Here's the part that you guys are longing for! They meet. Woo Hoo!! And it will get better from here on out. One of their other meetings will be a little more... uh... "interesting." ;)

Bare with me a bit on details and errors, originaly it was set in San Diego and I decided to switch it at the last minute, so if something doesn't add up, please let me know. I tried to change what I needed, but things tend to slip past.

Other than that, all is semi-good in my life. I have a NEW CAR!!! Wooo Hoo!! A Chevrolet HHR in Orange. It's a kick ass little (or not so little) car that I am absolutely in love with. Stick shift and fun to drive and a gift from my father. A surprise gift, actually. Now I just have to Mod it a bit to make it more "original"

Besides that, I have a cold (YES AGAIN). Being in contact with so many people gets you sick a lot. I think I am going to switch my perfume from Victoria Secrets' Succulent to Lysol's Spray Sanitizer. Oh and I sprained my ring finger on my left hand. Yes, I am a walking train wreck! Woo Hoo! Anyway, enough about me! ;)

Enjoy!

Jackie

Chapter 3 – Dead Ringer
1340 Local
Bethesda Medical Center
Bethesda, Maryland

With a huff, Harm allowed the therapist, Caroline Spencer to settle him back into bed. "You did good, Commander. . .I suspect that Dr. Laughlin will have you out of here soon enough." Clearly not immune to his good looks, she smiled brightly. "I'll be sad to see you go." The continuous flirting was becoming quite annoying. Harm knew he was attractive, but also knew that women were more attracted to his uniform and gold wings. "You'll be up in front of that review board in no time."

"Oh, yeah. I bet they'll welcome me back with open arms." He said snidely, doubting very much that he'd ever get into the cockpit again. There were just too many variables and if Reaper's mother was as bad as his RIO had led him to believe, this was an uphill battle.

Nevertheless, his therapist was the chipper type – the kind that walked around with a grin permanently plastered to her face and a perkiness that stated she needed to switch to decaf. "Now, now, Commander, what was it that I said about positive thinking?"

Harm groaned in disbelief. If the woman gave him another lecture about her surreal life changes due to positive thinking, he was going to shoot himself. "Caroline, right now it's rather difficult to be positive. . .I don't know what's going on and. . ." He paused and breathed deeply. The agitation was hurting his ribs as he tried to control his breathing. "I. . .need. . .rest." He punctuated and leaned firmly into the pillows.

"Alright, I'll see you on Monday then. But don't get lazy over the weekend." She warned and bounded out of the hospital room and out to terrorize her next victim.

Breathing a sigh of relief, Harm turned to look out of the window and to the crystal blue skies. If the Patrick Henry were docking, he would have to miss the usual fly in as the pilots launched off of the carrier and landed at the base nearby. It was the common procedure as the carrier never came into port with its squadron on her. He loved those times, seeing all of the friends and family lining up to wait for their heroes. It gave him a sense of accomplishment that had never been surpassed by anything else in his life. Inside a cockpit is where he belonged, preferably with the Navy. It was a cinch that Clayton Webb was trying to use this accident to sway him into joining the CIA. The thought sounded more delectable as the lack of news on his situation grew.

Reaching for the remote, he hit the nurse's paging button and asked to be helped into a wheelchair. He could walk, but it was best for him not to strain himself, so he was wheelchair bound in an effort to keep pain and accidents at a minimum. Harm hadn't liked it at first but was soon seeing the advantages – ie. lack of pain. There was always a pretty nurse or two that would do the favor of wheeling him around Bethesda and down to the gardens that they had. It was his meditation area, a place where he could breathe and forget about the injuries and the mishap. (AN: Not a clue of Bethesda has gardens, but, author's privilege!)

Christ, the mishap. Accident. It didn't matter how 'accidental' it was, Harm still blamed himself. He'd had catscans, MRIs and even had his eyes checked to find that nothing was physically wrong. The ophthalmologist had suggested a temporary 'night blindness' of sorts that could have been caused due to high amounts of stress or a possible black out or GLOC, due to a G-Suit malfunction. A subsequent 'stress check' had found that all of the necessary stress hormones were through the roof. To Harm that seemed a normal occurrence. Find a pilot who wasn't slightly stressed and there you had a problem. The stress was part of the drive that kept them alive up there; and a massive ego to boot.

He pondered his situation as one of the nurses led him through the hospital and into the elevator on their way to the gardens. The Navy had yet to send someone who cared to hear his side of the story; what he remembered of it. Not even Kohanek had called to see how his star pilot was doing. The only ones that seemed to care were the other squadron members who'd called briefly to send their best wishes. Diane had called as well, stating that she'd be with him as soon as the Henry docked. He wasn't too sure he wanted her company, not after the lover's spat they'd had prior to the accident. "Thank you." He said to the nurse once she locked the chair and placed him in an area under a tree, amongst a rose garden. "Come back in an hour or so."

It had been an argument to see that they left him alone out there, but after much bickering and a threat of running off in the middle of the night, the staff had conceded. He breathed a sigh of relief when he found that he was all alone. Well, not completely alone he found as a woman in Marine greens began walking towards him. She looked familiar, shockingly familiar and when she stood a mere four feet in front of him Harm spoke the first thing that came to mind. "Why the hell are you wearing a Marine uniform?"

Mac glanced at the file in her hand and then back at the man she knew to be Lieutenant Commander Rabb. The petite nurse who had been exiting the gardens had confirmed it. It took a second or two to register his absurd comment. Self consciously, she glanced down at her uniform wondering if something was out of place. It briefly registered that maybe this guy was like most other members of the boys club – unyielding to the thought of women in the military. The idea made her angry and she shot back with a tone that dripped with sarcasm, something that she'd perfected through the years. "Because I am a Marine?"

The man didn't seem convinced and if the scowl was any indication, he definitely did not approve. Perturbed, Harm furled his brow. "Did you switch branches?" Had more time passed than he'd been led to believe? Diane's family bred sailors, there wasn't Marine green in sight.

The Marine was not amused. She glanced around expecting him to be speaking to someone else. Surely he wouldn't be addressing her. "Commander, if this is some sort of macho bullshit because the Navy sent a woman, I am not amused. . . .I'm Major Sarah MacKenzie, JAG Corps." Opting to put the last few minutes of awkwardness behind, she extended her hand and was a little off put when he didn't take it but merely laughed. Mac didn't find it funny. In fact, she was finding a way to wipe the smile from his face without warranting legal ramifications.

If this was Diane's idea of toying with him, he had to admit, she almost had him. "Funny. Diane. Who'd you swipe the uniform from?"

"Diane?" Mac asked, her brow rising in question. "Oh, yes." Okay, so she'd briefly forgotten her conversation with Bud about her 'twin.' Maybe she just didn't want to believe. From the look on the Commander's face, her protégé was not kidding. She wasn't too sure she enjoyed the thought of being someone's twin. "Commander, I'm sorry. ..I'm not Lieutenant Shonke." She fished through her purse finding her badge and JAG identification.

Harm took the badge and traded glances between the picture on the ID and the woman standing before him. He studied the Major and realized that it really wasn't Diane. At first glance, they were twins, same face, same height. But the Marine's hair had highlights, he noticed, despite it being mostly hidden under the garrison cap. Brown eyes looked down at him, but her facial expression was different than that which he was accustomed to. The Marine had lovely eyes, he hue of her iris' made them look like molten chocolate while Diane's were a little closer to black.

"Commander?" Her voice was different too, an octave deeper.

The parts of her that were not covered by her uniform disclosed olive colored skin which meant she was of Mid-Eastern decent. Diane was purely American with skin so white, she would burn more than tan when she sunbathed. After comparing both women's attributes, he found the Marine to be more attractive than her counterpart, a thought that bewildered and annoyed him. "I'm sorry, Major. . ." He trailed off and extended his hand in an effort to shake her own.

"MacKenzie." Mac said and shook his hand, feeling a strange sensation when they touched. They shook hands for a few more seconds, eyes locked with matching expressions of bewilderment. She reluctantly slipped her hand out of his and dropped her badge into her purse. "So, this Diane looks that similar to me?"

"Yes." He smiled charmingly and added, "I mean, sort of. . . The resemblance is uncanny." Minus the few pluses that MacKenzie had to offer. He also found that her breast were larger in comparison to Diane's. Of course, Marine uniforms were a little better tailored than. . . "Ugh." He shook his head at the thought. The last thing he needed at the moment was to be ogling a strange woman's breasts and comparing them to his former/current lover's who could have been her twin. "How'd you know about Diane?"

"A colleague of mine served with her." Mac pointed to a bench behind him. "May I?"

"Of course." He released the brakes and turned his wheelchair slightly, enough so that he could see the Marine. Harm found it a pity that she wasn't wearing a skirt. Something told him that with her gorgeous appearance she had a set of legs that would rival any models. "I assume that you're my lawyer?"

"I wouldn't quite put it that way as of yet. The Navy has just started to investigate. We've been backlogged and it just got to us now. I am sorry about that. Normally I would have done this much earlier." His frown indicated that the Commander wasn't too happy about the delay. For that matter, Mac wasn't either, it usually meant that people forgot things or, with improper motivation, recalled something they hadn't seen. "How are you feeling?"

Harm shrugged, the action causing him to wince slightly. "I hurt. . .My ribs are broken, I had a concussion and I woke up to find that my RIO is dead and I killed him." At least, that was how he felt, though Tuna, his bunkmate, had mentioned something about Reaper killing himself when he pulled the ejection handle.

Mac hated seeing the hurt in his sea green eyes and longed to take him in her arms and comfort him. 'Where the hell did that thought come from?' She gave herself a mental shake and proceeded with her job. "This is all off the records for now. I am just trying to gather enough intel to figure out how to help you best. . .Do you really believe you killed Lieutenant Mace?" She rather hoped that he didn't. For that matter, she really hoped that he hadn't done anything stupid to cause another man's death.

"I am the pilot in control of the aircraft. I crashed it and Jason died. . .Wouldn't you say that I killed him?"

"Commander. . ." She tried to interject but he stopped her.

"Harm." He corrected. If she was going to be delving into this painful part of his life, he preferred a little less formality.

Her brow rose in confusion. "I'm sorry?"

Offering a lopsided smile, he clarified. "Harmon Rabb Junior. . .that usually gets cut down to 'Harm.'" When her expression told him that she was unsure of the nickname, he added. "You're going to be poking and prodding through my life. . .I'd prefer it if you called me Harm."

Mac considered it for a moment. Despite her own beliefs and mantras about not getting too close to a client, she decidedly liked the concept of informality. "Alright, in that case call me Mac."

"Mac?" He questioned, curious why she hadn't asked him to call her Sarah. It was a beautiful name for an equally beautiful woman. 'Rabb! Get your head out of the gutter!' He reprimanded himself. Not that his mind was in the gutter, yet.

"Short for MacKenzie. . . My uncle gave me that name when I was little and it stuck during boot camp." She rather preferred the moniker, finding that most, especially men, gave her more respect as a Mac than a Sarah. She reached into her purse and pulled out a small writing pad and a pen. "Okay Harm, let's get down to it. . .What do you remember?"

He liked that tactic, it was much better than beating around the bush. Point and shoot usually worked the best with military types. Harm told his tale with as much details as possible, often pausing to clarify at point or two. All the while, Mac felt the despair and the pain as if he were the one living through it. No one should have had to go through such a mishap, especially at night, during a storm when visibility was so poor. "Reaper ejected.. I think the blow from the seat was what caused me to lose complete control of the stick. It came out of my hand. The next thing I know, I'm being hurled through the air and flying through a massive fireball. . . I don't remember hitting the deck but the doc crew said it was a miracle I didn't break my legs."

Mac jotted down the information as best as possible. "I am sorry to ask this, but it's standard procedure." She cleared her throat and sighed. "Was there anything that happened before the flight? Or a few days prior. Anything that stated you weren't mentally prepared?"

Harm sighed, if his bolter was anything to go by, maybe he shouldn't have been in the air. "I recently had a bolter. It isn't exactly detrimental; all pilots will eventually have one if not more." But it wasn't just the bolter. That little spat with Diane had wound him up considerably. Not to say that he was thinking about her in the cockpit because he wasn't, but it had depressed and angered him all at once and those feelings were better kept on the island and not behind the stick of a plane.

"Alright, I think that's enough for now." She placed the note pad into her purse and took the file in her hand. "I still need to question some of the Henry's crew, but I'll be in touch as information comes in." In the distance, thunder rumbled in the sky making her worry about his wheel chaired status. "May I help you inside?"

He cast a jaundiced eye to the heavens and sighed. Bad weather was starting to freak him out somewhat. The last few days when rain had blanketed Maryland, Washington and Virginia, each clap of thunder made him jittery. "Please, thank you." She took off the emergency breaks and wheeled him through the rose garden.

"It's beautiful out here." Mac commented, smiling as she passed through a pathway of bright yellow roses, fragrant, for once.

Harm agreed. "It is. . .I like to come out here to think. Being cooped up in a hospital room is no picnic."

"I can relate. When I was nineteen I was in a bad car accident and spent a little over a month recovering. I was going stir crazy." She kept the details of the accident to herself. It was unwise to tell a client too much about one's secrets. The last thing she wanted Harm to know was about her former drinking habits and how that had caused the death of a friend. She could fully comprehend how he would blame himself for Lieutenant Mace's death. Mac would always blame herself for urging Eddie to drive when he was just as drunk as she was. She rolled him through the hospital in silence until one of the nurses at her station took over the job for Mac. "It was nice to meet you, Commander." She smiled and was taken by the bright smile she received in return. 'Yup, there's that pilot smile.' And try as she might, Mac was still smitten by it.

Harm was equally smitten by Mac's smile and the way it lit up her eyes. She was genuinely glad to meet him and he only hoped that if the investigation progressed to something more serious that she would be in his corner. "It was nice to meet you too." And with that, she walked away.

Through most of the day he would find himself pondering the differences between Mac and Diane. To his surprise, Harm found himself anxiously awaiting the Marine's return.

1530 Local
JAG Headquarters
Falls Church, Virginia

"I went through the files as you asked, ma'am. Call me biased, but I think that Captain Kohanek may have doctored some of these. They are just too jumbled." Bud said and handed two folders to Mac. "The bottom folder contains the ones I believe to be genuine."

Mac smiled at her protégée, efficiency had always been one of Bud's strongest points. It allowed her to ignore his clumsiness at times as well as his adoration of little green men. "Thanks, Bud. I'll get right to these."

"Oh!" He exclaimed suddenly. "The Patrick Henry will be in port later this today. . .The powers that be decided to end the tour early. Apparently the damages sustained from the crash weren't able to be repaired at sea. I guess it's a good thing for the investigation."

'Good for the investigation, bad for the pilot.' Mac thought with a frown knowing that the time lost would also be pinned on Commander Rabb. . .

. . .Harm.

She rather liked that name, it suited him nicely. "You were right about Commander Rabb. He is a good guy."

Bud beamed at her comment. Both he and Ensign Harriet Sims, his wife, had similar feelings for the young pilot. He was one of the general 'good guys' and not so much a jerk like most pilots. "He is, ma'am. . . I really hope we can get him out of this bind."

Mac smiled at the thought. If Bud generally thought someone was a 'good guy' she had to believe him, the man had always been a good judge of character. Finally entering her office, Mac slid into her seat and opened up Harm's service record again. His eyes seemed so alive there, despite the black and white photo. The light seemed to have been turned off when she'd met him earlier.

Sighing, she placed his picture to the side and went through the incident report as filed by the LSO who had witnessed the crash.

2000 Local
Bethesda Medical Center
Bethesda, Maryland

"Ugh." Harm punched his pillow trying to get the lumps out which were causing his neck to ache. He'd been given some medication to help with the insomnia, but it wasn't doing squat. If anything, it left him more lethargic and susceptible to a bad night's sleep. He sighed and winced at the pain the sudden intake of air caused his ribs. "This sucks." He could only sleep on his back, something that was causing a dull ache to the area and a numbness to his butt. The pillows which the nurses shoved around and under him weren't helping much either. He kind of preferred the morphine drip which he'd been on the first few days. But then, the last thing he needed was to become an addict to pain medication, that wouldn't quite sit well with the review board.

Giving up on sleep, he glanced up at the ceiling and thought back to his meeting with Major MacKenzie. Mac. He wondered what she would think if he'd used her real name. "Sarah." It was a beautiful name that fit an equally beautiful woman. The likeness between Mac and Diane was uncanny. But his sudden fondness for the Marine wasn't something that he could indulge on. Much like Diane had been during their years at Annapolis, Mac was off limits. Life sometimes sucked.

A twinge of exhaustion lingered in the edges of his mind and Harm tried to take advantage of it, quickly cursing his inability to turn to his side. "I want my own bed!" He yelled and received an unexpected answer in return.

"With or without me in it?" A female voice said from the doorway and Harm did a double take. Damn, the women really were like twins, differences aside. He silently noted Diane's appearance, the casual clothing of dark blue jeans and a burgundy top which accentuated all of her best assets. She looked as beautiful and tempting as ripe fruit. But he wouldn't bite into that temptation again. Hopefully he'd become impervious to her seduction after their argument, though he very much doubted that he'd resist forever. "You don't look happy to see me." Diane pointed out and entered the room without invitation. She walked up to her former lover and traced her fingers along the contours of his face. "You look tired."

"I am tired." He stated and sighed deeply. Harm couldn't pretend that her touches weren't welcomed; they'd always been despite their rocky relationship. And it had been rocky. They'd made every mistake in the book including seeing other people which had been, in his opinion, the nail that had sealed the coffin for good. "You try sleeping with broken ribs and no morphine. It ain't no picnic." Harm didn't resist when she placed a soft kiss on his lips. Neither did he resist a fleeting thought of how Mac's lips would feel against his own. He frowned at the thought. It certainly wasn't a good thing to have the hots for your lawyer. That was just wrong on so many different levels. Wasn't it? "When did you dock?"

Diane slipped into the guest chair next to his bed but maintained a hand in his own. "Today. Apparently the ramp strike did a number on the ship that couldn't be repaired at sea. Kohanek decided to head home early."

Harm's brow rose in concern. "Two months early? That can't be good." It wouldn't be beneath Kohanek to blame him for having to head to port early. "They're gonna pin that on me."

"Probably. You know that Kohanek doesn't like anyone." Diane wasn't anything if not direct, something that Harm had usually liked, but he preferred if she'd sugar coated his current predicament. "It'll be alright. Have you talked to a lawyer yet?"

"Earlier today, yeah." He grinned at the thought of torturing Diane with the notion of her 'twin.' "She looks like you." She countered with a confused expression. "I mean it, Di. She could be your twin."

She leaned forward and brushed a hand over his forehead. "Just how hard did you hit your head?"

Harm brushed away her hand. "I mean it. She. Looks. Like. You." He punctuated then raised his brows as if trying to make a point.

Diane still glanced at him unsurely, the thought of having a twin wasn't exactly a pleasant one. "How much like me?"

"Well." Harm thought for a moment, conjuring up an image of the Marine Major that made him smile a smile that did not please the Lieutenant sitting before him. "If you two were side by side, I am sure there are a few differences. . .But, you could be her twin, Di." He seemed fascinated by the thought and not because of some secret, male fantasy. Harm honestly wondered if there was a connection between the families. Twins torn apart at birth? It wasn't a far stretch, however, "Your voices are different. The Major's a bit deeper. Her eyes are different from yours, like melting chocolate. Oh, and she has to have some Mid-Eastern blood in her. . There's a tint to her skin that. . .What?" He stopped mulling over the differences when he caught her sickened expression.

Diane cleared her throat and leaned into the chair. She took her hand with her, removing it from his hand where it was laying and onto her lap. "Oh, nothing. . .It's just the first time that you give me such details about a girl."

The fact that she was starting to turn green amused Harm. Jealousy was always a nasty shade on Diane and though she liked to play the field while playing with him, it always bothered her to know of his conquests. "The Major," He annunciated Mac's rank keeping it as impersonal as his meeting with her truly was, "is not some girl, Di. . .She's a lawyer and if scuttlebutt is true, she's a hardass with one hell of a track record."

"Mmmm. Well, this Major has you flustered." Though she would have never admitted to being jealous, Diane had other ways to play the game and Harm was her favorite partner to play with. "Don't try to deny it, Rabb. I know you too damned well. I know that look."

Alright, so he'd found the Major attractive, was he not allowed to look? "The Major was hot, yeah. And yes, I was flustered, more out of thinking that it was a prank from you."

Diane chuckled at the thought. "Oh, I wished I'd have thought of something like that. . .Lord knows I owe you from all of the crap you and your little boys club pulled at Annapolis." She fell silent for a moment, her thoughts a whirlwind and pointed at the Marine who, apparently, had her face. She knew Harm better than anyone and the expression on his face when he spoke about the other woman worried Diane. Unsure why, she sighed deeply in contemplation. Over a month ago she was putting an end to their relationship and now, she found herself wanting to be around him again.

The breakup was something that she'd seen coming since they had decided to become a couple. Exclusivity never appealed to her as she felt too young to be tied down to one man. Then, there was the ramifications of work and how that would impact them being on the same cruise. She wasn't ready to give up the Navy for Harm or anyone else. Harm, himself, had changed drastically and gone from somewhat of a playboy to more of a serious relationship kind of guy. It was nauseating to her and his romantic overtures made her want to slap him. She missed his adolescent version, the one that had tried anything under the sun to get into her pants. Things were much simpler when she'd had the power to turn him into a sap with just one look. After she'd finally let him sleep with her things had gone down hill in her book. They were at a status quo and though Harm never did anything to either hurt her or the relationship, she despised losing that control over him and decisively turned into a bitch.

Things were never the same since. Sure, they dated, slept together and, when she was at her most needy, actually seemed serious, but it never progressed. At least she had that little bit of control over him, something that she'd coveted. Now, it looked as if she'd be losing that too unless she could find a way to return to him.

"You need help." Diane stated knowing that she was right on the money. "It's going to be hard for you to get around for a while and you'll need someone to take you to therapy." He made to argue and she stopped him quickly. "Really, Harm. I know you want to get up in an F-14 again and the only way to do that is to have someone to help you finish your rehab." Diane knew that the way to this man's heart was through a plane and she wasn't afraid to use that little tidbit. "You get some rest, okay? I'll be back soon. I just need to grab a few things and straighten up my place." She leaned over and placed a kiss on his forehead. "While I'm at it, I'll pass by yours, check the mail, water the plants."

"I don't have any plants." He argued just for the sake of argument. Diane was a handful at times but never more so than when she bulled her way into his personal space. She was good at it and though, in the past, it was a trait that he'd found amusing, now it was downright irritating. "And you don't have to bother with the mail, mom's. . ."

"Harm! Your mother has a successful gallery back home to run. She can't be at your beck and call forever. . .Now, I'm going to give her a call and have her give me the keys and let her know that she can go back home. I'll take care of you."

He drowned out anything else she could possibly say and cringed at the thought of Diane discussing anything with his mother. Trish never liked the woman and made it abundantly clear the last time he'd attempted to bring her to dinner. She'd pulled him outside when Diane went to use the head, 'Harmon. . You know I've never really had a say about your girlfriends, but that woman – I have a feeling about her and it's not a good one.' Up until that evening, Trish had been longing to spend time with the Diane that her son wrote about from Annapolis. She waited nearly a decade and what she'd found wasn't something to be pleased at. Diane seemed nice enough but upon conversation, Trish felt that the woman had her heart in the wrong place when it came to her son. There was a mirth to the control that she held over him which was disguised with a damsel-in-distress façade. Ever since, she forbade Harm to bring her home again and hoped that her son would wise up and find someone worthwhile.

Trish had mentioned it all in nauseating detail to him, making the thought of Diane phoning a disagreeable one. "Diane. . .Don't call mom, please. She's really taking this hard and feels that she needs to be there for me. Don't take that away from her." He tried to sound genuine despite the fact that he'd asked his mother not to fuss so much over him. Now, it seemed like he was willing to trade the fussing over the reaming she'd offer once she new Diane was back in the picture. "Look, I am sleepy. We'll talk another time."

Diane knew a brush off when she heard one. "Oh, okay." Disappointment tainted her tone and as she stood she tried the 'female pouting' which normally had devastating effects on the opposite sex. "If you don't want me to help. . ."

Harm, for once, was not buying it. "Everything is fine, Di."

She bit her cheek against saying something potentially snarky. Instead, Diane moved forward and planted a kiss on Harm that would have woken a dead man. She broke away with a lick to his lips. "That's just a little something to remind you of what you're missing until you get better." With that, she turned and walked out of the room, swaying her hips suggestively.

"Damn." He wasn't going to pretend that the kiss didn't mean something to him. Diane had a way of seducing him like no one's business. However, his mind briefly flashed back to Mac and a curiosity of how her lips would feel on his own fluttered in his mind again.