It's not that I don't know this feeling. Thinking and thinking and thinking about something... someone to be exact... looking at the mental image from every angle imaginable, and yet, always arriving at the same conclusion in the end:

Wow.

I think I'm in danger of falling in love. Who knows - maybe the feeling is just due to the absolute lack of romance in my life that has existed for so long now. Okay, not exactly, but ill-fated romance is even worse. So maybe my mind jumped at the possibility of something so entirely positive as this seems to be.

No, Rabb, don't go there. You're not thinking straight.

Okay, I'll take a deep breath and try to think of something - someone - else. Mac. She's gone. For good. Reassigned to Pearl Harbor. Conveniently, a certain spook just moved over there as well...

Why the heck doesn't this bother me? I have to admit that since Paraguay, I've come a long way when it comes to getting over her. And I know it's for the best. Moving on is what's best for both of us. In every relationship, there is one point where trying to make amends is a fruitless endeavor. We definitely crossed that line. Maybe we were nearer to it than we thought all the time anyway. I don't know. But her 'never' and my subsequent silence just did it. And strange as it seems, once I had drawn that line, I felt... free. Okay, I cried a few tears on my own at first. But then I became aware of how easy it was to breathe all of a sudden. It was as if a superhuman burden I hadn't even been aware of had suddenly been lifted off my chest.

There's just one thing you can compare this feeling to: flying.

I'm feeling so light, so free, so blissfully renewed to life... At first, I had one hell of a bad conscience. I did cause Mac a lot of pain during the years we spent as best friends. And I did aspire to something with her. Badly. And now, all I can feel is relief?

Yet - I can't help it. That's just the way it is. I don't have to understand it. I'll just savor it best as I can. And the most wonderful thing about it is that Mac is feeling the same way! It's too good to be true. In a moment of honesty we finally had 'that' talk we always tried our hand at, and this time it worked - via email.

Maybe it's just the distance that we really needed to be happy with each other. She wrote first, telling me that she and Clay are engaged. That she hoped I could bring myself to be happy for her despite everything, because that was what she wanted. For us to stay friends, no matter what.

Her email breathed happiness. And this time, unlike when she was with Brumby, her happiness is real. I can see it shining through every word she writes. Maybe I'm just a little envious of Clay because he achieved in no time what I couldn't in eight years. But be that as it may - I am truly, honestly happy for her, for both even. As I said, I absolutely can't explain it but it's true. We are exchanging emails on a daily basis and this is exactly what I keep telling her:

I wish her every happiness imaginable.

And maybe this peace of mind I've found was what was needed to make it happen. To make "today" happen.

God, I'm thinking about her again.

Karin.

No, I won't try to define what I'm feeling for her. I'll just admit that she impressed me to no end. There was no adventure involved, no heroics, no... whatever. Just someone I met whose attitude and spirit alone managed to knock me off my feet.

If someone had told me when I got up that instead of the ordinary lonely Saturdays I've gotten used to, I was going to have the time of my life, doing nothing spectacular at all - I wouldn't have believed a word of it. But apparently, being at peace with oneself and the world in general can work wonders.

It was gray and rainy when I woke up, and all I could think of was, 'Oh, man, what a waste of flying time!' So, from my morning coffee up to well after lunchtime I contemplated what I was going to do with my no-flying day instead. And to my complete surprise, at some point, without knowing what had taken me there, I found myself at the Smithsonian.

It's not that I never go to exhibitions or museums. On the contrary, natural history has fascinated me ever since I was a little boy. One of my favorite memories I have of my dad is of the day he took me to a geological exhibition for children in L.A. Maybe if I hadn't already been infected by the Navy virus, geo-sciences might have been something to choose for a profession. Every time I'm up in the air, I'm awed by the unimaginable energies nature holds. Our own attempts to equal or let alone tame it seem so insignificant once you have felt what a single storm cell can do to your 40-million-dollar bird.

Anyway, without a clear aim as to which department I wanted to visit, I just took a long, comfortable stroll through the institution, looking here, reading there, once again in awe of our planet.

I was in a world of my own... until at one point, I all but ran into a group of visitors that had formed around an exhibit I was unable to see because of the crowd. Now, normally, what do you expect when you see a lot of people gathered together? Noise, most of all. Chatting, laughing, arguing, whatever. Or, in a museum, you'd expect people with bored or stressed expressions on their faces, listening to the monotonous drone of a tour guide who has told the same stories too often.

However, this group was the exact opposite. About thirty people in between ten and seventy were obviously hanging on someone's every word, listening with pure fascination to the voice that was telling a story that's 4.6 billion years old.

And then it happened. 'It' - what's 'it'? I don't know. Subjectively, something inside me changed. Objectively, it was just a voice. But its tone was so unique it made me jump.

For this voice, the word 'contrast' didn't exist. It was joyous like a sunray breaking through the clouds - but at the same time it seemed to have ripened by having known the real pain and hardship of life. It was as strong and as clear as any anchorman or speaker in front of a large crowd could have wished for - but at the same time, it felt like a warm, velvety breeze, caressing my ears and my mind. It sounded young, eager and full of dreams and expectations for life - and at the same time it sounded wise, prudent and serene in a calm way. What its owner was telling were mere scientific facts - but from the way they rang in my ears, they could have been something in between a thriller and a fairy tale. The voice was pure passion, overjoyed to be able to share with other people what the person it belonged to loved exploring.

"...and the deeper a rock is within the Earth, the hotter and denser it is. Both temperature and pressure increase with depth. With every kilometer in depth, the temperature increases by about 45°F, and the pressure increases by about 250 atmospheres. One atmosphere means the average pressure of the atmosphere at sea level. Now, the weight of all the rocks above squeezes those below-just as pressure from overlying water crushed this plastic foam cup..."

Gasps of surprise were heard as the speaker apparently pointed something out to her audience.

"...and pressure from the Earth's atmosphere makes your ears pop when you change elevation."

"Will my ears pop when I take the elevator?" a little voice anxiously asked. Stifled laughter rippled through the group, and I couldn't help grinning myself. Curious, I stepped nearer and merged into the group as if I belonged to it. If anyone asked for a ticket, I'd just offer to pay for any extras.

Now, the mysterious voice rung with merriment, but it was clear the speaker took the question absolutely serious. "No, honey. You can take the elevator as often as you like. But maybe you know that funny feeling you get when a plane takes off? As if you'd put cotton in your ears and stuff in more and more of it all the time? And then you need to swallow again and again, right? Now imagine you couldn't swallow. And imagine the plane would rise higher and higher and never land again. Then eventually the air would press so hard on your ear-drums that they'd burst. Boom! Just like that. Can you imagine? Air is so light you almost can't feel it and yet it's so powerful it can even squash objects made of thick metal if you put too much of it into too little space. Or it can rip things apart! Think about storms, for example. You know, this is the true secret of the universe: never take things for what they seem to be. There's magic inherent in everything. We only need to keep our eyes open to see it!"

Silence followed this animated speech. I became aware that I was holding my breath and let it out slowly, my heart beating a little faster than before. Hearing my own sight of nature's wonders told this way to a child, in this voice that was so unsettling in such a positive way...

In short, I was dying to see the person it belonged to.

I rose on tiptoe to get a better look. Sure, I was taller than almost everyone in the group, but with four rows of people standing in front of you, even 6'4 will only get you so far. I looked around, scrutinizing everyone present, but no one struck me as the type to command such magic. But then I followed people's awed gazes. And saw her.

My first reaction was shock. The voice belonged to a young woman, 25 to 30 years old, I estimated. Brown hair, a little shorter than shoulder length, slightly curled, a captivating smile on her face, telling of her deep, passionate belief in what she had just told us.

And she was sitting in a wheelchair.

I think my first thought was something along the lines of, 'Oh, God, what a pity! Poor girl!' or something of the kind. But she immediately made me understand just how stupid my reaction was.

While I was still gaping at her in a rather un-gentlemanlike way, trying to squeeze her voice and her handicap into the same mental folder in my brain, she suddenly stared back, grinning, until I became aware of my lack of behavior and immediately felt my ears turn red.

"The tall gentleman at the back of the class agrees that nature is the most fascinating of things?" she asked ironically, disarming me completely with her sweet grin.

Boy, was I ever embarrassed. Of course, every face in the group instantly swiveled around to look at me, and I think my complete horror must have hung tangible in the air.

'React. React, Rabb, dammit. Somehow. Anyhow. Just say something, you moron!'

"Uh... sure!" I agreed lightly, using the one weapon she had left me, blissfully unaware of its existence. So I charged full force and... smiled back. "I was just contemplating how wonderfully you'd summed up what I'm completely unable to explain to others."

Bless my dad for passing his features on to me. It worked. Her smugness faded just a little, enough to turn her expression genuinely pleased at my praise, a little shy even. And I had to will myself not to lose control of my face again. The smile she gave me went right through to my heart.

"Thank you, sir," she said simply, sweetly, and almost immediately turned her attention elsewhere where another question had arisen.

To everyone else, it may have been two seconds. To me, the moment our gazes held felt like time had frozen. So, when she happily summoned the group to follow her to the next topic she wanted to tell us about, I hung back a little and desperately tried to clear my dazed spirit. What the hell was wrong with me?

Obedient like a shepherd's flock, the group followed the young guide as she swiftly wheeled her chair out of the hall, through a corridor and into the next hall. I had casually snuck in front and was now walking just a little behind her, observing her. I could see that in her hand, she had a remote control but whenever we neared one of the many glass doors and she had just placed her thumb over the button marked 'open', someone had already opened the doors for her. A faint frown would cross her brow but vanish immediately after, as she forcefully renewed her smile and was all happiness again.

In front of an oversized satellite image of the Americas, she stopped, wheeled around and waited for her group to assemble. "All right," she began, and the magic of her voice was there again. "Speaking of nature's energy: there are few things where it's so evident as it is in the phenomenon we call 'weather'."

"Don't I know it," I agreed before I could stop myself.

She halted, the slight frown again for a millisecond clouding her face. Then she turned to me and again smiled as disarmingly as the first time.

"Oh, do you, sir?" she asked, cocking her head. "Don't we all forget our umbrellas from time to time?"

"I'm sorry," I apologized, not really knowing where to look, "I... I got carried away."

An elderly lady addressed me sternly, "If you join our group without paying for a guided tour, you could at least listen and hold your tongue, young man." A few people nodded and murmured consent.

"Sorry," I mumbled again, trying to step back a little when the guide's voice made me stop.

"Actually, sir," she said sweetly, just the slightest hint of a challenge swinging in her tone, "I get the notion it wasn't just a forgotten umbrella in your case. What was it?"

I felt inclined to accept her challenge but all the eyes resting upon me were making me feel uneasy. "Oh, nothing really," I lamely tried my escape, wanting nothing more than to let her be the center of attention again.

Big mistake. She immediately picked up on my lie. "If you say so..." she said, considerable doubt as well as suppressed chuckling audible in her words. "Well, time for applying my 'tour guide's privilege' once again," she said boldly, exchanging a few merry glances with her smirking group, and then meeting my eyes again. Hers - blue behind small, elegant frameless glasses - were sparkling. "You know, sir," she explained, "My poor group is already acquainted with the rule. You only joined us now that the tour is almost over so I can't blame you for not knowing. It's quite simple: anyone who lets show that he or she might know something that could be of scientific interest to the group will be required to tell it if I say so. We already had interesting contributions today on the topics of maritime sediment layers and the coastal volcanic mountain ranges around Juneau, Alaska. So, now it's your turn, Mr..." she expectantly looked at me.

"Rabb," I supplied a little hoarsely. The group was openly enjoying my embarrassment.

"Mr. Rabb," she repeated happily, "Your choice: do you want to tell us why you know about the energies of meteorological processes, or would you rather like to tell us something about the El Niño phenomenon because that was going to be our last topic for today?" She pointed to the satellite picture behind her and indeed, I recognized the notable absence of clouds over the South-American Pacific Coast, west of the Atacama desert.

Still unsure if she really meant it, I looked down at her again. Her sweet, mocking grin was in place (fully mirrored by her group's expressions, by the way, all directed at me, the infamous intruder). At that moment, I decided that this was my chance to do two things: deprive the people around me of the chance to gloat at my failure and, strangely, more important to me, impress this young woman who, with her spirit, her enthusiasm and her refreshing frankness, had made this gray and rainy day something to remember.

I flashed her my most polite smile. "I'd rather explain El Niño than bore you with my stories," I replied in the most charming manner I was capable of.

Her eyebrows went up a notch. "Okay," she looked at the group while making an inviting gesture with her right hand, "So here's Mr. Rabb for you, concluding today's tour with a few words on El Niño." Her eyes invited me to join her in front of the group. I did.

"So," I clumsily cleared my throat. 'Okay, Rabb, you can do this. This is your chance, don't screw it up.' "El Niño," I began a little stiffly, "Spanish for 'The Child', is a meteorological phenomenon that manifests itself every few years around Christmas. It's known to cause devastation with its heavy rains in normally dry regions and long draughts where people are counting on the rain. It's connected to storms and other phenomena, occurring not only in South America where El Niño was first described, but even as far away as in Europe, Asia or Africa." I had talked myself into the right spirit and turned to the satellite image to point out what I was about to explain. "The interesting thing is that it doesn't generate solely in South America but draws energy from two large-scale atmospheric circulations over the Eastern and Western Pacific..."

I don't know how long I talked, but I do know that I dug up every remaining bit of my last meteorology course back in flight school, finding I remembered a surprising amount of data and noticing our guide's spirit was contagious. Unused as I was to this kind of activity, describing the unimaginable effects of a phenomenon based on non-linear equations and the butterfly effect made my adrenaline level rise. I longed to pass on to my listeners the very thrill I felt when I read about the seemingly never-ending energy flows the phenomenon procreated in the atmosphere and about just what unbelievable chaos and damage it could cause. I talked and talked, underlining my explanations with my hands, trying to charge my voice with enough passion to make meteorology seem to my audience the most thrilling matter on Earth.

When I finally thought I had reached a point that was suitable for a conclusion, I dropped my hands, actually panting slightly from excitement and exhaustion and completely awed again as I thought about just how tiring the job of a guide had to be - if it was done the right way, like in our case.

Only now did I dare take a look at the young woman's expression. And what I saw immediately filled me with deep contentment and joy. She didn't do anything to hide her astonishment at my performance. Her cheeks were a little flushed and she was openly smiling appraisingly.

Encouraged, I cocked my head. "Did I pass the test?" I asked her.

"You sure did, Mr. Rabb," she acknowledged warmly and then started to clap her hands, inviting the group to join in. Once more I was longing for an invisibility cloak. Luckily, just a few moments later, she raised her hand and the group fell silent again, looking at us expectantly. "After this brilliant conclusion I can only state that the tour is now officially over," she addressed the audience with a smile and then turned to me again. "But before we part, please, Mr. Rabb, give us just a hint as to why you're such an expert in meteorology. Just a hint," she repeated. It sounded almost like she was pleading with me to appease her curiosity. And, to be honest, wasn't that exactly what I had wanted to achieve?

I shrugged. "I'm a fighter pilot," was the only info I supplied nonchalantly.

New interest lit up her face. "Then your initial remark referred to something you experienced in connection with the weather, right? What was it?"

"Just the mother of all storm-cells, forcing me to take a three-hour marathon swim in the Atlantic at night."

"Good God..." the young woman gasped in a low voice. "Well," a rather unsettled but still genuine smile appeared on her features again as she turned back to the group, "With this fitting final statement, I thank you all for coming and listening today and... take care and keep your eyes open for the wonders of the world! Good-bye!"

She waved a general farewell, people clapped, me included, and quite a few tipped her generously before they left. I pretended to study the satellite image, just to have a reason to linger and maybe get to talk to her. I couldn't really explain it to myself but I knew I absolutely didn't want to just part ways with her and run the risk of never meeting her again. She had too much positive energy not to be someone to get acquainted with.

Love, pre-mature symptoms, beginning first stage? I have no idea. And frankly, I'm trying to exclude that possibility. I'm simply not sure if I can be sure about anything I feel after the Mac ordeal. But whatever it was - is, hopefully - it made my day.

Anyway, she eventually addressed me from the side. "You've stared for so long at that photo - don't you think you could draw the coastline by heart by now?"

I lifted my hands in defense, chuckling at her disarming frankness once again. "I plead guilty, Your Honor," I replied with a grin. "I admit that I was just waiting for the opportunity to talk to you."

She pursed her mouth. "That sounded more like a lawyer than like a pilot, Mr. Rabb," she observed.

Now, I was laughing openly. "You don't miss a thing, do you?"

She grinned. "I'm an empiric scientist. My job is to watch things. So, what is it, pilot or lawyer?"

"Both," I replied, drawing myself up to full height. "Allow me to introduce myself properly," I said pompously, a mocking grin belying my attitude, "Commander Harmon Rabb, Jr., naval aviator and Judge Advocate. I just wanted to ask when and how often you do those tours, Ms..." I stopped, looking at her questioningly.

"Hansson," she helped me, holding out her hand, "Karin Hansson. Four days a week," she added, only to continue with a frown, "It's not that I've got anything better to do now."

"What do you mean?" I asked, sensing I had involuntarily hit a sore point. "Something wrong?"

She shrugged fatalistically. "To cite your earlier statement: 'nothing really'. Just that the new administration of Georgetown University's geological institute decided I was 'unfit' to teach the students I was tutoring. You know, sometimes, when you're in my place, brains alone aren't enough."

"They fired you because of your handicap?" I asked, disgusted.

"They explained it more eloquently, but, yeah," she confirmed.

Rage began to rise inside me. How could the people responsible for this not see how great a tutor they were losing? Karin's enthusiasm and ability to explain things were all too seldom found in universities. And how could they be so unjust to this gorgeous, beautiful, captivating... That was when I reminded myself to stay on the carpet.

"Well, fight the decision," I encouraged her. "You've got all the anti-discrimination legislation on your side. The case is won from the start."

She made a face. "Theoretically, yes. But in reality, things don't always work that way. There are still people around who feel a wheelchair is the outward sign of a learning deficiency or something. I fought in court in order to be accepted at a private high school. They took me when they saw my votes - and they told me they had no openings when they learned about my situation, using some lame excuse that their learning program was too tiring for a handicapped person." A crooked smile crossed her face. "Well, once I was in, I did prove them wrong big time..."

The malicious joy in her eyes managed to soothe my anger to some degree. Giving her a conspiratorial grin, I waited for her to continue.

"In college, I didn't encounter any major problems, but when I applied for post-grad studies, the authorities were somewhat reluctant to accept me for geology, claiming a geologist needed to be able to access construction sites or caves. It didn't bother the courts at all that many geologists have desk jobs, and I ended up finishing my degree online."

"But until recently you had a job at the university?"

She nodded. "Once I had my master's degree, I moved to D.C. and re-organized my life. Feels great to be really independent." The moment the words were out of her mouth, her slight smile was gone again. "Felt great, I mean."

"So you were working with students?" I asked in order to get the whole picture.

"Yes, Georgetown employed me as a tutor for master students, and everything worked just fine. Until the new dean came and decided the building wasn't made for handicapped people. I never had any difficulties moving around but nevertheless, he decided I was 'unfit' for my job and the institute officially supports his decision." She heaved a sigh, and although she tried to wave it off, I saw she was hurting. And my anger was back in full.

"My colleagues tell me they don't agree with him at all," she went on explaining, "but everywhere budgets are being cut, and someone had to leave. It seems that in my case, finding an excuse was all too easy. End of story." Her gaze turned a little tired and pained. "You know, I'm beginning to get sick of courtrooms. I don't know if I can muster the strength again. If I could afford a good lawyer, I know I'd stand a chance. But as it is - no way."

Without thinking, I said the only right thing to say. "I am a really good lawyer, Ms. Hansson."

"Karin," she interrupted me.

"Okay, Karin, want to hire me?"

"I told you, I couldn't afford you."

Now drop the second shoe. "You can't afford inviting an old Navy lawyer to a nice chat over a cup of coffee, once a week?" I asked very smugly.

Her reaction was just the one I had secretly hoped for. Her eyes went so wide behind her barely visible glasses that I noticed for the first time how interesting they were, just like her voice. The blue was an intense color with just a shade of gray, and the expression in them could rapidly change from excited and eager to calm and, well, wise, somehow.

"You mean, you'd... do this for free?" she asked, aghast.

"Almost," I replied happily. "As I said, a cup of coffee every week is all it takes."

"I guess I can afford that," she said in a low, hopeful voice, her face glowing with sudden joy. "Thank you so much, Commander..."

"Harm," I gently corrected her. "And the pleasure is all mine. Are you here next Saturday?"

She nodded. "My last tour ends at 4 p.m."

All of a sudden, I felt like a teenage kid who had just asked a girl out for the first time. "Great, then I'll pick you up at four. Bring your files, we'll have a nice working dinner and enjoy ourselves while working out how we get your job back, okay?"

Laughing a little, she agreed wholeheartedly. I accompanied her to her car and then headed home myself. For the first time in months, I didn't feel lonely.

Okay, of course I'm still on my own, but I know that somewhere out there, there's someone who seems to run on a wavelength similar to mine.

Wouldn't that be nice for a change?

***************
CHAPTER TWO
***************

1112 ZULU
Karin Hansson's apartment
Annapolis, Maryland

Normally, when I do my guided tours, people listen to me and ask questions and the day passes without me thinking further about any of them. But this Commander Rabb made something happen in me. Oh, yeah. He sure did. I found myself singing for no reason. I mean, I'm an optimistic kind of a person, but singing is not exactly a thing I do very often.

But here I am in my bathroom, staring at my reflection in the mirror, smiling like an idiot. And the worst is I don't even know him - he told me he's a pilot and a lawyer but that's it. I desperately want to know more about him. Who he is, what he likes... I want to know everything about him. I want to see those eyes again and that smile that can light up a room and warm you from inside.

Karin, don't go there - you know what happened last time... you were devastated. So please, pretty please, don't! This road is way too slippery for you and far too dangerous.

Damn it. I can't help it - I want to call him so badly. To somehow connect with him. But I can't just call him without a reason, can I? Just like, "Hey, tell me about your life!" Tempting as it is, that's absolutely out of the question. I could never embarrass myself like that...

I need a reason.

I comb my hair furiously, wracking my brain for what I could call him about - and then it hits me! I got a letter today from Georgetown University. About the job Commander Rabb - Harm - wants to help me get back. Wouldn't he need to know about it? Sure he would. Okay, I could bring it on Saturday with the rest of the things... but I could as well let him have all the documents before Saturday, so he might already have something to propose when we meet.

This way, I could always pretend I'm calling him for legal issues only... Who exactly am I trying to fool here?

Wings, my Golden Retriever, chooses this moment to remind me he's there. "Yeah, yeah, honey," I mumble distractedly, "I'll give you something to eat." I love my dog, I really do, but even Wings is unable to take my thoughts away from their current path.

'Legal issues only...' Still a little risky, calling him just because of the letter. And maybe just a little too obvious... Anyway, I'll do it.

Wings barks at me. He really wants to eat. I wheel my chair into the kitchen - straight to the fridge. The dog knows exactly what I'm about to do. He's frantically wagging his tail. Once Wings is happy with what I've set before him, I wheel myself out of the kitchen and straight to the phone. But then I remember that I have only his name and his rank. I am about to give up on my plan when I get an idea. I dial my best friend's number. He has a friend in the Navy - convenient...

"Cole? It's me, Karin."

["Hey Kare, how are you?"]

"Fine, thanks. Listen, I have a huge favor to ask you."

["Go ahead, shoot."] I can tell he is curious. Normally, I'm the one people turn to when they have a favor to ask. 'Call Karin, she'll help.' When I'm asking, something has got to be wrong.

"Well, you have a friend in the Navy, don't you?" I ask casually.

["Yes, why?"]

Keep cool, Karin, all you're doing is ask for some information. "Umm... last Saturday, on my last tour of the day at the Smithsonian, there was this guy... really gorgeous, you know... actually, forget I ever said that. Anyway, he's a lawyer, Commander Harmon Rabb, and he promised me to help me get my job back. I just got a letter from Georgetown. They're tying up the bureaucratic loose ends I left when they fired me. I'd like to show it to him, you know, but I... ah... lost his business card. Can you help?"

Cole chuckles a little. ["So, gorgeous, is he?"]

"I told you to forget about that!" I snap a little more heatedly than I probably should have. But, heck, he just had to pick up on my lapse, right? Great...

["All right, all right, Kare,"] he answers, his voice apologetic, if still tinged with a slight grin. ["You're just looking for your lawyer's whereabouts. I'll see what I can do. I'll call you back when I have something."]

"You're the best, I owe you one."

["Don't worry about that, honey. Most of the time, I'm the one calling you for a favor. But there's one thing you should know: if I find your guy, I get to meet him someday."] I can hear he's grinning again.

"He's not my guy!" I reply a little too loud.

["All right, all right. He's not your guy. It's just business,"] he answers but I can still detect the amusement in his voice and I can tell he doesn't really believe me. If I'm honest with myself, I'd admit he is right but I'm not going to tell him that - no way!

"Anyway, thanks, Cole."

["You're more than welcome. You know that."]

"Yeah, I know... Take care..."

["You, too."]

I hang up the phone and decide it's time to take a walk outside. 'Take a walk' - whenever I say that to someone, they stare at me as if I'd grown a second head. Apparently, some people don't get it that although I can't walk, I spend my time in the park just the way they do. But what should I call it then, 'Take a wheel'? Oh, please... Anyway, I need fresh air. Maybe then, Harm will get out of my thoughts and my head.

I'm about to leave my apartment when I realize that I don't have my cell phone with me. I simply can't go out without it - not now when Cole could call me anytime and tell me he's found out something about... Harm.

"Come on, Wings, we're going outside. Come on, boy!"

Why do I feel I need to see him so badly? It confuses the hell out of me. But I can't help it. It's stronger than me. This can mean only one thing - but that's just too risky. I can't allow myself to have such feelings, not now, not tomorrow, never. I'd get hurt again and I'm not sure I can take being rejected again.

'So, what is it, pilot or lawyer?' That's what I asked him last Saturday. His answer was as short as it could be. 'Both.' For a moment, I was stunned. How could he be both, a pilot and a lawyer at the same time? Maybe it's just intuition but something tells me that in his heart, he's more of a pilot than a lawyer. However, I'm sure he's excellent in the courtroom, too. He seems to have that kind of a passionate personality a good lawyer needs to make his point. I could tell from the way he explained 'El Niño' to my group. Yet, I can't fight the impression that his heart's in flying. But how on Earth did he end up with two jobs so entirely different? I'd really like to know that one.

I have a strange feeling about him. I can't explain it, but I already feel I can trust him. But right now my thoughts are floating away again. I can't help it. Lately, no matter what I think about, it always comes down to Harm. I still don't understand why I want to call him for just a cup of coffee. The thought makes me shudder involuntarily. "You're one hell of a guy, aren't you, Mister Rabb?" I say to myself.

I enter a coffee shop. It's starting to get windy, and chilly, too. And right now I'm longing for a huge mug of hot cocoa with marshmallows and whipped cream. I wheel myself to a table and wait patiently until a waiter comes to take my order. The tall, brown-haired man with dark eyes has to smile when I tell him what I want. "You really seem to enjoy being here, miss," he observes with a grin, "You look so incredibly peaceful."

I flash him my nicest smile. "Yes, I am. Is that so unnatural?"

His smile turns just a little uneasy. "Well, no, but most people I've met who are in your situation... I mean, you're in a wheelchair... uh..."

"Oh, you noticed that, did you? Thank God, then I'm okay. I thought I was beginning to go senile because I seem to be stuck on that thing. I already suspected one of my friends spread glue on the armchair I was sitting in because I couldn't get out of it... And, you know, it sticks out a little..." My grin is still in place.

By now, the waiter is laughing. "How do you do that? How can you make fun of your wheelchair?"

"I don't have any reasons to be sad, do I?" I retort. "I mean, yes, of course I may have some, but they're not that important. I love life. And the world is full of marvelous things: a simple flower can be so beautiful. When there's a rainbow in the sky and the sunrays are sparkling through the fresh rain, the colors are just so wonderful and rich and I feel alive. What more could I wish for?" I ask good-naturedly and don't give him any time to answer my rhetorical question. "Can have a bowl of water for my dog, please?"

"Certainly," he says, just a little confused, and heads for the kitchen.

A few minutes later, a huge mug of cocoa is set in front of me. I close my eyes and inhale deeply - it's got a delicious, sugary smell. I take the mug in both my hands to warm them a little. And close my eyes again just to savor the warmth that flows from it. Suddenly I remember my mother preparing hot cocoa for me every morning. It was and still is my favorite drink, and back then, the smell was just the same.

It's in moments like this that I really miss her and my family. But if I had to do it all over again, I would do exactly the same thing. I have no regrets about what I did. Leaving home was my only option: had I stayed home, I'd never have gotten to where I am now. I had to leave them, difficult as is was for me. And I'm glad I did. Even back home there were a few people who couldn't see that I am really good at what I do. All they can see is a woman who can't walk, and from that they deduce I can't think. Unfortunately, in my hometown, they were the people who had the jobs to offer. I feel they don't deserve having me to work for them.

I've learned to live with the sad truth that some people will always throw stones in my way. Where I grew up, life was kind of hard. Public opinion was dominated by a few affluent people who saw me as a disturbing element in their perfect little world. But eventually, I found some true friends who helped me understand that elsewhere, people would see me in a different light. I learned to draw my own conclusions, alter my plans and start doing something new whenever a door was slammed shut in my face. And this process of adapting to the situation has proven very useful whenever I have to face intolerance somewhere. But this time, I don't want to adapt! I loved my job at the university, and I want to do it again!

The ringing of my cell phone brings me back to reality. It's Cole. My pulse rate doubles. I mentally slap myself for being so stupid but there's nothing I can do about it.

["Karin?"]

"No, Britney Spears. Of course it's me, moron. Who did you think was going to answer my cell phone?"

["I don't know, maybe someone... uh... what was that again you said? Oh, yeah, 'really gorgeous', right?"]

"Shut up!" I chuckle. "Okay, I deserved that. I'm sorry about the 'moron' part. Uhm... did you... ah... have you got something for me?" I ask, a little nervous.

["Well, let's see... do I have some information about a certain... 'gorgeous', according to my best friend..."]

"Cole Graham!"

["Okay, okay... Yes, I found some interesting facts about him. Want to hear them?"]

Actually, I desperately, really desperately, want to hear what Cole has dug up about Harm but I can't bring myself to ask him to tell me. If my intuition about Harm being a pilot more than a lawyer in his heart is right, there might be some really private things involved on Harm's part. I just couldn't intrude in his private life in such a way. Should we get to know each other a little better, become friends maybe, Harm might eventually tell me about it.

"Just give me what I asked you for..."

["Okay, your... Commander Rabb works at JAG Headquarters in Falls Church. My friend tells me that according to Navy sources he started out as an aviator but then had an accident and had to start out on a new career. Want to hear more?"]

I want to but sill feel bad. "No, just his number, please."

["All right, the number of the JAG-office switchboard operator is..."]

I hurriedly write it down. "Thanks. Uh... Cole?"

["Yeah?"]

"Don't throw the other information away, please..." I whisper.

["You got it."]

"Love ya."

["Take care."]

I put my cell phone away and take a sip of my hot cocoa when I hear someone call my name. I jump a little. My dog normally barks at everyone who dares approach me, but this time he's stayed quiet. At the sound of the voice calling me, my heart starts beating a little faster. No, this can't be true... I must be dreaming. I turn my head in the direction the voice came from. And there he is, just a few yards from me. And he is walking towards my table.

Oh, my God.

Okay, Kare, stay calm. Breathe. It's easy: in, out, in, out. What the hell is wrong with me? I must be going crazy.

"Harm?"

"Hey, nice to see you again." There it is: the smile. Breathe, Karin, breathe...

"You, too. What are you doing here?" I'm sure my cheeks are glowing, and I'm hating myself for it.

"I had to conduct an interview at the Naval Academy," he tells me. "But what are you doing in Annapolis?"

I grin. "How about I live here?"

"I see."

I relax a little. "You want to join me?" I invite him.

"I'd love to," he says. Does he really sound happy?

"Actually, I'm glad we meet," I tell him. "In fact, I was contemplating calling you for a cup of coffee. But I didn't have your phone number. Well, I have it now - your office number, of course."

Harm looks at me, his expression slightly puzzled. I hurry to elaborate.

"I wouldn't have researched if I didn't have a good reason. Please, don't be mad at me. See, I received a letter from Georgetown University today, about my job, you know, and I thought that you might want to have a look at it. So I called my best friend who has a friend in the Navy, and called in a favor. He came up with your number. I'm sorry for being so bold, I really am, Harm."

Am I apologizing a little too much? Power down, Karin!

Actually, he smiles at my eager explanation. "Easy, Karin, don't worry so much. It's okay, I'm not mad at you. A little surprised, maybe, but then, I should have given you my number."

He looks for something in the inside pocket of his uniform jacket and finally hands me his business card. But then he pulls his hand back again and scribbles something on the back of the card before giving it back to me. "Here you go."

I take a look: he wrote down his cell number too. Somehow I feel flattered. "Thanks a lot."

Before joining me, Harm had already ordered his drink. The waiter now carries it over to us, and I'm a little surprised. Who'd have guessed a tough guy like him would go for hot chocolate, like me? Okay, his is without cream and marshmallows, just with milk foam on top, but still... Well, I guess every man needs to listen to his soft side from time to time. Somehow, I find this attractive.

The waiter looks at Harm, curious. "Do you know her, sir?" His question makes me laugh a little.

Harm shrugs with a smug grin. "Saying I know her would be very presumptuous of me. I'm still getting to know her."

If I weren't such a realist about such things, I'd say the waiter's look is just a little... envious? But whatever it is, he nods in my direction and says, "Well, sir, let me tell you that you are pretty lucky. She's amazing."

"I'll try to keep that in mind."

"Seems like I made a bit of an impression on him, huh?" I state.

"It seems like that's what you did."

Harm takes a sip from his mug. I almost laugh out loud because the huge amount of milk foam leaves traces across his nose and above his upper lip. Looks kind of cute... And he seems to realize why I'm laughing. Wings who has stood up, looks at me and bends his head first a little to the right, then a little to the left. Then the dog looks at Harm, goes to him and before I can even order him not to, puts his front paws on Harm's thighs and licks his face. Harm is dazzled but then starts laughing.

"Wings! Stop it! Come here!" I order furiously. God, this is embarrassing...

"It's okay, Karin." Harm is actually rubbing my dog's neck. Just how cute can this get?

"No, it's not," I insist. "Wings knows he shouldn't do that. Not unless I give my permission."

"Wings?" Harm asks with raised eyebrows. "That's a funny and uncommon name for a dog. How did you come up with it?"

"Well, there is a little story to that. My dog and I have something in common, you know? We're both different, and we needed each other. When I first arrived in Annapolis it took me several weeks before I found a nice and suitable place for a person in my situation. Eventually, I did, but a week later or so I came home one night and found something was lacking. Yet, I couldn't put a finger on what it was.

"The next day, my friend Cole called me after work, asking if he could come visit me. Five minutes later, I heard my doorbell, and when I opened, there he was, standing in the doorway, smiling at me and looking at me in a strange way. I noticed that there was definitely something wrong with his jacket. He looked... well... pregnant somehow. Then he slowly unzipped it and bit by bit let me see what was underneath: the sweetest puppy I had ever laid my eyes on..."

"What did you do?"

"Melt," I smile. Harm smiles with me.

"No, seriously, Cole put the puppy in my arms and it immediately cuddled up to me. So what else could I do but melt completely? I asked where this little fellow came from and Cole told me Wings's story.

"The puppy didn't even have a name yet. You know, Wings is a purebred dog. But he was a little different from his siblings. His ears were bigger than they should normally have been, a bit like those of Disney's 'Dumbo'. So no one wanted him and people used to make fun of him and say a lot of really stupid things like 'At the next gust of wind the pup's gone!' And I decided to take the best out of the worst because I pitied the poor thing. I said to myself, 'Well, if the little guy flies away with the wind, his ears will be his wings! So, he's not just different - he's a real wonder!' And, taa-daa! There was the puppy's name. End of story."

Harm looks at me in a funny way that I can't really describe. He's smiling slightly and, as if he were just thinking aloud, murmurs, "I'm in fact pretty lucky, you know? You really are amazing."

I feel my heart starting to race at his intense gaze. No, Harm, please, no, don't talk that way. How am I supposed to think straight and keep my distance if you're being so nice? Please, switch that smile off before I lose myself...

"Karin, you don't happen to have the letter from Georgetown with you?" he shakes me from my musings.

"Sorry, I don't. I didn't really expect to run into you."

"No problem," he says. "Actually, I didn't plan on being here, either, but one of the witnesses of the case I'm working on turned out to be a midshipman at the Naval Academy, and I decided to question him today. That was my last interview of the day. My commanding officer gave me the rest of the day off, you know, because I tend to work too much. I'm a bit of a workaholic lately," he admits, looking slightly guilty.

I smile back conspiratorially. "I know what you're talking about. I tend to be a workaholic, too. The letter is on my desk. Maybe you could just come over for a moment and take a look at it. Might be important..."

Harm suddenly stands up. "Let's go to your place, so you can show it to me and I can have a look at the other documents, too. What do you say?" he proposes as I'm finishing my cocoa.

"Okay... Come on, Wings, you heard the commander, we're going home," I smile, rubbing the dog's head. I call the waiter in order to pay for our drinks and I'm about to give the young man the money when Harm gently stops me and smiles in a very gentlemanlike way. I want to protest and tell him that it's on me. But the words are stuck in my throat. All I can do is keep smiling.

Kare, you idiot! You were able to embarrass him at the Smithsonian. He looked so lost and now you're paralyzed because he's grinning at you. Imbecile. React, come on, react!

Shaking myself out of my trance, I simply say, "Thanks."

I'm not sure this man would be good for you, Karin. Every time he smiles or looks at you, you lose your ability to act or answer the way you normally do. No one has ever been able to do that to you... Except... No, don't think about that jerk, he wasn't worth it.

I wheel myself out of the coffee-shop a little uneasily, turn around again and wave 'goodbye' to the waiter. Wings is walking on one side of my chair and Harm on the other. Suddenly, I'm not feeling too well and have to stop. Harm looks at me, concern showing in his eyes. "Is everything okay?"

"Yes, I'm just a little dizzy." Wings who had stopped the moment I did, comes closer to me, puts his front paws on my thighs and fondly licks my face. Then he rubs his head against my neck to reassure me. Harm is standing next to us, watching. I can feel him smile at the sight of me and my dog. "It's okay, honey," I address my dog, "I'm beginning to feel better, I promise." I give Wings's head a last rub and he gets off me.

"Do you want me to push you?" Harm asks hesitantly. I can see in his eyes what he's thinking. He's scared that I might be offended by his offer.

Normally, I'd never have accepted it, but I'm unable to go any further on my own. Damn that low blood pressure... "Yes, that would be nice of you," I answer, my voice a little unsteady.

He moves around me and places himself behind the chair. A couple of minutes later we're home. I take my apartment keys and open the door, invite him in and tell him to take a seat on the couch. Then I head for my desk to get the letter I told him about and all the other documents that might be of interest in my case. I'm back next to him a few seconds later and hand him the whole folder. "Here, this is the Georgetown brief. Do you want a piece of cake? Double chocolate. I made it myself," I offer.

"I'd love some."

In no time, I'm in the kitchen. I cut a piece of the cake and bring it to him. When I'm at Harm's side again he's somewhere else with his thoughts.

"Harm?"

"Huh?"

"Here's your cake. Are you okay?"

"Thanks, yes, don't worry. I was just thinking about you..." Now he's looking down at his feet.

I look at him, startled. "Me?" Now I'm sure my face is getting red. Please, Kare, stay calm. He just said he was thinking about you. It doesn't mean anything. "Why's that?" I finally manage to get out.

"I was wondering how it comes that you are in a wheelchair, that's all. You don't have to tell me anything if it's too difficult to talk about it. I'd understand."

"No, I'm okay with the subject, and to be honest: if you hadn't asked me how it happened, I would have told you anyway. It's part of who I am. When I get to know someone I always tell the truth. It's just more honest."

"Honest?" he asks in slight confusion. "I know you wouldn't lie about your state."

"I'm not sure if I'm making myself clear here," I interject a little heatedly. "People can always see plainly that I'm in a wheelchair. It's impossible not to. So if people don't accept who I am, with my chair..."

"Why wouldn't they accept you?" he asks, but in the rage I've talked myself into, I ignore his question. I'm too eager to get my anger at those people off my chest. It feels good to let it all out.

"The first thing I tell people on the Internet when I'm chatting, is that I'm in a chair. I wait to see their reaction and to see if they'll find some lame excuse to end the conversation. Luckily that doesn't happen very often. But if it does, I know where I am: they're not worth it. I may be in a wheelchair, but no one has the right to make me feel I'm less than someone else who is 'normal'. The only difference between them and me is that they're able to stand up and I am not. They walk through life, I wheel through life. Sometimes things can be so damn painful!"

I've vented the edge off my fury and now I'm actually a little ashamed of my outbreak. But sometimes, the wound is too deep to be ignored, and I have to give in to my feelings. I just hope he got me right. More than a little scared, I search his expression - and the look in his eyes tells me he fully understands. "No, they don't have any right at all," he agrees in a low voice. "And I'm sure it can hurt a lot." He frowns a little. "But I can't imagine those kind of things happen very often... or do they?"

"No," I shake my head. "Actually, I've found a whole lot of great friends on the Internet, but still, from time to time things get ugly... Anyway, the reason why I am in a wheelchair is the following: I was born at six months. My mom's doctor didn't understand that there was a problem at the time. In fact, when I was growing heavy in her belly, it was as if I was falling out of her. I had a few seconds without oxygen. My sense of equilibrium wasn't completely developed yet."

He looks puzzled. "I couldn't even begin to understand what it's got to be like not to have a sense of equilibrium."

"Just imagine a... what do you fly?" I interrupt myself.

"F-14s - Tomcats," he answers with curious look.

"Okay, just fly a Tomcat at night; you pull a couple of Gs and you don't have your attitude indicator anymore. Now try not to crash. That's more or less it, when I try to stand up"

"Oops," he remarks, actually looking intimidated. "Yeah, I think I'm beginning to understand. Thanks for sharing this with me."

"You're welcome, and thank you for listening."

The silence that follows isn't awkward at all.

****************
CHAPTER THREE
****************

One week later
Thursday
1825 ZULU
District of Columbia Courthouse
Washington, D.C.

I wouldn't have thought it possible, but I guess, knowing her, I should have suspected that there was a wheelchair equivalent to pacing. This is one of the most important lessons Karin's already taught me: there's a wheelchair equivalent for everything "ordinary" people do on foot.

Karin is in constant motion. She's absentmindedly wheeling herself back and forth, back and forth... obviously totally unaware of what she's doing. She's pale. When I picked her up this morning, I was shocked at first seeing her. Her face was about the color of a freshly washed sheet. Her smile was there - just as I have gotten used to seeing it. But it was obvious from the start that it's strained today. Strained and uneasy. This appointment is about to decide her professional future. I guess she more or less feels like I did when I first asked Admiral Chegwidden to reinstate me to my position at JAG. And knowing what it's like to be denied your greatest wish, I think I have a pretty good impression of how she must feel deep inside.

You better not screw this up, Rabb.

I smooth my silver-gray tie for what has to be the fiftieth time. It's a strange feeling, appearing in court and not being in uniform. Well, strictly speaking, I'm on leave today. But I feel that today I've argued one of the most important cases I have handled in a long time. Why is that? If this were about arguing for a member of the military who's fighting to maintain a certain working position, of course I would have plunged into the matter as best as I could. But in the evening, I'd have gone home and shoved the whole matter aside to clear my head and relax.

But this is about Karin - and I can't. I'm aware that this case is important to me. I want that smile of hers to become as radiant again as I've come to know it to be. As I've come to like it. Come to...

Although I did think the matter through and although I think I know quite clearly what this is I'm feeling, I'm still pretty much confused with my reactions. No, maybe not confused, but surprised and puzzled, because all this is as unlike me as anything. How many times have I seen her? Three times exactly: at the Smithsonian, when I met her by chance the following Tuesday, and last weekend, working out a strategy for today at my place. How long have I known her? Not even for two weeks. How much do I know about her? Only the obvious facts - that she's a geologist, that she's in a wheelchair, that she's lively, captivating, beautiful.

Can I admit to myself that I'm in love with her? Yep.

Maybe, the whole ordeal I went through with Mac has finally, ultimately reformed me. Has made me see what you get when you deny your feelings for too long. Or when you want to hang on to that delusion of safety, telling yourself that you can't be hurt if you never let her come close. Paraguay has proven me wrong in that respect. And it cost me so much that maybe, just maybe, I'm settled and wise enough now not to make the same mistake again. Whatever it is - I know very well how I feel about Karin. And I'm not going to let her walk out of my life again if there's the slightest chance that she'll have me.

God, you're run away with your thoughts, Rabb. She's not even *in* your life. How can you think about not letting her walk out? Get her in first. But how exactly does that work? I've been out of those matters for so long, focused on Mac and our never-ending story, that I don't feel quite fit to take any actions. If I do nothing and leave it with a mere 'Hey, let me know how you're doing,' we're sure to say goodbye and probably never see each other again. On the other hand, if I invite her to dinner to celebrate our success in court, wouldn't that be just a little too straightforward? She might get the impression that I'm a typical sailor, chasing every skirt in my vicinity.

Yet, I feel very much inclined to seize the day and choose option number two. Provided that we win, of course. But considering how the hearing went, I'd wager we can count on an interim order in Karin's favor.

She was great on the stand. I called her right after my opening argument and we managed to disarm every last point the university had ever argued against her being able to teach classes. Painting an excellent picture of her was easy. I only needed to show her degrees and references. They're impressive, and I could tell that the judge read them with interest while the university's lawyers seemed to be squirming in their seats.

We were sent out to be called in again half an hour later. Time's almost up now. Karin hasn't spoken very much since. I offered her some coffee in the cafeteria but she told me with a weak smile that she was feeling too nauseous to drink anything. One look at her pale face - and I immediately believed her. I asked her if she wanted to take a walk instead. But she said she'd be better off if we just waited and if I let her hang on to her thoughts a little.

She apologized about five times for her behavior and nothing I said seemed to set her at ease. I can tell that she still has a bad conscience for claiming this bit of privacy. As if she feared I'd lose interest and consider her ungrateful. Oh, Karin, you don't know me yet.

"Harm?" She's looking up at me now, her expression a little intimidated.

I sit down on the bench beside her. I hate having her look up at me - I want to be at eye-level with her when we talk. Forcing her to raise her eyes to mine just feels so... disrespectful. I have the highest respect for how she holds herself and I want her to know. "Yeah?"

"Excuse me for my stupidity," she begins uneasily, apparently not knowing where to look. "And my question doesn't mean that I don't trust your skills as a lawyer," she hurriedly adds, the expression in her eyes turning fearful. She looks very vulnerable right now, small and fragile. "It's just... I've been wondering... I mean..."

I smile and lean a little closer, resting my hands on the empty armrest of her wheelchair. "You want to know if we stand a chance, right? So, one: I think we did just fine; two: no offense taken, and three: you're not being stupid at all. I know what it feels like not getting a job back that you love."

Her answering smile is a little sheepish. "I'm sorry. I don't mean to be impatient, I know you did your best. It's just that so much depends on this appointment."

"I know," I tell her. "First of all: it's you who did a great job in there. You had the judge hanging on your every word, Kare. Believe me, I have a little experience reading jurors' and judges' minds. And as I said, I know exactly how you must feel about this."

Her expression loses a little of its fearfulness and turns interested instead. "You lost your job, too?"

"Twice. The first time was when I was 28. I caused a ramp-strike on the aircraft carrier I was stationed on. The accident killed my RIO, you know, my co-pilot, sort of, and left me severely injured." Why am I telling her this? This is ultra private. But I can't stop myself now. "I was misdiagnosed with night-blindness and lost my flight status. Flying had always been a matter of heart for me, because my father was a pilot, too. So when I got the verdict, I was devastated."

"But now you're flying again, aren't you?" I can tell she's confused.

"Yeah," I nod. "My night-blindness turned out to be the aftermath of an infection that was operable. I returned to active flight duty but didn't stay long." I smile just a little wistfully. "I had come to love being a lawyer too damn much in the meantime." I'm fully aware I'm telling her only part of the truth about why I returned to JAG but right now she doesn't need to know the whole truth.

"So the second time you didn't get your job back was when you tried to return?" Her frown is impressive. "I thought you were still a Judge Advocate. Aren't you?"

Darn. Now matters are getting complicated after all. "Yes, I am. And back then I didn't have problems about re-transferring to JAG. Half a year ago, though, I did." I become aware too late that my voice has lowered on the last phrase.

"You okay?" she asks me, unconsciously placing her hand on my forearm. The contact makes me jump.

"Sure. I'm sorry," I apologize lamely.

"How come you were out of JAG again?"

It's a simple, logical question, but it hurts. I'm over Mac. Really, I am, but thinking back I still feel the weight of the sacrifice and what it cost me. Or might have cost me if dear Carolyn hadn't lied about her bar exam. The workload was immense, but I'm infinitely grateful that she caused it. I owe you big, Imes.

"I resigned my commission to be able to disobey an order," I say, not sure how much she'd want to know about it.

All, obviously. Karin's eyes go all wide and round once again, and for the first time today, her cheeks take up a little color. All right, this alone was worth it.

"What was so important that it made you throw away your life, Harm?" she asks in a low voice, her gaze scrutinizing mine. I feel my heartbeat accelerate a little.

"I can't tell you very much," I answer apologetically, looking at my hands that are playing with the leather covering of the armrest I'm holding on to. "The CIA was involved and the whole matter is classified. Just this much: a friend needed me to save her life."

Karin is silent for a moment but just as I look up to joke about her being shocked that I was playing spy games, she speaks up again. And she can't deny her nature. She's an empiric scientist, indeed: look, listen, observe, analyze, conclude.

"She wasn't just a friend," she states, more to herself, but her eyes never leaving mine.

"No, she wasn't," I admit, lower still.

"Did you get to her in time?"

"Luckily, I did." My voice doesn't quite sound as relieved as it should have at the good news.

"But you weren't more than a friend to her?" she probes boldly. Look, listen, analyze - and feel that your lawyer needs a sounding board. Dammit, Kare, you're one hell of an observer. And for once I don't give a damn if anyone besides me gets an idea that the matter did leave scars. True, it doesn't nearly hurt as much as it used to. But reminiscing brings back the feelings that I never really dealt with, be the chapter closed or not.

"I wish I knew," I say. "But in eight years of knowing each other we never found out what exactly we were to each other. Maybe, deep down, we had an idea but we just never voiced it." I shrug, giving her a little smile. "Anyway, at least she's happy now. And I wish her the best of luck."

"Just like that?" Her aghast question makes me chuckle a little.

"Just like that," I confirm. "There's a point of no return in everything. And Mac and I crossed that line sometime within the past twelve months. So when nothing came out of the rescue mission - personally, I mean - she gave up and moved on. I hurt like hell for a few months but now the ordeal is over. Once I didn't see her every day, it got a lot better. We've even returned to best-friends status with each other. Literally no hard feelings. It's just the memories that are still hard to bear."

She smiles. "I'm even inclined to believe you. But if you ever want to talk..."

"I know whom to call," I finish her sentence. "Thank you."

"Anytime."

Our gazes hold a moment too long to let it pass as casual. I need to say something. Now. Or this will get really awkward. "Well, the second time I was denied getting my job back was after the mission was completed." I cock my head. "I guess I was too sure they'd need me."

"But you are back, aren't you?"

"I am - but only because my replacement screwed up big time."

"See? They do need you after all."

Touché. All of a sudden, my last remaining doubt about having made the right choice in returning is swept away. They need me. Karin says it as naturally as if it were just plain obvious. And while I'd have doubted anyone else, I know she's only stating observations. It's her nature - and just what I needed.

"I guess they do..." I concede, looking down with an embarrassed grin.

Wait - that wasn't a sob, was it? Startled, I raise my eyes again and see she's staring out of the window, unseeing, biting her lips. She has taken off her glasses and holds them in her lap.

"Hey..." With my index finger, I carefully touch her chin and turn her face towards me. For the first time, I see her eyes without any glass barrier. They are like the Atlantic after a storm. Breathtaking. "What is it, Kare?" I ask, although I think I know.

"You are the kind of person everyone needs," she says in a low, pained voice. "But face it, Harm: I'm not. Even if we get an interim order in my favor today, they'll find a way to send me home once we get to the main hearing. People ask for your help, Harm. They know what they'll get if they have you on the team. For me it's different. I'm always convincing people that I won't be a burden, so maybe they'll accept me in the end. But no one really needs a damaged good like me."

God, she has to know she's wrong! I can't believe she's really convinced of what she's telling me. Yet, looking in her eyes I see she's being totally serious. Right now I feel I want to pummel those who made that conviction grow inside her until even her crystal-clear scientist's mind was unable to contradict it. Only years of constant humiliation and open dislike can do that to you. And it's shocking to see that a handful of ignorant people can cause such damage in an innocent soul.

"People do need you, Karin," I tell her softly. "Your tour visitors need you to fascinate them explaining our planet. Your students need you to motivate them to continue what they started out at. Other people need you to make them see that fighting is worth the effort. And," I hesitate a little... To hell with it. It's the truth, so she has a right to hear it. "I need you, just because of the great friend you are. For being yourself, and not who you think you should be in order to be needed."

Without thinking, I cup her face with my left hand and brush away the tearstains with my thumb. Her skin feels smooth and silky to my touch and I revel in the moment of unexpected closeness - until I become aware that she's frozen and staring at me like she would at an alien, trembling slightly. Suddenly feeling unsure and scolding myself for being so insensitive about how much closeness she might or might not like, I start to withdraw my hand.

"I'm sorry," I murmur.

"No, don't be," she whispers almost pleadingly, and I have to will myself to refrain from repeating my earlier gesture. She clears her throat and squares her shoulders a little. "Don't be sorry, Harm," she repeats, still in a very low voice. "I was just surprised. You know, quite a few people seem to think I'm made of glass. They'd never do any more than shake hands with me. Few people make physical contact. I guess they don't know how to. Take your earlier example: being friends for me includes sharing a hug every now and then. But I've known people who were even afraid of just hugging me. They'd rather keep their distance altogether."

We're still sitting very close to each other and the tension is dragging at my nerves. Did she just offer me a way out of what I said about being friends? Because she's afraid I might turn out like whoever it was who hurt her this much? I need to set the picture right.

"And if I told you that I'm not afraid?" I ask, my eyes daring her to contradict me.

"Prove it," comes her barely audible answer that is choked with fear. She's opening her defenses to me - and she knows I might stab her with my next reaction. So my move has to be really clear.

I lean in and cautiously pull her into my embrace, feeling she's frozen again. When the distance between her wheelchair and the bench I'm sitting on turns out too wide for real closeness, I let myself drop to my knees in between the chair and the bench, making her head rest against my chest and stroking her hair. Slowly, I feel her relax against me - and the feeling of having her in my arms suddenly jump-starts my heart to double rate. I'm sure she can't have missed my reaction, but if she noticed, she doesn't let it on.

"So, did I break anything?" I ask softly after a few moments.

She chuckles against my chest. "Nope. Only my resolve to be on my guard around everyone who tries to get through my defenses."

"That's something that I'm glad about breaking, then," I reply, never ceasing to caress her head. And I realize I mean it, from the bottom of my heart.

"Ms. Hansson? Mr. Rabb?" the bailiff interrupts my thoughts, giving me the slightest smile as he meets my eyes over Karin's head. She immediately tenses up and starts to disentangle herself from my embrace. Before releasing her completely, I hold on to her shoulders for a moment, forcing her to meet my gaze and offering a nod of reassurance. Her smile is small, but it's a hint of what I've been hoping for.

"Ready to engage the enemy?" I ask her in a low voice.

She puts on her glasses with a decided breath. "Ready when you are, sir," she says and I can't tell if she's mocking me. Her voice is a little too sober for that.

I get up and straighten my jacket and tie. "Then let's go."

I follow her into the courtroom, one hand resting loosely on one of her wheelchair's handles, more to make contact than to actually push her. Finally we come to a halt at the table where we were seated earlier. I don't even bother to sit down. The judge interprets my actions correctly and smiles a little.

"Would all parties please rise?" she says, stressing the 'all' and facing opposing counsel. The people representing Georgetown get up: the vice dean, a geology professor and their two lawyers.

"In re Karin Hansson versus Georgetown University, the following decision has been made: per interim order, Ms. Hansson's working contract is to be maintained until the case is brought to main hearing. Based on..."

The rest of what the judge points out fades into the background - the paragraphs she's referring to are the ones I used in my argument: I know them by heart. I turn my head a little and find Karin looking up at me. The smile we share may be ever so brief and ever so fleeting. But to me it's the outward sign of the first bit of history Karin and I share. This case is the first thing we built together. And reading the emotions reflected on her expression, I get the feeling that it might not be the last.

This is about to get serious, Rabb. Are you sure you can handle it? Yes, I am - and strangely, I'm not in the least bit afraid.

In short, she's beautiful. I can't take my eyes off her. Karin manages to master a paradox: the happy mood she's been in ever since the decision in her favor makes her look very young. And yet, the wisdom and experience shining in her eyes, this special expression that I'd noticed at the Smithsonian already, shows the dignity of every single one of her 29 years - maybe even more. If you'd ask me about her age right now, I really couldn't tell.

I absentmindedly stir my Ratatouille a little to cool it down. Burning my tongue and desperately coughing behind my napkin wouldn't leave too good an impression right now. I need to focus on my actions. If I don't, I'm sure I'll embarrass myself before this date is over.

A date. Yes, I've asked her out. 'Celebration dinner', as I claimed. But deep down I know there's more to it than just that. And I think she knows, too. We haven't spoken very much since I picked her up. The atmosphere wasn't awkward, no, not at all. But tonight there's a tension in between us that wasn't there before. A positive tension. Puzzling, exciting, daring us to go further. At least that's how I see it.

"Penny for your thoughts," she interrupts my musings, cocking her head to one side.

"Just thinking that I'm pretty comfortable right now."

Her smile widens a little. "So am I. Thank you for taking me out, Harm. This is not something I do very often, you know."

I pull my eyebrows up as high as I can. "I hope not," I say nonchalantly, the innuendo fully intended.

She doesn't pick up on it, but it's more than evident that she noticed I'm flirting. She takes a sip of her white wine and scrutinizes the clear liquid in her glass just a little too thoroughly. Then she looks at me openly, and there's a hint of uncertainty in her eyes.

"You always get your way, don't you?" she asks thoughtfully.

I shake my head. "No, I don't. Think about what I told you earlier."

"I just did," comes her surprising reply. "You wanted to be a pilot again - and you eventually got back into the cockpit. You wanted your job at JAG back - and they eventually gave it to you."

"I didn't get the girl," I lamely defend myself with a lopsided grin.

"That's because you never asked," she sums the matter up to the point.

"You make it sound so easy," I say, mild reproach ringing in my voice.

"Don't make simple things so complicated."

I can't help wincing at her words. Three years - and nothing seems to have changed. "Don't make complicated things too simple," I reply almost automatically.

Luckily, the strange déjà-vu ends right here. "But it is simple," she insists. "You want something, you ask for it. It works with everything else in your life. Why not with the girl?"

"I'll try to keep that in mind next time," I say softly, fixing my gaze to hers, again implying more than I probably should have. I become aware that she's apparently uneasy and doesn't know how to interpret my actions. She seems to be incredibly shy and mistrustful of anyone who tries to come close. What did he do, Kare, whoever he was?

I concentrate on my Ratatouille for a few moments and then change the topic slightly to ease the tension. "Why did you say it worked with everything in *my* life? What about yours?"

She swallows what she'd been chewing. "Because I need to organize everything myself. Asking anyone to do me a favor is hard because I know it'll probably take them longer to do it or it would be more difficult for them than if I could move normally. So I just leave it be and do it myself. Whatever I can organize works well. What's too difficult I just drop from my agenda."

"But what about your wishes?" I inquire. "Wasn't there ever anything you really wanted so much that you brought yourself to ask someone?"

"Yes, there was, but asking wouldn't have helped." She makes a face. I can see she wants it to look like she's being fatalistic but I feel she's just trying to shut out the pain. "Every now and then, you find there are borders you just can't cross, no matter how hard you try and how badly you want to. That was one of them."

"What was it?" From the look in her eyes I see it's a real matter of the heart.

"Don't laugh..." she begs me in a low voice, not even the hint of a smile on her face.

"I promise," I reassure her, sad that she feels the need to apologize for her wishes to me.

Her gaze turns wistful. "Have you ever heard of those places in Florida where you can swim with dolphins? They're arguing about the therapeutic use of that but everyone who's ever done it says it's an experience you never forget..." Her voice trails off and she looks down on her plate, shoving a piece of fish around with her fork. "But I can't swim."

"Couldn't someone take care of you while you're in the water?"

"That would be an incredible responsibility, I could never ask anyone to take it upon himself." She shakes her head vigorously. "My life would be in that person's hands. Tell me, would you ask anyone to do such a thing?"

Yes, I would. I would have asked Mac without hesitation. And I want Karin to know that she can ask me to do it. But maybe she wouldn't feel comfortable with that. I mean, swimming with someone and having to cling to that person is a very intimate kind of contact. She already suspects that I might be interested in more than friendship. And whoever it was that she once trusted in that respect, seems to have hurt her big time, or she wouldn't be so unsure. I could never offer my assistance. Or would her wish to go to Florida be stronger than her fears? Would she bring herself to trust me to that extent? I so want to ask her - but I'm afraid I'd drive her away. Maybe I should just shelve it for some other time. Or would she hope for me to offer her my help? I just don't know how to react, and it's driving me crazy.

Her cell phone interrupts my thoughts. With an apologetic smile, she reaches for her purse. "I'm so sorry," she mumbles, flipping the phone open. "Yes?"

I wait... and start to worry when I see her first frown, then pale. "I see," she chokes out, plain obviously terrified. "I'll be waiting. Thank you."

As soon as she puts the phone down, I'm kneeling by her side. "What's wrong, Kare?" I ask, taking her hand.

She's trembling dreadfully and clings to my hand with a death grip. "My best friend had a car accident. I'm his emergency contact. Cole's in surgery right now but they're not sure yet if he'll survive. They'll call me as soon as they know something. Harm?"

"Yes, darling, what is it?" My other hand finds hers and I try to convey to her every last bit of strength that's in me.

She swallows very hard. "Please, don't leave me alone," she pleads in a whisper that's suffocated by tears.

Karin, dearest, how could I?

***************
CHAPTER FOUR
***************

Thursday evening
0325 ZULU - 2325 Local
Harm's apartment
North of Union Station
Washington, D.C.

I can't think straight. I do remember one thing, though. Right after I begged Harm not to leave me alone he told me not to worry. He took me gently by the shoulders and asked me to look at him. To look him in the eyes, and I did. "I'm going to take you home with me, so I'll be there if you need anything. Everything is going to be okay," Harm said in a firm but gentle voice.

I was still scared to death, but felt a little relieved. I knew somehow that from now on, I wouldn't be alone anymore. Then something at the back of my mind tinkled.

Wings.

I needed to get my dog first. I'd left Wings with my neighbors a couple of minutes before Harm had picked me up.

My neighbors are a sweet couple, John and Elizabeth Mitchell; John is a retired cabinetmaker and Elizabeth has been a florist for thirty years. They've been very nice to me since the day I moved into my house here in Annapolis. They take care of my dog for me when I'm not at home.

Harm took care of everything, just before we left "Le Goût D'Auvergne", or at least I think that's the name of the restaurant, I'm not sure... As I said, suddenly I couldn't think straight, my brain didn't function anymore. It just stopped. I only managed to get out, "Wings." Harm looked me in the eyes again and said, "Don't worry. We'll go get him."

We dropped by at John and Elizabeth's house to get Wings, and Harm brought me to his apartment. I'm not really sure of how I got in here, I guess he must have carried me, because since that phone call I've been unable to do things on my own. I'm shaking way too much. My mind is in a fog. All I know is that my best friend since high school is fighting for his life, and I can't do anything to help him. I feel so helpless...

I don't know how, but I've managed to wheel myself to the window. I stare outside for a minute; then I take my glasses off. Silent tears are rolling down my cheeks. I suddenly feel something heavy on my lap, and it takes me a few seconds to realize that it is my dog's head. I squeeze it gently. "It's okay, honey. I'm fine. Really." Apparently, this doesn't sound too convincing 'cause Wings doesn't move an inch. He even comes closer to me.

I want to fight my tears, but the wave of emotions I feel is too much and I end up letting them out for good. Wings, empathizing with me, makes little noises. Harm must have heard them because he enters the room a few seconds later. My golden retriever goes straight to him.

"What is it?" Harm pats my dog. "Do you want me to go to her? Is that what you want to tell me? Okay, I'm coming."

The dog comes back to me again. Harm bends down next to me. "Kare?"

I don't answer. I'm ashamed of myself. Harm should not see me like this. I really wish I could be stronger, but right now, I can't. He says my name again. Now there seems to be a little plea in his voice, and all I can do is turn my head and look at him.

The look in his eyes tells me that Harm is concerned. Sad to see me like that, maybe?

"Sorry..." my voice trails off.

He comes a little closer to me and gently puts his hand on my back. I know he does not want to scare me off. He is still looking at me, but there is something different in his eyes right now, a question: the permission to hug me. And this time all I can do is snuggle against him and repeat, "I'm sorry, Harm."

"Don't be, Kare. Don't be... it's okay. Everything's gonna be fine," he says in a low voice, caressing my hair. He tightens his embrace a little.

I cry in his arms like a baby for a long moment, before untangling myself carefully from his arms. Then I look at him and murmur, "Thanks." I'm so grateful that he didn't ask me anything. He just let me cry holding me in his embrace.

"You look tired. Do you want to lie down a little bit?" he inquires.

"No, thanks, Harm," I reply. "I'd rather sit on the couch."

"Okay," he concedes. "How about a nice cup of camomile tea? Might make you feel better, soothing virtues and such. What do you say?"

"Yes, why not."

"Camomile tea is on its way, then. Do you need anything else first?"

"Well... Normally I wouldn't ask you to help me, but..." I look down a little ashamed. "...But could you help me to get onto the couch?" I cannot believe what I just did. Normally, I would never have asked anyone to help me, I'm too proud for that. I'd rather stay in my chair than ask, but right now, I just need his help. But I'm not quite sure that the only thing I need from Harm is his help. I need something else from him - I need his touch, his arms around me... I feel safe in them.

'Don't say that, Kare, you can never be safe in the arms of a man,' my inner voice reminds me.

I wheel myself to the couch and pull the brakes.

"Just tell me what to do, okay?" he says.

I ask Harm to stand in front of me so he'll be able to hold my hands. This way I'll be steady enough to make a few steps and sit. Harm comes and stands in front of me, holding out both his hands towards me. I put my hands in his and the contact makes me shiver slightly. If Harm notices something he doesn't let it on. I'm slowly standing up. And when I'm fully up, our gazes lock for a few endless seconds. There is something that shines in his eyes. If I didn't know better I would say it is... No... It's impossible... And then suddenly, my knees fail their service. "Damn it!" I shout out before I realize it.

Luckily Harm catches me, and I end up in his arms. "It's okay, Kare, I've got you." He smiles. Then, Harm carefully helps me to get onto the couch. He looks at me one last time and goes back to preparing the tea. I can still see him because there are no walls that separate the kitchen from the living room. Harm pushes the button of the electric kettle, then walks over to his stereo and takes the remote control I recognize Joe Cocker's voice when it begins to fill the apartment. "Is the music okay?"

The song playing right now is 'N'oubliez jamais,' one of my favorites. "I love Joe Cocker," I tell Harm, "Especially this song." But then, through the music, I can hear something else. I hear the water that's boiling in the kettle and suddenly I feel like I'm paralyzed. Hearing the water boiling brings back awful memories to me. Memories from two years ago that I'd worked so hard to forget...

'Why...? No... please, no, don't... no! Don't do that, please don't...' I beg him, but he doesn't listen to my pleas. He pours the water that's in the kettle on my right thigh... the man I love - and who I thought loved me back - has just burned me with hot water... Just because I exchanged a few smiles with another guy at the restaurant - and because he knows I can't defend myself.

I still remember everything about that night as if it were yesterday. Without giving me another look, my torturer just turned on his heel and left the house. I waited to be sure he was really gone. Then, hurting like hell and crying my soul out of my body, I wheeled myself to the bathroom and took a washcloth, wetted it with cold water and placed it on my thigh. I had had a feeling that he could be rough - but I had pushed it away. I hadn't wanted to see the man he really was, because he could be attentive and loving, and I had felt beautiful and loved. But then I couldn't ignore it any longer. Consequently, I made the most important decision of my life, and decided to leave him. He would never ever do anything to me again... but, oh, how wrong I was about that.

"Kare, is everything all right?" Harm's voice brings me back to reality. And seeing the concern on his face, I guess I must have said something out loud. I look at him and all of a sudden, I feel I want Harm to know. It's a great part of why I am who I am, and I want him to know me - really know me. I'm amazed at myself. It's not like me to confide in anyone this easily, but... I don't know... maybe it's the way he caresses me, the way he makes me feel like his arms are the most secure place in the whole world. 'Be careful, Kare!' my mind shouts out at me, but I don't give a damn. It's time for me to let go. I have to tell this to someone other than Cole. I can't take it anymore. I look at Harm, and he stands up to go back to the kitchen again. He checks if he's turned off everything and then comes back to me.

"Yes, I am fine. Don't worry," I answer, trying to sound convincing.

I desperately want to tell him my full story, but I'm scared he would back away from me, and I know I wouldn't be able to handle it. So I look at him again. The look in his eyes invites me to trust him so I take a deep breath and begin.

"Harm, I'm sorry. The noise of the boiling water just got to me. I want you to understand why, so I'm going to tell you something very personal; nobody knows that part of my past except Cole - well, actually it didn't actually happen so long ago. It happened about two years ago... Do you mind?" Anxious, I wait for his reaction.

"Not at all," he encourages me to go on.

"Two years ago I met a guy, his name was Nathan Walker. He was tall and handsome, and he had such incredible dark eyes. Nathan was very charming. I fell in love with him, not only because he was good-looking, but also because he treated me as if I were a 'normal' person. Nathan was so sweet to me at first... he always bought me a rose on each date. But when things became more serious between us, he began to change slightly.

"Nathan didn't buy me flowers anymore. He started acting roughly and was mean to me when he had a bad day, and one night..." My voice trails off a little and I feel tears forming in the corners of my eyes. Wings is near me in seconds. "It's okay, hon. I'm fine," I tell the dog, while rubbing his head. I swallow, because my throat is suddenly dry and I close my eyes for a second. These memories hurt me like knives. It's been two years, but for me it's still very fresh.

Harm gets up. He heads for the fridge and takes two little bottles of water out of it. Then he comes back to me and hands me one of them, before sitting down on the couch again, keeping some distance between us. I'm thankful that he's being so attentive and thoughtful.

I take a sip, closing my eyes as the cool liquid flows down my throat. Then I open my eyes again and fix something in front of me, I don't know what exactly. Trying to focus on something... like I'm trying to forget the horrible images that are spinning in my mind - just for a few seconds, but I can't.

"Things hadn't been going very well between us," I continue, still staring in front of me, "for a couple of weeks, at least. One night, when we were having dinner together, I happened to exchange a few smiles with a young man across the room. No big deal. I was just being polite I thought. But Nathan didn't take it that lightly."

"What did he do?" Harm's question is meant to sound neutral, but the deep furrow between his eyes tells me that inside, he's tense.

I try to shrug it off, to take some of the seriousness out of the situation. "At home, he asked me what I'd had in mind, flirting with that guy. I told him I hadn't been flirting, but he didn't buy it. He asked again and again and got angry when I continued to say I'd done nothing wrong. I was making tea while we were arguing. When I was just about to pour the water into the teapot, Nathan suddenly took the kettle from me and..." I swallow.

"Tell me he didn't do what I think you're about to tell me," Harm grounds out in a low voice, his eyes boring into mine.

I can't stand the scrutiny of his eyes and focus on my hands instead that are playing with my glasses that I still didn't put back on. "He poured the water over my right leg," I tell him in a low, monotone voice. "Just to punish me, sort of. I begged him not to but he just continued, as if he didn't hear my screams. Eventually I broke down, I don't know, I think I was even unconscious for a moment. But I noticed that he just set the kettle down and left as if nothing had happened. Just like that. I'm only lucky I didn't fall out of my chair."

I fall silent, and in the calm I can hear that Harm's breathing has turned strained. I look up and see rage flaming in his eyes. Pure, merciless anger.

"Bloody bastard," he whispers, more to himself than to me.

I decide I'd rather continue. "After the hot-water incident I went to Cole's home. Back then, he was the only person I wasn't scared of."

A hint of a smile lights Harm's face, but when I look in his eyes I can see they are sad. I know why he just smiled; he understood perfectly well what I meant. I'm sure of that.

"When I arrived at Cole's," I continue, "He immediately took me to the hospital. The doctors asked me how it happened, I lied that the kettle slipped out of my hands when I put it on the table to make myself some cappuccino. The doctors seemed to believe the story - but Cole didn't really believe me, I had known that he wouldn't buy it. I've never been able to lie to my best friend.

"When the doctors left the room for a few minutes to prepare whatever was needed to treat my second-degree burn, Cole immediately started to question me. He insisted that I tell him what had really happened and he simply wouldn't take 'no' for an answer."

"That's what any reasonable friend would do," Harm states with a grim nod.

Somehow, this makes me smile a little self-consciously. "Yeah, I suppose they would. Anyway, Cole took me home with him again, and he looked after me during the next few days until I felt settled enough to go home. He was there for me when no one else was. That's why he's so special to me, and now I'm so scared I could lose him..." I shrug helplessly, my voice starting to shake afresh.

Tears are now rolling down my cheeks again. Thinking of my best friend lying in a coma and not knowing anything about his state is driving me crazy. The pain I feel is incredibly hard to bear. I'm so scared. What am I going to do if Cole leaves me alone now? I'd be lost.

Harm comes carefully closer to me and slowly puts an arm around me. I shiver slightly. He starts to back away, but I stop him by cuddling silently closer to him. Harm just answered my silent wish. I wanted him to put his arms around me. Even if I'm still afraid, I need him to be close to me. I don't really know how long we stay like this. All I know is that I could stay like this forever because I feel safe.

"Harm?" I whisper.

"Yes, honey?" comes out his soft reply.

I bite my tongue. Dammit, I shouldn't have said anything, probably. "Oh, nothing, just forget it," I murmur, avoiding his eyes.

But I could have known - Harm is just like Cole in that respect. He doesn't leave it be. And he's way too skilled an interrogator not to see there's something really heavy on my mind that I'd long to spill but don't dare to.

"No, it's not nothing," he says gently and with his finger turns my head his way, forcing me to look at him. "Did Nathan come after you?"

I feel I'm shaking but I don't want to break down completely. "Really, it's no big deal," I try feebly.

"The hell it is," Harm says a little more decidedly now. "And you know it."

I close my eyes and take a deep breath, trying to pull myself together. But just at that moment, Harm very softly says, "You can trust me, Kare." And I'm done for. Maybe, if I weren't so sick with worry, I might have held up. As it is, I don't. I silently start crying again, and it takes me a moment to realize that Harm draws me closer to him still.

"What did he do to you, hon?" he asks me in a voice that sounds like a velvety blanket that he wraps me in.

"I stayed at Cole's home from that day on," I tell him in a very low voice, all the time holding on to him for strength. "He was there most of the time. So, I thought I was relatively safe. It appeared that I was wrong. A week later, Nathan showed up at Cole's house, when he was at work. I didn't want to let him in, but he forced the door. I remember myself yelling at him to get out of the house but he didn't move an inch at first..."

I shiver violently and Harm starts to rub my shoulders, never saying a word. He just waits until I can continue. I push myself to go on. "Then, suddenly, Nathan came forward towards me. He..." I swallow. "He grabbed me and pulled me out of my chair and... and threw me on the couch and... and then he was all over me, touching me everywhere. I tried to fight him but I couldn't defend myself. And then he tried to... tried to..."

I can't say it. It's as if finishing my sentence brings the situation back. I did it once, when Cole had me report it to the police, but I can't do it again. I just can't. But I don't need to say it right now. I can feel Harm understands me perfectly.

"Luckily, there was a vase on the coffee table," I go on with my tale. "I managed to grab it and knock Nathan out. Just then, Cole came home. He locked him up in the bedroom and called the police. Nathan's in jail now," I add in a whisper.

"You didn't regret reporting him, did you?" Harm asks.

I draw a shaky breath. "I knew I was doing the right thing... but I was still in love with him, even though he had hurt me so much. You know, just before the hot-water incident, I was ready to... well... fully open up to him. You can't just erase that feeling in a few days' time. I'd never have thought he could be so cruel..." And once again, my voice cracks. The memories are still too vivid.

Again, Harm caresses my back soothingly. "Shhh, Kare. It's over now. I'm here, and Cole is going to be okay, too. He's always been there for you. And I don't think he's ready to leave now. Give them a few hours to treat him, then we'll call the hospital," he whispers into my hair. Cradling me at the same time...

I'm so tired right now, that I close my eyes but it's not to sleep. I'm just closing them to rest them a bit. All I want now is to stay in Harm's arms for a few more moments, that's all. I don't move and he waits a few minutes, then slides one of his arms under my knees and carries me to his bedroom I think. I still have my eyes shut. I feel so safe.

Harm lays me down on his bed and covers me with a blanket. I move a little and groan a little, too. Then I open my eyes because I hear him leave the room, but it's only to come back two minutes later with a small armchair. He puts it against the wall, and then makes himself comfortable, puts a small blanket over himself while he's watching me.

Harm falls asleep himself a little later. Now I'm watching him, his sleep is restless. He seems to have a bad dream or something. I can hear him murmur something but I can't make out what it is. Then suddenly, he wakes up with a jump. I smile at him. "Hey, you all right?"

"Yes, I'm fine. Just a bad dream. Seems your traumatic experience shook me up a little, too." He grins a little self-consciously.

"Sorry I'm being indiscreet, but... what was it about? You look pretty shaken."

He wipes his face wearily. "Just my dad. Haven't had that in a long time. Who knows why it came up tonight?"

"What happened to your dad?"

Harm's expression saddens. I immediately regret asking him and actually, I don't know why I did it, because in my heart I already suspect the answer to this question. I always know when there's something wrong with the people I love...

Oh my God.

I've just admitted to myself that I actually love him.

Harm shrugs non-committally. "As I told you in court, my father was a fighter pilot, too. He flew F-4 Phantoms. And I guess I wanted to be like him ever since the very first time he took me on a carrier on open-door day. Anyway, on Christmas Eve in 1969, they came to tell my mother that my dad was missing in action. I searched for him for a long time until in 1998, I found out he died in Siberia, back in 1981. He had escaped from the gulag they'd deported him to, but didn't make it out of the Soviet Union. Still, he died a hero there, defending the woman who after his death gave birth to my half-brother Sergei. Bits of those memories tend to pop up now and then, when I see other people battling with demons from their past. Guess that's why." The expression in his eyes is self-conscious and almost apologetic.

"I'm sorry I brought up bad memories," I offer lamely, not really knowing what to say.

"After what you told me, I think you had a right to know," he replies.

I do have a bad conscience for making him feel bad, but I don't have the time to think about how to apologize, because just now, my cell phone rings. Immediately, I start to tremble again.

"Harm could you pick up the phone for me, please? I think it's in my bag on the table. That's where I left it..."

"Sure." Harm stands up, fetches my bag and takes out the electronic device.

"Thank you," I say in a low voice.

"Karin Hansson's number, Commander Rabb speaking."

I feel like my insides are being squashed by my fear. Holding my breath, I'm watching Harm listen to the caller. "Yes, I'll tell her." He suddenly smiles at me and gives me a thumbs-up. "We'll be there in ten minutes. Thank you very much." This can only mean Cole is out of danger. All of a sudden, I feel like I'm about to collapse with relief.

Harm switches off the phone and comes back to me, still smiling. "Come on, put on your coat. We're going outside."

"What? Where are we going?"

"To the hospital, Cole woke up five minutes ago, and he's asking for you."

"What?! He's awake and he wants to see me?" I'm shaking again, but this time it's not because I'm scared. This time it's from happiness and excitement to see my best friend again.

"Yes, that's what the woman from the hospital told me. So what do you say if we pay your best friend a little visit?"

"I say let's go!"

Sometimes, I really wish I could kill this little voice, because it's getting on my nerves. Just for once, for a few hours, I would love not to hear it.

The woman Harm talked to on the phone is actually a nurse. She leads us to Cole's room. When she opens the door and I see my friend, the tough guy I've always known, lying in his hospital bed, I'm suddenly unable to fight new tears that are welling up. Seeing him with all the contusions on his face and the intravenous injection tube in his right arm he unexpectedly looks so vulnerable.

Harm slowly pushes my chair next to Cole's bed. I place my right hand on my best friend's cheek and caress it very carefully, hoping not to hurt him. "Hey, good-looking, how are you? You know, tough guy, you can pride yourself on having scared the hell out of me. What happened?"

Cole turns his head just a little bit in my direction and tries a weak smile. "Sorry, sweetie. I didn't want to scare you. It was just a stupid car accident. I was lucky, you know. Turns out my injuries looked far more dangerous than they actually are."

"Just a stupid car accident? Cole, you've been in a coma for a few hours. And don't try to tell me any silly stories. You cannot lie to me and you know it," I say, looking in his eyes. I know he's not telling me everything. And now, he looks away. There is definitely something wrong. I'm sure something happened. But I'm not going to question him now. First priority is his healing. Cole looks at me again, then looks at Harm who has not moved an inch. He is still standing behind me.

"So, is this the gorgeous guy you talked about?" he says with a teasing tone in his voice.

Goodness! He didn't just say this, did he?! I can't prevent myself from sucking in my breath very loud. Couldn't the floor just open and swallow me? Please, God!?

I mean, imagine: he's lying in a hospital bed and he's got nothing better to do than embarrass me in front of Harm. Great. Well, that's just my Cole. "Yeah, well, this is Commander Harmon Rabb from the Navy. He helped me get my job at Georgetown back. Harm, this is Cole Graham, my best friend."

"Nice to meet you, Commander."

"Nice to meet you, too, Mr. Graham."

"It's Cole, sir."

"Then it's Harm to you, Cole."

The two men shake hands and look at each other. Their eyes are locked a little too long. I feel like there's something going on between the two of them, but it's probably my imagination.

Then, Harm looks at me in that strange way of his again. I'm unable to describe this look with words and when he's looking at me like that I could just melt like snow under the sun. I can see Cole observing the two of us and I have to lower my gaze. I know what he's thinking. And I also know that he knows the truth about what I really feel for my new friend. But I'm not ready to discuss that with him, not now. I tell Cole and Harm I'll be back in a few minutes. I just need to be alone for a moment.

I leave the room. Outside, I wheel myself to the wall that separates Cole's room from the corridor I'm in now, and, blocking my wheels against the wall, I close my eyes. Oh God, what am I going to do? I'm sure Cole knows everything. He knows how I feel about Harm...

I open my eyes again when I hear the voices of my two friends.

"So, you're in the Navy, and you helped Karin to get her job back. You seem to care about her. Don't you?"

I can't believe it - he did it again! Can anyone tell that man to shut up? I feel my cheeks burning.

"Karin is a wonderful person. She's passionate, caring and amazing..."

Did Harm really just say what I think I heard? Calm down, Karin, this doesn't mean anything.

"You're right about that. Kare is amazing and very emotional, too. Things haven't been easy for her. She's been through awful things, you know. Some people use her..."

"I know, she told me about that and about Nathan Walker, too. It would be better for the guy if he never crossed my path or he could be in trouble."

I have to smile at what Harm just said. He really does care about me. My heartbeat triples. Come on, Kare, calm down! He just said he cares about you, not that he loves you. Cole cares about you, too, and there's no big deal with that.

"I bet he would," Cole agrees with Harm's last statement, and I can hear the smile in his voice.

Cole, no, please, don't go on, hold your tongue, please...

But of course, he doesn't. Oh, boy. "For a moment I could feel some kind of a tension between you two."

God, how awkward can this get?!

However, Harm answers. "Well, I really care about her. There's something special about her that makes me see things in a different light. And last night when the hospital called her to tell her that you had a car accident, she seemed so scared and fragile. It was heart-wrenching. I wish, I could've eased her troubles, but all I could do was take her in my arms and let her cry. It's a pretty dreadful feeling when you can't help someone you..."

Harm breaks off in mid-sentence - and I become aware that I'm biting my lip so hard that I'm tasting blood. I'm suddenly shaking. Good gracious. If he wanted to say 'someone you care about', he could just say it. But he broke off. As if he was about to say something different. Very different. As if he wanted to say... 'someone you love'. Lord, help me understand this mess! Does that really mean he loves me? Or does his silence mean he doesn't want to love me? Or does it mean he just isn't sure yet? But he was so clear about how he cared about me! This suspense is killing me!

You are killing me here, Harmon Rabb, Jr.

After a moment of stunned silence, Cole speaks up, his voice cautious. "Listen, if you care about her the way I think you really do, you better not do anything that could hurt her. Because if you do, you better worry for yourself that I don't find you."

"Don't worry. I couldn't do anything that would hurt her. I could never hurt the woman I love."

Silence again - then Harm apparently clears his throat. I can't be sure from out here, but that's what it sounded like. I feel bad about listening - but now it's impossible for me not to.

"Umm... did I just say that I love her?"

Yes, Harm, you damned sure did! But just like you can't seem to believe it, so can't I.

Yet, Cole confirms what I don't dare to hope. "Yes, Harm, I think you just did."

This has got to be a dream. Definitely. This can't be true. How am I ever supposed to act normal again when he's around?

Apparently, Harm is just as shell-shocked as I am. "God, I cannot believe that I just admitted it to someone. Listen, Cole, don't tell her, please. I'll tell her myself at the right moment, I don't want her to be intimidated by what I feel for her. I know what she's been through. But I can assure you of one thing: I'm not Nathan Walker. I just want her to be happy, that's all."

"Maybe you will be able to do something for her faster than you imagine. Next Friday is her birthday..." I can hear Cole smile again.

Harm loves me. That's what I wanted to hear since I met him, but now I'm scared. What if I can't love him the way I want to because of what happened to me in the past?

Why can't my life be simple for once?

***************
CHAPTER FIVE
***************

Saturday morning
0923 local
Harm's apartment
North of Union Station
Washington, D.C.

As simple as it gets.

This is what Mac told me in her latest email. Go for it. Don't let this opportunity slip away. Well, I guess she's got to know what reaching out for your happiness means. She and Clay hit it off.

When I got home from work yesterday, I knew that Karin was still at the hospital with Cole and I didn't want to disturb the two of them. She'd told me just before I left her in the morning that she suspected there was something else wrong with her friend, and I wanted to give them all the time they needed to get it out in the open.

Problem was I didn't have that much of a workload all day long. So in between doing a little paperwork for the admiral and filing a few wrapped-up cases in a more permanent order, I caught myself every so often staring out of the window and thinking about the night before.

I barely brought myself to acknowledge in private that I've fallen head over heels for Karin Hansson. And then there comes that friend of hers, who, just like that, cons me into saying it out aloud. I'm actually angry with myself that I let my guard down to such an extent. This is not like me. I would've liked to get used to the idea a little longer myself before letting anyone in on the secret. Dammit, Hammer, get a grip. You're 40, not 14.

I'm only glad that no one really caught me daydreaming at the office. Harriet was home with her kids, Bud was out doing an investigation and Coates was busy updating personnel files. The only one who actually noticed that something was up was Sturgis. And when, to his question if I was all right, I answered a little stupidly that I couldn't possibly be better, he was discreet enough to just smile, wish me the most pleasant of weekends and leave me in peace.

Thanks a bunch, buddy. I'll tell you as soon as I figure it out myself how this thing's going to go on.

Anyway, when I came home, I was restless. I longed to call Karin. Just to hear her voice. That voice that manages to draw me in in a way I still don't understand. But as I said, I wanted her to have time in private with Cole so I put the receiver back every time my impatient hand went to pick it up. The seconds were ticking by incredibly slowly. And I needed to talk to someone - just not Sturgis. Someone who actually knew how love was supposed to work.

In short, I made myself some strong Marine-style coffee and emailed Mac. I don't remember how long it took me to lay everything on the table. But I needed to get it off my chest. What Karin means to me, what kind of a person she is, what makes her so special, and part of what she's been through. No details, just enough for Mac to have an idea. And if there's anyone who understands about being abused, it's her.

When I finally went to bed, I felt a lot better. Karin had a good heart to heart with Cole. I had half of my heart to heart with Mac and knew the other half would follow the next morning. A kingdom to whoever invented friendship.

It took me awhile to fall asleep but I didn't really mind because the whole time, I remembered how it felt having Karin's fragile frame in my arms. I just wish I could have done more for her when she was so miserable. But then - do I know if she'd have wanted that?

No, I don't. And it's driving me nuts. I have a feeling that she cares about me and judging from what she told me about her past, I know that she trusts me. Somehow, this knowledge feels like an enormous treasure. For her, trusting someone's got to be a superhuman effort.

But I don't know if she might actually love me back. As I told Cole, I can't just confront her with my feelings head-on. After what she's been through with that son of a bitch Walker, I would drive her away with an open declaration of the feelings she knows to be incredibly treacherous. I need to convince her one step at a time that I'm being absolutely, utterly, completely serious about this.

All I want is for you to be happy, Kare. And I would be thrilled if you decided that you'd like to be happy with me. But that's entirely for you to decide.

Just as I had hoped and expected, I found Mac's answer to my late-night epic in my in-box this morning. So: Marine-style coffee again and on with a nice morning lecture of dos and don'ts in a delicate love affair.

Mac is so sweet. First off, she sounds delighted to hear that I might be in for a serious commitment. She tells me that she's always suspected that if I only met the right person, the idea of a serious relationship wouldn't be as daunting as it always seemed between us. Then she analyzes critically what - according to what I told her, of course - seems to point toward or away from a happy ending for Karin and me. Although she comes up with quite a few reasons why Hansson and Rabb might not work, she does make it sound as if she's pretty certain that there's more than enough reason to believe that we will.

You're the best, Marine. I really needed that.

As I'm rereading Mac's email for about the tenth time, my eyes remain again glued to the words she finishes her letter with:

Go for it. Don't let this opportunity slip away.

Believe me, Mac, I don't intend to.

The telephone interrupts my musings. At once, my heart starts beating faster. Boy, this is getting pathological here. My house line doesn't have a display to tell me who's calling - and yet I know it's her. I swallow hard when I pick up, and my voice is just a little hoarse.

"Rabb."

["Uh, hi... Harm, it's me, Karin."] She sounds as if she were just as afraid as I am. And yet, there is the magic of her voice again.

"Hey!" Tone your voice down, Rabb. You sound like someone who's just won the lottery. She only called you, nothing more. "Hey," I repeat in a lower voice, "How are things? How's Cole?"

I can hear the smile in her voice when she answers. ["He's fine. We talked a lot and he's almost back to his normal self now. He was having doubts about his ability to... well... you know... after the accident. He's been in love with one of his colleagues for the last two months, and he was afraid he wouldn't stand a chance with her if he couldn't... well, anyway, the doctors assured him he'll be fine, and last night she showed up at the hospital and things look promising, to say the least."]

Her embarrassment at touching the delicate issue is so endearing. I can't help smiling myself. "I'm glad things are going well for him," I say. "Tell him hello from me, okay?"

["Sure."]

"So, what can I do for you?" There's got to be a reason why she called me.

She's silent for just a little too long. "Kare? Everything all right?" I ask cautiously.

["Umm, yeah, sure."] It sounds as if I shook her from some daydream. ["I... ah... actually, I just wanted to say hello."]

She called me just because she wanted to talk to me. Wow. Say something, Rabb.

"Well, hello to you, too." Oh, spirited indeed. Again the silence stretches.

"So, uh, what are you up to today?" I eventually get out.

["Nothing really. Cole is with Kelly today, you know, his colleague, and I'll leave them alone. I was thinking... how about taking a walk?"]

Bingo. I can't believe my luck. "Sure, pick you up in an hour?"

["You're on!"]

We're walking side by side. Karin pushes her wheels in a strong and steady rhythm, forcing me to take wide strides to keep up with her speed. I'm not doing anything to push her chair, but nevertheless my right hand is resting on Karin's upper back. I need to keep contact and she doesn't seem to mind.

About a hundred yards in front of us, Wings is searching for a stick Karin just threw with surprising force. He'll be back in a minute, wagging his tail and begging her to repeat the game, which I'm sure she will, just like she's done about a dozen times already. This dog really is about one of the friendliest animals I've ever come by. Very much like I remember Jingo, just a lot younger and livelier. Karin seems to love him with all her heart, and it's obvious that she enjoys being out with him. Her cheeks are flushed from the exercise in the cool air, and her eyes are sparkling. She's taken off her glasses to be able to play with her dog, and I can't stop trying to catch her gaze whenever she turns her head my way. Today, her eyes are like the deep, clear waters around Iceland on a sunny day. Breathtaking, once again.

Am I a lucky man or what?

Then I think about what excuse I might invent to see her tomorrow, and immediately my good humor clouds a little. Admiral Chegwidden assigned me to help out in a somewhat tricky flight-mishap case in San Diego yesterday. I need to leave for California tomorrow so I can see my client at 0900 sharp on Monday. The article 32 is scheduled for Thursday morning, so - hoping everything goes well - the earliest I can be back to D.C. will be on Thursday night. That means five days without Karin's smile.

At least I was able to make sure (or at least as sure as it gets) that I'll be home on Friday and have the weekend to myself. Cole's words have been spinning through my mind ever since yesterday: Friday's Kare's birthday. I'll be damned if I don't set up something nice for the two of us on such an occasion, especially as she's not going home to her family. She's to meet up with them next month.

And, boy, did I have an idea of what to give her. I just don't know yet how to break it to her. Hopefully, an opportunity will come up.

Beside me, Karin sighs contently and draws a deep breath, enjoying the fresh air. "I come out here whenever I can," she says, observing Wings who's frantically digging for something under a bush. "Twice even, on weekends."

"I'd love to take the two of you out again tomorrow," I reply, my voice apologetic, "But I need to be in San Diego on Monday morning, so I'll have to catch my plane."

"I'm at the Smithsonian tomorrow anyway," Karin answers, now meeting my eyes with a smile that's just a little sad. "But I suppose that means you won't be able to come here Monday after work with Wings and me, right?"

I shake my head, regretting that I have to confirm her statement. "Sadly, no. And I won't be home until very late on Thursday night. I'm sorry," I add, seeing her face cloud.

We've reached my car and when I lift her out of her chair in order to get her onto the high seat in my SUV, I can't help holding her a little tighter than I normally do. When she rests her head in the crook of my neck, the sensation seems to spread through my whole body.

I close the passenger door and quickly stow her folded wheelchair on the backseat. Then I climb up behind the wheel and we head off towards Annapolis.

"But you'll be here on Friday, won't you?" she eventually asks in a casual tone. I bite back my grin. As if I didn't know why she's asking.

"Sure," I confirm.

"Would you like to come over for a little birthday dinner Friday night? I'm turning 30, you know." Her words come out a little rushed. Now I can't fight my grin anymore.

"I know you are," I tell her smugly. "And Cole has already given me permission to take you out all by myself, if you want." God, I hope she didn't notice the small tremor in my voice. My stomach is doing odd flips.

The look of horror on her face is so genuine that for a moment, I want to smack myself for having screwed it up by being so straightforward. But then, her expression immediately relaxes, making way for a surprised smile. A touch of pink begins to creep up her cheeks and she shyly averts her eyes.

"Thank you so much, Harm, but you really don't need to..."

"What if I want to?" I gently interrupt her as I pull up in front of her building.

She looks up again, and the look of pure joy on her face makes me swallow involuntarily. "If that's so, then it's a date," she says in a low voice. Although her gaze betrays her fear, it's firm enough to make me see that the double meaning of her last statement is fully intended.

As I climb out of the car and shut the door, I pause for a moment, closing my eyes and taking a deep breath. We're nearing the point of no return.

'Rabb, you better be sure of what you want,' a small voice at the back of my subconscious tells me.

No worries - I am.

I round the car, pull out Karin's wheelchair, then open the passenger door and gently help her sit down. Then I accompany her into the building and up to her apartment door, all the time trying to figure out what to say next. Karin's not really helping me.

She looks up at me as she's turning the key in the lock, pushing the door ajar a little. With a yelp, Wings squeezes through the gap and disappears inside the apartment. "Do you want to come in?" she asks, almost under her breath.

Sure I do. But I can't, sadly. "I'm sorry, but I need to head home to prepare for the case. Or I won't be able to come back on Thursday," I tell her.

"I see," she says with a smile. "You better make sure you're back in time, Commander," she adds in mock threat, winking at me.

Okay, Rabb, this is your cue.

I kneel down so we're at eyelevel. "And you better make sure you'll in fact be taking the day off, as Cole told me you would," I playfully take up her tone.

"Don't worry, I will," she assures me in a voice that lets show clearly how surprised she is. "Why?"

"And according to Cole, you're free for the whole weekend, right?"

Her gaze turns from surprised to downright bewildered. "Yes, I am, but..."

"Good," I cut her off merrily. "Now listen: all you'll need are light, comfortable clothes, a strong sun blocker and a swimsuit. You have one, don't you?"

"Yeah, I do, from my physiotherapy, but wha..." She interrupts herself and all color drains from her face the moment she begins to suspect what I'm up to. "Oh my God..." she whispers, aghast. "You're not really planning to do what I think you are, are you?" The horror is back in full in her eyes and my heart skips a beat again, fearing I just scared her off completely.

I take both her hands and try to lay into my gaze every bit of reassurance I can possibly muster. "In fact, I am. But, please, Kare, don't worry," I implore her, "I don't expect anything of you, not in the least. All I want to do is give you something that you've wished for forever, as you told me. Nothing else. May I?"

She is silent for an achingly long minute, her lower lip quivering slightly, but she doesn't draw back her hands from mine. Then, finally, a tentative smile finds its way back into her eyes and a single tear rolls down her cheek as she nods. "I don't know what to say," she says with a light helpless chuckle.

"How about 'see you on Friday'?" I propose, cupping her face with my left hand and brushing away the tear.

Another chuckle, a little firmer this time. "All right," she concedes, clearly still stunned, "See you on Friday then, but talk to you sooner."

"I ho