Giving it a Try

by byrhthelm

All it takes is one answer to one question to change lives. H. Rabb & C. Gale - Complete

5. Chapter 5

5

Harm checked his appearance in the mirror, the mid tan suit - one of his Italian jobs, he smiled at his nickname for it - with the white shirt and dark tie, shoes polished, not to a navy spit shine, that would have been ostentatious, but sufficiently well for the day. A garment bag hung over the arm of the couch, a piece of furniture that had tortured his back on more than one occasion, but now an item that since Catherine had taken to sitting on it with him, was rapidly becoming his favourite seat. His go-bag, with jeans, T-Shirt and sneakers was on the floor by the apartment door. He checked his watch, it was time; he couldn't procrastinate any longer. Picking up both bags, he took the elevator downstairs, and stowing the bags in his Lexus, climbed into the driver's seat and with a pang took the well-remembered route to Falls Church.

Arriving at the marine security details CP caused a further stab of embarrassment as he painstakingly filled in the log and received his Visitor's badge. Pinning that little piece of plastic to his lapel brought for some reason he couldn't quite identify, a sensation of shame. Taking the elevator, he rose to the Ops level and made his way around the edge of the bull-pen heading towards Court Room 3 and almost ran straight into Jennifer Coates.

Jen's face split in a huge smile, "Good morning, sir! It's good to see you again!"

Harm smiled back, he liked the lively young petty officer, and was happy to see her apparently so settled in at Falls Church. "Well, good morning Jennifer, it's good to see you too!"

Jennifer, unsure of the reason for the Commander's presence said tentatively, "The Admiral's at his desk, sir. I'll let him know you're here."

The smile left Harm's face as he started to turn away from Jen, "That won't be necessary, Jennifer."

"Sir, I believe it is necessary. You two need to talk!"

"I have nothing to say to the Admiral," Harm told her as he finished his turn to find himself almost face to face with the admiral who was passing on his way between his office and the galley.

Jen could feel, she could almost see the tension between the two men as their eyes met briefly and they exchanged nods that barely acknowledged the other's existence, and as they passed out of her line of sight, her shoulders drooped with disappointment and a frustrated, whispered, "Dammit!" found its way through her lips.

Harm made his way along the hallway to courtroom 3 where he had his named checked off on the witness list by the Marine Corps MP, and took a chair while he waited to be called to the stand. He was not kept waiting long, it seemed that he was the only witness being called today. The MP opened the door for him and he walked down the aisle between the twin banks of sets until he was met by the familiar figure of the court bailiff who administered to Harm the oath that he had heard so many thousands of times that he could have repeated it in his sleep.

Harm took his place on the witness stand and unbuttoned his jacket as Mac stood to begin her questions, "Mr Rabb," her address, accurate though it was caused Harm a further pang, "What is your assessment of Commander's Imes' legal abilities?"

"Outstanding," Harm was determined to give the simplest, least ambiguous answers he could.

"And of her character?" Mac pursued.

"Impeccable."

"Do you consider her a friend?"

Harm thought for a couple of seconds. He didn't dislike Carolyn Imes, but neither had he ever felt the need to seek her company on either a professional or personal basis, "I consider her to be a respected colleague," he answered the question.

Mac nodded non-committally, "Thank you, Mr Rabb. No further questions." She finished her examination and took her seat.

Judge Morris looked across at the prosecution table, "Commander Turner?" he prompted.

"Mr Rabb," Sturgis came to his feet and in a no-nonsense voice began his cross-examination, "did you take an oath when you were certified to try Courts-Martial, under Article 27b?"

"I did," Harm affirmed, and he felt a chill, he thought he had identified Sturgis' strategy and if he was correct, then there was only one possible outcome to this line of questioning.

"What was that oath?" Sturgis asked.

This was another oath that Harm knew by heart, "To faithfully perform the duties of counsel in any court-martial for which I was detailed, so help me God."

"So, Commander Imes lied to her God, as well." Harm could already detect an undercurrent of triumph in his friend's voice. And he didn't like it. Sure, Turner had the responsibility to do his best to convict the accused, and although his face was customarily mask-like and difficult to read, he seemed to be taking a little too much pleasure in doing his duty.

"Well I'm not really qualified to answer that question, Commander, and neither are you qualified to ask it." Harm tried not to let disapproval into his voice.

Turner seemed however to pick up on Harm's irritation and merely gave a half-smile before continuing, "Did you take that oath seriously?"

"I did."

"And did Commander Imes take a similar oath?"

"I presume so." Harm replied.

"Do you believe that violation of such an oath is Conduct Unbecoming?"

Harm winced inwardly. This was the killer question, desperately he tried a deflection, "Well that's for Judge Morris to determine, isn't it?"

"Answer the question, please!" Sturgis rapped back at him.

Harm drew a breath, there was only one possible answer he could give, and that answer would blow Carolyn Imes' defence clean out of the water, he looked at Mac whose shoulders dropped as she recognised the inevitability of his response, and at Carolyn who tightened her lips and appeared to turn a little paler, and he looked at Sturgis, trying to convey his feelings of the moment. But the moment could not be delayed, "Yes," he replied.

"So," Sturgis Turner continued in a voice full of satisfaction at having gained the answer he wanted, "so all of her fitness reports were based on a lie, a fraud, they count for nothing?"

Bud Roberts, sitting second chair for the defence was instantly on his feet, "Objection! Argumentative!" he exclaimed.

Turner didn't wait for Judge Morris' ruling, as he turned back to his seat, "Withdrawn. No further questions."

Dismissed from the witness stand, Harm had no wish to hear Carolyn Imes' fate decreed. He had been called as a witness for the defence, but Turner's questions had forced answers from him that had destroyed Carolyn's future, at least as far as the navy was concerned. He could only hope that her fourteen years of exemplary service and the outstanding fitness reports she had received would go some way in mitigating her sentence.

Crossing the bull-pen again on his way back to the elevator he again locked eyes with the admiral, this time as he was speaking with Jennifer Coates in the Yeoman's cubby-hole that led to the JAG's office. Again Jen caught the tension between the two men, and drew a deep breath, knowing that this would be the last time she could get away with interfering in whatever had gone wrong, that is if she could get away with this time. Letting her breath out, she looked pleadingly at the admiral and said urgently, "Admiral, talk to him!"

The admiral, glared at her. The same glare that had made four-ring captains blench, "Petty Officer, you're not going to make me sorry I made you my Yeoman, are you?"

Jen gulped, "I can't promise you that, sir." Her knees were shaking, and she could feel herself trembling, and oh, damn! she knew, she just knew what was going to happen next.

Chegwidden growled, almost snarled, at her, "Petty Officer, you are flirting with in... "

Damn! It was happening, Jen couldn't stop herself, try as she might. Once her nerves had completely taken over her body there was nothing she could to prevent herself, "Insubordination, sir?"

Chegwidden looked at her, a stunned expression on his face, "Do you think I am incapable of finishing a..."

Jennifer groaned silently, she was going to do it again, "Sentence? Sorry, sir. Bad habit." She tried to apologise, and she could feel the tears building up behind her eyes.

Chegwidden ignored her attempt at an apology and ground on, "I do not want..." and he paused almost as if giving Jen the chance to hang herself. Fortunately she had now regained a fraction of control, as the admiral continued, "to hear what you say."

" Yes, sir."

"Not one word." The Admiral turned away from his Yeoman, and crossed his arms on his chest, adopting a posture that even Jen recognised as signalling a closed mind.

"No, sir,"

The admiral's voice growled on remorselessly, "I am not interested in you taking the Commander's side, or if you think I should take him back. I am not interested if... if you think I'm being unreasonable, or... or pig-headed, or... or unfair!

Jen replied, "No, sir. There's no need for that. Because you already know it. Sorry, sir!"

Chegwidden spun back to face her, his hands dropping to his sides and his face working in anger. Admiral and Yeoman stared at each other in disbelief. The one not believing what he had heard, the other not believing the words that had come out her own mouth. They stood facing each other for long seconds, rising fury in one matched by rising fear in the other.

After what seemed a lifetime to Jen, the admiral turned away from her and reaching through his open office doorway, he retrieved his coat and cover from the rack and said still in a growl, "You know, Petty Officer, people don't like to be 'handled'."

"Yes, sir." Jen quavered.

"So if you do it, you damned sure better be right." Chegwidden drew a deep breath and then exhaled noisily, but when he finished his sentence it was in an almost inaudible mutter, "As you were this time."

The irate flag-officer strode out across the bull-pen almost cannoning into Mac, who had left the courtroom just in time to overhear the close of the argument between Jen and the admiral, and like the two principals she too could hardly believe what she had heard. This was exactly the sort of thing against which she had cautioned Jen just the other day, dammit! Entering Jen's cubby-hole, she found the younger woman, slumped back with her butt against her desk-edge and her head bowed, her hands covering her face.

Jen appeared to be trembling violently, and Mac asked her in a voice full of concern, "Jen are you alright?"

Jen dropped her hands to reveal an ashen face and eyes flooded with unshed tears, "No, ma'am, she gulped, "I... I think... I feel like I'm going to burst into tears, any second... or I'm going to hurl." She turned even whiter and whispered, "I think... I'd better cut along to the head, ma'am."

"I'll walk with you," Mac comforted the younger woman.

x-x-x-x-x

Rear Admiral A J Chegwidden had stormed out the JAG Headquarters, barely acknowledging the salutes of the marine sentries, and climbed into the driver's seat of his black Ford Expedition, his peel out of the parking lot, leaving a trail of burned rubber behind him was more than sufficient to cause raised eyebrows on the faces of those who witnessed his abrupt departure. Dammit! He didn't want Rabb back, but it looked like he needed him! Since his departure six months ago, the whole of JAG Ops had been on a slippery slope. Despite counselling and minor punishments, the work rate had dropped, deadlines were missed, cases weren't been prosecuted or defended to the standards he expected, and his senior staff weren't performing up to their capabilities. Look at Imes! For fourteen years she'd had everybody fooled. She'd done good work, but once her deceit was uncovered, he'd had no choice but to suspend and then charge her. Turner, always a stickler for the rules had suddenly become a martinet, seeming to lose all human compassion in a drive to more strictly adhere to the letter of the law. And Colonel MacKenzie, despite her protests to the contrary was obviously still suffering from the effects of whatever she'd gone through down in South America, witness that extraordinary display of temper in his office yesterday! No, much as he disliked the idea, he needed a lawyer of Rabb's proven ability and an officer with his leadership skills to weld the crowd of individuals that worked at JAG back into a cohesive unit.

Still, now the young hothead had had six months in the wilderness, he should welcome the chance to get back into uniform and finish his twenty, and perhaps he had also learned a much needed lesson in humility! But, it was still going to be a ticklish job, and turning up wherever in Dress Blues was not going to make this unofficial approach to official business very unofficial.

That decision made he turned towards his home in McLean, where he quickly changed into casual civilian cloths and stopped. He had no idea where to find Rabb, but if he didn't there was still one member of his staff who should know! Picking up his phone, he speed-dialled a certain number and waited, four rings later a voice on the other end of the 'phone answered, "Lieutenant Roberts, how may I help you?"

"Roberts, this A J Chegwidden. Where can I find Rabb at this time of day?"

"Uh, if he's not home sir, then he should be at Grace Aviation at Charlottesville-Albemarle Airfield, sir. That's..."

"Thank you Roberts, I know where Charlottesville is!"

It was almost an hour and a half later when Chegwidden drew up outside the hanger marked as Grace Aviation's. He climbed out of the driver's seat and wandered, unquestioned, into the hangar where a couple of overall-clad mechanics were doing whatever mechanics did to light airplanes, and where Rabb, clad in black T-shirt and jeans listening with every evidence of enjoyment, to a story being told to him by a young teenage girl, who alternated her sentences with gulps from a soda-can, as Chegwidden drew near enough to hear, she was saying excitedly, "So they opened the doors at both ends of the hanger, and Uncle Vic flew right through!"

Rabb chuckled before asking "Upside down?"

"Damn straight!" the copper-haired girl declared, her eyes shining at the memory of the event she had witnessed.

"Your uncle was a pretty crazy guy!" Rabb told her, shaking his head slightly, still not quite sure whether or not to believe her almost incredible story.

"Hell, you oughta know!" Chegwidden's voice coming so unexpectedly from behind him, effectively wiped the grin from Rabbs face. Half turning towards his former Commanding Officer, he waited until Chegwidden spoke again, "How are you, Commander?"

Harm turned back towards Mattie, the title 'commander' had set off all sorts of alarm bells for the young girl. Straightening up, she placed the soda-can on the work bench behind her and her hands hanging by her side she awaited developments.

When Harm spoke, she thought she detected just a slight note of mockery in his voice, "Well, A J I'm fine, and it's not 'Commander' any more, is it?"

Chegwidden sucked his teeth and pretended an interest in the airplane in front of him. "Force of habit," he admitted gruffly. Even through her sudden concern Mattie noted that neither man was facing the other, nor were they were talking except by throwing their comments backwards over their shoulders.

"How about a drink?" Chegwidden offered.

Rabb considered for a moment or two, as invitations went, he thought, A J's wasn't very inviting, "You buying?" he asked

Chegwidden paused in his turn for a moment before proposing "Dutch treat?"

More silent moments passed as Harm and Mattie exchanged a long look, Mattie's face was almost unreadable as she re-erected her walls against what she was sure was going to be yet another person walking right on out of her life, just when she was beginning to trust him enough to let him get close to her. Harm seemed to see, or perhaps feel her doubts, and pulling a wry grin, that somehow conveyed reassurance, he turned towards Chegwidden and said "fine."

Chegwidden took an openly disparaging look around the hangar and with disapproval of what he saw writ large on his face looked at Rabb and as he strolled towards the hangar entrance demanded, "What exactly do you do around here?"

"Crop dusting," Harm replied, with just a touch of defiance.

"H'mm, enjoy it?" challenged Chegwidden.

"It pays three hundred a day," Mattie contributed, stepping forward and ironically, Harm noted, assuming the same braced arm position against a work bench that the admiral used so successfully to intimidate his subordinates.

Chegwidden ignored the youngster and as the two men continued their slow walk towards the entrance, with Mattie trailing a pace or to in their rear, he asked Harm, "Well, don't you think this is a waste of your talents?"

Harm pulled a face of disagreement, "No. I work my own hours, I don't have to wear a suit and tie, and I like my boss."

Mattie had been seriously annoyed by Chegwidden ignoring her and interrupted their conversation, "Harm, is this bald guy the jerk who fired you?" she stared contemptuously at the older of the two men.

Chegwidden, directly challenged could no longer ignore the teenager, and stopped to face her, "I... uh... didn't really fire him... I just... I... just didn't ask him back." He tried to simplify what was after all a horrendously complicated situation.

"Yeah?" Mattie's tone was as loaded with cynical scepticism as only a fourteen-year-old girl's tone could be, "Well 'round here, we call that 'fired'."

Exasperated by Mattie's tone as well as by her question, Chegwidden glared at her, "And you are...?"

Unfazed by his expression, Mattie thrust out her hand, "I'm Mattie Grace, Harm's new boss," she explained.

Somehow Chegwidden found himself taking Mattie's hand in his own as he acknowledged her introduction, but turned a frankly doubtful face towards Harm, "She's kidding - right?"

"Nope," Harm shook his head enjoying the perplexed look on Chegwidden's face, "Mattie does the paperwork and runs the day to day operations for Grace Aviation."

"So, now you're working for a little girl, humph!" Chegwidden's disgust was all too apparent as he headed for his Expedition. Harm and Mattie exchanged a loaded look until Harm made to follow Chegwidden to give him directions, when he was topped by Mattie's voice. "I'll see you on Monday, right?"

Harm stopped and looked at her. He could see the fear on her face and in her eyes, which were bright with excess moisture. He smiled at her reassuringly once more and said, "Bright and early".

"You've got the Barrow farm," she told him earnestly, desperately trying to hold back her fears and tears until she was alone. There's a nasty cross-wind and high tension wires at the west end..."

Harm grinned at her again and winked encouragingly as he waved at her, "See you, boss!"

Harm didn't particularly want a drink with Chegwidden, but he wanted to know how the man he'd served under and respected for so long could suddenly have performed a complete about-face and changed so drastically. And he wanted to know why the Admiral hadn't let him go after Mac; he wanted, no, he needed an explanation.

It took only a couple of minutes to reach the little bar on the side of the road. Parking their cars, and carefully not speaking to each other, they entered the bar, and while the admiral headed for the bar, Harm staked a claim on the temporary possession of a table by the simple expedient of dropping his ball-cap on it, and then moving towards the dartboard while waiting for Chegwidden to be served. By the time Chegwidden arrived with the two beers, Harm had the last of a flight of three darts in his hand, and pretended to be absorbed in the game.

"Thought it was time we had a talk," AJ said as he put the two bottles on the table.

"Thought we'd done our talking," Harm responded, launching the last dart at the board.

"So did I, turns out there's more to say."

"Well, I can't imagine what that would be," Harm said, bitterly, as he walked from the ocke to the board, not a bad score he told himself, two triple twenties and a single that was only just outside the triples bed, for a score of one hundred and forty.

Chegwidden watched Harms performance with exasperation, "God, you're damned annoying,"

Harm turned away from the dartboard to look at Chegwidden, "Is that what you drove a hundred miles to tell me?"

"That's part of it," Chegwidden made the effort to keep his voice neutral.

"Well I'm also, and here I am paraphrasing," Harm said in a voice dripping with sarcasm, "not a team player and controlled by my emotions."

Chegwidden grunted, he'd known that that conversation was going to come up. But dammit, he'd been right then and he was right, now.

"All that's true."

Chegwidden's uncompromising statement, or the flat tone in which it was delivered, ignited an anger in Harm. An anger that he thought he had mastered months ago, and although he was shocked to find it still there within him, the glow gave him a fierce satisfaction. Abandoning the dartboard he sat opposite Chegwidden and for the first time that afternoon confronted him face to face...

"Look, why are you here, Admiral? What'd you come looking for absolution? Did you come to gloat?" Harm asked, no longer caring what his tone was, or what it might be revealing, "Or you just want to ride in an airplane?"

Chegwidden's had had enough for the day with being spoken to like that, and he felt his own temper slipping, "You're bordering on insubordination, Rabb."

"I'm a civilian now, A J. I'm not in your Navy." Again it was something he thought he'd gotten over, but he hadn't; it too had been coiled, lying in wait, but unlike his anger, this hurt he'd thought gone these many months left him with a chill and a bitterness that surprised him with its intensity.

Chegwidden stood, frustrated by the seeming impossibility of getting through the younger man. Cutting to the chase, he braced his arms on the chair-back, "All right, here it is. As you know, the Imes debacle has forced us to review over two hundred cases, in many of which you were involved. And you did some...damn fine lawyering." He shook his head, how the hell had things between them gotten this bad? "Now you're a crop duster."

"I'm good at that, too," Harm replied in a flat voice, throwing Chegwidden a curve ball in a bid to unsettle the older man. Chegwidden knew what Harm was about, and he wasn't prepared to let him see that his ploy had rocked his former CO.

"I might consider asking SecNav to reinstate your commission and take you back at JAG, under the right circumstances," he suggested, working to get the conversation going back in a direction he wanted.

Harm crossed his arms over his chest, "I'm listening."

"Harm, it's time to stop being Peter Pan, the boy who likes to fly and never grew up," AJ stated bluntly. "You're not going to have the life that you want until you learn to take responsibility for your actions. Not at work, not with women, not in any facet of your life."

Harm stared at him for a moment, amazed at the other man's nerve. What gave him the right to make judgments about his life, especially his relationships?

"You know what, A J? You don't have any idea what you're talking about," he replied in a dangerously low voice, "You think I haven't taken responsibility for my relationships? You think my relationships are some kind of childish whim, and I'll just fly away as soon as I get bored, or it gets too hard?" he asked, his voice and his anger steadily rising. "Well, I have news for you. It's been pretty damn hard the last six months. It's been pretty hard for the last eight years. But I'm still here. So don't tell me I haven't taken responsibility, and don't presume that you know what kind of life I want

"And what about the rest? What about your career?" Chegwidden countered, "You gonna spend the rest of your life dusting crops for a mouthy teenager? Is that what you want?"

"No, that's not what I want," Harm retorted his voice shaking with anger. "You want me to admit that? Fine, I admit it. What I wanted was to be at JAG, to be in the Navy, to serve my country."

"Really?" Chegwidden responded icily, and abandoning all pretence of keeping his temper as the conversation reached what he felt was its climax. "You could have fooled me."

"Damn it, Admiral!" Harm yelled standing so abruptly that his chair skittered across the wooden floor, as his actions drew stares from the bar's other customers. "What the hell do you want from me?"

"I want you to look at your life!" Chegwidden snapped, walking around the table and intruding into Harm's personal space. "I want you to accept responsibility for your actions! I want you to realize that this life that you have is the life you created. All of it, Harm. Not just the good, but the bad, too." He stepped back, and breathing hard made an effort to control his anger. When he had taken a few deep breaths, he continued at a lower volume, "You blame me for the loss of your career. You were the one who chose to resign, but you still think it's my fault that you're out here today. Why is that?"

"Because you were the one who forced me to resign in the first place," Harm replied, his voice returned to its menacing low pitch, "You could have granted me leave. You could have given me a chance..."

"A chance?" AJ interrupted Harm in open disbelief, "Exactly how many more chances do you want me to give you? How many COs would have let you off as easily as I did when you fired a weapon in open court? How many COs do you think would have given you leave to go to Russia to find your father, much less send your partner with you to watch your six? How many COs would have danced to your tune when you two-stepped around your designators? How many COs would have ignored the resignation you handed in to go look for Sergei? How many COs would have turned a blind eye when you disobeyed direct orders so you could stay with Bud? You don't have any idea how many chances I gave you. How many things I ignored or swept under the rug so that you wouldn't lose your career; so that the Navy wouldn't lose a fine officer. And how did you repay me for that? By lying, by keeping secrets, by making yourself look so damn guilty and creating such a mess that I had to order everyone else to stay away just to keep from making it worse."

He glared at Harm, "What makes you think you deserved any more chances?"

For a long moment, Harm didn't say anything, and then his own voice back at low pitch he replied, "Firstly, I'll accept that in the Singer case, I kept secrets that perhaps in retrospect I shouldn't have; but Loren's attempted murder was due in some measure to her desire to protect those secrets. I felt that I could do no less than respect her wish for privacy! And yes, maybe I should have been more open about my suspicions regarding Sergei's possible involvement, but if it had been your brother, would you have mentioned his name unless you were absolutely certain? No, don't bother, your face tells me the truth. Ah, yes the truth. Secretive I may have been A J, but I did not lie. Not once during that investigation did I lie! As for why I should maybe have been cut a little more slack? I don't know. Oh, wait, maybe because I was willing and happy to help a distraught father rescue his only daughter from a bunch of kidnappers with possible ties to Middle eastern extremists, or maybe it was because I had been encouraged not to be a team player, to be the Lone Ranger, by twice being sent off round the world to retrieve captured aircraft and organise jail breaks for their pilots, no, wait again, make that two aircraft and three jail breaks. Or maybe being sent on a so-called diplomatic mission into a country where for all everyone here knew that I was wanted as a fugitive. Tell me A J, when I flew into China with Tom Boone, if I had been arrested as a wanted criminal by the Chinese, would you, would anyone here have lifted a finger to help me? Or would you have shrugged your shoulders and said it was just the price I had to pay for screwing up?"

Chegwidden was thrown on the defensive by Harm's unexpected counter attack. He expected to come here, give Rabb a chewing out and then have the younger man accept his job offer with gratitude, not to have Rabb turn on him with as much bitterness as he had. "Of course we would have got you out, Harm! You know that!"

"No, A J. I don't know that. Looking back over the last year, you turned your back on your SEAL code three times that I know of - you remember that code 'never leave a man behind'? Come on A J, you must remember that, after all it wasn't all that long ago when I defended a SEAL for standing by that code. You say that you went out on a limb for me? Like hell you did. When NCIS came after me, you pushed me out on that limb and then you handed them a saw! You just told me; you just admitted to me, that it was by your orders that I wasn't permitted contact with my friends for the entire month I was in the brig. Why was that, Admiral, did you believe I was guilty? You must have done, otherwise how can you account for your decisions. Where was the attorney of my choice? Oh, yes, that's right I wasn't allowed one was I? I wasn't allowed my right to choose my defence council. Instead I was allocated an anally retentive incompetent with OCD who couldn't even start her day unless she had exactly the right number of properly sharpened pencils in her briefcase. How did she ever win a case? Let alone nine! Were they all slam dunks? Because as far as I could tell her legal skills were zero, and her strategy for my defence was to stand up and say 'my client says he's not guilty, the defence rests'.

I sat in that court and knew that innocent or not, that I was going to be found guilty. And you know something, I had got to the stage where when they found me guilty, I was going to ask for the death penalty. Surprised are you? Well think it through, how long do you think I would have survived in Leavenworth? At least with the death penalty, I would have known when and how it was coming, and I might even have got a decent meal out of it, instead of having to stay awake every second of every hour of the day and night, just waiting for Clark Palmer or someone like him to decide it was time I died."

"And tell me something else A J, with NCIS so fixated on me, that they never even considered an alternative suspect, where was the parallel independent JAGMAN investigation, or even a shared investigation with NCIS? Were you really so convinced I was guilty, that you couldn't even be bothered to make the effort to see if there was at least one other viable suspect? I hear Gibbs claims credit for solving the case. But at the time the case was solved, he was out of the country playing, oh, what was it called, oh, yes. Lone Ranger, and it was a junior agent and their forensics genius who finally figured out that I wasn't guilty, and even then you were reluctant to dismiss the charges until Loren recovered enught o identify Lindsey!"

"But even if I didn't deserve another chance, Mac did. How could you let her die just because I'd screwed up? How could you leave her behind on a Mission, a CIA mission, not a JAGMAN investigation, that she agreed to go on because you endorsed it. A mission that was so badly planned, that it went belly up almost as soon as it landed in country. Did Webb lie to you, or did you even bother to find out what his plan B was? Webb's back up plan was exactly what you took exception to. His back-up plan was to have me charging in like the cavalry and save the day. Did he tell you that? Did you tell Mac that?"

This was the crux of the matter, Chegwidden thought, no matter how screwed Harm and Mac's relationship was at the moment, it was Mac's danger that had drawn Harm into all this, "Harm, do you really think that I didn't care if she lived or died?"

"I don't know," Harm answered thoughtfully, "But thinking about it, no, I don't think you cared. Actions speak louder than words. You had abandoned to me to face death in Leavenworth, why would I think you wouldn't abandon Mac to be killed in Paraguay?" He saw the hurt in the admiral's eyes, but he didn't care "A year ago, I wouldn't have believed it, but now..." he shrugged. Now came the question that he wasn't sure he wanted to ask, because he wasn't sure he wanted to know the answer, but he had pressed too hard not ask now, "So, why A J? Why wouldn't you let me go? What possible reason could you have for not wanting me to save her?"

The Admiral dropped his eyes and scrubbed his hands over his scalp, "You want the truth?" he asked when he could no longer delay, Harm nodded. Chegwidden sighed "I thought you were burned out Harm; that the Singer case had messed with your head. You'd lost control of your emotions, and that got you arrested, and I couldn't let you go the way you were because I was afraid it was going to get you killed."

Harm considered what Chegwidden had said, the admiral had made a fair point or two, but he still hadn't supplied a satisfactory answer, "So to save me you, you were willing to sacrifice Mac?"

"No, dammit! I wanted you to stop and think and make a proper plan. I was afraid that if you went charging in there with all guns blazing, you'd have both been killed."

Harm hissed at him, "If I had been given the intel I needed when I first asked, instead of being given the run round by Kershaw and by you, then I wouldn't have wasted days trying to garner what little scraps I could, I would have had time to plan. Did you ever consider that your damn spook pals and their pathetic little 'need to know' nearly got both of us, and the Gunny killed. And Webb. Did Mac ever tell you just how close she was to dying the day I found them. When I found her, she was shackled to a table, with half her clothes ripped off, and some stinking pervert was seconds away from amusing himself with her by the application of electricity and red hot steel wool. Seconds, A J, and if I'd been told where they were just twenty four hours earlier than I was, then not only might I have saved Mac, and Gunny and Webb, but we might even have been able to write finis to Sadiq. Now God or Allah knows where he is!

Harm laughed bitterly, "And do you know what the funniest aspect of the whole affair is? When I had cut Mac free from her shackles and killed at least half a dozen of Sadiq's men, she told me that she hadn't needed to be rescued by me, that Gunny would have got them out, and then she called me an idiot when I told her I'd resigned, because my career was all that I'd had, and then she proved herself right. Talk about self-fulfilling prophecies! Within minutes of me cutting her free, she was all over Webb, hell she kissed him right in front of me, while I still had her captors' wet blood on my hands. But, I'd do it all again. Sure I regret some things, but if Mac was in trouble in Paraguay or some other hell-hole and the only way I could get to her was by resigning, I'd do it again without a moment's hesitation. Even if I knew that at the end of it all she would turn round, just the way she did in Ciudad del Este and tell me that despite our eight-years of whatever it was we had, there was 'never' going to be an 'us'! But do you know what, after all that, when the Imes case imploded, the first thing Mac did was to come to me and ask for my help. I wouldn't do it admiral. I can only be taken advantage of so many times. And now you've come to me, the generous A J, offering me my old job, as if you were doing me a great favour. But you're not, A J, you're not. You're not here because you want me back. You're here because you need me back, because the officer you chose to replace me has screwed the pooch big time and is facing seven years' confinement. You need me back to save your six, because JAG is falling apart around your ears. You need me back because instead of easing the load, Carolyn Imes has made life more difficult for everyone. They're all overworked, and now you want me back to pick up the slack and be your whipping boy again. I won't do it admiral. And do you l know why I won't do it? I won't ever serve under you again, because I no longer trust you and I no longer respect you. And here's a puzzle, see if you can solve it, because I can't. Why after the way you left her to be killed, is Mac still willing to serve under you?"

"Christ, Rabb," Chegwidden was shaken by the vitriol that had spilled out during Harm's diatribe, "Just when did you become so cynical?"

"Oh, let me see… oh, yes, that would have been somewhere between 'You're under arrest for the attempted murder of Loren Singer' and 'go wrestle alligators!'"

"Yeah, Chegwidden grinned mirthlessly, "I thought that might come up at some stage."

"Yeah, where did that come from A J? You were mad at me, fine. I'd hoped you wouldn't process my resignation, but you did, and that was a chance I'd taken, again fine. But why did you have to humiliate me like that in front of Mac? Why did you feel the need to trivialize and mock everything that I had achieved in all my years of service, why A J?"

Chegwidden shrugged, "I'm not sure. I lost my temper; I know that's not an excuse, but I felt that you had publicly humiliated me. By resigning, you had made it clear that you put limits on my authority, that there were orders that I was prepared to give, but that you were not prepared to obey!"

Harm nodded, "So, petty revenge." He took a pull of his beer, and then said in a conversational tone. "When you dismissed me the day I went to Paraguay, you told me to do what I do, and as I was leaving your office, you stopped me and you asked me that now that I had resigned to go and get her, what would I do in order to keep her. I didn't have an answer for you then, but I do now. I would go and get her, and if she wanted it, I would give her her freedom. If she was really mine, then she would come back to me. If she didn't come back, then she was never mine in the first place."

Harm looked at his now-empty bottle and placed it on the table, picking up his ball-cap, he shoved it into his hip pocket, and without a word, or a backwards look he walked out through the bar room door, ignoring the cry of "Rabb!" that followed him

x-x-x-x-x-

It had taken the best part of the drive to Pimmit Hills before Harm had stopped shaking, but the effort needed to accompany Catherine to visit her mother had been sufficient for him to bottle up his hurt and his anger and thrust them back deep into his soul.

He and Catherine had spent an hour with her mother, before returning to Harm's apartment for dinner and one of Catherine's chick-flicks in the VCR. Harm reached out and thumbed the 'pause' button on the remote control.

"You know we planned to spend tomorrow house hunting?"

"Yes… why?"

"Well, house hunting is tough, right?"

"So I've been told, she agreed, with a little smile, wondering just where he was taking this conversation, she was certain that something was bothering him, but she knew that even with their commitment to be open and honest with each other that there were going to be times when he found it difficult.

"So, he said," leaning back against the couch and draping his arm along the back, "I was thinking, that we could maybe pack a basket, and then on Sunday, if the weather holds, we could maybe take a picnic somewhere?"

"Where did you have in mind? Virginia Beach? Because I don't think I'm up for wearing my swim-suit on a crowded beach!" she protested, half laughing at the thought. "God, no, one look at me and they'd be calling the SPCA to come and re-float a stranded whale!"

The image she conjured up was comical enough to make him grin, but he shook his head and said, "No, appealing as that might be, I was thinking of heading in the opposite direction. Somewhere disgustingly rural."

"And where would that be ?" she asked, settling back against the squabs.

"Umm… Charlottesville," he admitted.

She turned her head towards him in that bird-like manner she had obviously acquired from her mother, and said, "Alright, what's the attraction with Charlottesville? After all, you've been working there every day this week!"

He smiled, "That's because the other love of my life is there. Sarah."

Catherine refused to rise to the bait. She relaxed into the couch's depths and rested her head on Harm's bicep. "And Sarah would be?" she asked lightly.

Harm grinned appreciatively, she had definitely out-played him in this round, "Sarah is my airplane, an antique nineteen-thirties bi-plane trainer."

"So, I get to sit around, guarding the supplies from the ants, while you zoom off into the wide blue yonder, is that the plan?" she asked him.

Harm looked at her, the laughter lines at the corner of her eyes were fully deployed, and there was no suggestion of tension in her body language.

"Would that be OK by you?" he queried anxiously, "I mean if you hate the idea…"

"I hate the idea of not being able to fully share the day with you, but…" she gently rubbed her tummy.

"So, shall we give it a try?"

His words resonated in her memory, and she smiled up at him as she edged a little nearer and leaned her head against his upper arm, her movement goaded his already picking conscience.

"Umm… I do need to tell you something," he said, uneasily.

Catherine turned her head to give him a questioning look, as he dropped his eyes and started turning the remote control over and over in his free hand. Catherine waited for a few seconds, and then hitching even closer to him, she leaned forwards and took the remote away from him, pressing the 'stand-by' button as she did. She let the screen fade to black before she spoke, "Go on, then," she prompted him, "I thought there was something…"

"Yeah, something… The Admiral came out to the airfield today."

"And?"

"And he offered to set the wheels in motion to have my resignation rescinded and have me returned to active duty back at JAG."

"And you accepted? This is what all the deflection about picnics is about? "

"Uh… no, not entirely, the thing about the picnic is real enough, but I… uh… turned him down."

"Oh. Well you had your reasons. But what are you going to do now? I thought you wanted to be back in the navy."

"As for wanting to be back in the navy, yeah I did, I still do, but when he offered me my old job back, I realised that I couldn't serve under him again. I'd always be looking over my shoulder, hoping that the back-up he'd promised would actually be there, and that he wouldn't throw me to the lions again if something went wrong. I told him that I no longer trusted him or respected him, so I wouldn't even consider serving under his command."

"Wow, you burnt your boats, there, Harm!" But despite the lightness of her words, there was concern in her face and voice.

Harm smiled briefly and dropped his right hand on to her shoulder where he gave her a gentle squeeze, and where much to his relief she seemed content to let it rest.

"But what are you going to do for a regular income?" She persisted.

"Well, I thought that I'd stay crop dusting until the season ends, and in the meantime start hawking my résumé around the local law firms, see if anyone wants a trial attorney who knows his way around international and maritime law."

"H'mm, Harm, are you sure about this thing we're trying here? I mean, we're talking about buying a house together, while you don't have a regular steady income. Are you sure that you're really up for this?"

"There goes, momma bear," he smiled again to reassure her, "looking out for her family. Catherine, you're in this with me as a partnership, right, fifty/fifty all the way?"

"Yeah…"

"So you plan on contributing fifty percent of the purchase price?"

"Yeah, and the furniture, and whatever."

"Well we're fine, then. My share of the house is not going to be a problem. I have some money put by, and I own the lease on this apartment and I can either sell it, or sub-let it. I haven't made a decision about that yet. But I am more than covered for my half share of house, furniture, furnishings and fixings!"

"Oh." Catherine relaxed and let her head drop onto Harm's shoulder, as his hand slipped down to rest on her upper arm.

"But mention of family, reminds me…"

"Oh?" It suddenly struck Catherine that she wasn't making much of an intelligent contribution to the conversation. "Uh… I mean, how come you've never mentioned you had such fabulous sums hidden under your mattress?"

"Well, I didn't want my family, my mom, to get the idea that you were some kind of gold-digger, and so if I didn't tell you about the crock of gold, then you'd have plausible deniability."

"And what have you told your mom?"

"Oh, I haven't told her anything. I told your mom, so by my reckoning it's your turn to tell my mom!"

"Harm!" she almost squealed in protest, "You cannot expect me, a total stranger, to call your mom and tell her that we're setting up house together, and that you're taking responsibility for another man's child! Or…" and the thought vaguely troubled her, "are you going to tell her that she's your baby?"

"No, I'm not going to lie to her, not about that. I'll simply tell her that my name is on the birth certificate to help protect our baby as she grows up, and that I am more than happy to be a good step dad. My own step dad, Frank, once told me that there's much more to being a parent than just contributing to the gene pool. "And anyway," he said in a livelier manner, "You won't be alone; you've got one valuable ally!"

"Oh?" Catherine queried.

"Yeah, you've got Elizabeth, once mom finds out about her; she'll just wave everything else aside as irrelevant!"

"Oh." Damn! Back with the meaningless monosyllables!