CHAPTER 1

May 20, 2006
10:55 EST

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Captain Harmon Rabb Jr. just let the radio scan through the stations, listening to, but not really hearing endless songs and advertisements. He wasn't really sure how many times he'd gone past each station, although he was sure he'd heard 'Sweet Home Alabama' on at least four of them, but somehow, the lack of something constant made him feel slightly better. If he were to stop on one particular song or story, his mind would start to wander. It would just be a matter of minutes before he was dwelling on why he was back in Washington. And he didn't want to think about it anymore. He'd thought of nothing but that the entire flight from Heathrow and now he needed to occupy his mind with something else for a while. Soon enough he would be with friends and family and then it would be about AJ Chegwidden; talking about and sharing memories of him, comforting one another, crying on each other's shoulders. Soon enough, Harm would have to bury his friend and mentor.

He propped his elbow on the window, and leaning his head on his fist, he sighed heavily in frustration. D.C. traffic at it's best. It was lousy when he lived here, it was lousy when he was here six weeks ago for his godson's birthday, and it was worse than lousy today. He'd been in the same spot, behind the same smoking Mazda for 25 minutes. He wasn't sure which was worse, the nine hours spent on a plane that was most certainly not made for his six foot plus frame, or the two door Neon that the rental place at the airport insisted was the only thing they would have available for the rest of the morning. Harm's poor body was beginning to reject the idea of being folded up so many times, in so many different positions.

He was trying to keep his cool, he really was, but the past couple of hours…scratch that, the past couple of weeks…had left his nerve ends frayed to practically nothing. He needed to be at Dulles 10 minutes ago, which shouldn't have been a problem. They'd had this all planned out for days now. He had given himself plenty of time to disembark his plane at Baltimore-Washington International, go through customs, get his bags, check a rental car out, and make it to Dulles with half an hour to spare. But of course, the best laid plans…

The line at Budget Rent-a-Car was as ridiculously long as it was slow. And of course, when he finally made it to the counter he was told that he would have to wait until a car was checked back in.

"It should only be half an hour or so Mr. Babb," the all too perky clerk had informed him, slapping an oversized wad of chewing gum around in her mouth. Oh sure, not a big deal, because he had nothing better to do for 30 minutes.

"It's Rabb. And I really don't have half an hour…" he paused to check her name tag, "Molly." He flashed her a smile and asked if there wasn't anything else she could possibly do, trying to be charming as possible. After all, you catch more flies with honey than you do with vinegar. All he wanted to do was to get to Dulles, then to the hotel. His body was begging for a hot shower and a big bed to stretch out on, even if he could only spare twenty minutes.

Harm's good-natured attitude and gorgeous smile paid off when Molly helped him find a car through Enterprise, instead. He'd hoped it didn't get her into trouble with her company, but he would be forever grateful to the young girl for her help. Even if it was a Neon, and even if his body already felt like a pretzel, it was still a car. Anyway, he didn't plan on being in it for very long...

That seemed like days ago to the now crippled navy captain. To top it all off, thanks to the complementary coffee Budget offered while he was waiting for a car, he now desperately needed to relieve himself. He swore that if the traffic didn't let up soon, he was going to get out and walk, damn the car.

Harm glanced down at the radio when it began pumping out some obnoxious noise that some poor, misled soul somewhere probably thought was music. It wasn't really necessary any longer to keep his mind occupied. The pains in his legs, back and bladder were doing a fine job of that. Taking out some of his frustration on the on/off switch, he began to violently jab at it. It took four tries before he hit his mark. Feeling not the least bit better, Harm now had a throbbing finger to add to his growing list of aches.

'I really can't take much more of this. A person can only handle so much before they blow, and I swear if this traffic doesn't move soon-.' The ringing of his cell phone interrupted Harm's internal rant.

He picked it up and looked at the caller ID screen. Instantly, some of the anger melted from his body. A small smile graced his lips as he answered.

"How did you know I was about to commit some heinous crime due to stress and would probably need a good lawyer?" was said in lieu of 'hello'.

"Weeeell," Colonel Sarah McKenzie replied, "my plane has landed and deboarded, and you're not here. Since you had this planned down to the second and I know that you were supposed to arrive at Dulles 39 minutes ago, I figured you either, a) had a bad flight, or b) hit bad traffic."

"How about c) all of the above," Harm sighed into the phone.

"Back hurt?" she asked sympathetically, bringing the smile back to his face. Mac knew what a long ride on a commercial plane did to him. The first time he flew out to San Diego to visit her, about a month after their transfers, he had complained miserably about the lack of room for his legs, which in turn made his back ache relentlessly. She had wondered out loud how he could be fine in the cramped confines of the cockpit of an F14, but not in a 757 jet. He smiled his flyboy smile and asked incredulously, "How could someone not be comfortable in the cockpit of an F14?"

That had been such a wonderful week. It was good to see Lt. Mayfield and Lt. Graves again. The small blond reminded him of a cross between Bud and Harriet. Mac had totally agreed, admitting that sometimes when she was really missing JAG HQ, being around the young Lt. helped alleviate some of the homesickness.

He had joked that being around Lt. Vukovic should have the same effect, considering that he'd heard that the Lt. had the same penchant for trouble that a certain former Lt. Commander Rabb once did.

Mac had rolled her eyes, muttering words like 'cocky', 'arrogant', and 'reprehensible'. She then said that working with him around women, Lts. Graves and Mayfield in particular, was like working on the set of 'As the World Turns', or some equally mind numbing daytime soap. "I swear Harm, it's like I'm living in some teeny bopper television show that airs on The WB after the 'Gilmore Girls'." Taking in his weird look, she simply said, "Chloe's favorite show," before continuing. "There is constantly some sort of intense yet futile drama going on that I neither know about, nor want to know about. And anyway, where in my job description does it state that, on top of being a lawyer and a marine, I should be a...a babysitter for a bunch of wet-behind-the-ears, hormonally challenged-" He'd shut her up the only way he could think of.

It wasn't their first kiss. He remembered the other four vividly. From that night at Norfolk so many years ago to the morning he dropped her off at the airport a month earlier; the morning they were finally separated. However, in the weeks that followed, no mention was made of their spontaneous lip lock there in front of the security checkpoint at Dulles. In all of their conversations on the phone and online, never once was it spoken of. Oh he had wanted to, but a voice in his head interrupted him every time he'd even thought of bringing it up…a voice that reminded him that they were half a world apart right now. What was the point, other than to possibly upset her. Harm treasured whatever connection they could get away with too much to taint it with 'should haves' and 'what ifs'. He had assumed that she felt the same, as she was just as closed mouthed about it as he. At least he'd hoped that that was the reason; that she wanted to spare him the same grief he was determined to avoid imparting on her. He'd prayed it wasn't because she regretted it.

Standing there in front of the San Diego JAG offices a month later, as he sealed her mouth with his, giving into the urge to connect with her on that level again, he'd prayed even harder that that wasn't the case. If so, he was in a whole heap of trouble when he released her. However, when the kiss had finally ended, she simply smiled and said, "So maybe I don't give 'hormonally challenged' enough credit."

They spent the rest of the week within reaching distance of each other, trying to make up for the physical distance that had been forced upon them. There was always a hand in hers or on the small of her back. A casual arm around her shoulders, or hers around his waist usually led into a kiss or hug. However, both were hesitant to take anything to the bedroom, considering their current duty stations were on opposite sides of the world. Not ideal circumstances for a budding romance. Of course, that didn't stop them from making the most of the time they had together that week. They'd even taken a couple of days to visit with his parents in La Jolla, much to his mother's delirious delight.

The last night Harm was in town, they spent at Mac's place. There was talk of going out on the town, maybe dancing or to the beach. But both decided they wanted each other to themselves. Harm arrived at her place ready to cook a real meal, since he was sure, despite her assurances to the contrary, that she had been living off of fast food for the past month. During dinner, they teased and laughed, talking about nothing and everything. He'd missed being with her like that so much. They had just gotten back to that level in their relationship when she was transferred to California. Soon after, he was 'booted off the continent' as Sturgis so aptly put it.

After dinner, they took their drinks into the living room and settled in on the couch. As had become the norm in the past few days, Harm sat first and Mac immediately dropped herself practically in his lap. It was amazing to him how natural it felt to cuddle with Sarah Mackenzie. Hell, it amazed him that she knew how to cuddle. They sat in comfortable silence for a while, just enjoying each other's presence. Mac had the most adorable habit, in his opinion at least, of playing with his hands while they sat together. Sometimes he was pretty sure she didn't even realize what she was doing. He did though. It sent jolts of electricity up and down his arm every time she stroked his knuckles or laced their fingers together.

She was currently pressing his palm to hers, studying the difference in their sizes. She seemed so intent on her investigation that he was more than slightly startled when she suddenly jump-started their conversation.

"So, how do you like London so far?" she asked, never taking her eyes from their hands. "I mean, besides the fog and rain of course," she added with a smirk.

"You know, you'd think that living there wouldn't be much different from living here," he joked, bending his fingertips over her shorter ones before letting the digits slip to the side and lacing them through hers. "I mean, they speak the same language…theoretically at least." His wasn't an actual transfer as much as an extended TAD, working with young pilots, both American and British, training them in combat flying and ROE. Originally presented to him as a 10-month assignment, he was rather surprised that 14 months later, he was still in jolly ole England. Such is the unpredictable nature of war he supposed. Still, like he told Mac, it was fun to be around planes all day, even if he didn't go up as often as he'd like. He was surrounded by people who loved to fly just as much as he did. People with whom he could talk about planes for hours and they never got bored. And the excitement he saw in the faces of new recruits…it was absolutely priceless. Of course, being the one in charge instead of the one being chewed out wasn't so bad either.

"Sometimes though," he admitted to her, "I feel so incredibly old. I mean, some of these kids are half my age. They have fathers who I could have gone to high school with."

Giggling slightly, Mac responded, "I know how you feel. Despite my constant bitching when you first arrived, I really don't mind working with Vukovic, et al. It's fun to watch them learn the ropes. To see that glimmer in their eyes every time they get some new responsibility, or assignment. It was fun with Bud too." She sighed and leaned forward out of his embrace to pick up her glass of iced tea from the coffee table with the hand not currently incased in his. Setting it back down after taking a sip, she settled again with her back to his chest and continued. "But with Bud, there really wasn't much of an age difference. With this group there is an entire generation gap."

"OK, enough of this," Harm ordered with his best CO voice. "We're talking like we're old fogies. And we aren't. We are intelligent, exciting, desirable people." He proved his point by placing a kiss on the side of her neck, producing another giggle from Mac. One kiss became two, and before long, they were making out on the couch like, well, certainly not like old fogies.

When things suddenly became very intense, Harm stopped, pulled back and looked down at her face. Running his fingers across her brow and down over her slightly swollen lips, he sucked in a breath when she kissed his thumb. Apparently enjoying his reaction, she opened her mouth slightly and let the tip of her tongue caress it. Replacing his thumb with his lips, he pressed feather light kisses on each corner of her mouth, resulting in the most endearing smile he'd ever seen. Even through heavily lidded eyes, she must have understood the uncertainty she saw in his blue orbs. She would never know how perfect her answer to his unasked question was to him.

"I'm ready. Are you?"

There was no need for a verbal response from Harm. The look on his face as he took her hand and pulled her up and toward her bedroom was the only answer she needed.

Yeah, that had been a wonderful week leading to a year of outrageous phone bills, spontaneous visits, and conversations filled with past recriminations and future hopes. Harm had experienced more emotional ups and downs in the past thirteen months than in all of his forty years.

He wouldn't have traded those last thirteen months for anything

"Hey," her voice brought him back to the here and now. "Are you in uniform?"

"No," he answered, quickly looking down at himself. He was pretty sure he had changed before he left for Heathrow, but it was so long ago, and he was so tired, that he couldn't be sure until he glanced down at his jeans and t-shirt.

"Good," Mac sighed with relief, and if he wasn't imagining it, a small quiver in her voice. Now he was concerned.

"Why? What's wrong?" He sat up a little straighter and changed lanes to turn left into Dulles' short term parking garage. Traffic had started moving again right after his cell rang. He smiled, thinking that he had always known that she was his good luck charm.

"Nothing, nothing", she hurriedly assured him. "It's just that, well, if you're…we're in uniform then…it's just…."

"Mac, whatever it is you're trying to say can't be half as bad as what I could probably come up with on my own," especially given the last couple of weeks, he added silently before continuing out loud. "So why don't you put both of us out of our misery and just spit it out."

She chuckled a little then replied in an almost steady voice, "It's been a tough few days and I could just really use a hug sometime soon, ya know?"

"I'm looking for a spot now," he replied in a now somber tone. She needn't explain how badly she wanted to be held by him right now. He wanted to hold her just as desperately. "I have a hug on back order waiting just for you. Meet me at the baggage claim in ten. We're going straight to the hotel to shower and change. I told Bud and Harriet we would meet them at their place around twelve-thirty. I thought it might be good for us to spend some time with the kids before we go. We can ride together that way. I figured we will be with them all day and most of the night anyway. They've been carrying the brunt of all of this, so we should probably take over some of the load now that we're here. You know, help out with…whatever," his voice trailed off for just a split second before he continued. "Even if it's just with the kids, unless you don't feel up to it. Just let me know if you get too tired or start to feel bad. Or even if you just want to get away and go back to the hotel, just…."

"Harm!" He wasn't sure, but he thought he heard a slight smile in her voice when she finally put him out of his misery and cut off his embarrassing litany. "A hot shower sounds wonderful…of course we should probably share to conserve time." That time he was sure of the smile in her voice. "We do need to be at Bud and Harriet's pretty much all day and night and I would love to see AJ, Jimmy and the babies before we leave. If I get tired, I'll go lay down in the guest room or if I start to feel bad, I promise I'll let you know. Now take a deep breath, park the car and come get me outta here."

He was immediately both calmed and amazed at how the thought of seeing her, holding and touching her, made it so much easier to cope with everything that had been thrown at him…them…recently. It had been a month and a half since he'd hugged her and the last half of that separation had been pure torture. Six weeks was too long to be without her even under the best of circumstances. Hell, who was he kidding, six hours was too long.

"I love you, Sarah. I've missed you so much."

"Me too, Flyboy. Now, hurry that cute six up."

TBC