, Commander Porter."

"Porter? I thought the OIC brig was Commander Winiarski?"

"Rotated out, sir," the slightly less burly of the two MAs answered.

"I see. Well, you know the drill, wait outside please, and well away from the door." Harm was only too well aware of the recent ruling during a court-martial that Mac was defending, when a statement from the accused to Mac was overheard by an MP. Despite Mac's objections, when this evidence was introduced in court, the judge then ruled that because a third party had been within earshot, the normal rules of attorney/client privilege did not apply and the evidence was admissible. As the overheard statement was highly incriminating, Mac, to her unbridled fury, had lost the case. And that was one case Harm had been profoundly grateful that he had not been prosecuting. As it was, Sturgis Turner, who had been the trial attorney, had caught all sorts of flak from the disgruntled Marine for a good two weeks after the guilty verdict as brought in.

After a long, warning look at the accused, the two MAs left, almost reluctantly, Harm thought, the room, leaving Harm and the young, scared looking seaman alone.

"Take a seat, Reynolds," Harm suggested, "I've only got the bare bones of the matter, so this might take a little while."

The youngster, he couldn't have been more than twenty-two, Harm judged, shuffled around to the other side of the table and sat right on the edge of the uncomfortably hard plastic chair.

"Sorry, about the cuffs and chains, Reynolds, but I did try."

"Yes, sir. Thank you."

"Okay, let's start with the basics. You were assigned as an MM aboard the USS Challenger and you had a fight with MM Two Stravinsky, right?"

"Yes, sir."

"Stravinsky was an MM Two right? And you worked and bunked together?"

"Yes and no, sir. We worked the same watch, but we were in different berth compartments. The Challenger is on the small side, sir, and her compartments aren't really big enough for the entire watch."

"So… you had a fight?"

"Yes, sir."

"And after the fight, Stravinsky died?"

"Yes, sir."

"How long after the fight did he die?"

Reynolds shrugged, "I don't know for sure, sir. Five maybe six hours later. Soon after we came off watch, anyway."

"You had the fight during the watch?" Harm asked in surprise.

Reynolds stared at him for moment before he recollected himself and shook his head, "No, sir. The fight was before the watch started."

"And what started the fight?"

"I guess I got sick of Stravinsky throwing his weight around. He'd been picking on me, shoving, pushing, punching me ever since I first came on board, and then that morning he bitch-slapped me on the face. I'd had enough, so I just turned around and punched him out. He seemed kinda surprised, and I was too, he just stood there and blinked, blood coming from his nose and he said, 'I'm going to kill you, you son of a bitch.' Well, I figured he meant it, so before he could move I hit him again… I didn't know I could hit that hard…" he stared down at his fist in amazement. Anyway I figured I must have stunned him, 'cos although he tried, he only hit me a couple of times – and that was enough – I just kept dancing around him, trying to duck his punches and landing one of my own when I could. Then he went down… he wasn't out, but he was pretty groggy and he said something about getting me after the watch."

"These punches and pushes, any of them hard enough so that they left marks, black eyes perhaps, or bruises, maybe a cut lip?"

"One or two, sir."

"And did you ever seek medical attention or them?"

Reynolds shook his head, "No sir."

"Anybody ever see any of 'em?"

"Yes, sir."

"And what did you say?""

"That I tripped over a knee knocker and banged into a bulkhead as I fell, sir. Or something like that, anyway."

"Like walking into a door?"

"Yes, sir."

"So nothing further happened during the watch?"

"No, sir. I kept out of his way as best I could, and the Chief MM must have heard the scuttlebutt that we'd had us an upscuddle, 'cos he kept an eye on both of us."

"Uh-huh… were there any witnesses to the fight?"

"Just about everyone on the lower deck who wasn't on watch, sir. Mostly other MMs and a few MNs, sir."

"Names?" Harm asked, although without much hope.

Reynolds shrugged, "Most of the off-watch crew, sir. I could tell you the names of the guys on our watch, but that's about it, sir."

Harm nodded, that was about what he had expected to hear. But the interview with Reynolds had left him with more unanswered questions than answers. "Okay, Reynolds… It looks like you will have to face at least an Article Thirty Two hearing, but there seem to be extenuating circumstances that we can plead in mitigation."

"Sir?" Reynolds was obviously confused by Harm's choice of words.

"I mean, that there may be some excuse. If we can find a witness or witnesses who will admit to seeing Stravinsky strike the first blow, the 'bitch slap', I think you called it, then we might be able to plead self-defence. In fact, you're a pretty small guy, how much bigger than you was Stravinsky?"

"Uh, not quite as tall as you, sir, but he was bigger through the chest and shoulders. Scuttlebutt had it that he was scouted by the Browns as a linebacker until some kind of injury put him out."

Harm blinked, "He was big enough to be a linebacker in the NFL, and you punched him out?"

"Reynolds looked slightly embarrassed, "Yes, sir. I just got so mad at him…"

"Uh… yeah… I suppose you did," was all that Harm could find as a reply. "Well, Reynolds, you've given me something to work on here, so keep your chin up, and try to stay out of trouble while you're in here. I know trouble can come to you, but try to avoid it, okay?"

xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx

Once he'd cleared the brig Harm glanced at his watch and gave a quiet groan which mingled disappointment and frustration. So much for being back at JAG for lunch. What he had heard from Reynolds had indeed raised questions, but some of them at least could be answered right here in the Navy Yard, or so he hoped. Once again climbing aboard the Lexus, he made a U-turn and headed back towards Sicard Street and NCIS Headquarters.

The Marine Corps Corporal who escorted Harm to the mortuary halted outside and assumed the position of parade rest. "You go on in, sir. I'm happy to wait for you here," he claimed, and Harm shooting a quick glance at the younger man thought he detected a green tinge to his complexion.

"Thank you, Corporal, I'll try not to keep you too long." If the truth were to be told, Harm wasn't too keen on entering the lair of Doctor Donald Mallard. Not that there was anything wrong or harmful about the gentle-spoken Scotsman, but a visitor could never be sure on entering the mortuary that he wouldn't find the doctor up to his elbows in some cadaver or other in various states of decomposition.

Fortunately this time, there was no smell of decomposition to assail Harm's nostrils, and the elderly practitioner was seated at his desk, a gently steaming mug of Earl Grey tea at his elbow, while he went through some documents with a curly haired younger man, who hovered anxiously over the doctor's shoulder. Much, apparently, to the doctor's annoyance.

"Mister Palmer! How many times must I tell you! Kindly do not, and I mean do not, attempt to read over my shoulder! If these files were meant for you, then they would have been addressed to you! As it is, they were addressed to me and if I find anything in them of which you should be made aware then I can assure you that you will be informed. Now, please, stand back and give me some air!"

"Uh… yes, Doctor, sorry Doctor… but…"

"But what, Mister Palmer?"

"We… uh… You have a visitor, Doctor."

Doctor Mallard swivelled his chair around and pushed his glasses, evidently reading glasses, up onto his forehead and squinted at his visitor, coming to his feet with a pleased smile on his face as he exclaimed, "Why, Commander Rabb, what brings you to out cosy little dungeon?"

"Good afternoon, Doctor," Harm wasn't surprised that Doctor Mallard, or Ducky, as he was known to his intimates, remembered him although it had been more than a couple of years since they met, and that only fleetingly, but the Doctor had a reputation for a formidable memory and a tendency to regale his listeners with long, complex and complicated stories, relating incidents from his past in great detail.

But none of that worried Harm today. He returned the doctor's smile, "It's good to see you again Doctor Mallard…"

"Oh, please, Commander, everyone around here – except for those who should know better – calls me Ducky. Now, how may I help you?"

"Do you recall examining the remains of a Machinist's Mate Second Class Stravinsky, could be any time within the last two weeks."

"Stravinsky… Stravinsky… Yes! Of course I remember him! He must have been a fine specimen of manhood when he was alive, but he'd taken a terrible beating, and that ultimately and indirectly was the cause of his death."

"I see… Doctor, did you catalogue his injuries?"

"But of course! Bear with me a moment, please, Commander…" the doctor crossed to a filing cabinet and opened a drawer, extracting a file and then turned back to his desk, dropping his glasses back onto his nose as he did so. "Come and have a look, Commander. There…" he continued as Harm came and stood next to him, noting with a secret smile that it didn't seem to bother the doctor that he was reading over the doctor's shoulder.

"There you are, cause of death: A subdural haematoma, brought on by a succession of heavy blows to the head."

"Consistent with him being involved in a fist fight?"

"Oh yes, very much so, if you look at his other injuries, although I strongly suspect that fists alone did not cause all the rest of his injuries."

"How so, Doctor?"

"Well, there was severe bruising to the testicles, consistent with the violent application of a knee or a shod foot to the groin, and his right knee was also severely bruised, with extensive ligament and tendon damage, as if the knee had been subjected to hyper extension. Again, one might suspect a heavy kick of having caused the injury."

"And the damage to the head, is there any indication that he might have been kicked while lying on the floor?"

Doctor Mallard shook his head, "No, all the injuries to the head… the black eye, the broken nose, the damaged ear cartilage, are all consistent with a series of punches. There are no indications that any blunt instrument other than a fist was used to inflict those wounds, similarly, the bruising over the two broken ribs is consistent with bare knuckles."

Doctor Mallard shook his head, "The other chap must have been part gorilla. Stravinsky was an imposing figure, six feet three with well developed musculature and he was in the pink of condition, not an ounce of fat on him although he weighed two hundred and twenty one pounds. As I say the other chap must have been…"

"The other guy, I have just interviewed him, is about five six and weighs just over one hundred twenty pounds." Harm said dryly.

For a moment Ducky Mallard looked as if the wind had been taken right out of his sails but then he nodded and sighed regretfully, "For such a small man to inflict such damager, there must have been a tremendous amount of anger, not to mention hatred. Was he badly marked?"

"Well, as you know it's been a while since the fight, but he didn't seem to be carrying any obvious injuries and any superficial bruising would have healed by now. Of course, I could only see his hands and face, but there were no fresh scars on either."

"I see… Has this been of any use to you, Commander?"

"Very much, so, Doctor. In fact it would be a great help if you could send me a copy of the autopsy report."

"Send you? No, such thing, my dear boy! Mister Palmer!"

"Yes, doctor?"

The young assistant ME had taken a step back while Harm and Ducky talked, but now stepped forward, his whole bearing shouting his wish to be of help.

Ducky nodded at the computer on his desk "Mister Palmer, would you please work your magic on that infernal machine, and print off a copy of the full autopsy report on Machinist's Mate Second Class Stravinsky?"

"Of course, doctor!"

Ten minutes later Harm unlocked the Lexus and depositing his now heavier briefcase on the passenger seat, climbed up behind the wheel and after glancing at his watch decided regretfully that today lunch would either be a sandwich from the vending machine in JAG Ops, or an unfulfilled dream.

xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx

Mac took a deep breath and opened the door to Inez Elgin's waiting room cum outer office and managed a pleasant "Good afternoon," to the young Corpsman behind the desk, who rose to her feet with an answering smile.

"Good afternoon, Colonel. I'll let the doctor know you're here," and the young woman stood and after tapping on the door to the inner office opened it and disappeared through the doorway, 'Much like the white rabbit' Mac thought and then an associated idea came into her head, 'Oh my paws and whiskers! I'm late!' which was arrant nonsense of course. 'With my inbuilt sense of timing, I am never late!' Mac preened herself, so it was with the remains of a smirk on her face that she allowed herself to be ushered into Inez Elgin's office.

The blonde psychiatrist was, as usual, in a white blouse and service dress skirt worn under a pristine lab coat and welcomed Mac with a smile of her own as she rose to her feet, "Good afternoon, Colonel. You know the routine by now I'm sure, so please take a seat."

Mac shrugged out of her camel coloured overcoat first, revealing a crimson cowl-neck sweater and a pair of jeans that looked as if they had been moulded to her legs, tucked into a pair of brown, knee high leather boots with a modest heel.

Inez gave her a more careful, if surreptitious, scrutiny. The Colonel's hair had recently – this morning – received the attention of a professional stylist and her make-up was flawlessly applied, even if, in Inez's opinion, the Colonel would have been better off with… well, let's say that in some cases less is more.

The whole effect Inez guessed was to portray a strong, confident woman, quite capable of making her own way in the world without asking for anybody's help. Inez had a pretty shrewd idea that the makeover and the image it was meant to project was a direct result from and reaction to the assignment the Colonel had been set yesterday, to look at those instances when she had been 'rescued' whether or not, in her opinion, she had needed rescuing. Another indication, the blonde reasoned, of just how deeply Lieutenant Colonel Sarah McKenzie was in denial.

"So, Colonel…" Inez walked around her desk to take up what Mac had come to realise was her customary position, perched on the front edge of the desk, with her hands stuffed into the pockets of her lab coat, "How was last night's exercise?"

Mac shook her head, "I couldn't find any examples where Rabb wasn't at hand that ended badly for me." She smirked, "I have always been able to look after myself. It was something I learned to do early in life!"

Inez could hardly believe her ears, this was denial on a grand scale, and although it wasn't somewhere she had planned to go this session, she could not, for the sake of McKenzie's mental health, let such an egregious statement remain unchallenged.

"Why would you say that, Colonel?" she asked interestedly.

"Well…" Mac seemed to puff herself up, in the same manner that some threatened prey species in the animal world do, "When my mother left us I had to become the woman of the house, cooking meals for my father – which usually he didn't eat! Cleaning the house, doing the laundry, all the domestic things that mom used to do before she ran away."

"Everything that your mother used to do?" Inez asked. This might be one hell of a breakthrough coming up.

"Everything!" Mac asserted confidently, and then she gasped, "Oh! No… no… nothing sexual. I don't think my father was interested in that side of things anymore, that is if he could function at all being more or less permanently in a state of inebriation. And besides, as he used to say, I was damaged goods, I was his stupid tramp daughter that no man in his right mind would want!"

'Good grief!' was all Inez could think for a moment, "Why, do you think, he said that?"

Mac turned red, twisted her hands together and mumbled something indistinctly, avoiding Inez' eye. Inez recognising that they were indeed on the cusp of a breakthrough prompted her gently, "Colonel… I don't know what happened to make him say that, but I think it is important that you get it out into the open. My guess is that you've never told anyone, am I right?"

Mac nodded dumbly as the fear and pain of that early experience washed over her anew, feeling fresh and sharp despite the intervening years.

"And do remember Colonel, that I am bound by the same confidentiality ethic that applies to you and to your work. Whatever you say in this room stays in this room. Okay?"

Mac just nodded.

"Colonel?"

Mac took a deep breath, and started to speak in a monotone, "When I was fourteen… I had already started to turn into a woman… my breasts developed early and I was bigger there than all of the other girls in the same year at school. We were all so ignorant of sex and puberty… there was no health education programmes back then… and somehow the word got around, through jealousy, I guess, that the reason my breasts were so much larger than everyone else's was because that I was having sex. Anyway, word must have gotten around further than school, because one evening, one of my dad's drinking buddies, one of his 'good ol' boys' came to the house looking for him. Mom was out somewhere, I don't remember where, but anyway, because he was one of my dad's friends, I let him into the house. I didn't recognise the signs but once he was inside he started making what I suppose he thought were complimentary remarks, but they made me feel uncomfortable, and I asked him to stop."

Mac took another deep breath and then when she spoke again, the words came tumbling from her mouth as if he couldn't get rid of them, and the memories they invoked, quickly enough, "He said something like I shouldn't act like a blushing virgin, as everyone knew I was putting it about, then he grabbed me, by the breast, and it hurt so much, but I couldn't scream, he was kissing me, trying to force his tongue into my mouth…" Mac shuddered. "I tried to fight him off, but he was a marine, trained in martial arts and I was a fourteen year old school girl, in the end, he succeeded and… and… and he… he…"

"He raped you?" Inez asked sympathetically.

Mac nodded, "That hurt, but what really hurt was that when dad came home, his buddy was still there, and I was curled up, crying, on my bed upstairs. My dad started yelling for me to come and take his boots off, and when he saw my face he asked me what the hell was wrong, this time. I just pointed at his friend and told my dad what he had done. The friend denied that he raped me, that I had led him on, and that he regretted giving in to the temptation. Dad went mad – at me, not his friend – and accused me of being a whore. He took his friend's word over mine. And ever after that he just called me his stupid tramp daughter." Mac's voice died away and she sat now on the edge of her chair, completely unable to look Inez in the face.

Inez shook her head and reached behind her for the box of man-sized tissues he kept on her desk, "Colonel?" she said gently as she offered the box to Mac.

"Thank you!" Mac rasped and taking one of the tissues she briefly dabbed at her eye, which were threatening to overflow and blew her nose defiantly.

"So… how did you feel after you heard your father's reaction?" Inez asked.

"At first… I was…well… devastated, I guess. I mean how could he believe that scum bag sitting there, smirking in the couch, and not his own daughter? And not only that, even if I had consented to having sex with the guy, what sort of father would just sit there and be told that his daughter, his fourteen year old daughter, had just had sex, and then did nothing about it! That's when I knew that I could rely on no-one to have my back, not even my own father! Then after a little while I made up my mind that I would look after myself. I would make my own path in the world, and I wouldn't ask for help from anybody!"

"And that's worked for you, so far, has it?" Inez asked, making a major effort to prevent her voice betraying any doubt, disbelief, scepticism or irony.

"Pretty well," Mac asserted.

Inez glanced at the clock on the wall. "It's a few minutes early, Colonel, but we have covered a lot of ground to day, believe it or not, and I need to assess how that early episode may have affected your life since. We know it has had some effect, your assertion that you felt you could trust no-one to have your back, for instance. So, I'll see you the same time tomorrow."

"Yes… yes… Okay, Mac said," feeling troubled at just how much she had confided in the annoying blonde who was smirking at her in such a condescending manner.

Inez was feeling far from condescending as she watched Mac leave the office. No wonder the Marine Colonel had anger, trust, abandonment and denial issues. Inez had a feeling that today was the first time in twenty five years that Colonel MacKenzie had ever told anyone about her ordeal and the parental betrayal that followed it. It was tragic, certainly, but it was also if not commonplace, not entirely unknown and Inez Elgin had an idea that now that particular barrier had been breached, she might just be able to get the Colonel to open up, discuss her issues and hopefully accept the help she needed to overcome them, because if she couldn't, then it would be her duty to recommend that Colonel MacKenzie be discharged from the USMC as no longer psychologically fit for duty.

xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx

Harm glared at the vending machine which had just swallowed his dollar bill and then sneered at him as it refused to deliver the sandwich of his choice. Well, he was damned if he was going to give it the satisfaction of eating any more of his money so with a grunt of frustration he turned on his heel and made for the galley. If he couldn't even get a sandwich to tide him over until dinner time at least he could seek some sort of solace in a cup of coffee.

Entering the galley he was surprised to see an unescorted stranger there, but the red-head, about the same age as himself wore the uniform of a Commander in the United States Navy with the mill rindes of a JAG.

She smiled at him in a friendly manner and cocking her head slightly to one side, in a way that reminded him of a sparrow sizing up a bread crumb, she said, "I suppose you're Harmon Rabb?" and when, too startled, to speak he merely nodded, she continued, "I'm sorry, that was incredibly rude of me! I'm Adrienne Scott."

Harm had recovered somewhat, "Um… pleased to meet you, but what makes you so sure that I'm Rabb?"

"Well…" the green eyes danced with mischief, "You strolled in here as if you had every right in the world – not that I'm suggesting you don't – but that told me that you were thoroughly at home here, and as you aren't African American as are Sturgis Turner and Alan Mattoni and there are but three male commanders in Ops, then I am led to the conclusion that you are indeed Harmon Rabb. Am I right?"

The whimsical manner in which Adrienne spoke sparked off Harm's sense of humour, "I am. And as the great detective is rumoured to have said, 'elementary, my dear Watson'. Though come to think of it, isn't that supposed to be a myth?"

"I believe so," Adrienne looked at him again, "Are you a Conan Doyle fan?"

"Not me!" Harm denied with a chuckle, "but I have a teenaged ward who can't get enough of Holmes and Watson."

"Kids and their crazes!" Adrienne laughed as Harm poured himself a coffee, "I know how that goes! Two of my own," she clarified as she saw Harm's puzzled expression, which on hearing her explanation cleared as if by magic.

Harm took a sip of his coffee, "Ah… One of Coates' special brews!" he smiled in appreciation.

"Coates? Isn't that the young woman, the Legalman masquerading as the Admiral's Yeoman?"

Harm nodded, "That's Coates…" he eyed the other officer shrewdly, "You seem to be remarkably well informed for a visitor." His statement was turned into a question by the rising inflection of his voice as he finished speaking.

"Ah… either I have a confession to make, or you haven't gotten to the bottom of your in-tray yet."

"My in-tray? Commander, I haven't even seen my office since staff call this morning!"

"Ah, in that case… I'm assigned to JAG Corps HQ as Chief of Staff vice a Lieutenant Colonel MacKenzie, Marine Corps, who will have her hands full, as will the rest of the senior attorneys in organising their teams."

"Teams?" Harm repeated blankly.

"Yes. It's something I discussed with the Admiral over the phone last week. He told me to put a proposal in writing, and he approved it this afternoon. I'm sure he'll give all hands a full briefing, but in the meantime, there's a memo somewhere in your in-tray, detailing what I happening and who is assigned to which team."

"Chief of Staff? The old…" Harm shot a guilty look at Adrienne Scott and hastily amended his words, "Uh… I mean the Admiral certainly played that hand close to his chest… and teams too…"

"You find something wrong with either of these ideas?" Adrienne asked lightly, but Harm thought he picked up a warning note in her voice.

"No, nothing wrong. In fact… Are you anything to do with the teams? I mean are you a team leader or team member?"

"No, I shall be Chief of Staff. I shall still litigate whenever the chance offers itself, and I look forward to crossing swords with some of the established old hands around here."

Harm nodded, "Then in that case, I am completely in favour of the idea of a separate Chief of Staff. I was dreading being selected for that role. I've seen how much other officers, much better suited to paperwork than I, have struggled with a case load on top of their staff duties." A sudden thought struck him, "I take it that you won't be cherry picking the more interesting cases for yourself?"

"That's a horribly suspicious idea!" Adrienne chuckled. "But no, as and when time permits, I shall ask the team leaders if they have any cases they would like me try, either as trial or defence attorney. As you so rightly point out, as Chief of Staff I'm going to have enough on my plate as it is. But you haven't said how you feel about the teams idea?" she prompted him.

"That's because I haven't yet seen what the set-up is, who the team leaders will be, what is expected of them, and how much of their time is going to be spent managing their teams; time which could perhaps be more profitably spent in court."

Adrienne grinned this time, "Believe it or not, I do have a great deal of sympathy for that point of view, but at the same time, being a team leader will definitely help your career path as it will involve mentoring and supervision of younger, less experienced attorneys…"

"But we've always done that in the past!" Harm objected.

"Of course you have," Adrienne agreed, "But now it is formalised, and the mentoring and encouragement will be something that will have to be addressed on future fitreps. As will the leadership qualities the role of team leader will require. None of which can hurt promotion prospects."

"Unless the team leader really sucks at his or her job," Harm countered.

"In which case they won't last long in the role."

"Okay… but what happens if an officer is a brilliant attorney, but not a leader?"

"Then that should be recognised and that officer assigned to a billet where his or her strengths are maximised and weakness minimised. So hopefully no more square pegs in round holes!"

"Anybody in particular in mind?" Harm asked sarcastically.

"Actually, yes. Alison Krennick. A good attorney, but one who should never have been placed in a supervisory position; she used people to further her career. She got away with it for a while, and then it came back and bit her on the ass."

If there was one name that Harm had no expected to hear, that name was Alison Krennick.

"What happened to her?"

"She was passed over for promotion to O-6 and butted up against the up or out regulations. The last I heard she was working as a county DA in Louisiana."

"She always did like it hot," Harm grinned, and then draining his coffee mug, he rinsed it put and left it upside down on the draining board to dry, then with a nod to the incoming Chief of Staff he picked up his cover and briefcase and crossed the unusually buzzing bull pen to his office.

His first task was to rummage through the stack of files and loose sheets of paper in his in-tray, until he found the one for which he was looking. Giving a grunt of satisfaction he read through the list of teams, of which there were five, each of four attorneys a Legalman and a Yeoman, headed, as he'd guessed they would be, by Mac (if and when she returned to duty) and the four Navy ranking attorneys, himself, Carolyn Imes, Alan Mattoni and Sturgis Turner. Carolyn Imes! Crap! He'd almost forgotten he'd give her hazarding a vessel case a quick look over. He reached or his phone to call her and to set up a meeting when he was distracted by a tap at the door.

Looking up, he recognised the young woman standing in the doorway as Yeoman Three Porter, a name he was sure… he dropped his eyes to the memorandum in front of him and there it was, yep, Porter was his team's assigned Yeoman.

"What can I do for you, Yeoman Three?" he asked, masking his impatience.

"This has just come in, sir. A last minute amendment to the court schedule, and I thought you'd better see it immediately, sir." Porter replied, offering Harm a single sheet of paper.

"Crap!" the expletive was forced out through his lips as he saw that Seaman Bander's Article Thirty Two hearing was now scheduled for zero nine hundred hours tomorrow morning. It looked like the Admiral had kept his promise about having this case moved up the calendar. 'It would have been nice if the old bastard had given me a heads up, though!' Harm complained bitterly, but silently to himself.

"Thank you, Yeoman Three, but why are you bringing this to me, instead of it coming through the normal channels?"

"Because I'm a member of your team, sir. And it's part of my job to make sure that your morning's mail doesn't hold any nasty surprises hidden in its depths."

Harm blinked, the young woman's ideas were sound, but she was taking a risk in being quite so forthright with an officer whom she didn't know particularly well. She would need to be warned about that, but that would have to wait. "I take it that the new organisation is common knowledge in the bull pen, then?" Harm asked in a voice loaded with irony. Obviously scuttlebutt had worked its magic again.

"Oh, yes, sir! Lieutenant Sims gave the support staff a complete briefing just before lunch

"I see, thank you, Yeoman Three! That will be all for the moment – oh, no! Wait! Prepare an internal memo to all officers on our team, instructing them to meet with me at zero seven hundred hours tomorrow morning on the small conference room, and then bring it back for my signature!" 'If she's going to be the team's Yeoman, then I might as well make good use of her,' Harm added silently to himself.

"Memo to all team attorneys. Meeting in the small conference room at zero seven hundred tomorrow, aye, sir!" Amanda Porter hid a grin as she replied, he'd said 'our team' not 'my team', all of a sudden she had a good feeling about working for the tall former aviator whereas before she had been a little apprehensive.

With a cautious look through the door to ensure that no-one else was headed his way, Harm finally picked up the phone and dialled Carolyn's extension.

"Imes."

"Carolyn it's Harm. I'm really, really sorry I haven't had a chance to look over that hazarding a vessel case with you, but I've barely been in the office for the last two days…"

"Oh, I knew it was quieter than usual, and then I saw that you weren't here, and I had begun to wonder if it was my perfume… or lack of it!" Carolyn chuckled.

Relieved that the red headed commander was taking his broken promise so lightly Harm suggested, "Look… there's not much point in starting anything fresh his late in the day, well, not as far as I'm concerned, so why don't you drag the case file and your six over to my office and I'll try to lighten the darkness."

"Are you sure, Harm? You know we're going to be busy getting the teams sorted out?"

"Yeah, the thought had struck me, but we're still going to have to carry on business as usual! We can't let the Admiral think he's pitched us a beanball!"

"That's very generous of you, Harm, considering that you've been out of the office all day, and I suspect that you've only just found out about the team system."

"You knew?" Harm asked incredulously.

"Only because the Admiral held an officers' call just before lunch and handed out the team assignments. When, exactly, did you hear?"

"About fifteen minutes ago, unofficially, from the new Chief of Staff!"

"Oh, Adrienne... You'll like her Harm. The Admiral introduced her to us all at the officers' call too. Not that some of us needed introducing. She's got a great sense of humour and she needed it, we both did, when I worked with her a few years ago down in Jackson when Alison Krennick was the OIC Trials Office, and that was no laughing matter!"

"No… I can believe that!" Harm said emphatically.

"Good… see you in two!" Carolyn chirped and put the phone down, the click as she did, sounding loud in Harm's ear as he pondered the titbit of news, or scuttlebutt rather, that Carolyn had just let slip. Harm liked Carolyn, she was a damned good attorney, a good colleague with whom he could work, and a good friend, but her occasional slips were a reminder that she did enjoy a juicy piece of gossip