A/N: Respectfully offering the appropriate disclaimers to all whose original material I have borrowed during my play session. No money earned here and too bad because then I could spend even more time doing this.

A/N2: This is my AU version of the aftermath of Paraguay. Except for one little detail, I’ve fitted my events around the broadcast ones up until Harm returns. After that, it’s pretty much my overactive imagination. I hope it entertains you.

A/N3: My heartfelt thank you list includes Chris for beta reading and correcting my over-attachment to commas. TxJAG-b for technical assistance, encouragement and research. And TZ for sharing technical knowledge. I hope I do justice to the help they have provided.

A Circumstance of Consequence
Epilogue

Bethesda Hospital
Four Months later

Here he was again. Same hospital, different room. Mac was napping and he was sitting beside her, holding her hand. There was one important difference though. His feet were propped in a separate chair for stability, while against his other long arm rested his sleeping son.

At twenty-four inches and seven pounds plus, Mac had immediately declared him her Rabb clone, and Harm had immediately vetoed the idea of naming him a third. That looked like it would be an interesting discussion once his Marine was rested and back in fighting form.

She had been campaigning all through the pregnancy to name him after his father, and somewhere during her eight-hour labor, he had almost relented. He would have given anything to make her more comfortable. However, in typical Marine fashion, she delivered the baby with relative efficiency for a first child, and Harm had regained his footing in time to intervene in the naming. Hence, the little boy was destined it appeared, to spend at least a few days as Baby Rabb.

They were better about communication now, their trust often interceded when misunderstanding reared its ugly head. That in no way meant they didn’t disagree from time to time. He was wavering while watching her sleep, about just how important a name was, and whether it was worth fighting about. The bottom line however, was that a name could be construed as a legacy, and he didn’t want his child burdened with any preconceived expectations. Yes, this would definitely require more discussion.

His mind drifted as he sat connected to the two most important people in his world, his wife and his son. The last time he was here, they had planned their wedding. He’d proposed then, and again the next night after calling in a favor from Clayton Webb for reservations in the best restaurant in town. Oddly, Webb readily accepted the fact that Mac belonged with Harm and picked up the tab.

He chuckled softly, remembering Mac’s firm declaration that you couldn’t plan a wedding in two weeks. Yet it had turned out perfectly. All their friends and family were there, the food was good the flowers were pretty and Mac was radiant.

Later that evening, after their guests were gone, they lay snuggled together drifting towards sleep. It had been a long day, and he had posed the question sleepily.

******

“So, sweetheart was it perfect for you?” referring to the wedding of course.

“It was wonderful,” she replied, ‘better than Paraguay. No terrorists to worry about,” she added, as she nestled contentedly against his shoulder.

“Maaaac!!! I meant the wedding,” he sat up on one elbow and looked down at her.

She rolled towards him stifling a giggle, “Harm I know what you meant, I’m teasing you.”

If she weren’t five months pregnant he would have tickled her senseless, but he decided kissing her was a better idea. And if they hadn’t been completely exhausted, the kiss would have led to more of what they just finished. The one thing they were having absolutely no difficulty with was their attraction for one another.

He pulled her against him once again settling for sleep. As his hand drifted over her well-rounded tummy, he couldn’t help but ask the question that had hit him instantly, when he ran full force into her pregnancy in JAG ops. He had long since admitted to both himself and her, that deep in his heart he knew immediately the baby was his. But his anger had coiled protectively around his heart striking at everyone like a venomous snake. Fortunately, the courageous and resolute Petty Officer Coates had braved the serpent and set his head straight.

“Mac can I ask you something?” he ventured.

“Hmmmm?” she responded sleepily.

“Why didn’t you stop me, at least tell me you weren’t protected?” he asked tentatively. He wasn’t sure he wanted the answer but he knew he needed it.

She turned her face to him, “Harm have you ever not used protection before, even when you knew the woman was protected,” she countered his question with one of her own. “I was undercover as a pregnant woman. I couldn’t exactly carry a little container of pills around with me, and you know I’m allergic to the long-term solutions,” she reminded him. “You had to take me to the hospital with a reaction once.”

“I know,” he agreed acknowledging what he should have realized, then added. “No, No you’re right I’ve always used something….” he let the thought dangle.

“And I’ve always insisted before, even when I knew I was using my own protection. I think that tells us both something flyboy,” she suggested pointedly.

“Perhaps we didn’t really expect to survive, even though we’d managed to attain a relative safety,” he suggested.

“Perhaps, is that what you were thinking?” she was curious as well.

“Partly, but that wasn’t all of it,” he admitted.

“What was the rest of it Harm?” she sensed the possibility of a sudden insight.

“You’re going to think this is either silly, or hopelessly male,” he smiled sheepishly.

“Ok so tell me anyway,” she challenged.

“I came after you because I wanted you,” he confessed in a rush. “There was nothing noble about it, I was just a man after the woman he wanted,” she nodded for him to continue. “I sort of figured….that is….I wasn’t sure if you were okay….uh….protected, but I just thought that….uh…well if anything happened it would be a sign sort of, that we were meant to be together Are you mad?” he was concerned that he might have opened a can or worms better left closed.

She just looked at him for the longest time. He started to worry when she didn’t respond.

“Mac? Mac, say something,” he pled nervously.

“No Harm I’m not mad. Stunned but not mad. I guess….I guess I have to admit I was basically thinking the same thing. We never did handle this thing between us very well. I just figured it was time to give up trying to control it and see what happened. I certainly never thought…boy when you dump control you really dump it. Wow!” she finished overwhelmed by the revelation they had shared.

“Kinda unconventional way of telling you I love you and I want to marry you I guess,” he hugged her to him.

“Harm we’ve never done anything the easy way. Why would this be any different?” she asked rhetorically.

*******

Just then, the baby stirred in his arms and he felt Mac squeeze his hand.

“Hi,” she whispered bathing him the warm glow of her golden brown eyes. “How is he?”

“He’s been sleeping but I think he may be ready for breakfast.” The first streaks of dawn were breaking through the light cloud cover.

“I thought of a name Harm,” she ventured.

“What?” he smiled softly

“John Matthew, after Keeter and Uncle Matt,” she suggested.

He thought for a minute before a slow smile spread over his face, “Okay on one condition.”

“What’s that?” she asked puzzled.

“We call him John, Johnny or Matt for short. We will not allow him to be called Jack Rabb, not with those legs.” He cautioned.

Their laughter woke the hungry baby. Snuggled in the arms of his mother who nestled closely against his father, Baby Rabb ate his first breakfast. His new name was quickly revised to Matthew John.

A Circumstance of Consequence
Part 1

A Hotel in Paraguay

Falling asleep next to Harm was a concept that taunted her dreams since the night in the Afghani desert, displaced only by the thought of waking up next to him. Why could she only get this physically close to him when they were in mortal danger?

God only knew when they would find themselves the target of terrorists or friendly fire again, so she had no trouble deciding to take full advantage of this opportunity. She

would not spend the night in a chair. He appeared disinclined to sacrifice the bed as well. Had she managed to read his mind, she would have found him equally eager for the experience.

Safety was assuredly not an issue, she may feel he despised her, if his conversation was an indicator, but he would never hurt her. In fact, the only activity she considered possible, with both of them in the same bed, would be more than welcome. What she expected to happen was nothing at all.

Of course, he didn’t despise her, quite the contrary. When his thoughts strayed to her in his bed, they included nothing even remotely hurtful. He welcomed the opportunity for the proximity; unfortunately, he held the same expectations.

The quality of their friendship defied the parameters of a normal relationship; it was more than friends and co-workers, but never quite approached lovers. They had no roadmap to that elusive location, because neither of them could define their alliance, or its place in the universe. It was the most completely satisfying, and excruciatingly lonely bonding imaginable. There was no paradigm for their attachment in any previous experience, so they had no guidelines for handling it.

Occasionally, he had considered charming his way into her bed. Seduction wasn’t his defining talent, but it came easily enough when he was interested. He could try, she might even allow it, but a shallow relationship built on lightweight sex wasn’t his goal. The essence of his feelings for Mac meant so much more than just a physical coupling, consequently, when they got too close, he pulled away. He simply had no idea how to proceed.

The ruse of simpering surrender was inadequate for the emotion she reserved only for Harm. She had used it in the past, to her unfailing discomfort, even when it was the only role she understood; but she didn’t like it, and in the end, it meant disaster. Harm wouldn’t believe it, he knew her better than to accept it. He had essentially rejected it, ignoring her when she tried. Recognizing her self-betrayal, he ran quickly in another less satisfying direction.

Somewhere in the small hours, he felt the mattress move as she went to close the window. The chill night air caused her to creep closer for warmth, as she returned to their bed. He smiled to himself, at this propinquity, and pretended sleep

Believing his deep slumber genuine, she was certain he would never realize, she had stolen a little of his massive supply of body heat. Her hand followed a path of its own, as it came to rest on his hip. After all, what do you do with a hand, in bed, this close? He had serious difficulty remaining still under her touch. Without his reaction, she fell victim to a false sense of security. She could touch him with impunity for just a moment longer, before withdrawing to return to the battle scarred, platonic safety, that was their relationship.

Unintentionally she drifted, she meant to remove her hand, she really did, but the comfort of his presence, the shelter of his familiar scent, lulled her. She realized good intentions were insufficient, when he rolled towards her. Casually, he draped his leg over hers, his arm slipped across her middle, surrounding her with his body. He dared not breathe as he awaited her response.

Pinned by his large frame, she was unwilling to move or protest, as every feeling of safety, security and love she had ever imagined washed over her. Storing the sheer luxury of a longed for experience, she permitted herself to sink into the pleasure of this stolen embrace, perhaps this was unintentional, perhaps he was asleep.

He felt her relax against him, still wary she might suddenly suggest the contact was accidental. But with her hand on the portion of his body where his leg met his torso, she couldn’t feign innocence.

She was breathlessly aware that his movement had carried her hand to a far more culpable point of contact. It took a mere heartbeat for his reaction. Instantly it was evident to her, he was physically and mentally conscious. He knew exactly what he was doing.

A noteworthy indicator of his wakefulness followed with her name attached, as it slipped from his lips, to pour softly into her ear. Mesmerized, still uncertain if he’d been dreaming of her, or if he was actually aware of her, she released a deep breath blended with the tiniest whimper. His reaction followed swift and sure, as his hand slipped along her ribcage, and deliberately splayed his fingers beneath her breast. His grip was firm, gentle, and decidedly intentional. His lips slipped perfectly into place over hers. Whatever the shape of this opportunity, he was prepared to accept; she was unprepared to resist.

She was uncertain if it was the aftermath of extreme stress, coming so close to losing her life, the long denied desire for him boiling beneath her surface controls, or just raging hormones, timely, powerful and unprotected, but she responded. He refused to believe that passing this point would leave a road open for retreat. He accepted her response to his touch as definitive.

Their bodies led their actions in unison, and their dazed minds followed. His fingertips stroked, soft, gentle, with a controlled passion and understated power, that allowed her to completely explore and appreciate every sensation his caresses inspired. She responded with wanton abandon, releasing each barrier to her soul, in return echoing his pleasure and desire. They hadn’t a prayer at control, and if they were sworn to their answer, they would have to admit they didn’t want it. She wanted him, he wanted her, and consequences be dammed.

Oblivious to the fact the consequences could not be damned; she soon discovered that being on top was never an issue between them. They spent an unmarked time creatively exchanging the position before falling into a deep dreamless sleep.

He awoke first, with her nestled in his arms. The temptation to stay that way forever was almost overwhelming, but the dangerous reality of their situation made it imperative they find a way out of this god-forsaken country. As to this new circumstance, he didn’t have a clue what it meant, or how to handle it. Was it just physical and emotional exhaustion that had broken the long held barriers? Or, was it the breakthrough he wished, and wanted it to be? Until she awoke he couldn’t know. His immediate thought was nothing would matter, until her safety was assured.

As she drifted lazily awake, her first sensation was of utter and complete contentment, and her second was a nearly panicked desolation. He was not next to her. She had drifted asleep finally, locked in his arms, but he had disentangled himself at some point, and the only evidence of his presence was the sound of the shower and the scent of his aftershave. He was impatient it seemed, to remove himself from their intimacy.

She anticipated with apprehension what form his reaction would take, but as always, it was nothing she had been able to conjure.

He exited from the bathroom soon, and immediately looked her way. A positive start, she thought.

“Uh….hey Mac, I guess you’d better get a shower, I’m not sure what help we can expect today, but we have to find a way out of here.” His eyes held her then slid sideways, his suggestion sensible, but not exactly personal. In their situation, she certainly didn’t expect romance, but personal wouldn’t be unreasonable.

“Right,” she answered, disappointed.

Starting to rise, she noticed the look of a trapped animal flood his features. He knew her clothes were gone, well not gone, but not on her. He knew this, because he had lovingly and carefully removed them, in the tiny hours of the night. She knew this as well, and considering the nearly two hours of activity they had indulged in, she didn’t consider it a problem. Apparently he did.

Quickly, he stripped off his bathrobe, leaving only his shorts and tank top. Handing it to her, he hastily turned his back.

“Thanks,” was the only response that came to her astonished lips.

“Mac,” he ventured his back still turned, “about last night.”

“Yes Harm?” she was still hopeful

“I’m sorry I was so abrupt, I shouldn’t have said some of those things. It’s just so dangerous here and…” her heart fell, he wasn’t talking about their lovemaking; he was talking about their conversation.

“It’s ok Harm,” she excused this as she always did, when she didn’t want to hear what he wasn’t saying. “I’d better get ready. I overslept.”

“I guess I was restless,” he apologized hesitantly, “I must have kept you awake. I had some interesting dreams, must have been the concussion,” he finished plaintively. His eyes would have told her he was searching for her approval of their actions, but she couldn’t see his face, he was turned politely away.

“Yeah I guess so,” she responded completely crushed. He wasn’t even going to acknowledge it happened. Without acknowledgement, they wouldn’t have to discuss it. How very neat, just make it all go away. Well, if that’s the way he wanted it, she could do that.

“No problem Harm, I slept like a baby, didn’t hear a thing. For some strange reason, I thought I was safe.” Her injured psyche couldn’t resist the barb.

She heard a gasp, but didn’t look back, as she entered the bathroom and closed the door. She never appreciated the mortal blow this dealt him, long before those other fateful words. Burying her face in his bathrobe, she indulged herself in several minutes of hot disappointed tears as she ran her bath water.

He knew the minute the door closed, he’d destroyed the fragile connection. In trying to offer her the option of first acknowledgement, he had instead shut her out. He had no idea how to repair the damage.

She thought that would be the end of it. They exchanged a few more words, but it was only sparring. He felt a strong sense of urgency pulling him to take her from this place, so she would be safe. She caustically referred to ‘being on top’ and ‘never’, trying to evoke a reaction, looking for him to reference their intimacy. Ultimately, silence consumed them, and they surrendered to a very long, very agonizing plane ride home.

End of part one

A Circumstance of Consequence
Part Two

Washington D.C.

At the time, it seemed insignificant. Well, maybe not insignificant. Maybe, there was just so much else on her mind, she had given insufficient attention to the tiny sensation tickling the back of her consciousness. So soft yet so strong, it was new as tomorrows spring flower, and old as time, a voice at once as familiar as her own breath, and yet completely unfamiliar.

Later, she would realize she had known almost from the instant it joined her, and yet she tucked it behind her awareness pretending not to see, not to feel. She comforted herself with the fact that when they were home, when they were back at JAG they could mend this thing between them. Somehow, deep inside, through her despair and exhaustion, there was this tiny finger of hope.

And so, she slept. The long plane ride home was filled with a restless slumber of complete fatigue. She had been to battle. She had survived. Healing would take time. For whatever reason, he watched over her, helping her change planes, directing her to the next gate. Impersonal and competent, he extended no emotion but professional courtesy, none that she could see, none that she could feel, yet there was an unnecessary tenderness to his shepherding.

When they arrived in DC, he placed her gently into his waiting car, drove her to her apartment, escorted her to her door, pulled it closed behind him, and went home alone. There was nothing more to do. She didn’t want anything from him. He had vowed to find her and bring her safely home. He kept his promise. It was the end.

A little less bone deep weariness, a lesser degree of emotional depletion, and they would have seen the warning in their co-workers faces, as they entered the office the following morning. It was there, but giddiness over being back, being alive, moved the shadows aside. In the ensuing mild hysteria attending their survival, it never occurred to them they would be deprived the heroes welcome. After all, they were Butch and Sundance. Even though the reality of those roles had been hollowed, the façade was intact. Who would know but their hearts?

Unbelieving, they watched as the structure of their shining castle was revealed as cardboard. Astonished, as verbal devastation rained its fiery breath on them, they were trapped by the damning words hurled at their actions, the ringing disinterest in their success. They were branded as outcasts, her salvation unappreciated, his monumental sacrifice summarily dismissed. Their only remaining anchor, the shell of victory, was crushed and ripped from them. She was sent to mend her inner wounds alone, in personal darkness, shunned by those who would have added light and healing. He was discharged to the vagaries of fate, to twist in the wind on a shadowed path.

There would be no time to reconnect, no opportunity for therapeutic familiarity. Was there blame? Of course, mountains of blame, shares enough for everyone. Was there guilt? Naturally, oceans of guilt, enough to sink a modern armada. ‘If only’, pealed through every conscious tortured thought.

The moon waxed and waned. She awoke to a morning of summer freshness, drenched clean by towering black clouds that reached the heavens. His heavens. She awoke to the stunning serenity of another existence. A combined existence. Suddenly, she was aware again. It awaited recognition, that tiny fragment that had tickled her mind, quietly growing, silently needing, it had guarded her sanity, and now insisted it would be acknowledged.

This time she acquiesced, she knew. No expected discomfort heralded its presence. No test was needed to prove its reality. It simply was. The moon had proven true, but nonetheless she knew. Tears of joy matched the weeping skies. Something good had come from the turmoil. In all the chaos, and fear, and tragedy, and loss, still there was something good, and pure, and wonderful, and alive, and it was hers.

Vowing in fairness, to apprise him of their new and breathtaking treasure, she went to him, but he was gone. She called, he didn’t answer, she left messages, and he remained silent. Bereft but determined, she repeated her attempts, until feeling the distress of failure, she became a tiger in defense. Nothing, no one, would hurt this tiny life. Her effort to share had failed, fallen on deaf ears, and now it was hers to nurture and protect. The decision gave her serenity.

Her continuing good health gave her the needed secrecy to prepare. He may never return, his location was prohibited information. Like the perfect Marine she aspired to be, she made her plans, her strategy accepted there would be no support. She took the proper medical precautions, changed her diet, took her supplements, modified her workouts. She functioned without the option of failure. He should have been nearby, he should have known, she occasionally dreamed of the wonder of sharing, but she refused to allow despair to invade too deeply.

Somewhere far away, in other skies, in other lands, he felt a pull, a yearning, a deep need. He couldn’t identify its source, he forced it away, its presence a distraction, endangering his survival. But deep in the night, in the bright light of day, in the brilliance of dawn or the respite of sunset, when a momentary peace, a stolen fragment of safety, heralded his survival for another day it revisited him. If for only the briefest moment, it invaded his soul, and he knew beyond all doubt he had to return. There was no defining reason, no moment of clarity, no psychic vision; he was blissfully and agonizingly unaware of the significance. He only knew he had to go.

Another dismissal followed, as abrupt as the first, disinterested in his success, it alluded only to his failure. Once again, he belonged to the wind. Embracing his newfound master, he drifted, allowing it to carry him directionless into his future. For a brief moment in time, he stayed there, living on the wind and finding an anchor. Uncertain of the source calling him, he accepted the foundling it delivered, and for a short span he allowed the replacement. As a refreshing gust of wind, with the potential of a tornado, or the softness of a spring breeze, she renewed his life and spirit and gave him purpose.

Too soon, he was called, the world grudgingly fought its need for him, and finally surrendered. Initially, she came to ask, for the smallest reasons, transparent excuses citing his familiarity and experience. The strong Marine who never admitted to a need, resenting always any concept that accepted help, familiar as his thoughts, she was at once strange.

Softer and gentler, she possessed a tranquility alien to her remembered aura. Bracing himself he expected more, another reason, something hidden fighting for light. Any moment it would surface, it was there he could almost see it. Unwelcome interruption interfered once more, allowing him to shrug off the ripple that traveled his spine.

Resenting the intrusion on his autonomy, he diffidently contracted his assistance, then quickly disappeared back into his newfound independence and responsibility.

With more than a trace of doubt, his mind troubled his sleep with thoughts of another voice, unknown and unheard but strong and willful, the purpose he found was not the only destiny that awaited him. The path, offered indifferently, was both old and new, uncertain if they needed him, he was only aware he needed them.

She knew he would come, it was his definition; it was irresistible. The burden of the workload, the bitter feuds where friendships once stood, veiled insubordination devoid of respect, was the uncomfortable and unwelcoming atmosphere of his return. Branded a wild card, a loose cannon, his absence had proved he was the cohesive element that bound them all. Title and rank were for naught, he had been the unacknowledged leader. The one they looked to for sympathy, and empathy, and stability, in the smallest and the largest of catastrophes. With him, they were a team, without him they were merely an unrelated assortment of people, functioning singularly in a confined space. Each with their own reason looked for his arrival; his presence alone soothed waves and calmed winds.

He entered with trepidation; she anticipated him with apprehension. The air changed when he moved among them, neither a messiah, nor a magician, he was merely a man, but he was loved and he loved. That alone gave him the power to help. Even from the depth of his unfair workload, he found ways to give a small kindness, or perform a needed favor. In doing this, others followed his lead and slowly they began to coalesce back into a unit.

End of part two

A Circumstance of Consequence
Part Three

His first words to her were impersonal but not unfriendly. Love turned suddenly to hatred soon tires, a burden that proves too heavy for a heart that cries out to care. He took the remainder and locked it away, replacing it with courtesy, but refusing to test it with overexposure.

She looked well, no, she looked radiant, her health appeared excellent. Their brief contact in the workday provided the assurances needed to satisfy him; she had suffered no functional consequences.

How many times, he wished he could have called her, or returned one of the many messages she left on his phone. He was torn between his desperate desire to find her well, and his deep need to protect himself from this most powerful of all his life’s losses. A loss he now faced daily, with the knowledge she belonged to another.

In small increments, he learned to school his features and bury his heart. It was part of his morning ritual, before his daily drive to the office.

She wanted to tell him, to share her secret with him first, to allow him the option of acceptance or rejection. Not at work of course, but now that he was back surely they could find time to talk. Tragically, the one time he asked her to join him for lunch, she had promised the day to another.

Clay was nothing to her but a friend, another who had risked his life to save her. She owed him gratitude and courtesy, a debt she refused to repay with counterfeit love. Finally, he understood and they remained close. Sadly, as close as she had once been with Harm, but lacking the suggestive undercurrent that had complicated their years as partners, and flavored their friendship with expectation.

JAG HQ
Friday

The time was upon her when she could no longer hold the secret. She had no choice but to follow her path alone. Drawing the proper forms to her computer, she filled each space carefully before printing.

Keying her phone, she took a deep breath and modulated her voice before speaking.

“Jen, when you have a moment would you come to my office please?” It wasn’t urgent enough to make it an order.

“Yes ma’am, I’m free now. I’ll be right there.” The circuit closed efficiently, and a moment later, an eager PO Coates stood in her doorway, eyes shining with a willingness to serve.

“Come in and close the door please,” the PO performed the movement with alacrity and curiosity.

“I have some papers that need to be processed, and I need an appointment with the Admiral as soon as he’s free. I know you will keep this information to yourself for now,” she smiled at the young woman.

“Of course, ma’am,” Jennifer Coates smiled uncertainly. Surely, the Colonel didn’t think….holy crap! “Uh….ma’am, maternity uniforms? I mean, for you? I mean, um….congratulations ma’am. I’ll get right on this, and I’ll let the Admiral know you’d like to see him.”

Mac smiled at Coates’ reaction, and allowed herself half a moment to imagine the reaction of the staff when her secret became public. The box of cookies she’d kept visible on her desk had allayed some suspicion about her weight gain, but they wouldn’t work much longer. She needed a few more days. Maybe there was still time.

“Uh….ma’am, if it’s not out of line…that is, the father?” There was no force on earth, no rule on any book, which would keep the young woman from asking.

Mac had expected the question, anticipated fielding it often in the months ahead. She had practiced and changed her answers as often as there were sunrises, since the moment she was sure, but still she was unprepared.

“For the moment, that’s need to know Petty Officer.” She softened the words with a weak smile.

“Yes ma’am, of course ma’am. I just thought….that is….I wondered if Mr. Webb was happy about….” she stammered persistently.

“I have no idea what Mr. Webb is happy about,” Mac’s voice became sterner. One day they would name a destroyer after Jennifer Coates. Her dogged determination was becoming legendary. “Dismissed.”

“Yes ma’am,” she snapped to. Turning she muttered, “I just thought…” as she stepped outside the office, slowly perusing the forms in her hands.

“Not unless it’s an airborne virus,” Mac mumbled to herself, unaware that the young non-com was still within earshot.

Half an hour later, the summons came for her appointment with the Admiral. Running the gauntlet with Jen had been easy; the thought of facing her CO nearly precipitated a bout of previously non-existent morning sickness.

Taking a deep breath, she set her features and steeled her nerves. Vowing not to allow her distress to reach a level that would affect the small life she protected, she stepped up and knocked on the Admirals door.

“Enter,” sounded like a sentence, as she turned the knob and walked through the door, presenting herself to the Admiral.

“At ease Colonel, what’s on your mind?” AJ was curious, but didn’t display the familiarity that had been a trademark of his command in earlier years. He truly no longer seemed to care about his staff as any more than assets to perform the necessary tasks.

If regulation didn’t make it a requirement, and physical restrictions weren’t a factor, she would have avoided this conversation altogether.

“Sir I’m required to inform you that I have a physical condition that will require special considerations,” she blurted, afraid she would falter.

“Are you ill Colonel?” his face was wooden, his voice toneless. He wasn’t looking forward to any more turmoil.

“No sir, I’m pregnant,” she dropped her bomb. Oh well, in for a penny she thought.

“You’re what?” The look on his face was completely unreadable aside from consternation, and the obvious displeasure of calculating all the changes this would require. If she had to qualify it, anger would be her immediate assessment.

“I’m pregnant sir, slightly more than four months.” She winced at her own words; this was where it was going to be tough. She knew what was coming.

“Paraguay?” He deduced immediately.

“Possibly, sir.” The one word answer was as close as she dared come to a prevarication.

They both knew he couldn’t ask the question that burned the air from the room. He surprised her when he phrased it in a way she hadn’t rehearsed. “Is it an officer under my command?” He used the present tense, tossing it casually in her direction.

“The father was not an officer under your command sir,” she sidestepped into past tense.

He blocked her evasion, and returned sternly with, “I said ‘is’ not ‘was’ Colonel.”

“I believe the circumstances make it a moot point sir,” she was trapped and she knew it, but the name need not be spoken

He nodded and backed away with a statement, “I take that to mean he is unaware. I suppose you have a valid reason for your decision Colonel. Obviously, I can’t interfere, and there is no breach of conduct. I can only wish you good health and ask that you keep me apprised of any issue that would interfere with your duties.” There might have been stern disapproval in his face, or it may have been aggravated disinterest. Obviously, his own actions had precipitated the complex situation he now faced. In processing the paperwork, he had inadvertently forgiven the deed.

“Yes sir, at the moment I don’t foresee any problems. I will brief the necessary staff when I’m ready for my leave to begin. There is no reason to expect I won’t be able to fulfill my duties completely until then,” she finished, hoping to end this conversation quickly. She remembered a time he would have been concerned for her, now she was just another annoyance.

“You’ve filled out all the appropriate paperwork?” He was all business.

“Yes sir, Coates has it, along with my uniform requests.” She noticed he had not invited her to be seated.

Nodding his head, he asked one more question. “When can we expect to see you in the new uniform Colonel?” He needed to be prepared, if he walked in one morning and found the office full of questions. He doubted she was sharing this with anyone until the last possible moment. In a detached way he was curious about Paraguay, but there were too many demons in his own life to waste much time worrying about it.

“As soon as they arrive, sir, I won’t surprise you,” she gave a weak smile that he answered with one of his own. The friendship that once existed between him and his staff, had suffered a mortal wound, and showed little sign of surviving.

“Fine. Dismissed.” There was little more to say.

She took formal leave of her CO, and returned to her office. As she settled into her chair, she realized the new uniforms couldn’t come too soon. She was having difficulty getting comfortable, even though the cleaners had let her skirts and jackets out as far as they could. She only had a few remaining days to keep this hidden.

End of part three

A Circumstance of Consequence
Part Four

JAG HQ
Monday 09:00

“Colonel Mackenzie and Commander Rabb reporting as ordered sir.” They stood at attention waiting to be acknowledged.

He hesitated a brief moment more for effect, before responding.

“At ease have a seat.”

How many hundreds of times had he called them, knowing they were the best, anticipating the extraordinary results they always produced. Oddly, he still expected no less of them, his command was in tatters, but still for all their flaws, he was confident they would deliver the needed results.

“I need you both in Norfolk ASAP. Mishap investigation. The Ike is returning to port. One of their Hornets went off the runway at Oceana this morning. Everyone is blaming everyone, and there is no clear picture of who is at fault. Get down there and sort it out. Command is getting too much heat from the media about unsafe equipment.” His instructions were cryptic, but they were used to his shorthand speech patterns.

“Sir, is there…?” Harm began

“That’s all I have, Commander. If you have questions, I suggest you start south immediately. The sooner you get there, the sooner you can get your answers.” His impatience was palpable.

“Sir,” the Colonel tried, “is it …that is are we both needed on…?”

“Yes, you are Colonel, one of you on the carrier and one on the ground. There are too many questions, not enough answers, and this needs to be cleaned up quickly. I want answers people.” They knew better than to say another word.

“Yes sir,” they responded together. It almost brought a wistful smile to his face, but he fought it back.

“There isn’t any reason why you can’t participate in this, is there Colonel?” He asked harshly, eyeing her reaction closely.

Curious if Harm knew about her condition, he decided it was unlikely given the puzzled frown that flashed across the Commander’s features.

“No sir,” she answered too quickly, “no reason at all.” She wondered if this was a showdown. Was he really going to back her into a corner?

“Good, then you’re lead, Colonel. Dismissed.”

He lowered his head, and went back to his paperwork, recalling a time when he once cared and might have enjoyed watching this unfold. Now the best he could muster was irritation. Each for their own reasons, they were shocked by this decision. Nevertheless, they recovered in time to retreat through the office door before the Admiral looked up. With their backs turned, they didn’t see the thoughtful expression that moved his habitually angry features.

Passing through the outer door Harm turned to her, “What was that about?” he questioned.

“Nothing, everything’s fine Harm,” she shrugged too brightly. “When are you leaving?”

“I need about an hour; I’ll meet you at your place in two. We’ll take the Lexus it’s more comfortable for the long trip, and more room for our bags.” He automatically assumed they would travel together as always.

“You don’t need to do that Harm, I can drive myself,” she responded defensively.

Harm was taken aback. “Yes,” he agreed, “I suppose you can if that’s what you want, it was just an offer Mac,” he looked disappointed and more than a little suspicious.

“No, that’s okay Harm, I appreciate the offer, two hours will be fine,” she amended, realizing her response was completely unusual. Maybe on the drive she could find a way…. she mused to herself.

He hovered in her doorway for another minute judging whether to say more. There was definitely something wrong, he just couldn’t put his finger on it. Finally, he decided to try penetrating her shell with a little levity.

“Uh….Mac, shall I stock up on cookies for the trip?” He looked closely for her reaction, indicating the open package on her desk.

“What?” she responded then recovered quickly, “Uhn…no Harm, that’s okay, I….uh…I haven’t had a lot of time for regular meals,” she stumbled to a finish.

“Cookies aren’t exactly what you need to keep in top form, Marine,” he smiled suggestively, “it would be awfully easy to lose your girlish figure.” He was pushing an unspoken limit here, but he was also fishing for something, and he was uncertain what it was.

“You have no idea Harm,” she replied looking straight at him, missing yet another opportunity.

Her stare made him uncomfortable, but true to form instead of pursuing the subject, he laughed uncomfortably and mumbled, “Uh two hours then,” before leaving in hasty retreat.

After five minutes alone, with the meager file on the mishap, she recognized that this assignment was no place to bring up personal, complex issues. No, it would have to wait, but by then it might be too late.

There was only one possible advantage to this assignment. The threatcon, for the anniversary of 9-11 and the holidays, had been elevated. For that reason, the uniform of the day for both bases was currently BDUs. Pilots and other personnel whose job required special clothing, would be the only ones not expected to report in battle dress. This gave her another week to hide her expanding waistline

Four hours later
I-95 South

Harm was mildly concerned. This was entirely unlike her, Mac never napped. But there it was, a half hour out of DC and she’d fallen asleep almost in the middle of a conversation. Well not really a conversation, small talk actually. Noting the lingering fall colors and the unseasonably mild weather, didn’t really qualify as a conversation.

He’d put some soft jazz on the stereo and the next thing he knew she wasn’t responding to his comments. Looking over at her, he found her dozing. He wondered if she could be plagued by nightmares again. It happened from time to time with Mac, and after Paraguay anything was possible.

The grapevine had it that she didn’t seek counseling after that South American disaster Webb called an operation. She’d jumped in with both feet, filling the space his departure caused, as well as doing her own work. He felt guilty for that, and he’d tried to make it up with long hours since his return. He also felt he should have been there to see she was properly cared for, to support her. It was difficult to keep reminding himself that was someone else’s job now.

In addition to what he had witnessed, there was plenty of scuttlebutt about her new relationship. No matter the rules, someone always seemed eager to find a way to let you know what was going on. Even Mac had referred to social engagements with Webb in the short time since his return.

They’d been traveling for over two hours. She had slept throughout most of it. At the expense of waking her, he had to make a rest stop. When he pulled off the road, he noticed she was murmuring in her sleep. The little noises coming from her lips were painfully reminiscent of their night in Paraguay, but he discarded the thought. He certainly wasn’t prepared to witness her dreams about Webb. He reached to touch her when her voice became more distinct.

“Yes Harm,” she murmured, “yes please!” her movements were faintly suggestive and her skin trembled. Half fascinated and half embarrassed observing this, Harm was at a loss what to do. He desperately wanted to see if her dream really included him and the activities it seemed to suggest, but he didn’t want her to find him watching her. Above all, he didn’t want her to suffer the indignity of discovery.

A hesitant moment longer brought several more softly whispered pleas and sensual cries, before he heard his name again, this time more distinct and suggestive.

That did it; she would kill him if she caught him. He wasn’t sure what was going on with Webb, but it was apparent where her subconscious was functioning. He fought desperately against allowing a tiny flicker of hope to ignite.

“Mac,” he called gently touching her arm, “Mac wake up.”

“Harm,” she murmured sleepily, “Harm please yes,” she breathed again.

“Mac please wake up, we’re stopping for a minute…..Mac.” He called this time holding her arm more firmly before shaking it slightly.

“Huh….what,” she responded, “Harm what’s….where are we.” She looked out the window in confusion.

“About halfway to Norfolk,” he answered. “I needed a stop and I didn’t want to leave you sleeping in the car.” She looked up quickly to judge his face, unsure if her vividly remembered dream had been apparent to him. His guileless expression gave her no hint, so she composed herself

“Having nightmares Marine?” he asked gently.

“Why, did I say something?” she was instantly on guard again.

He shrugged, covering his reason, “Just wondered, you usually don’t fall asleep that easily. I thought you might not be sleeping well.”

“Oh,” she recovered quickly, “Several late nights. I was still behind on some paperwork.” She wasn’t about to admit the only time she slept quite that soundly was when he was near.

He knew her statement wasn’t true, the Imes and Singer stuff was all caught up at the end of last week and the caseload had been blissfully light. She had nothing to work on over the weekend but he allowed her the misdirection. “Ok, if that’s all,” he replied agreeably. “Anyway I need to go inside,” he indicated the rest stop, “You want some water or something.”

“Sure Harm,” she was still somewhat disoriented. “Um…when you get back I’ll go. Is there somewhere around here to eat? I’m starving.”

Well that at least sounded like Mac. He relaxed his guard slightly at the positive sign and climbed from the car smiling. If she was dreaming of him, there was always that small maybe. He felt certain he would hate himself for allowing this breach in his carefully crafted amour. Nevertheless, surrendering a mere fragment of his will to the inevitable he vowed to watch for an opportunity.

While Mac used the facilities, Harm checked the directory for an agreeable nearby restaurant. ‘Someplace with both dead cow and rabbit food’ he thought to himself.

He was nearly stunned speechless fifteen minutes later, when he watched her order a chicken salad.

“Salad, Marine?” he asked in astonishment. “You never eat rabbit food, what’s going on? Are you okay?” He was entirely prepared to tease her mercilessly; however, he was also slightly uneasy about the remembered cookies. Something didn’t compute. His concern for her was turning into full-blown suspicion, if he could only sort out where the multitude of clues were leading.

“I just thought I’d see what all the fuss was about. It never hurts to eat ‘healthy’ once in a while.” She emphasized the word ‘healthy’ poking him verbally and trying to turn his attention.

He looked at her thoughtfully for a minute trying to assess the direction this was going to take, before he said in a softer tone. “I did notice you’ve gained a little weight. You are okay, right?” he queried once again.

“I’m fine Harm, don’t I look okay?” she knew a challenge would always throw him off.

“Yeah you look fine, terrific, I’ve never seen you look better,” he was laying it on thick but it was actually the truth. She looked better than anyone had a right to expect even without Paraguay. He was trying to avoid her taking his remark as an insult. They had done enough of that.

“It’s alright Harm, and thanks,” she smiled, patting his hand. She realized she had again passed up an opportunity to tell him everything. She was completely confused about why.

Fortunately at that moment the food was served, and the need to eat and get back on the road quickly prevented anything other than minor comments.

As they resumed their journey thoughts of the upcoming investigation took their attention for the remainder of the trip. They both speculated on what they would find, and how this could have occurred. Harm was certain Mac would send him to interview the pilot and check the plane. He assumed she would want to do the shipboard investigation.

End of part four

A Circumstance of Consequence
Part Five

Norfolk Naval Station

Two hours later, they pulled into Norfolk Naval Station and reported for duty. After a brief and uninformative update, Mac addressed Harm with his orders.

“I’ll continue to Oceana to investigate this end of the mishap, Harm. I want you to take a chopper out to the Ike to start on that end.” The fact the Admiral had put her in charge allowed her the option of not boarding the vessel underway, and not telling Harm why.

Startled by this decision Harm responded with a crisp, “Yes Ma’am,” and decided not to argue with her. It was a change for him but something was telling him to stand back and watch her actions. There was something more here, and he vowed to get to the bottom of it.

She was equally surprised by the lack of confrontation, but entirely too relieved to question it. Once again she had dodged the issue. She couldn’t do this now. Still this time together away from DC would be a perfect opportunity. There had to be an opening, although Mac knew it would have to be a hole so big she fell into it, to make her say anything. Somehow, she knew she had to find a way to tell him, there was just no more time.

Harm secured quarters for his return and dropped all but a small bag in his room. The Ike was only a day out and he would need little before it docked, he would ride it in conducting his investigation as they came into port. He wouldn’t require a dress uniform because he would not be among those manning the deck for the docking ceremony, he would be working.

Meanwhile she drove to Oceana. She would start at that end with the actual failed landing and see if culpability could be ascertained. She would stay there until the ship docked Wednesday morning. Once he was back in port, they would meet and compare notes. If necessary, they would return to Oceana to clear up any further questions.

After securing a room, she called the fighter wing commander and asked for an appointment at his convenience. She knew she could insist on an immediate interview but decided to see if they tried to avoid her. If that happened, there would be time enough to get tough.

She was pleasantly surprised when he came on the line immediately.

“Colonel Mackenzie, I’ve been expecting you. I appreciate any help you and your team can bring to this investigation.” He disarmed her immediately.

“Thank you Captain,” she answered, “I appreciate your cooperation. I’d like to speak to the pilot, then the people in flight ops, and finally your repair crew as soon as possible.” Mac decided to head off any protests at the beginning

“Of course, Colonel talk to anyone you wish at your convenience.” He was open and friendly. “If you’re not busy will you join me for dinner? We can discuss the most efficient way for you to proceed.

“Thank you Captain, but that isn’t necessary. I was just going to pick up some take out.” She wasn’t about to be sidetracked by another charming aviator.

“Nonsense, we can’t have the legendary Colonel Mackenzie eating takeout in her room. Join me at the ‘O’ club,” he coaxed.

“Well,” she hesitated, “I’ll have to change and freshen up, it’s been a long ride.” She cursed the fact she would have to struggle into a uniform, but she was intensely curious about his remark.

“Fine I’ll pick you up at 17:30, but don’t bother to change. We’re not formal here, it’s a small base and we don’t get much brass. Whatever you’re wearing will be fine.” He replied openly.

Mac breathed a sigh, she wasn’t looking forward to donning her class ‘A’s. They were just getting too tight and she certainly didn’t want the cat out of the bag until she talked to Harm.

One hour later

She was pleasantly surprised by the fact that he was exactly on time. It wasn’t her usual experience with pilots. However, since she really only had experience with one pilot, her judgment wasn’t fair. He situated her comfortably in his car before starting the short drive to the club.

As if reading her mind Captain Jerry ‘Catfish’ Benson smiled broadly, “We aren’t all habitually late Colonel.”

Startled she just gave him a hard look, “What do you mean?”

“That former partner of yours,” he replied, “bad habit of his.”

“You know Harm?” She was surprised, especially on the heels of his legendary remark regarding her. He also didn’t seem to know Harm was back.

“Yeah, he and I go way back. Same flight school,” he explained.

She looked bemused for a minute, reflecting on the fact that this could be Harm, if not for his ramp strike.

“Thinking about what might have been Colonel?” he startled her out of her reverie, as he parked in his reserved spot.

“You’ve said several things in the few minutes I’ve known you that have me wondering,” she admitted as they climbed the short flight of steps into the wood paneled lobby.

“What? About you being legendary,” she nodded. “I’ve kept track of Harms career, we keep in touch. He speaks highly of you. I was in his squadron when he had his strike. Whenever we’re in the same place at the same time we get together,” he explained as they were escorted to a table.

“I see,” she replied.

“Now Colonel, tell me what I can do for you. How can I help? Should I just stay out of your way?” His smile was genuine. “Tell you what, start by telling me what you know, and I’ll fill in as many blanks as possible,” he suggested.

She had never conducted a mishap investigation of this magnitude quite so informally, but taking a page from Harms playbook, she decided that good information was useful regardless of how it was obtained.

“We left DC this morning almost immediately after the report was received. All we have is at 08:32 this morning a Hornet from the USS Dwight D Eisenhower failed to land properly and skidded off the end of the runway. It looks like pilot error, but the pilot claims the plane malfunctioned. Apparently, the crew on the Ike claims the plane was working properly, but it appears that the pilot has credibility as well. That’s about all I have so far.” She summarized.

“Okay,” he volunteered, “I can expand on that. The preliminary report we have from the Ike makes it look like everyone did his or her job correctly. We have a crew working on digging the nose gear out of the mud at the end of the runway. As soon as we finish we can tow it back to the shop and start examining it properly. The pilot was the CAG, that’s why the brass is listening to his side. He claims the auto landing brought him in too high. There was heavy fog and he cleared it barely in time to notice his position was incorrect. I’ll let him explain what happened and why he made the decision to land.

“Can’t the module be checked?” she asked, thinking this could be easily solved.

“Yes but the whole situation is a little volatile with the press already involved. We’re trying to keep a lid on it, but it’s a tradeoff between gathering accurate information, and not letting enough time elapse for this to turn into a major fire. If we remove the module while the plane is stuck in the mud off the runway, we could destroy evidence of why it malfunctioned.

“You seem awfully positive,” she countered suspiciously

“I am,” he shrugged. “The pilot Bill Wallace, call sign of ’Brave heart’, is an old flying buddy of mine, and he also flew with Harm He has more experience than ninety five percent of the men still flying. He’s landed on this field hundreds of times. He doesn’t make dumb mistakes.” Catching the look on her face, he continued. “And before you even think it Colonel, we aren’t closing ranks, just knowing our people If Bill says it malfunctioned I don’t care if they built that plane by hand yesterday, I believe him. Surely you have people you work with whose integrity you never doubt.”

She smiled thinking of several, but the face of one man in particular crossed her mind, aware that a small flush colored her cheeks.

“Harm?” he asked.

She looked away, then met his eyes with a bare nod. Apparently, the things Harm had told this man about her created a picture in his mind. The image was entirely too accurate, and any attempt to hide it was about to become ridiculous.

“How is he, have you heard from him? We heard he resigned, and a few rumors about why, but nothing else. We did hope he’d stay in touch, but I haven’t heard a word nor have any of his other friends.” He seemed genuinely disappointed. It appeared the Admiral hadn’t shared the names of both investigators.

“You don’t know?” she asked wondering. “Harms back, he returned two weeks ago. He’s on the Ike now conducting that end. We are sensitive to the time element, the admiral says now and that means now.”

I see he leaned back. “What happened? Why did he leave?”

“Classified,” she looked at the table. “I….uh….I had a mission go bad. He came after me,” she explained succinctly.

“And old Chegwidden didn’t like him riding off on his white horse,” he shook his head.

She met his eyes astonished he had put it together so neatly, “Something like that. He spent a few months working for the spooks but….” her thoughts drifted to the months she had no contact with him.

“That was a lot for him to give up,” he mused. “I heard about the C-130 incident, so he was actually working for them? What was he doing?”

“Mostly flying I think, you know how they are.” She was painfully aware of Harms sacrifice and welcomed the opportunity to sidestep it.

“Yeah,” he nodded. He fully understood the ‘dark side’. “But the old frog took him back?” she nodded quietly amused at his characterization of the Admiral. He studied her face before speaking again.

“Interesting,” he speculated concisely.

“What? That he’s not here?” she guessed correctly.

“It’s more his area of expertise,” was his sensible response.

“My call, I’m lead on this investigation.” Mac responded s trifle defensively.

“Afraid we would close ranks?” he challenged

“Maybe,” she vacillated, looking away

Their orders were taken and their food arrived as they talked.

“Well it won’t happen, Colonel,” he said not unkindly, but unconvinced of her reasons. “I believe in my people and I support them, but I don’t cover for them. Besides I have bigger fish to fry right now, than an investigation I know you can handle. You’ll get to the truth; it will turn out the way it turns out. I won’t try to influence you.”

“Bigger worries sir?” she inquired. Astonished that anything could be bigger at this moment.

“I was being facetious Colonel,” he soothed her with a small chuckle. “The pilots give a small informal concert to thank the crew for their support after each cruise. We have a lot of good amateur musicians and they love to jam when they get together. We use a large hangar since only crewmembers are allowed. It started years ago by accident, and became a tradition. It’s been a fight not to let it turn into something huge and unwieldy, but it works and its fun.”

“So what’s the problem?” she was instantly fascinated by this demonstration of camaraderie.

“Well,” he explained, reluctant to side track her purpose, “we always close the show with ‘the trilogy’ after a medley of tunes from different eras. Everyone sings along. The person who usually performs, suddenly came down with bronchitis. We have several people who sing in various styles, but their voices don’t have the range for the variety of music in this set.” He shrugged realizing it was a small internal problem, but unable to resist the warm interest in her eyes.

“Harm can do it,” she offered without thinking.

“Harm?”

“Yeah, he sings at our office parties and get-togethers all the time. He knows a lot of music by heart. He actually did the trilogy last, or that is, year before last at our Fourth of July picnic. Didn’t you know he could sing?” she asked.

“Matter of fact I did, now that you mention it. Remember that scene from Top Gun?” he smiled in reminiscence. “No one was ever certain who invented it, Harm or Tom Cruise,” he laughed.

She arched one eyebrow and launched a prickly, “Really?” into the air.

“He was just a kid Colonel, and unattached at the time,” the Captain defended hastily, sensing something deeper in her reaction.

She quickly recovered and laughed lightly, almost genuinely, at this picture of a young, cocky, Harm serenading women in bars. No doubt, the man could flirt with the best of them.

“Returning to the subject,” she remarked, warming to the idea. “If it’s that informal, it shouldn’t take much for him to work into your group.”

“Will he have time?” the Captain was serious now, knowing the investigation came first.

“Don’t know, when is it?” she responded.

“Thursday afternoon, after the Ike gets in and everyone gets settled,” he supplied. “Most of the married crew and out of state people head home on leave right away, but there are a lot who either live here, or are being reassigned. In addition, there are the crewmembers that remain on board in port. We usually manage to attract a crowd of a couple thousand sailors.” He was intrigued by her interest.

“Well let’s hope we have this cleared up by then, or Harm and I will both have more to worry about than disappointed sailors. We’ll have an angry Admiral. I’ll email him tonight and tell him to start practicing in the shower,” She smiled.

“Harm sings in the shower?” he joked, stunned by the slow flush that crept up her face.

“Now how would I know that Captain?” she looked at him squarely through the blush, not batting an eye.

End of part five.

A Circumstance of Consequence
Part Six

USS Dwight D Eisenhower
Atlantic Ocean

Although puzzled by her decision to send him here when there was a pilot and a plane to investigate, Harm couldn’t help the smile that spread over his face as the deck of the carrier came into view. The normally dull grey ship shone a brilliant silver, cutting a powerful path through the dark blue sea in the dying rays of the afternoon sun. Even in a chopper, the opportunity to be in the air for a few hours had given his mood a lift. In spite of his lightened frame of mind, he was still assaulted by a nagging concern for her well-being. She was obviously in good health but there were elements in her behavior that had him confused.

Landing on the oddly quiet deck of the carrier headed for port, he pushed the mounting pile of disjointed clues aside and vowed in his first unfettered moment to give them some serious thought. For now, he had an investigation to conduct and as had been his practice as long as he could remember, duty came before personal issues. His problems usually occurred when his sense of duty conflicted with someone else’s idea of priorities. Particularly, if that someone was a superior officer.

After landing, he made the usual courtesy calls on the ships officers. Following that, he immediately began to work his way through a preliminary list of questions with the crewmembers directly associated with the wrecked aircraft.

To a man (and in this case one woman) they all said the same thing. Exact procedure was followed, maintenance on the aircraft had been faultless, and all checks and double checks performed flawlessly. In addition, their admiration for the CAG was absolute; a better pilot never flew a fighter in their opinion. They were confounded by the incident but united in their support of the flight leader. One crewmember had the temerity to openly express what the others were thinking; that the CAG was one of the very few pilots who could have walked away from that landing. Knowing Bill, Harm was inclined to agree.

The first round of his investigation clarified both a lot and nothing at all. There seemed to be no culpability, everything was in order. The pilot was, by everyone’s description considered blameless. However, there was undoubtedly a broken airplane. Harm wandered into the pilot’s mess at dinner listening to the chatter of a few of the junior fliers still on board. One or two mentioned being scratched from taking an aircraft to the base, due to a poor landing during the last operation. Nothing in his conversations, either official or unofficial, gave him a real hook to grab his attention.

A few more interviews after dinner turned up little of interest so he found his assigned bunk and turned in without booting his computer. Even though all the ducks lined up neatly, there was still something odd in the information he had gathered. He just couldn’t put his finger on what it was.

In the morning he would assemble the computer records and hard copies, and start to pour through all the dreary details. Harm was a people person. His training gave him a thorough grounding in the behavior of aircraft and an innate rapport with the men who flew them. Digging through paperwork, or reading between the lines, was more Mac or Bud’s forte. But orders were orders, and Mac must have a reason for her decision.

07:30

A quick shower and a light breakfast started his morning before he headed to the ship’s legal office with a large cup of coffee and his laptop.

He expected delivery of both computer records and paperwork this morning so he decided to check his email quickly before beginning his search for accounting anomalies.

A quick note from Mattie cleared his mind of concern for her welfare before he noticed a note from Mac had also popped up in the inbox. Figuring she must have found something interesting, he clicked to open it and scanned it quickly as he sipped his coffee. Too late, he discovered his mistake as he nearly choked on a mouthful of the hot brew.

…
Hi Sailor

Better polish those golden pipes of yours I’ve secured you a gig for Thursday. The WC here who goes by the name of “Catfish” says he knows you can deliver and are familiar with the material, so we have to wrap this investigation up with a good solid solution before then. We wouldn’t want to disappoint your public, Flyboy.

Mac
…

Jesus what was she thinking. That’s all he needed and what happened to….well never mind. No use dwelling on it now, the investigation came first. Predictably, his aggravation over this new development pushed his confusion over Mac onto a cobwebby shelf in the back of his brain, and sadly it stayed there until it created an almost insurmountable problem.

Same time, base gym
Oceana NAS

The doctor had ordered her to lighten her workout, but he encouraged her to keep in shape. She now walked instead of jogging or running, and the weights were approved but she had to keep them considerably lighter. Just enough to retain muscle tone, she wasn’t permitted the amounts she usually lifted. While not into actual bodybuilding, she usually pushed herself beyond normal weight control. She liked the fact she could surprise a foe with more power than her very feminine body would otherwise suggest.

Finishing her high-speed walk, she stepped off the treadmill with more than a feminine glow dampening her skin. It was early still and she was unknown, believing that she would go unnoticed; she had risked working out in just a t-shirt and shorts. The damp shirt clung to her burgeoning figure leaving no question in his mind why the Colonel had sent Harm to the ship instead of going herself.

He stepped from behind the piece of workout equipment as she passed wiping her neck with a towel. Lost in thought she didn’t notice Benson until she nearly collided with him. He cocked an eyebrow at her before speaking.

“Does he know?” He asked.

She was speechless for a moment before finding her voice to reply, “That’s a question you aren’t allowed to ask,” she said more curtly than she intended. She was reading his intent she just didn’t know how to handle it.

“Colonel I’m asking as a friend not a commanding officer.” His voice was kind.

She tried to sidestep the issue, “What makes you think he would be interested?” She wavered. They both knew whom they were talking about; there was no need to clarify.

“From what he’s told me I doubt it could be anyone else, unless…..you were captured weren’t you?” he questioned. Now alarmed he might have misjudged the situation.

“It wasn’t that,” she hurried to clarify. “But it could have been before or….or after,” she boldly tried for misdirection.

“Four and a half,” he looked directly at her waistline, “no more than five months no less than four. No Colonel the time is right.”

“And you are an expert on this because?” she was just a little testy now.

“Because Colonel I have five of my own. I know what it looks like. I am an expert by now,” he grinned.

‘Lordy did they issue that grin in flight school with the wings’, she wondered.

She sighed heavily and let her shoulders drop a little. Looking everywhere but at him, she searched for an escape.

“Does he know?” he repeated doggedly.

Her eyes reluctantly returned to his, “No,” she answered.

“Will you tell him?”

“Will you?” she countered

“Not my place but it’ll break his heart not to know,” he knew Harm well.

“I know,” she replied sadly, heaving a deep sigh. “There just wasn’t time, he was gone. Then after he came back….well….I’m not sure how to do it now.”

“You’ll think of a way,” he encouraged. “Let me know if I can help, until then it’s our little secret,” he promised.

Breathing a huge sigh of relief, “Thank you Captain I appreciate…uh everything, your concern, your confidence. I’ll try soon,” she promised.

He patted her arm, “Hang in there Colonel he’s a good man just a little dense at times,” the grin returned. “What do you say we hit the showers and go see some people? I’m sure you have a lot of questions to ask this morning.”

She smiled and headed for the women’s locker room. He was the first person she felt she could rely on for support on this issue, how odd that he was a good friend of Harm’s. She was confident he would help if asked, but not interfere.

Officers Club
Oceana NAS

An hour later, after a shower and breakfast, she sat with her obligatory tea in the ‘O’ club. Glancing up, she spotted the approach of a rather short stocky man in a flight suit. In a few more steps he was near enough to read his leather nametag. Commander Bill Wallace stood before her, a guarded look in his eye. She couldn’t be certain how much information he had about her from the WC, he looked like a man who expected to be taken apart and not necessarily reassembled. He also looked like he was ready to fight the entire procedure.

“Colonel Mackenzie,” he addressed her guardedly.

“Commander,” she responded then gave him a brilliant smile. Perhaps Jerry’s methods were worthy of a trial. “Please have a seat,” she invited cordially, “would you like some coffee? Have you had breakfast?”

“Yes ma’am I’ve had breakfast, but coffee would be nice,” he answered. She signaled the waiter who brought a cup and carafe, then refreshed her teapot.

Waiting until he sipped his coffee and studied her thoughtfully, she allowed the study before asking. “Want to tell me what happened in your own words?”

He eyed her suspiciously, “Why would you believe me. I figured you’d be all over the mechanics to prove I messed up.”

“I’m not here to prove or disprove anything Commander; I’m here to determine the facts. I can’t do that if I don’t ask questions,” came a little harshly before she finished, “Now can I?” She softened it with another smile.

He gave her another speculative look before nodding, “Harm always said you were tough but fair. That’s good enough for me.”

“So what happened?” she reiterated her question, temporarily ignoring his reference to Harm.

He shrugged slightly, “I’m not certain. It was a normal takeoff and a normal flight. We approached land and hit a heavy morning fogbank. Hornets land themselves; you know that don’t you?” She nodded. “So I let the computer set us up. We broke through the fog only a few feet off the deck, but I could see it was too high. I had only three choices, two actually, but there were three possible results barring complete success, which I didn’t expect,” he grinned acknowledging that he figured on buying the farm as being a very likely outcome.

Again she nodded, there would be time enough later for questions.

“I figured if I gunned it I might clear the trees, then I could go around. But since I didn’t know what was wrong I might put the plane into the trees, or worse into the middle of town, if the malfunction was serious. If I set it down hard I might stop in time, or I might run into the fence. The Navy would lose a plane and pilot but no one else would get hurt,” he shrugged as if it was a no-brainer. “Thing is, I really didn’t even count on being able to stop it. It just seemed the best solution in the half second I had to think about it.”

“Colonel,” he concluded, “there was no one more surprised than me when I walked away from that plane. I was very lucky in having just a few feet short of enough runway to stop.”

“I see,” she spoke for the first time. “Had you any trouble with the plane before this?” she asked.

“Wasn’t my plane, mine’s still in the hangar deck on the Ike. I took a little fire on my last mission. It needs to be patched up before it’s airworthy,” he admitted. “I bumped one of the younger guys so I could get home a day earlier.”

“Certainly no one questions your right to do that CAG,” she stated without rancor.

“Bill,” he corrected

“Bill,” she nodded. “I take it you have a family?”

“Wife and three boys,” he smiled proudly.

“That was quite a risk,” she suggested.

He looked at her thoughtfully and nodded, “Flying is a risk. I do it to protect people.” He waved his hand outwardly. “Flying over them in an injured bird when I don’t know what’s wrong wouldn’t be doing my job, would it Colonel?”

“No Bill I guess it wouldn’t,” she replied with understanding. “I can’t think of anything else now, I take it you live nearby?”

“Right here on the base,” he offered, “call me any time. I’ll be land based now, that was my last cruise.” He sounded both happy and sad at the prospect of his new assignment. These men all seemed to have one thing in common with Harm; part of their blood was made up equally of jet fuel and salt water.

It was late afternoon before the plane was freed from the mud, the damage was assessed, and it was towed back to the hangar. Mac made it a point to be present for every discovery; she wanted to have the experience of firsthand information and reactions.

The nose gear was obviously damaged and would need a serious overhaul. Otherwise, initial investigation showed the fighter was currently operating properly. It should have operated properly on landing. Obviously, it had not.

As each system was checked and found to be functioning accurately, the crew became more puzzled. Mac had spent the early part of the day interviewing the flight ops crew, but computer models showed the coordinates transmitted should have brought the plane in perfectly. Actual models showed they did not. All evidence pointed to the landing module being the culprit but an initial test failed to detect any malfunction.

Records of the landing showed the pilot did not switch to manual until the moment he broke through the cloud of fog, the exact moment everyone else noticed he was too high. Eyeballing was not a scientific way to land a plane of this sophistication. But the people who worked with them knew precisely what a plane’s approach should look like in order to land safely. Everyone who witnessed the landing said the same thing. He came in too high.

Mac was scheduled to rise early to travel to Norfolk. The Ike would dock at 07:00 and she needed to compare notes with Harm. Somewhere in this mess was an answer but working separately was obviously not going to find it. They needed to get all their information correlated and laid out, before deciding where to go next. She had a basic overview of his results, and he had an email detailing hers. Since they had both found nothing, it was definitely time for one of their traditional think sessions.

The repair crew was still retesting the injured plane’s systems when she decided to head for her quarters at 21:20. The added drain on her system, though light until now, had taught her the value of a good nights sleep.

End of six

A Consequence of Circumstance
Part Seven

Mac stood watching in the bright morning sun as the huge ship nestled slowly into its berth. Waiting patiently until Harm could disembark, she reviewed her notes, once again trying to find a place where a conclusion would fit.

Unfortunately, the only possible conclusions had been ruled out by the evidence. The crew on the ship had done their job correctly; it was documented and signed. Flight ops had transmitted the exact information; verification was in the records. The pilot had no control until he switched to manual in an attempt to save his aircraft; he made the only decision possible to minimize damage. Nevertheless, a mishap occurred; it just didn’t make sense.

He wasn’t difficult to spot as he strode towards her, he was usually a head above any crowd and he located her easily. His infectious grin sparkled in the early morning sunlight, shaded only by a slight annoyance in his eyes. She knew the source of the annoyance, and if they could find the answer to the flight mishap, his anger would dissipate.

Ultimately, Harm loved music and he loved to sing, he wasn’t prideful about it, he just loved the process and enjoyed participating. She knew his aggravation came from his sense of responsibility that duty came first, and his concern he would have to decline at the last minute if they were still working.

She decided, as she handed him his keys, to make certain they had a solution.

“Well Marine where do we start?” he asked as he climbed behind the wheel and fired the ignition. She had already reset the seat and moved to the passenger side. It was Harm’s car; it felt more comfortable to have him drive it.

“Your quarters?” she suggested. “We could spread all this stuff out, set up both computers, and comb through everything.”

“Can’t,” he said, “I’m sharing, and some of this stuff is classified. I asked about an office but every square inch is occupied with all the activity on base. How about your place?” he delivered this last with a devilish inflection. If she didn’t know better, she would have suspected him of flirting.

Nodding her head, she replied, “That could work. I’m not sure Jerry has any extra space either, but I have a big room with a desk and two chairs. I got lucky.” Her return tone held a slightly teasing note as well.

He raised his eyebrow, “Jerry?” he asked.

“Yeah, you know, Captain Benson. He says you’re old friends.” She answered wondering if Harm was nursing just a tiny streak of possessiveness.

“I know who Jerry is Mac,” his voice was a little tight. He found he was slightly annoyed, as he struggled against the twinge of jealousy for their easy friendship. Good grief, it was silly, Jerry was married with five kids. Shaking himself for the fool he was being, he covered his tracks. “I just….that is….I didn’t let him know….I didn’t call him when I returned, I feel a little bad about that,” he stumbled.

“We talked Harm, I think he understands.” She replied neutrally looking out the window. “I told him you had been working for the spooks and were out of communication most of the time.”

He thought she sounded hurt, as if perhaps she didn’t completely understand, but he brushed it off as his imagination. He gained access to the freeway and was well on the way to Oceana as they spoke, but found he was soon bogged down in the morning rush hour.

“Look Mac, I haven’t had breakfast have you?” he asked frustrated over the crawling traffic.

“Uh, no, not yet. Just a quick snack,” she answered. Sometimes she worried about whiplash when she and Harm conversed.

“Suppose we stop somewhere? We have to eat anyway, we might as well wait out the traffic.” She agreed to the idea and Harm crept to the next off ramp, finding a small, cozy diner on a nearby business street.

Once again he was puzzled by her choice of breakfast food, and astounded when she ordered juice and herb tea instead of her favorite coffee. Coffee had always been a mainstay of her morning, and now it was shunned completely. Watching her carefully, he tried to solve the puzzle of the conflicting clues, but his thoughts were repeatedly interrupted by her questions about his part of the investigation.

Finishing breakfast, they re-entered the freeway in time to see the last of the heavy traffic break up into a smoother flow. They arrived at their destination a short time later.

Harm slowed as they neared the base, both because the speed limit required it, and because he loved the look of the place. Surrounded by a wall of tall trees to buffer the sound, it had a pastoral quality lacking in most military installations. He’d often thought he wouldn’t mind being stationed here, but his rank, and experience, made him overqualified as a base JAG, and he admitted to himself now, that his career as a flyer was over. He might still get lucky enough to be allowed the controls from time to time, but one day soon, he would take his last flight. He fervently hoped that he would be aware of it, so he could savor it when that day came.

She directed him to a parking spot near her assigned quarters. They set about unloading the computers, briefcases, and Harms gear bag just in case their conference took all day.

Setting up their computers facing each other, they traded files and records before beginning a line-by-line search of the gathered evidence. Well into the morning, and nearing lunch, Mac suddenly looked up “Harm did you see this?” she asked thoughtfully.

“What, did I miss something?” he was instantly alert to her tone.

“Maybe, but its kind of obscure, it may mean nothing,” she waffled, certain Harm would not have overlooked anything significant.

“So tell me and we’ll see,” he offered.

“Well, there were four pilots who had similar bad landings on the last two missions,” she offered. “No one was hurt, nothing was broken. They just didn’t line up properly, touched down and had to go around. They all landed safely on the second try.

“It happens Mac, a lot depends on the length of the flight, what they were tasked to do, the experience of the pilots. If no one was hurt and they all landed safely, they might take a hit on their record, unless a mechanical failure could be found,” he explained. “That late in the cruise fatigue could be a factor.”

“It’s funny two of the pilots had flown the same plane. After the second landing, the control module was found faulty and replaced, although it tested okay after the first pilot landed. Same thing with the other two, they flew different planes, so when each tested okay, they were put back in service and the pilot took a hit on his record. In each case, they brought the plane back around on manual and landed safely, but the first time they had to do a touch and go because they approached too high.” She was almost thinking aloud, trying to correlate her thoughts.

“So why didn’t I see that,” he asked rhetorically.

“Probably because you were looking for a pattern in the repairs,” she suggested. “This was in pilot records. Two were first time flyers on this cruise, one was more experienced but not by much, and the fourth, the flight module was found to be faulty.”

“Where, show me,” he came around to look over her shoulder. Being this close was distracting but this was important. He didn’t want to wade through the links she’d used to find this information.

Reading from her monitor, he satisfied himself that while explainable, it deserved investigation. The plane with the replacement part had landed safely yesterday with no problem. The second plane had also landed safely, but Harm vowed to have it checked before someone took it up again, possibly by someone less experienced than the CAG. The fighter the CAG flew off the end of the runway was the last of the planes that had done a touch and go, before being landed manually, then inspected and cleared. The pilot was marked for that landing, and the plane put back in service. There was a good possibility that five pilots were being blamed or suspected of faulty flying, when the culprit was a bad part.

“I’m going to the flight line Mac. If those planes are scheduled to fly, they need to be grounded, and if they are already up, the pilots need to be warned.” His sense of urgency overcame protocol as he completely forgot she was lead on this case.

“I’m coming with you.” She looked a little annoyed by his actions, but she was ready to jump in and sort out the propriety later.

“Sorry Mac, I don’t mean to take over, but I’m asking you to work with me. You’re better at research than I am. I need you to find something in common in those planes repair records. A common mechanic, shift, some maintenance schedule, something, anything,” he was grasping. “There’s an anomaly here, and just like you found that set of pilot records, you have a better chance of spotting the pattern.”

“On the other hand,” he continued, “I have a better chance with the crew out there. I know the terminology I can talk to the flight boss, I know Jerry. They’ll listen to me. Not because you don’t have the facts or they don’t respect you, but I can describe it to them faster and better because it’s what I know, what I’ve lived, does that make sense?” He waited tensely for her reply.

Grudgingly she nodded. It did make sense, he would get through to them, make them understand the significance of the findings, run more tests, or just change the part, whatever it took. He could also deal with the issue of planes in the air if it came to that, “Okay fine,” she surrendered, “if I find anything I’ll call you.”

Taking out a card, he scribbled a couple of extensions, along with the base number. I’ll be at one of these places. If I’m near any electronics I may have to shut off my phone,” he explained.

Grabbing his laptop and cover, he headed for the door. “Thanks Mac,” he grinned, “you may have saved some lives,” then he was gone.

Shaking her head, she went back to work looking for the matching needles in the haystack. Less than an hour later, she had her source.

She dialed his number and he answered, “Rabb.”

“Harm I found it. It has to be the flight controller. Before the missions where the bad landings happened, they were all changed. I think they may have a bad batch; they all have the same control number. They were all repaired units, and all came in the same shipment. It looks like they were all repaired by the same person at the facility.” She paused significantly. “Pull them all Harm, and have them checked thoroughly. We may have a problem. It’s either very sloppy work or sabotage.”

“Great work Mac, I’ll put Lyle right on it,” he replied. She could hear both excitement and praise in his voice. Harm was extremely competitive in court, but right now he didn’t care who found the answer, he only cared that it was found.

“Lyle,” she asked.

“He’s the head tech here, and this has been making him crazy. The unit from Bill’s plane has run incorrect numbers twice today, but the tests he ran yesterday were all perfect. This morning out of five tests, three were good. This fits with what we saw in service, sometimes they work and sometimes not,” he explained.

“Maybe there’s a bad connection that shorts out at irregular intervals,” she suggested. “Harm what about the planes, is anyone flying?” she was afraid they might lose a pilot and plane, and have a worse disaster the next time.

“No thank god, they were all grounded for a routine check. They aren’t scheduled to start flying until day after tomorrow. I’ll have them all checked, give me the numbers,” he requested, prepared to copy them.

Mac rattled off a series of numbers from the repair documents, and gave him a reference to cross-check the shipping invoice, from the contractor who reconditioned them.

“Okay Mac, I’ll check this out here. Matter of fact, if this works, I think we’re done. I’ll give this information to Lyle and come get you; maybe we can grab a quick bite or something.” Now that they had a solution, his mind was refocusing on her.

“Fine while I’m waiting I’ll look for any other patterns and contact the Ike,” she responded. “They need to pull any parts they have left in storage, and check the planes remaining on the hangar deck.”

“Harm?” she hesitated.

“Yeah Mac,” he knew what she was going to say.

“I have a feeling Harm. I think this is it,” her voice was quiet.

“I think you’re right Mac, good work. I guess we still can be a helluva team,” he said hopefully.

“Yes I think we can,” she had an undertone in her voice. It made him question if she was still talking about the investigation, but once again he shelved it in favor of swiftly getting the tests started in the right direction. On the way home, maybe they could explore some of their personal issues.

End of seven

A Consequence of Circumstance
Part Eight

It in no way resembled a formal event; it was never intended to be one. Starting years ago, when a small group of pilots took over the bandstand in a local bar and serenaded their shipmates, it had grown first to a scheduled jam session, then to a mini-concert. They had fought to keep it both comfortable and casual.

As their audience grew, permission was obtained to use an empty hangar for a few hours. Attendees arrived with blankets, lawn chairs, and a few brave souls with hammocks they slung from the rafters. The sole purpose was to have a good time, say a friendly farewell, and express appreciation to one another for a successful cruise. Harm was recruited and accepted as a substitute by everyone, because few in the carrier service were unfamiliar with his exploits. He had served with many of the people present.

WC Benson found a couple of lawn chairs and sat with Mac to one side of the makeshift stage. It was little more than a small platform hastily assembled from discarded packing crates. She was pleased, though not surprised, at how smoothly Harm interfaced with the group after his initial unhappy reaction. He was secretly thrilled she had enough faith in him to volunteer him, but he kept it hidden, afraid it would be mistaken for arrogance. Regardless of his shaky interaction with Mac, he would never let his fellow sailors down.

The loosely bound and unrelated group of pilot/musicians moved easily from one song to another. Years of practice with rotating participants had given them the ability to adapt to one another effortlessly. Seemingly, as a last minute decision, Harm signaled the group and they found his key and cadence. He drifted gently into a song of heartbreak and unspoken unrequited love, a song that told of a love lost without acknowledgment, held deep inside until the moment of a tortured soul’s death.

As the last notes died, the power of his expression held the audience stunned and quiet. Only as the small band recovered, and quickly changed tempo to give the tribute ‘Trilogy’, did the listeners come to their feet in thunderous applause. But now, in the midst of patriotic music, they were compelled to follow the words and raise their voices in salute to the country they loved and served. The meaning of the song was lost to most of the listeners.

As the music ended, and the sounds of appreciation drifted into the afternoon air, Captain Benson turned to Mac.

“Seems that sailor has something to say to you,” he suggested.

She laughed lightly brushing the suggestion aside, but acknowledging with her eyes that the time had come, “He just knows I won’t sue him for harassment Captain. I’m his attorney of record and I’d just have to defend him.”

Harm picked that moment to step up from behind and heard her remark. His face shadowed for a moment, before the wall went up in his eyes again. He should have known better, his action had been completely inappropriate.

“Exactly Captain,” he picked up the joke. “After all, how can she sue me and defend me at the same time. Makes her a safe target,” his charming grin was fixed woodenly on his features.

Mac’s face fell as her body went rigid, a response not lost on the Wing Commander, but once again damage was done, a misunderstanding reigned and an opportunity was lost.

“Harm that’s not….” she started, but he interrupted.

“Take it easy Mac, it was all meant in fun, you know that.” He brushed her concern aside. “Now Jerry, about that ride your new CAG offered me. Is it still open?” Harm changed the subject.

“Well I do have a ‘cat that needs to go to Pax, but if you’d rather not I’m sure I can find someone else. If you want to take the Colonel….” he had meant to say ‘home’.

“No!” they both said in unison. Harm misunderstanding his intention. Mac afraid of the explanation she would have to make.

“She gets airsick,” Harm rushed in.

“I have to drive his car home,” Mac intervened.

“Look, why don’t I just get another pilot, this sounds inconvenient.” The Wing Commander was operating on information unavailable to Harm.

“Nonsense, have you ever known me to refuse a chance to crash a Tomcat?” Harm joked, deliberately using the worst example of gallows humor he could muster.

His old friend was stunned by the harsh turn in Harm’s demeanor.

“Harm that’s not funny,” Mac responded, white faced and nearly breathless.

“Easy Mac, someone might get the idea you care. I was just kidding. Jerry thanks for everything I’ll grab my suit; I need to be in briefing in thirty minutes.” Harm offered his hand to his flight school buddy, who was amazed at how things had become such a mess so quickly.

“Just leave my car wherever it’s convenient Mac. I’ll get the keys from you later; I have a spare set in my bag.” He tossed the comment at her before he disappeared.

“Captain Benson,” Mac began quickly; “I want to thank you for your hospitality and support. You’ve made a difficult investigation easier than we had a right to expect.” She was rushing her words.

“Stop and visit next time you’re in town Colonel. Now you had better hurry, you might still catch him,” he prompted looking over her shoulder.

She looked at him for a long moment, before she turned and rushed through the hangar doors. She might have caught him if she could have run normally, but at just over four and a half months pregnant, her balance was off enough to slow her down. She watched helplessly as he sprinted away and out of sight, after grabbing his flight bag from the back of his car. Slowly she made her way to the parking area, started the car and turned north towards DC. She truly wondered if there was any way left to fix this mess. A nagging voice was telling her to learn to live with it. Another one told her he at least needed to know.

Three and a half hours later

When she pulled Harm’s Lexus into the lot at JAG Headquarters, she noticed the Admiral’s car, and Coates’ old Wrangler, were still there. It had been a long day. They began by briefing the NCIS investigators who would handle the case from this point, and ended with Harm flying away in his precious Tomcat.

The drive home was uneventful. Even the customary roadwork, that was normally a constant fixture on I-95, presented no hindrance. Her deep exhaustion was more an emotional response, than anything that would threaten her well-being. Try as she might, she could find no way to tell Harm about the baby, and she deeply dreaded surprising him.

She parked the SUV and headed for the front door with her bag and briefcase. After she filed her report with the Admiral, she would ask Coates to take her home. Harm’s car would be safe in the lot overnight.

A half hour later, she approached Petty Officer Coates’ desk with her printed report tucked into an official file folder.

“The Admiral is still in isn’t he Jen?” she smiled tiredly at the perpetually perky young woman. There was such a remarkable change from the sharp-tongued, slightly sullen girl Harm had rescued two years ago.

“Yes Ma’am,” she answered before keying the speakerphone. “Admiral, Colonel Mackenzie would like to see you sir.”

“Send her in Coates,” came the toneless reply.

“Uh, Jen, one more thing, if you’re still here when I’m done, could you give me a lift home?”

“Certainly ma’am, I’ll be finished in about fifteen minutes, will that be okay?” she replied.

“That should be fine thank you.” Mac accepted as she pushed open the heavy oak door to the Admirals office. As Chief of Staff, Mac had a master key to all offices; she had already left Harm’s keys on his desk, along with a completed copy of their report.

“Well Colonel, it seems you’ve done your usual stellar job clearing this up. Your team has managed to remove culpability from the Navy in the process.” The Admiral looked up from her report a few minutes later. “Nice work, where’s your partner?”

“He took a plane sir,” she answered, then continued modestly, “and thank you. The facts were there, we just uncovered them. Every part from the shipment gave irregular results under repeated testing. NCIS will take it from here and investigate the contractor.”

“A plane? From Norfolk?” He was aggravated by Harm’s action, though pleased to dump this case in someone else’s jurisdiction.

“Yes sir, they needed a Tomcat ferried to Pax, and asked Harm to fly it for them.” She knew her voice revealed both the lack of surprise and disappointment that he would accept, as well as her fatigue now that the case was wrapped. She wouldn’t admit even to herself, that it would have been nice to have Harm drive home. She knew also, it would have been a perfect opportunity to tell him about her condition.

“Colonel you look tired, is anything wrong?” He eyed her suspiciously.

She straightened immediately, “No sir I’m fine.” She wouldn’t give him grounds to question her abilities.

“Nonsense,” he remarked more kindly than she had reason to expect. “Did you have a chance to talk to him?” He asked this, knowing it was inappropriate and outside the realm of their tattered friendship. Nevertheless, he asked, wondering if the flight was Harm’s way of running.

“No sir,” she answered somewhat stiffly. “There….uh…. there wasn’t time, and then after…” she let the thought dangle.

“He had to go fly a plane,” the Admiral finished.

“He didn’t know sir. You know how he is about his jets.” She once again jumped to Harms defense, failing miserably to keep the resentment from her voice.

He smiled at her and shook his head. There wasn’t much he could do to mend what had happened in this office for the last year, but by god he could start doing things differently now.

“Why don’t you take tomorrow off?” He decided she needed a little rest, and more than that, some time to mentally regroup.

“Sir? I assure you I’m…” she started.

“Look Mac you have an appointment at Bethesda in the morning, don’t you?”

“Yes sir, I didn’t change it in case I got back in time.” She was surprised he remembered, and almost wary of the kindness in his voice.

“Fine, go see your doctor, then take the afternoon off. By the time you get here it would be 13:00 or later, and there’s not much sense in that. Go home, get some rest, and I’ll see you Monday.” His face reflected just the barest hint of the AJ Chegwidden who had once actually cared for his staff. She studied him for a long moment, and decided that just maybe, he was trying to recapture some of what had once made this a very special place to work.

Finding no malice in his eyes, she acquiesced. “Thank you sir,” she nodded. “I…I’ll see you Monday.”

He nodded, “See you Monday Mac.”

She accepted his gentle dismissal, and walked slightly stunned through his door, closing it behind her. Well, she thought to herself, if he could change once, perhaps he could change back. She wouldn’t hold her breath, but she’d had more than her share of second chances, she was ill prepared to deny the same favor to him.

Besides, this had the added advantage of giving her an extra few days to talk to Harm. There was no way she could report for work on Monday morning in her old uniform. Her new ones were hanging in her office, cleaned and pressed courtesy of, she suspected, a very efficient Jennifer Coates.

Remembering her promise, she turned back to the Admirals door and knocked softly.

“Come,” he called.

Opening the door part way she stuck her head inside and addressed him less formally.

“Sir, I promised I’d let you know. I’ll be wearing my new uniform on Monday.”

He nodded thoughtfully. “Thank you Colonel, Good night,” he replied neutrally, and went back to his paperwork. The thought assaulted him more than once over the next three days, as he wondered how this would play out on Monday if she didn’t tell Harm first. He suddenly decided there was no way in hell Rabb would have flown a Tomcat home if he knew about that baby.

Half an hour later she climbed out of Jen’s Wrangler in front of her apartment building.

“Thanks Jen,” she offered over her shoulder as she fumbled more awkwardly than she cared to admit from the vehicle.

“You’re welcome Ma’am,” came Jen’s cheery voice from beside her. The petty officer had scrambled from the drivers seat, retrieved her bags, and was standing on the sidewalk, in the time it took Mac to put her feet on the ground.

“I can take those,” Mac reached for her bags, feeling a little foolish at the lack of agility created by a sudden wave of exhaustion.

“Nonsense Ma’am, you’re tired, it’s no problem. Let me help, please? It’s the least I can do.” Mac looked at her sharply, but she saw only sympathy and concern in the young woman’s gaze.

Holding her eyes for a moment longer, she nodded and surrendered. “Okay.” A little pampering, allowed for just a brief moment, was exactly what she needed. If she weren’t so hard headed someone else might be doing the pampering, she reminded herself. As soon as she was settled for the evening, she would call him.

Jen followed her inside and helped her stow her bag in the bedroom, her new uniforms in the closet, and placed the briefcase on her desk.

“Is there anything else I can get you ma’am? Would you like me to go get you some take out or something?”

“No Jen, I’ll be fine, I’ll just order in, but thank you. There’s nothing wrong a good nights sleep wont cure.” Mac smiled, charmed by the petty officers hovering concern.

“Yes ma’am, if you’re sure,” the petty officer looked unconvinced about the last statement, but she was sure Mac would get food. She alone among the staff had made it a point to notice that Mac had adopted some very careful eating habits. She was positive this baby was very, very important to the Colonel, and in Jennifer Coates’ opinion, there was little doubt who the father was.

End of eight

A Consequence of Circumstance
Part Nine

Monday morning

JAG HQ

Mac was in her office early, nervously awaiting Harm’s appearance. He had avoided returning any of her phone calls this weekend, and by Sunday afternoon she concluded there was no choice but to allow him to find out the hard way. Perhaps she had missed a chance or two to tell him, but on many occasions when she tried, he had stubbornly refused to talk to her. The last three days had been no exception.

The need to use the ladies’ room had finally driven her from the privacy and security of her office. Thinking his absence from the bullpen signaled a court appearance that would keep him busy all morning, she confidently crossed the hall. No sooner had the ladies’ room door closed than he came striding down the hall with a handful of files.

Turning into the bullpen, he collided with Jennifer Coates who was dispersing morning mail, and nearly spilled the contents of her full arms. “Wow, sorry Jen, my mind wasn’t engaged,” he tried a smile.

“No problem sir,” the petty officer answered efficiently.

“Have you seen the Colonel this morning? When I was out of town with Mattie this weekend she called me. I didn’t have time to call her back,” Harm inquired, knowing deep inside he had deliberately avoided returning the calls. He had summarily decided after the concert, that whatever she had to say to him, he didn’t want to hear.

“Yes sir, I’m sure she’s around somewhere, she was just here a minute ago,” Jen looked around as she answered, wondering what would hit the fan when the Commander and the Colonel encountered each other. Quickly, as she spotted Mac emerge from the ladies’ room, she scurried to the other side of the bullpen. She did not intend to be anywhere near that line of fire.

As Mac returned to the open office, the worst possible scenario unfolded. If she had scripted this confrontation, she could not have conceived of a more nightmarish development, as he turned and walked straight into her.

Automatically he reached to steady her. Looking up into his eyes, she saw the play of emotions that passed over his features, and as he recognized her. His features cooled when realization of her condition surfaced, and his drifting gaze took in her uniform. His stubborn mind leaped to precisely the incorrect conclusion. His eyes became steel marbles, and his face became a rock wall, as the clues that had confused him finally tumbled perfectly into place.

Emotions warred within him. Concern that he hadn’t hurt her initially battled with shame and embarrassment. Taunting him with the fact that just a few short days ago, he had actually thought there might be another chance with her. He was hardened further by the reality that while he behaved like a lovesick teenager, she was hiding the information that she carried another man’s child.

He straightened to his full height and stepped back. She held her breath waiting for his response, anticipating the worst. His eyes were like ice, his face hard and cold.

“It appears congratulations are in order Colonel,” he offered, his voice chilled almost beyond recognition.

“Thank you Commander,” she replied barely breathing.

“You’ll have to carry my good wishes to Mr. Webb, fortunately I rarely see him,” he continued frigidly. The entire bullpen held its breath.

“I doubt he would be interested in your congratulations Commander, this has nothing to do with him,” she countered defensively.

“Come now Colonel, even the Marines aren’t that good,” he commented acidly.

“I wouldn’t count on that Commander, however Webb isn’t involved,” she stone-walled.

“Too bad,” his voice was bitter. “It’s unfortunate you couldn’t have found the courage to bestow the privilege someone more responsible. I find it difficult to understand how a man could get you pregnant then abandon you. However, you seem to have what you’ve always wanted. Perhaps you never really wanted a man at all.”

“Don’t waste too much of you precious time worrying about it Commander. It isn’t your responsibility, its mine, I can take care of myself,” she remarked, her voice held underlying strength, though shaking and threatening tears. With a look that conveyed something he wasn’t prepared to receive, she brushed past him, rushed into her office, and closed the door hard. A fraction of a moment passed before the entire office heard the lock turn.

Shrugging furiously, Harm took the two steps that cleared the doorway, and turned down the hall and stalking angrily towards his office. No one noticed the stunned looks on the faces of the Admiral and his yeoman, standing in his office doorway.

Shaking his head and turning back to his office, the Admiral spent the next hour reviewing case assignments and making several changes. He separated and reassigned all work that overlapped between the Colonel and the Commander. If he was sure of nothing else, he was certain she didn’t need to have more than minimal contact with the hardheaded Commander for a while.

Friday Afternoon
JAG HQ

Rabb was standing outside of the Admirals office, as he prepared to deposit a report on several minor cases into Coates’ inbox, when he heard voices through the partially open door.

“Admiral it’s only a desk job, and it will give her some relief from the stress,” he heard the gratingly familiar voice of Clayton Webb.

“Webb, if it weren’t for you she wouldn’t be subject to any stress now,” the Admiral barked unrelentingly.

“That’s not entirely true, A.J.” Webb whined defensively.

“It is the way I see it,” Chegwidden replied.

Involuntarily Harm’s fists clenched as he realized that the aggravating spook was trying to recruit Mac again. In her condition, she didn’t need that kind of stress. Given his responsibility, he should have at least had the decency to be concerned for her welfare. Desk job or not, anything having to do with the agency would, by definition, bring back memories she should not have to deal with while she carried a child.

He wondered briefly at this overprotective reaction, even as he wondered how Webb cared so little for her well being he couldn’t see the damage his suggestion would do.

“Admiral, I promise, she would have nothing to do with any field operation. She’d only be there in an advisory capacity working a desk.” Webb wheedled.

“No Webb, and that’s final,” the Admiral thundered.

“But Admiral, she’s just not comfortable….” This persistence was unusual even for Webb.

“No! I said no, and that’s absolutely final. I’ll find a way to make her comfortable, but she’s done her last assignment for the agency. Now get out of here before I break your neck. You’ve done enough damage.” The Admiral was livid and it carried in his voice.

Taking the threat seriously, Webb burst through the door nearly colliding with Harm. Briefly, Harm checked the thought that people bouncing off his chest was becoming a habit.

“Webb,” Harm bristled like a stray dog offering a territorial challenge to another.

“Rabb,” Webb answered unintimidated and dismissive, though faintly curious at Harms sudden demeanor.

“I’d offer congratulations, but the Colonel informs me you’ve backed away from your responsibilities.” Harm’s voice dripped disdain.

Webb looked up at the tall Commander as though he’d grown two heads.

“Rabb, you’re an ass,” he stated flatly, before walking across the room to greet Sarah Mackenzie, who had watched the exchange.

Harm noticed a softly whispered word, a small kiss on the cheek, and a squeeze on her arm, before they both looked his way. Mac shook her head sadly at an unheard question, before retreating to relative safety of her closed office. Across the distance of the bullpen, Webb gave Harm a hard look before he took his leave.

End of nine

A Circumstance of Consequence
Part Ten ‘A’

Harmon Rabb’s Apartment
Friday Evening

Exiting his cranky elevator, Harm wore the lined expression that had lately become a permanent fixture on his handsome features. He had damned little reason to smile in the last year, and now through his actions, or perhaps his inactions, he had lost the woman he hoped would be his future.

Today? Well today was just a hellish cap on a hellish week. He’d thought a hundred times of apologizing. But aside from the fact that everyone was closing ranks around her and not letting him within ten feet, he still wasn’t certain what he would be apologizing for. Ok his words were a little rough, but the truth is the truth. Breaking through her voluntary troops to apologize for his inelegance of expression hardly seemed adequate.

If he didn’t feel as though his emotions had been victim of a flash fire, he might have actually sorted out his culpability. Instead, he remained raw, exhausted, and more than a little puzzled why no one could see his side of the situation.

Hearing the girlish giggles from inside his apartment reminded him of the sole and single reason for happiness in his life. Carefully resetting his expression to something softer, he opened the door to find Mattie and Jen on the floor, magazines strewn about with pages open or dog-eared, as they conducted the great prom dress hunt.

It was to be Mattie’s first formal dance, and she was torn between the practical persona she had developed in caring for herself, and allowing a more feminine teenager style to emerge. Harm’s only restriction was a generous, but practical, dollar cap on the price, and final approval on her permitted style selections.

He knew he was going to be a complete prude about this. Wasn’t it Mac, who had once called him a prude? Jen was probably going to prove once again to be the practiced mediator, determined that Mattie wouldn’t wind up in floor length pink tulle ruffles up to her neck.

“Hi Harm,” Mattie spotted him first as the door opened.

“Sir,” Jen started to rise, reflexively.

“Relax Jen, we’re off duty remember?” he dismissed her attempted formality.

“Yes sir,” she smiled, as she sank back against the hardwood.

He just shook his head ‘I give up’ fashion, and headed for his room to change, after placing his briefcase on the desk.

To Harm, a dress style seemed inconsequential in the face of his personal devastation. However, he recognized both its importance to Mattie, and the fact she shouldn’t be burdened with such heavy problems. He’d let them do their girl thing until dinner, then afterwards Mattie would need to get on to her homework, and he would start sorting out the case he brought home. Changing into sweats, he headed for the kitchen and pulled one of his pre-prepared casseroles from the freezer.

“You’re staying for dinner right Jen?” he called over his shoulder.

“If you say so sir,” was her sunny reply.

“I say so,” he answered with a small laugh. “Unless you have plans, I’d like to work on that case we talked about.”

“Fine with me sir,” she answered absently, as Mattie selected another style and handed it over for her approval.

Once again he shook his head, a slight smile crept reluctantly across his troubled features. Bud and Harriet still did the same thing after all these years.

Later

Harm finished putting away the last of the dishes from dinner, as the girls set up the evenings work on the table. Mattie was at one end with her homework. The dreaded English Lit, and the well loved Math he knew she would do first.

Jen was helping him organize the evidence in a particularly scrambled case he’d been recently assigned. With the sudden trip to Norfolk last week, there hadn’t been time to work on it. Now he was behind.

He hadn’t actually asked Jen for her help, but after moaning about the case, she had offered and he accepted, with a counter-offer of dinner and gratitude. Jen had a clever quick mind, and her investigative skills were becoming well known.

Sometimes she had to be discouraged from using them on the staff’s personal issues, but she had proven discreet in disseminating the information she gathered. He suspected it was a habit she learned early in life to protect herself, and now she was so happy with her newfound home and friends, she appeared to want to know all about them.

They worked for an hour before a heavy sigh from Mattie, and a fist on her book, roused them from their concentration.

“Damn,” she breathed in frustration.

“Mattie Grace, what did I tell you about that language,” Harm admonished.

“Sorry Harm,” she looked abashed but continued, it’s just this….this….it’s total nonsense Harm. How does anyone ever figure out what it means, it’s so….it’s so….I don’t know…the words don’t mean what the words mean,” she ended stuttering in frustration.

“What?” he smiled, assuming correctly she had finished her beloved math, and was on to Shakespeare. “Show me the passage Mattie,” he coaxed.

She slid the book around and pointed to a paragraph.

“I can figure out some of it, but this….I just can’t decipher it Harm, it’s like it’s in code or something” she folded her arms and leaned back in a superb imitation of a five-year-old child’s pout.

He smiled as she equated the bard with cryptology. A fleeting thought crossed his mind that Diane would have appreciated the comparison. English lit was the course he’d helped her through at the academy. Mildly disturbed that she had even entered his head, he scooted over and glanced at the indicated prose. As he read the phrases, another face swam through his thoughts. The features were similar but the personality behind them was a force he would carry in his heart until he died.

He didn’t realize he was reading aloud as Mac’s image twisted among his brains cells. The words poured naturally from his lips as the long forgotten language of love began to flow from memory. When he finished, Mattie looked at him stunned, and he slowly became aware Jen was equally affected.

He attempted to brush their reaction aside, but Mattie’s immediate response stopped him. “God Harm, the way you say it makes sense. Now I understand.”

“That was absolutely beautiful,” Jen whispered, losing her usual formal address. “So romantic.”

Mattie regarded Harm for a long hard minute, as though assessing him. He had begun to squirm, when she piped up and addressed Jen as though he wasn’t present.

“Sooooo, if he’s that romantic, and he’s obviously really good looking, for an older man that is, why do you think he doesn’t he have a girlfriend?” She asked in mischievous reflection.

“Mattie,” Harm warned, he wasn’t going to go there, not with the two of them.

Jen’s expression wavered between shock and a merry smile, but it was also tinged with the deep sadness of hidden knowledge.

“I….I’m not sure Mattie,” was how she answered, careful not to close the door entirely on what she perceived as a problem that needed solving.

Harm looked closely at her, but spun his head back when Mattie inquired, “What about that beautiful Colonel Harm, the one you told me you rescued? You must have had a reason,” Mattie pressed. “After all you gave up your career.”

“Mattie, don’t,” Harm begged in a flat voice, his gut twisting in deep underlying pain. Quietly, almost too quietly added, “She’s pregnant.”

“Is it yours?” Mattie looked him straight in the eye, guileless as only a teenage can be.

“No!” he exploded half standing. Mattie jumped slightly. “Sorry Mattie, no, that’s impossible.”

“Not really sir,” Jen interjected thoughtfully.

End of part ten ‘a’

A Circumstance of Consequence
Part Ten ‘B’

From part ten ‘a’

Harm looked closely at her, but spun his head back when Mattie inquired, “What about that beautiful Colonel Harm, the one you told me you rescued? You must have had a reason,” Mattie pressed. “After all you gave up your career.”

“Mattie, don’t,” Harm begged in a flat voice, his gut twisting in deep underlying pain. Quietly, almost too quietly added, “She’s pregnant.”

“Is it yours?” Mattie looked him straight in the eye, guileless as only a teenage can be.

“No!” he exploded half standing. Mattie jumped slightly. “Sorry Mattie, no, that’s impossible.”

“Not really sir,” Jen interjected thoughtfully.

Part ten ‘b’

“I beg your pardon? What exactly do you mean ‘not really’?” Harm thundered, leaning across the table and enunciating every word.

“Sorry sir, that was out of line,” she dropped her eyes and apologized hastily.

He held her in his gaze for a moment, before he relaxed and dropped back into his seat. “No Jen, I’m sorry, I was out of line. I shouldn’t have raised my voice. You’re here as a friend and as our guest. I had no right to pull rank.”

“Yes sir,” Jen replied meekly, daring to raise her sad serious eyes to his.

“Not sir Jen, its Harm. I’m Harm, you’re Jen or Jennifer, and this is Mattie when we’re in my home. OK?” she nodded, her courage returning. “Now would you like to explain that last comment? In the context of being friends, of course,” he smiled slightly. Hearing the latest office gossip should prove entertaining at the very least, and maybe he could put a stop to it.

“Well sir…uh Harm, the way I see it is like this, there were only four of you,” Jen started cryptically.

“Four!?” Harm repeated, wondering if he understood correctly.

“In Paraguay. Four men, it takes a man,” she smiled slyly, and Mattie giggled.

Harm tried a stern look, but couldn’t contain a grin, “I know it takes a man Jen, but maybe Mattie should excuse herself from this discussion,” he suggested warily.

“Really Harm, you don’t want me pregnant at sixteen do you?” Mattie protested stubbornly. She wouldn’t give up hearing this for the world.

“Mattie!!….of course not,” he didn’t know whether to bluster in a fatherly fashion, or blush over the turn of the conversation. “But…”

“Then I need to learn this stuff. Do you want me to have to learn it in the locker room at school?” she finished logically. Harm gave her a sharp look but Jennifer interrupted quickly.

“It doesn’t matter….H-Harm,” PO Coates almost stuttered on his name, before explaining further. “We aren’t dealing in details, only in circumstances.”

Harm leaned back with his arms crossed, relaxing only slightly. “All right, enlighten me please,” he surrendered.

“Well first there’s the terrorist of course, the one who captured her,” Harms face darkened at the thought of Mac being used by that maniac. “But sir she couldn’t be so happy if that were the case,” Jen hastened to soothe him.

His shoulders relaxed clear up to his hairline. He had to admit Mac looked happy, most of the time she was radiant. Well, all except when he was around, especially given his behavior since her condition was revealed. He shoved that thought aside in his quest for information.

“Then of course, there was the gunny sir…” she mused, continuing her list almost impishly.

“Mac wouldn’t,” Harm interrupted too quickly, looking almost worried. Victor did have a way with women.

“I agree sir,” she continued analytically, “the Gunny is hot, but the Colonel would never violate that rule. Now if they weren’t military…” she decided that since she had permission to speak freely, maybe she would push his buttons just a little. Mattie grinned broadly at the byplay.

“Jen,” Harm’s tone cautioned her.

“Yes sir.” She accepted the correction with a ghost of a smile. “Of course there was Mr. Webb, but it can’t be him,” she continued thoughtfully.

“What do you mean, ‘it can’t be him’?” Harm sat upright. “Why not?”

“Well he was being tortured half the time, at deaths door the rest, and most of the time she had to wear that god awful suit for her cover. Not exactly romantic, sir. Of course, if the two of you didn’t….” she let the sentence trail in the air.

Harm stood up so quickly he almost turned over the chair. Pacing the room, he scrubbed his hair with his hand until it spiked in a hundred different directions.

“You heard what I said to her?” Harms thoughts were wildly scattered now picking up pieces from deep in his mind.

“Yes sir, she didn’t take it very well. You…uh…weren’t very pleasant.” Jennifer Coates’ own personality had surfaced and she had no difficulty dropping into familiar conversation, but her training was too strong, the formal address returned even under these circumstances.

Harm rubbed his face with his hands still not looking at the young girl who was his ward, and the young woman who had voluntarily become her big sister. This was bizarre.

Mattie’s face was almost gleeful at the turn of events, and Jen was now determined to fix this mess.

“But….but we only….I mean it was just once,” he admitted in desperate frustration, swinging his arms wide and pondering aloud to himself.

“Yes!!!” Mattie exclaimed.

“It only takes once sir, if the timing is right,” Jen offered quietly.

“The timing, what do you mean?” Harm was genuinely puzzled.

“The right few days each month,” she explained patiently. He just looked at her dumbfounded, “You do know about that sir?”

“Of course,” Harm shook his head, “I just always….that is….it was my responsibility to protect…uh my own future and whoever else I was with. This was the only time I ever….”

Jen’s unfortunate background showed as she shook her head knowingly, “Understood, sir.”

“But it couldn’t be….No!….dear God,” he cast about trying to correlate all the information that suddenly flooded back into his consciousness. Facts suddenly tumbled wildly from the dark dusty shelf where he had stored them. He found his resistance was weakening under the assault from the truth. But Harm’s infamous stubborn streak reared what remained of its ugly head in spite of Jen’s battering, to stand one last defense.

“It still could have been Webb, before I got there,” he dug in.

“Not possible sir,” she was on firm ground now.

“Why not,” his eyes narrowed as he inspected her argument.

“She said so,” Jen shrugged.

“She who...? She told you?” He couldn’t believe Mac would share this with Jennifer Coates.

“Not exactly sir, she sort of mumbled something,” Jens sparkling eyes told him she was certain of her information and nothing would stop her.

“Mumbled something Jen?” Harm leaned on the table again, “Please clarify.”

“Well I asked her if Mr. Webb was happy when she gave me her uniform requests, and she said she didn’t know what made Mr. Webb happy. So I said, ‘I just thought maybe….’ and she said ‘not unless it’s an airborne virus’, but she mumbled it sir. I don’t think she meant for me to hear,” the petty officer admitted.

Harms reaction was explosive, “Damn it, double damn it,” he banged his fist on the table, startling both young women. “Why the hell didn’t she tell me?”

“I’m not exactly sure, sir,” Jen vacillated.

“But you have an idea.” He pointed a long finger at her. “Why do you think Jen?” he might as well hear it all.

“Well sir, my guess is she may have tried. You aren’t always easy to talk to about things, especially if you’ve already made up your mind.” Jennifer Coates decided she had just scuttled her entire career in one sentence.

He stared at the petty officer for several long minutes until she looked decidedly uncomfortable. His mind raced over the few opportunities they might have had.

“Look sir, I’m sorry, but….” she spoke up.

“No Jen,” he said gently, “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t take this out on you. I think you’re only trying to help, and unfortunately, you may be exactly right.” His anger was seething, but repressed behind his manners. None of this was Jen or Mattie’s fault, but he had to go talk to someone very important. And he had to go now, right this minute.

“Damn,” he said again before he spun, grabbed his jacket and keys, and jerked open the door. Turning to look at them, the tremor in his voice reflected deep emotion, “Jen thank you, however this turns out, thank you. Mattie you know your bedtime. I may be late.” Then he smiled ruefully, “If she kills me get her a good lawyer Jen, I probably deserved it.”

He dialed the first of two numbers on his cell phone as he pulled the door solidly shut behind him. They heard him run down the stairs, and seconds later the beep of the electronic lock on his car door. The first one answered, the second one rang repeatedly before transferring to the machine pickup. A few seconds later, the powerful engine of his car roared down the street.

“Should we call her and warn her?” Mattie asked with a worried frown.

“No. They need to take it from here.” Jen smiled confidently.

“He’s awfully mad Jen,” Mattie pointed out uncertainly.

“He’d never hurt her, not that way,” Jen explained positively.

“But he just said...” Mattie wavered.

“I didn’t say she wouldn’t hurt him,” Jen smiled. Then softened it, “Mattie they’ll be fine they have the information now, they’re smart people. They’ll work it out, you’ll see,” Jen reached over and patted the young girls hand reassuringly. “Now about that homework, believe it or not English Lit was my favorite in school,” she confided as she scooted her chair around to peer at Mattie’s book.

End of part ten ‘b’

A Circumstance of Consequence
Part Eleven

Sarah Mackenzie’s apartment

He pounded heavily on the door until she pulled it open. Her eyes blazed at him.

“Mac,” his voice was angry and determined. “You aren’t answering your phone.”

“I answer my phone Harm, what do you want.” She replied impatiently. She was effectively blocking the doorway dressed in sweats and an oversized t-shirt, an obvious souvenir of the Gulf War.

“I guess it’s just my calls you aren’t answering,” he observed caustically. “May I come in?”

She shrugged, but continued to block the door, “I’m not in the mood for company, Harm.”

“I’m not company and I need to talk to you, now.” He stepped forward and scooped her into his arms. After kicking the door shut, he proceeded to place her with more care than she expected, square in the middle of the couch. She tried to rise but he leaned against the back with one hand on either side of her shoulders, hovering above her.

Now that he was here, now that he saw her, he found he was unable to sustain his anger.

“Don’t I recognize that shirt Marine?” he tried a light diversion to set aside the remainder of his own anger, and diffuse hers.

“Did you come here to discuss my wardrobe Harm?” she countered, moody and tired, but still fighting.

“No, but that’s my shirt,” he stubbornly stuck to the meaningless subject.

“Harm, they probably produced a hundred thousand of these shirts,” she remarked, pointedly refusing to satisfy him with an affirmative answer.

“Not with a ketchup stain right there.” he lightly touched a place three inches below her throat.

She pulled away, burrowing back into the deep cushions, unable to bear him so close. “Then it couldn’t be yours, Harm, you don’t eat ketchup.”

“I used to, I just learned what’s good for me,” he suggested reasonably, trying desperately to deflect his residual hurt and resentment. It would serve no useful purpose, and he suddenly realized that how she felt was the most important thing in the world to him.

She made a disparaging sound, but didn’t answer.

“I used to do a lot of things Mac. Sometimes something happens that shows me the things I shouldn’t do any more. Occasionally, I even learn from them and change.” His voice had almost a sad pleading quality.

“Like not eating ketchup?” She wasn’t willing to have this conversation, but she was finding it more difficult not to respond.

“Like that, and other more important things.” He had to get through to her. Slipping to his knees on the floor in front of her, he rested his arms on either side of her long legs. It was a non-threatening position, even a vulnerable one.

She remained silent, disinclined to make this easy, reluctant to anticipate anything aside from more anguish.

“Mac I…,” he tried again.

“Harm,” she said, even more harshly than she planned, “Is there a point here, because I’m tired and hungry, and this conversation isn’t part of my evening agenda.” No, she decided, she was going to make this as difficult as possible. She just didn’t want to deal with him any more. This pointless carousel of words that went nowhere was more than she was willing to endure.

She saw him flare slightly, and hoped he would go now. He would leave angry, but he would leave. She may need to push only one or two more buttons.

“Mac…. dammit Mac, will you just listen to me please.” Frustrated apprehension tinged his voice.

“Why Harm? I’m not sure you have anything to say that I want to hear.” Hadn’t she heard all of his excuses over the years? The endless apologies that just needed repeating all too soon.

He looked at her coolly, but with something else in his eyes as well. Fear, he was terrified. It almost broke her heart, almost. But it did nick the surrounding shell substantially.

“Five minutes,” he asked quietly, “just give me five minutes, and then I’ll go.”

“Promise,” she asked. It was vicious and low, but unavoidable. It felt satisfying in a hollow way, until the baby kicked. She realized the feelings she was generating weren’t good for him or her, and she sighed, relenting slightly. After all this was Harm’s baby and she would protect it against anything even if he refused to acknowledge it. It occurred to her that he was trying to apologize and he didn’t even know what he had really done.

He caught the break in her armor, and answered. “If you want me to go I’ll go. I promise,” he modified.

She nodded her acceptance, but relaxed only enough to revise her emotional state.

“If it’s that important, I’ll listen. After all we were friends once,” she said into the air before her. Her head was turned, but years of practice allowed him to hear the catch in her voice. It helped him to mask the searing pain her comment had caused. This had become bigger than hurt feelings.

“Thank you,” he replied softly. It surprised her into glancing at him briefly. She needed the strength not to look at him, not to look into his eyes. Her resistance needed to remain strong.

“I learned something else recently.” She remained silent. “I learned how much I need you,” he offered simply.

“Harm don’t…” she started

“Mac, please. I was wrong, horribly wrong. I was stupid and arrogant. I’ll regret it until the day I die, but please, don’t shut me out. Not from this, dear God it’s too important.” He didn’t remember ever begging for anything in his life, but for this, he would beg.

She turned her head slowly, allowing herself to look into his eyes, knowing she would be lost when she did. Could he have realized?

“Mac I know,” he said simply. “I know it’s mine. Please just let me have a little part in the baby’s life,” he implored, his eyes full of tears. “Please, even if you won’t let me be part of yours.”

“How do you know, why now,” she whispered her own eyes filling. He could require the issue be settled in court. He was asking her instead. The difference wasn’t lost on her.

“I just know. Maybe I always did, somewhere inside,” he gave a teary, rueful, half smile, “that’s the stupid part. I was devastated when you said never, and then there was Webb after we got back. It was easier to believe, I’d believed it for so long. But the believing kept slipping away, and the truth kept resurfacing. I’d push it away as wishful thinking, but then it would come back. Finally I couldn’t push it away any more.” It was an explanation that would befuddle most people, but she understood perfectly.

“Webb was never a factor Harm, I told you before and you wouldn’t believe me. What makes you so sure now,” she asked in a watery voice, more intrigued than hopeful. If he couldn’t learn to trust her, they would have nothing.

“You told Jen,” he replied with a soggy smile, “she verified what I knew in my heart from the moment I first saw you that way. Something had been trying to tell me all along, I just didn’t understand. I was scared to death, and too stupid and arrogant and ashamed to admit it.” His eyes filled again, and she knew the tears were genuine; nothing had ever made Harm cry, except the discovery of his father’s fate, and Buds near fatal accident. It wasn’t something he indulged in lightly.

“I never….I didn’t tell anyone. Least of all Jen,” she defended herself.

“Well,” his smile gained a little more strength, even though drowning it was still optional, depending on her response, “you told her it could only be Webb’s ‘if it was caused by an airborne virus.”

“She caught that?” She was aghast.

“Jen’s a bright girl,” he remarked.

“Too bright, I didn’t even say it out loud. It was just a passing thought.” She wondered now if she’d made the slip subconsciously. Maybe a part of her mind had taken the initiative. She remarked once that he made things too complicated. She was wrong; things were complicated. At least where the two of them were concerned. God, what a mess. Should they give in or give up, and who should go first? It reminded her of an ancient vaudeville routine she had seen once on late night TV.

She sat and stared at him, as if he were the other half of her, as if he were a total stranger. Her blood pressure was rising, she could feel it, but no decision came.

“Why didn’t you tell me Mac? When did you know? Do you really hate me that much?” He broke the silence casting about to understand.

“No Harm, I don’t hate you. I’ve never hated you. I tried to tell you, I’m not the only one who doesn’t answer the phone,” she remarked pointedly, trying to control her emotions. “When could I have told you Harm? Could I have told you during one of the phone calls you didn’t return?”

“Oh lord, the messages,” he lowered his head in despair, and his face went white. If he had returned even one of them everything would be different.

She just nodded, “I didn’t know where you were, if you would ever come back. After you returned, the way things were, there just wasn’t a way. I thought maybe we could have lunch or dinner, but it never happened. Webb asked me to lunch once and suddenly you became the iceman.”

“Tell me Harm when could I tell you? Maybe in the office,” she continued under a full head of steam, “Hey harm your client is guilty as sin and by the way I’m pregnant and guess what, it’s yours. Would that have worked?” She was on a roll now. “Or how about if I had climbed on stage after the concert and announced to the three thousand sailors assembled, that yes the song was for me, but it’s all okay because you’re going to be the father of my child….” she let the thought hang.

“Mac, I’m so sorry. What a mess, if only there had been just one time,” he said.

“There was just one more, but you went flying remember?” her voice gentler now.

“The trip home,” he sighed dejectedly.

“It was the last opportunity I could have told you, everything was over, the case was wrapped up. I even thought I knew how you were feeling.” She sounded sad.

“But what you said to Jerry,” He questioned.

“Harm, what would you have me say to the base commander? Besides, he had already guessed. He was kidding me, urging me to tell you actually, and I was responding. I know it was an oblique conversation but you heard it out of context. I ran out of options Harm. When you didn’t call back that weekend, I finally decided I had to do it alone.” She looked so small and lonely it broke what was left of his heart.

“You’re not alone Mac. Please don’t ever believe you’re alone. I’m so sorry; I will never leave you alone. However you let me, I’ll always be there.” He promised with his words and his eyes.

She was reluctant to accept or to believe. She hesitated but her eyes didn’t deny him. She was rapidly losing the battle for her heart.

Tentatively, he reached out a hand. She watched mesmerized, not daring to move, not wishing to move, as his fingers lightly caressed her belly. The current was immediate, like the opening of a circuit; the connection was so complete words couldn’t deny it.

“Harm?” She cried softly, “Oh Harm.”

“Please Mac, please let me in,” he asked simply.

“Yes,” was the only word she could form, before the floodgates opened, and she reached for him. He scooped her against him as her torrent of tears soaked his shirt. Pulling her closer, he bathed her neck with his own tears, until a tiny foot beat a preemptive tattoo against his middle.

Releasing her slightly, he searched her eyes. “He doesn’t like me?” he asked fearfully, still full of wonder for the experience.

“He likes you,” she burbled, crying and laughing at the same time, “he just doesn’t like you making me cry.”

He moved onto the couch and pulled her back against him, turning her to give their baby room. He held her close with one hand over the baby’s small mound. “I promise,” he murmured in her ear, “I’ll do everything in my power to see to it you never cry again.”

“Don’t make a promise you can’t keep,” she smiled up at him.

“I haven’t yet,” he smiled back, caressing her rounded tummy.

“What do we do now?” She asked.

“That depends on you,” he shrugged. “If you’re up to it, I’d like to take you to my place. There are two young ladies who screwed my head on straight, and they’d like to see you. But if you’re too tired, I need to call them. I told them you just might kill me, and to get you a good lawyer because I probably deserved it.”

She giggled against his chest, and he was treated to another soft flutter from the baby. He stroked his hand over the small swelling and smiled against her cheek.

“I think I’d like to go with you. Two big sisters will be a good start,” she relaxed against him contentedly. “Could we just sit here for a few minutes, I want to feel you hold me.”

“As long as you like Sarah. I’ll hold you forever, any time you want.” He flexed his arms to punctuate the promise.

The storm that had been their lives for ten months cleared, but in the midst of chaos, they had created a new life, awesome and wonderful. He was forgivably more than a little pleased with himself.

They had a lot to work out, but suddenly it all became details. The important stuff was in place. He had fallen head first into his love for her, accepting it fully in less than a heartbeat and she had felt his wash over her like a tidal wave.

A few minutes to regain their balance was a luxury they could afford. How could life ever be less than perfect again?

End of eleven

A Consequence of Circumstance
Part Twelve

She lost track of the time and he didn’t bother to measure it. While his arms held her snuggled securely against him, his mind whirled with everything he wished to say to her. All too often the spoken word was their enemy, but the unspoken ones were worse. There were things he needed to say, so he gathered his thoughts, and her expected responses, with more care than he’d ever given to any closing argument. A strong wall had been breached, but the debris needed to be dealt with. Their situation was not the perfection he wanted for her, now a way must be found to repair the last of the damage.

He still held her close, her head resting on his shoulder, his cheek against her hair. His arms tightened slightly in an anticipated response to her expected flight. He gathered a deep breath before plunging into this new unknown. Only she held the parachute that would break his fall.

“Mac I want you to know how sorry I am,” he started tentatively.

“About the baby?” She stiffened.

“Yes, I mean, no. No!” he tightened his arms around her. She was pulling away, he turned her so he could look in her eyes. “No I’m not sorry we’re having a baby. Please believe that. You’re the only person I’ve every wanted to have a baby with. But I wanted it to be right for you, I wanted it perfect. I’ve never done the right things, said the right things with you, because it never quite seemed the right time, the perfect circumstance. Is there any way I can make you understand? I wanted you to have it all, and have it be right. And I wanted to be the one to give it to you.

“You wanted to fix all the things that have ever been wrong for me,” she mused still not relaxed.

“Yeah I guess so. I wanted to give you a perfect relationship with safety and security. I wanted you to have the best ring I could buy, the nicest wedding, a great house. Everything you’ve always wanted, but somehow something always was in the way. First it was me, I wasn’t good enough, but I worked on me. Then you were engaged; and after that was over….well, things just sort of went to hell. We were better together, but everything else was a mess.

“Harm you’re not responsible for fixing my screwed up life,” she was getting angry again. “I never needed anything except someone beside me to love and trust me. That was all the stuff you wanted. You never asked me what I wanted.”

“I’m just so sorry it happened this way. I never intended to….to trap you,” he finished lamely, not certain where his statement had taken them.

“Funny Harm, I don’t feel trapped. But if you do, I understand,” she pulled away and stood up.

“No Mac, please, I don’t feel trapped…it’s just… I want to make it right, but I don’t know how.” He knew the thoughts in his head were once again failing to make it past his mouth unscrambled.

“You don’t have to make anything right Harm. I don’t believe there’s anything wrong. As a matter of fact, it seems you’ve done everything you ever promised. You promised to give me a baby and you have. You never said anything about the other stuff, and I guess I never really expected it. Harm why don’t you go home? I’m tired now, I’d like to rest.” She’d schooled herself to handle almost anything and shield the emotions from the baby, but Harm was getting to her.

“No!” he sprang from the couch, “not this time Marine.”

She turned, stunned with a momentary flash of fear crossing her face, but it was quickly replaced by anger. “What the hell do you mean, no? I asked you to leave, this is my home.”

“And I said no. It may be your home, but that’s my baby. I’m staying until we settle this,” he declared, crossing his arms. This time Harm was in no mood to back down. He would not run from her again.

“We’ll settle this in…in court then, if you can prove it’s yours. You can sue me for custody, until then leave me alone.” She answered viciously. “Now get out,” she turned and headed for her bedroom.

As she reached the bedroom door, huge waves of emotion washed over her, the first flash was mental, asking her what the hell she was doing? This is Harm the father of your baby, the only man you’ve ever really loved. Are you nuts? He just said all the things you’ve ever wanted to hear. Instantly she knew the answers to all those questions. There was no way she could turn him away, no way she could lose him. God, what was she thinking? Why was she acting like this? He’d never have her now. ‘Please Harm,’ she cried out mentally, ‘please forgive me,’ but something else was happening and the words wouldn’t form.

The next wave was physical, first nausea, then dizziness. Mustering her strength, she grasped the door-frame, and held herself stiff, vowing not to allow him to see her distress. Trying to get the words past her lips.

“Mac,” he cried, “Please Mac, don’t do this. Look I know I’m an idiot, and if I don’t learn to keep my mouth shut I’ll always say the wrong thing, but please talk to me. Mac I love you so much.”

That did it, as his final words rippled against her spine she nearly collapsed. Holding the framework harder for support, the tears returned hard and full. “Harm, please” she managed to gasp out, “oh God Harm, I love you too. I’m so sorry. Please don’t leave me.” Just then her hand lost feeling and the wall slipped away from her grasp.

He realized she was swaying, just in time to catch her before she fell.

“Mac,” he nearly screamed, as he scooped her up in his arms and carried her back to the couch.

“I’m okay Harm, I think I just need….I haven’t eaten yet this evening. I’m just a little woozy. My metabolism…I’m sorry,” she stumbled. It didn’t matter he was already calling 911, and ordering an ambulance.

“No Harm, really I’m okay,” her words were slurred and disjointed.

“Lay down Mac, that’s an order,” he barked between answering the dispatcher’s questions.

“You can’t order me….” she started to flare, but it took more energy than she had, and she collapsed back against the cushions.

“Stay put Marine,” he demanded again as he closed his phone and headed for her kitchen. Back in seconds with a small glass of juice, he propped her up and coaxed her to drink it.

“Here Mac, they said this might help,” he murmured softly. “Get your blood sugar back up.” She sipped the small amount of juice and laid back against the cushions as a peremptory knock sounded on the door.

Harm watched amazed as the very efficient young team of paramedics poured into the room, performing their emergency ritual. He paced closely, careful to stay out of their way, but nervous as a trapped tiger.

Finally, a perky redhead looked up at him and smiled. “I take it you’re her husband?”

“Something like that,” he replied.

“Well she’s probably going to be fine. Most likely just a systemic imbalance. Did anything happen?”

“We, uh…. we sort of had an argument, she said she hadn’t eaten.” He admitted haggard and ashamed, certain still it was all his fault.

“Did she fall?” The young woman looked suspicious, glancing furtively to find bruises.

“No, she almost fainted, I caught her. I wouldn’t…I would never…” he stumbled realizing what she implied.

Mac caught her hand. “Nothing like that,” she looked the paramedic named Kit in her eyes. “We were just having a ‘discussion’ over whether I would let him ask me to marry him,” she explained, looking from the medic to Harm.

He slowly allowed his megawatt smile to creep across his face. “Give up Marine?” he asked.

“Who was winning?” Kit looked between them.

“I was until I fainted. I’m usually tougher than that.” Mac admitted, ashamed and annoyed.

“Does that mean I win,” Harm inquired, preening.

“Is he always that romantic?” Kit’s voice dripped sarcasm.

“Pretty much,” Mac smiled, resigned to her Flyboy’s shortcomings.

“Hey wait a minute. I’m here you know, and I’m waiting for an answer,” he protested.

“Fine,” Mac looked up, “You can ask me. Happy now?” she shot at him, trying desperately to hide the smile that was fighting to break through. This banter was familiar ground.

He started to grin triumphantly when he was interrupted.

“Not yet he can’t. I’m taking you in for a checkup,” Kit intervened firmly.

“I thought you said she was okay,” Harm looked almost panicked.

“She probably is. Her system is just a little catty-whumpus, but I want a doctor to tell us that and check the baby”

“But she’s going to be all right.” he repeated nervously, then looked at her sideways. “Is that a technical term?”

“Sort of,” Kit replied smiling. “Now let’s get her to the hospital and find out exactly what’s happening with her and the baby.”

“Harm I’m not going to the hospital,” Mac stated with her arms crossed.

“Don’t be silly, of course you are,” he waved his hand dismissively.

“No I’m not,” she glared at him.

“Fine! Leave her here Kit, but take my baby. I want him checked.” Harm rejoined with perfect lawyer hair-splitting.

“What if it’s a ‘her’?” Mac retorted.

“Doesn’t matter, him or her, it’s mine and it’s going to the hospital.” He stated stubbornly.

“It’s only half yours.” She replied dredging up her best courtroom argument.

“Okay take my half to the hospital.” Harm smiled craftily using the Solomon solution.

Kit watched with the fascination of a spectator at world class tennis, but decided to play along, “I can’t take half a baby to the hospital,” she stated firmly, “they wouldn’t allow it. I have to take the whole baby.”

Harm gasped in surprise, but kept the tempo, “See Mac, she can’t take half a baby, the whole baby goes.”

“And I can’t take the baby without the mother,” Kit continued

“That’s it Mac, both halves of the baby go and you have to go too,” presenting himself as perfectly reasonable.

“I don’t believe you, who said it was your baby any way?” she decided to drag in a red herring.

“You did,” both Kit and Harm responded

“Doesn’t count my system is cata…uh catty…whumpus?” She finished with stubborn uncertainty.

They all stared at each other for a moment stunned by the ridiculousness of the situation. The tension was broken when Mac could no longer contain a giggle. It was faint and she tried desperately to cover, but when Harm grinned at her and Kit burst out laughing, she lost it.

They continued to laugh as the team efficiently loaded Mac onto the waiting gurney and wheeled her out the door.

“Take her to Bethesda,” Harm remarked almost as an afterthought.

“Military?” Kit inquired.

“Marine,” Harm supplied.

“And you?”

“Navy,” he added.

“Well that explains a lot,” Kit remarked cryptically as Harm raised an eyebrow at her and followed her out, pulling the door shut and locking it.

“Look, why don’t you follow in your car, you could bring her some clothes,” she suggested.

“Nope,” he declared, “I’m going with you.”

“Sir, only next of kin….” she started.

“I’m her husband, I told you that,” he fudged.

“You also said you were arguing over getting married,” she countered dryly.

“Technicality, I’m the baby’s father, so I’m next of kin.” he was using his best closing argument techniques.

“Still, legally….” Kit was adamant

“Legally I have her medical power of attorney,” Harm explained. “We’re both lawyers.”

“Aha, Navy, Marine, AND lawyers,” she shook her head at the multitude of complications imaginable in their relationship, as they all climbed aboard the ambulance.

End of twelve

A Consequence of Circumstance
Part Thirteen

Later that night
Bethesda Hospital

Harm sat beside her bed, holding her hand as she dozed. Watching the play of emotion cross her features, he was able to relax in the knowledge she was healthy and unhurt. Just a temporary symptom the doctor had told him, see to it she eats regularly with healthy snacks in between to keep her blood sugar stabilized. From this moment on, Harm vowed, he would watch her like a hawk.

Her eyes opened slowly “Can I go home now?” she asked drowsily.

“In the morning,” he replied “just a precaution. Look Mac I’m sorry.”

“Isn’t that what started all this?” she looked at him sadly.

“Yeah,” he agreed “it’s not being sorry though, it’s not making it clear what I’m sorry about that seems to be the problem.”

“No Harm, it wasn’t entirely your fault. I was tired and emotional. I didn’t listen properly. I understood what you were saying, I just….I don’t know why I….frankly, I was being a bitch, forgive me?” she asked sincerely.

“Yes,” he nodded “of course. I guess we’ll have to work on this communication thing.”

“I guess,” silence fell across the room, lengthening into smothering awkwardness. Just as its shadow began to engulf them she reached out, “Harm?”

He squeezed her hand in reply and captured her eyes. He had been desperate for words. The next time he wouldn’t forget she’d had the courage to speak first.

“Didn’t you have a question you were going to ask me?” She suggested shyly.

He searched the various corners of the room trying to find the words he wanted before an interesting look slipped over his features. “Can I ask it twice?”

“Twice, why?”

“Well, I really need to ask you now, I’m afraid if I wait until things are perfect, it won’t ever happen,” he began his explanation.

“You’re learning squid” she smiled at him.

“But I still want to do it my way too. So I’m going to ask you now, then tomorrow we are going to the nicest place I can get reservations, and I’m going to ask you again. Okay?” he suggested, pleased with the clever solution.

She smiled, “Sounds perfect Harm”

“So…uh…will you marry me?” he asked hesitantly.

“Yes Harm. Yes, I think I will” she smiled more than a little relived that they had finally made it to this point.

“You think?” he was puzzled by her words.

“Well I have until tomorrow to give my final approval don’t I? I mean, not every girl gets to be proposed to twice. Makes it kind of special, don’t you think?” she teased at his perplexed expression.

“I think we will never do anything the conventional way,” he slid onto the bed and wrapped his arms around her pulling her against his chest.

She settled against him, as his hands automatically went protectively to cover her tummy.

“Harm, where?” she asked cryptically.

“Where, what?” he was back to puzzled again.

“Where will we get married, and when? It takes a while to plan a wedding. Do you want it to be really big?” she worried remembering Mic’s fixation with the grandiose.

“How about the chapel at the Naval Academy?” he suggested with a hint of triumph in his voice. “That is if it’s okay with you, I know it isn’t really very large.”

“Harm that will take months. You mean after the baby’s born?” she frowned.

“Nope, I want to be married when it’s born. I mean in two weeks,” he stated positively.

“Two weeks. I can’t plan a wedding in two weeks and how….?” she paused, knowing it took months to get a slot at the academy, he was up to something.

“I called on my way to your place. They have a cancellation, so I booked it,” it was an oversimplification but he decided to make it look easier than it was.

“Mighty sure of yourself sailor,” she flirted, comfortable now in what was happening between them.

He shrugged “I could always cancel, but I hoped I wouldn’t have to.”

“But there’s so much to do. I mean I can’t…Harm weddings take time,” she was getting agitated.

“Why,” he asked.

“What do you mean why?” She was perplexed, surely he understood….maybe. After all he was a man….maybe not.

“Start at the top Mac. We’ve discussed what I thought would be perfect,” he mentioned sheepishly, not willing to renew that argument again. “What would make it perfect for you?”

“Seriously?” she looked at him.

“Seriously. How grand, how elaborate do you want it to be? I’m sure we can get Mom and Frank help. Frank has all sorts of connections.” He suggested.

“No Harm that’s not what I want,” she protested.

“Then what? What makes it perfect? If you don’t want the academy it’s ok, we’ll use a church, a banquet hall, whatever. Whatever you want Mac.” He finally realized that having her be his wife was far more important than how they accomplished it.

“Mac?” He asked as she took a deep breath.

“What would make it perfect Harm?” She mused. He nodded.

“You.” She said. “You and me. As long as it’s us getting married and were doing it for the right reason it’s already perfect. The rest is just decoration,” she decreed.

“Well we already have that, don’t we?” he whispered huskily, moving her slightly in his arms so he could capture her lips. It seemed so natural, and yet it was so new. This woman who was bearing his child, who would soon be his wife, was in his arms for only the second time in their relationship. His lips brushed then caressed hers, before settling deeper. She responded to his touch, and would have followed this lead to its obvious conclusion; if he hadn’t had the strength to pull back. Reluctantly and slowly, he separated his lips from hers, “God Sarah we can’t do this now,” he almost groaned.

“Well not here anyway,” she smiled up at him. “When did you say the doctor would let me go home?” she asked suggestively.

“Even then…I mean we can’t, you’re…you’re….Can we?” he was entirely new at this.

“Of course we can Harm, you just have to break me out of here,” she bargained.

“You’re sure its okay?” he questioned further, afraid he would hurt her.

“Positive Harm it’s okay,” the doctor had provided the information without being asked.

“Oh,” he let out a breath somewhat taken aback by this new and possibly very interesting piece of information. “Okay,” he commented abstractedly smiling to himself as he nestled her back against him. “Well,” he mentally shook himself to regain the previous train of thought, “now that that’s settled what else do we need for our perfect wedding?”

“I really do want us to marry at the Academy,” she commented firmly. “Harm, we’ve been all over the world and it’s the most beautiful church I’ve ever seen. Not everyone has the privilege of being allowed to marry there; I want that for us. I don’t know how you arranged it but thank you.” She vowed never to let his deeds of love go unappreciated again.

He gave her another little squeeze. “You’re welcome sweetheart,” he murmured against her ear.

“The rest may be a little more difficult,” she ventured uncertainly

“You’re a Marine and you have your troops starting with me. What do you need?” he would do whatever it took to make her happy in this.

“Well a dress for one.” She started distractedly.

He reached in his wallet and handed her his credit card. “Call Harriet. Washington’s full of stores. Next?” She laughed at his effortless solution but had to admit he had a point.

“Flowers,” she suggested

“Same card. I’ll bet there isn’t a florist in town who won’t deliver if you pay for the flowers,” he suggested.

“But Harm it’s a wedding, they need time.” She tried to explain

“Why?”

“What do you mean why?” he couldn’t be so dense. They had already done this once.

“Why? If you planned this in three months, would they start putting the flowers together and freeze them until the wedding?” he oversimplified.

“Of course not silly, they make them up the night before.” She was beginning to see his point.

“Okay,” he shrugged “they have two weeks. Call someone and order what you want. If they give you trouble, call someone else. If you need help, call Mom and Frank. Mom will kill me if she doesn’t get to help anyway. Remind me to call her in the morning or she may kill me anyway.” He smiled.

“I will,” she worried at his mother's expected response. That would be rough. She certainly didn’t want to start out married life as a widow.

“What next?” he asked, wondering why this was supposed to be a big deal.

Catching on she responded. “Food?”

“Same thing as flowers. Snacks or a sit down dinner? However you want it,” he dismissed. “Personally, I’d like to have a pot luck party in our back yard, but I doubt I can arrange a back yard in two weeks. It’s also too cold right now, so we’ll save the party for the spring”

She was ensnared by his mood; this could be fun. “Invitations?” she suggested. Maybe it would be less stressful not dragging it out for months. She thought of the agony Harriet had gone through until the Admiral had given her some pointers.

“We aren’t inviting anyone we don’t know are we?” his male logic attacked this one.

“No.” she responded uncertainly.

“Well, we’ll call them,” seemed a perfect solution to him.

“Harm you still need a written invitation.” She protested after all some things weren’t that simple. She needed it for a remembrance, it was a girl thing.

“Okay, then we’ll write them by hand.” He simplified it.

“What?” she was amazed.

“We’ll go to the stationary store, get some nice paper and envelopes, and some of those quilly pens. We can write them by hand,” he solved the final major problem.

Tears sprang to her eyes. “That’s so romantic Harm,” she whispered. Finally she realized he meant to do this, and he wanted it right for her; but nothing was going to stand in their way.

“You mean he’s getting the hang of it?” They heard a voice from the door. It was Kit the paramedic.

“Yeah,” she looked at the medic and back to Harm, “he sure is.”

“This flyboy can do anything if you point him in the right direction.” Mac defended with mock seriousness.

“Flyboy? He said you were lawyers.” Kit asked in confusion.

“We are, but he’s a fighter pilot too,” she explained proudly, gazing lovestruck into his eyes.

“Oh lord,” Kit rolled her eyes, “and you’re allowing him to reproduce?”

Mac giggled, it felt good.

“Hey,” Harm cautioned with amusement, “cut that out, Marines don’t giggle. Besides it wasn’t that funny.”

“I know,” she giggled some more.

“I’m glad you’re okay,” Kit said, as she backed out the door, “Good luck.”

“Wait a minute,” Harm called, “want to come to a wedding?”

“Sure,” she smiled. “I take it she let you ask her.”

“She did,”

“When?”

“Two weeks, at the Naval Academy.

“Two weeks? You can’t plan a wedding in two weeks,” she declared aghast.

They smiled at one another. They knew from experience if they were both alive and healthy, they could do anything.

“You’d be surprised what you can do…” she started.

“…when the navy and the marines work together,” he finished, snuggling her close.

She turned in his arms as he bent his head to allow them both the indulgence of another warm loving kiss, one that promised passion, trust, and unending love. They ignored the envious amusement of their audience, as she slipped through the door, silently wishing them forever.

End

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