'People vs. Chegwidden' - Part Four
Author: Daenar
Disclaimer: See Part One

 

Mon, March 1st
2312 ZULU
Bethesda Naval Hospital
Washington, D.C.

 

Harm was sweating profusely. His breath came in ragged gasps and he didn't know where to start counting all the muscles that were hurting badly. Despair showed in his eyes and Mac was hurting with him, compassion for him filling her heart. Once again, Harm closed his eyes, gritted his teeth and focused on the muscles he needed right now. He wouldn't give in. He had set his task for the day and he would conquer it. He would. He would! He struggled, fought, won inch per inch as he was trying to... dress himself.

Mac had brought a pair of sweats and socks because Harm had complained that he always had to wear hospital scrubs. He planned on training to get up soon and he didn't like the idea of being in a shirt that opened behind. Mac had asked Zanelli if she might dress Harm in his own clothes, claiming that she knew he would like it and maybe feel more at ease which might bring him nearer to waking up. Reluctantly Zanelli had consented. Harm already received quite a lot of extra attention and exceptions to hospital rules. But the doctor had come to admire Colonel Rabb for the way she stuck to her husband and tried everything in her power to bring him back to his normal life. So he found it hard to deny her anything she asked - that pleading puppy-dog look always showing in those beautiful dark eyes of hers. And since he and his colleagues had decided the day before that Harm's pulse was now to be considered as reliable as his breathing, the heart monitor was gone. The IV was attached only when he needed nutrition. So Zanelli really didn't have a good-enough excuse not to let the colonel help her husband get comfortable.

It had taken Harm a full ten minutes to lift his blanket and shove his legs out of his bed. An additional five minutes had been spent on pulling himself up into a sitting position. Mac had tried to reason with him that he was asking too much of his body, that what he had achieved up to this point was great and that he could lie down and rest without having a bad conscience. But Harm would have nothing of it. He was so sick of being confined to this room, seeing his daughter once a day if he was lucky. He wanted to be fit to leave as soon as it would be safe for him to officially wake up.

Now he was sitting on his bed, trying to coordinate the movements that would first get his legs into his trousers and then have him pull them up to his hips. More than once Mac had stepped up to him, offering to help him, but he was determined to do it by himself. So she had finally given up on helping, sitting by and feeding Trisha instead. Silently, she watched as he worked his way through the trousers' legs until he had finally put them on. Now all he had to do was find a way to pull them up. As he looked at her, she only raised one eyebrow, doubtful about how he planned to do it.

"Mac?"

"Yeah?"

"Help me stand, please." Harm's voice was still low and his pronunciation slightly slurred, the words coming out a little slower than usual. But he had mastered his speech, having - as he sheepishly admitted to her - recited poems to himself all night, whispering.

Her eyes widened in shock. "Harm, are you crazy?" she hissed, concerned. "You can barely sit. How do you think your legs will hold your weight? You'll only fall and I can't get you back up into your bed on my own. And you know what that means."

"I know, Mac. But I want to get my sweatpants on. Please," he pleaded.

Defeated, Mac let out a sigh. 'Darn that Rabb stubbornness.' "Okay, sailor. Lean on to me." She rested Trisha on her left arm and walked over to stand at Harm's right. He grabbed her arm and pulled himself up, swaying slightly when his feet took a firm hold on the ground. With his free hand he quickly pulled up his sweatpants and after that immediately let himself drop back on the bed.

"Well done, sailor." Mac gave him a warm smile.

He smiled back, relieved. "Now for the sweater, Colonel, please."

"Harm..."

"Please, Mac."

"Okay, okay. Here it is."

"Thanks."

Another ten minutes later, Harm had settled himself back on top of his bed, dressed comfortably in sweats and warm socks, grinning contently. "See, Mac? I told you I'd do it by myself."

"You did. I'm proud of you." Something in her answer made him listen more closely. She was up to something, and it made him feel uneasy.

"What aren't you telling me?"

Mac gave him a slight smile, absentmindedly rocking Trisha as the little girl was sleeping soundly. "I brought you something to train your fine motor skills." With that, she opened her purse and handed Harm his cell-phone. "I made sure to bring sweatpants with a hidden inside pocket. Keep the phone in there and remember to put it someplace safe before they come to wash you. Now, when I'm gone, try to master the little movements a cell-phone requires, Commander, so I can at least be sure you don't pull off any more large-scale stunts."

Harm gave her a mix of a smile and a frown. "Gee, thanks."

She smiled innocently. "Don't tell me you don't need any small-scale training. What about your guitar?"

He sighed. "I know, but I'd rather be able to go to the bathroom first. Honestly."

Mac gave him a 'be-a-good-boy' smile. "Then consider it training for your patience. Why don't you try calling me, to get started?"

Harm's frown suddenly lightened. "You know, Mac," he said, grinning, "Cell-phones aren't allowed inside the hospital."

Rolling her eyes heavenward, Mac got up, reached over and switched the phone on. "Overruled, counselor," was all she said in a slightly exasperated tone.

"Okay." With a little difficulty, Harm raised his hands in defense. He then looked at the small electronic device in his hand. "How did I ever get my large thumb to hit the right keys before?" he murmured, frowning. 'Call Mac. Thank the Lord for speed dial.' He slowly moved his right thumb over the keypad until he had reached the One. Pressing the key, he tried to keep it down for a few seconds. Eventually he heard a low chiming sound in Mac's purse. Grinning, he looked up.

"That was nice for a start, Commander," Mac acknowledged. "Let's move on then. Task number two: dial manually." She reached into her purse and took out her cell, switching it to VibraCall in order not to alert staff members or wake Trisha.

"You could go a little easier on me, Mac. I'm just recovering."

Mac only raised her eyebrows again, choosing not to comment.

Two minutes and many errors and corrections later, Harm had dialed her cell-phone number and pressed the call button. Mac happily held up a vibrating phone in reply. "Well done. Keep up the good work, sailor," she said, rising. "Try Short Message Service during sleepless nighttimes."

"Aye, ma'am. Do you have to go?"

Mac sighed. "Yeah. It's past Trisha's bedtime and I need to work on the admiral's defense."

Shaking his head with a smile, Harm thought about what Mac had told him about last night. "I wish I had been with you. From what you told me, it could have been a real Clancy movie."

Mac just frowned at him. "I'd say you got your share of 'Die Hard' instead, flyboy. Don't you ever get enough?"

"Sorry, Colonel. It's just that the surroundings are starting to get the better of me."

Mac couldn't help smiling with compassion. Being a restless soul herself, she understood what it must cost Harm to just lie motionless, pretend and wait while all of his friends were doing the real work. She bent down and very tenderly kissed him. "Be patient, Harm. I promise you'll be out of here soon and then I'm going to get you practice on other... umm... activities as well. Better rest now." She gave him a seductive wink.

To her surprise, Harm didn't take up her humor as she had expected him to. Instead, he gave her one of those intense looks that went right down to the bottom of her heart. "If you knew just how much you haunt my dreams, Sarah," he whispered.

She swallowed. "Believe me, I know." Again she kissed him, feeling his response grow more intense with each passing moment. Reluctantly, she broke away. "Really gotta go, Harm. Do you want to hold Trisha for a moment before we leave?"

"Yeah." To make sure that the strength in his arms wouldn't falter, he intertwined his hands, holding on tight. Mac placed the sleeping girl into the natural crib he had thus created. "She is so warm and soft," Harm murmured in awe, smiling slightly at his daughter.

"Promise me something, Harm?"

He looked up at her, still smiling. "Anything."

"As soon as you get home, can I take a few close up photos of you and her, just like that? She's gonna grow so fast, and this picture is just so perfect... Daddy." Mac's heart swelled at the sight of this tall, broad-shouldered man with his near-to-newborn daughter in his arms, giving her a smile that would deserve to be called angelic, hadn't it been... well, Harm.

"Sure. If I can take photos of the two of you, too. 'Daddy'..." Harm then repeated to himself. "I still have to get used to that. But it feels great. Come on, little flygirl," he softly addressed the baby, "Let's get you back to Mommy so you can both go home and be good girls and sleep, okay?"

Mac took Trisha and wrapped her in her blanket. Giving Harm a quick final peck on the lips, she smiled her goodbyes and left.

Harm watched the door close and turned his attention back to his cell-phone. It hadn't been long since they'd switched to GSM technology and he hadn't yet used this SMS thing too often. Fred had told him that in Europe people, especially kids, were mad about it. And in Japan, the world didn't seem to work without SMS anymore. 'I could as well try it out,' Harm resolved. 'It's probably the only kind of exercise I'm still able to take this evening.'

Fumbling with the menu keys and getting increasingly desperate over the fact that Motorola built such ridiculously small telephones, he stubbornly worked his way through the message service until he had successfully sent one out. Yawning contently, he managed to insert the small device into his hidden pocket and adjusted himself to 'coma' position, ready to be administered his medicine, while Mac, in her car, just smiled as the message icon popped up on her cell. She quickly pushed the right keys and her smile deepened.

"I love you, too, Harm," she murmured to herself, silently bidding him goodnight.

 

Same time
Maryann Cramer's apartment
Annapolis, MD

 

For the umpteenth time, Maryann cursed her telephone. Every time that she had just immersed herself into her calculations and formulas, someone was sure to call. Angrily throwing the pen down on her pad, she got up from her desk and shuffled over to the phone, on her way turning on the TV. Zapping idly, she picked up the receiver.

"Yes?"

"Maryann? It's me."

"Kristen? Is everything all right?"

"Yeah... that is, no. MC, we're in trouble." Kristen's voice was tense.

Maryann stiffened. "How so?" she asked, guarded.

"Today I received a call from the Navy's Judge Advocate General's office, telling me that I had to come testify in one of their trials. It's about that admiral being charged with murder, I'm sure you heard about it."

"Yeah, go on."

"Well, I don't know how they get from murder to waste disposal, but they seem to have found out about MG's deal with Branwick."

"Shit..." Maryann swore in a low voice, her grip on the remote control tightening.

"That's just the beginning." Maryann could tell that Kristen was getting increasingly agitated. "I immediately checked the files and the Branwick folder is gone! I can't find any traces of forced entry, but no one except myself knew it was there so someone has to have been in here and has taken it away! And the worst thing is - they even took the North Star data!"

Blanching considerably, Maryann grabbed the armrest of her sofa and slowly sat down. "Are you sure, Kris?" she asked her sister.

"Yeah." Kristen's voice was a mere whisper.

Maryann was silent for an entire two minutes. Kristen could tell that she was still on the line only by her breathing. Then she heard Maryann's voice, cold, distant and dangerously calm, seemingly talking to herself. "Rabb... You're gonna pay for this, you bastard. But how the hell did he get his information to anyone?"

"MC?"

Shaking herself from her state of haze, Maryann was about to reply when something else caught her attention. Inhaling sharply, she was suddenly eager to end the call. "I'll talk to you later, Kris. Don't worry, I'll take care of this. Just don't tell them anything until we get you a lawyer, okay? Bye!"

She hung up without giving her sister the opportunity to respond. Then she just stared at the TV screen.

["...is in the headlines once again. As we learned only yesterday, our favorite navy commander whom we all remember well from the government charity concert in May and from the Carnegie Hall show he did with Dwayne Myers Naval College, is right now fighting for his life at Bethesda Naval Hospital, D.C. Commander Rabb was shot in front of his house about two weeks ago and has been in a coma ever since.

Although his wife, beautiful Lieutenant Colonel Sarah Rabb that we also remember from the Carnegie Hall event, claims that her husband was the victim of an ordinary street robbery, the facts seem to hint that Harmon Rabb was attacked in connection to the murder trial the Navy's Judge Advocate General, Admiral AJ Chegwidden, is about to face."]

/images/ of Bethesda, the concerts and of Harm, Mac and AJ had been shown. Now the camera focused on the face of a young female doctor. ["Doctor Berner, how's Commander Rabb's condition?"

"The commander is stable and although he has not shown any concrete signs of waking up, he seems to be getting better. The colonel, his wife, comes to see him every day and we hear her talk to him as if he were actually with her. She often takes their new baby to him, too. Scientific experiments have proven that creating a seemingly normal atmosphere around a comatose person has..."]

Maryann didn't need to hear any more. Rabb was awake and fooling everybody about his real condition, she was sure about that. Only he could have made the connection between Branwick and Minton Greenwood and now, by playacting, he was obviously trying to protect his family.

Racing out to her car, Maryann knew what she had to do. 'First I'll take out the prime witness, thoroughly this time, Rabb. Then I'll see to your wife. I wonder just what I have to do to her to make whoever broke into MG turn over the evidence to me. Never, I repeat, never underestimate Maryann Cramer.'

With screeching tires, Maryann sped off to D.C.

 

Tue, March 2nd
0125 ZULU
Bethesda Naval Hospital
Washington, D.C.

 

Harm rested the fingertips of his right hand against the fingertips of his left hand and, one by one, lifted the fingers off each other and brought them together again. He had been doing this for at least half an hour, or so he estimated, but still wasn't completely satisfied about how the movement felt. It had to be smooth, casual and controlled, not strained. So he kept practicing. Thumb, index, middle, fourth, fifth, thumb, index, middle, fourth, fifth, thumb, index...

Suddenly he froze, getting the feeling that he was being watched. He couldn't have missed the door's clicking, could he? Willing the panic down, he risked a glance at the entrance to his room... and gasped. In the doorframe, Maryann Cramer stood watching his efforts with a thin smile, clad like a nurse, a wheelchair by her side.

"Hello Commander Rabb." Her voice was low and honeyed.

"What do you want?" Harm asked, wanting to break her neck and feeling frantic about being at her mercy.

"You," she said calmly, closing the door and pushing the wheelchair up to his bed. "I'd like to correct my mistake, sir."

"You can have me, but it's too late to correct your mistake, Cramer," Harm answered, his voice tight.

"Oh, I doubt that. I'm sure they'll trade everything I want once I get to your wife and daughter."

'Sarah! Trisha! No!!' "Don't - you - dare - hurt them, Cramer! I swear you're not going to live through it if you do!" Harm spat.

Cramer's face showed a smile that didn't reach her eyes. "Come on, Harmon, you're not really in the position to threaten me, and you know it. Now get your sorry six into that wheelchair and I warn you: one word and they're both dead girls."

Harm didn't move, desperately trying to get his fear in check. This was a new situation for him. He had never been afraid of facing a crisis. But he had never been this utterly helpless, either, not even on the Watertown when Hodge had drugged him. Back then his state had been temporary. This time, he knew, he couldn't hope to recover in time. Harm wasn't afraid for himself. But he was realistic enough to see that he couldn't do anything to prevent Cramer from going after his family. And this knowledge threatened to drive him nuts. 'Get a grip, Hammer! You've got to stay calm if you want so much as a chance to save them!' He stared at Cramer and didn't budge.

"I said: get in the wheelchair," she repeated pointedly.

"Can't," he replied.

"Okay, you're playing it the hard way? Well, so am I then." With that, she cruelly ripped off the IV that had been attached to his left arm earlier for nutrition, making him wince as searing pain shot through his body. Then she roughly pulled him out of his bed and let him drop into the wheelchair, noticing with satisfaction and slight astonishment that his feeble attempts to defend himself were indeed nothing to worry about.

"Now, Commander, remember? No noise whatsoever. We're going to take a little trip."

Harm knew better than to argue. Probably she didn't have Mac or Trisha but he couldn't be sure that he would be quick enough to get to them before she did if he tried anything. In fact, he was sure that he would never make it in time. So he didn't resist as Maryann let his arms drop onto his thighs in the wheelchair, covered him with a blanket up to his neck and quickly made her way for the parking lot. His left arm was still hurting and he felt blood trickle out of the small wound.

"Can't I at least get a bandage?" he asked very low.

She only glared at him and pushed on.

'Think of something, Hammer. Anything... Sarah... Help... Call Sarah... Call... Phone... Cell-phone...'

Praying silently and fervently that his plan might work out, Harm under the blanket slowly moved his hand until it came to rest over the hidden pocket. He had no idea which key it was he was pushing. He only hoped that someone would answer. And understand what this mess was all about.

Across town, on a quiet street in Rosslyn, Claire Farnham was pulling into a parking space as her cell-phone started to beep. She cast a quick look at the display and her breath caught in her throat: the display clearly read 'Harm'.

 

Tue, March 2nd
0141 ZULU
Street in front of Fred and Claire's home
Rosslyn, VA

 

"What the..." Claire immediately pulled the handbrake, set the hazard warning lights flashing and took the call.

"Farnham."

No answer, only strange noises.

"Hello? Harm, is that you? Mac?"

Still nothing. Claire was about to end the connection when something made her listen more intently. It had sounded like a cry of pain, slightly muffled as if the telephone were covered by a layer of cloth. Holding her breath, Claire tried to make out a few more details. She heard someone moan slightly, a male voice. Then something that could have been a car door slamming shut. And immediately afterwards a low rumbling sound, like from the ignition of a car's motor. Frowning, Claire raised the volume of her cell-phone to maximum. Suddenly she heard a voice. A voice she immediately recognized.

["So where are we going?"] Even though his voice was muffled, Claire could instantly make out that Harm seemed to be in pain.

A woman could be heard answering but she was too far away from Harm's cell-phone for Claire to make out any words. Luckily, Harm seemed to be aware of that. ["This is the Interstate to Richmond, isn't it?"]

Again, the woman said something and Harm commented on it. ["The woods. And that's where you're planning on disposing of me? Like you did with the barrels of chemicals?"]

Claire felt herself starting to tremble with fear. She had no idea why Harm had called her of all people, but apparently it was now up to her to come to his rescue. She didn't dare to honk the horn, fearing that whoever was with Harm might hear something. She couldn't call anyone, either, because that would mean that she had to end the connection to Harm and she knew she would need the signal to track him wherever he was brought. Getting out of her car while leaving the motor running, she sped up to her apartment, frantically fighting with her house keys to open the door, always listening to the cell-phone. Harm was making casual comments about what he saw at the side of the road, or commenting on his captor's answers to his questions. The woman seemed to think that, by talking, he was trying to establish a relationship with her, to prevent her from eventually killing him. But Claire knew better. Harm was trying to give her hints to follow. She needed Fred.

Claire breathlessly stormed into the apartment, once she had opened the door, and found a very surprised Fred looking up from his computer, dressed only in sports shorts and a t-shirt.

"Claire, what..." He didn't get any further.

"Ssshhh!" She agitatedly signaled him to stop. "Get your laptop and GPS and come with me at once! No questions, I'll explain later. Could be a matter of life or death!" she hissed, pointing her index finger at the cell-phone while grabbing Fred's sweatpants and woolen sweater that hung over the backrest of a nearby chair.

Fred was bewildered, to say the least, and normally he would have argued. But he had seen his fiancée's eyes. And he remembered only one time that he had witnessed such horror in them: when she had been forced to shoot his kidnapper during the Long Island investigation. Fred had hoped never to encounter this expression again in the eyes of his love. Seeing it now, made him jump immediately. He reached for his laptop and GPS and followed her downstairs to her car, not caring that he was in shorts and t-shirt and wasn't wearing any shoes.

In the car, he rested the laptop on the back seat and put on the sweatpants and pullover that Claire had taken with her. Meanwhile, his fiancée had attached the cell-phone to the car's intercom.

["So you just leave the Interstate somewhere, get me into the woods and that's it? I thought I deserved something more spectacular or you wouldn't have bothered to take this much upon you."]

Hearing Harm's voice, Fred knew at once what this was about. Claire had driven off, heading directly for the I-95. "I need to call Voice Stream," Fred whispered to Claire. "They need to tell me which poles Harm's signal passed or I won't be able to track him."

"Okay, but speak low. I don't know exactly how much they might hear," Claire murmured back, keeping her eyes on the road, her hands clutched tightly around the steering wheel until her knuckles turned white. "Do you have any idea who she is?"

"Not only an idea," Fred whispered back. "I'm pretty sure she's Cmdr. Cramer."

"Oh God."

Fred attached his cell-phone to his laptop and quickly logged on to the Internet. Having found the Voice Stream service hotline, he disconnected and called.

"This is an emergency," he muttered as low as he thought would still be comprehensible, as soon as someone picked up. "This is Lieutenant j.g. Federico Prumetti speaking, United States Navy Judge Advocate General Corps. You can have someone check my identity but I need help this instant on tracking a phone connection. The owner of the number in question might be in mortal danger... Yes, I have the number," Fred quickly looked up Harm's cell on his computer screen and gave it to the clerk he was talking to. "No, Miss, listen: I can't wait. Someone's going to die if I don't get to him in time. Do you understand me?... Look, I... Listen," Fred quickly researched Sturgis's number in the virtual address book, "Get one of your colleagues to call this number." He read the number out to her. "You'll reach Cmdr. Sturgis Turner who's acting JAG right now. He'll confirm my identity. But I need your help now!!"

The urgent hissing had obviously convinced the clerk. Fred thanked her and began typing data into his navigation program. Shortly after, a line of broadcasting poles that Harm's signal had gone through, showed clearly on the electronic map. "What's your extension, Miss?... Okay... You keep tracking the signal. I'll call you back in no time. Thank you for your help." With that, he ended the call and immediately dialed Mac's number. 'Come on, Colonel, pick up!' he silently implored her.

"Rabb."

"Mac? This is Fred."

"Fred, what's up?" Mac sounded a little amused. "One could think you just..."

She didn't get to finish the sentence. "Mac, listen: Harm's been kidnapped by Cramer." Fred spoke hastily, trying to get everything out before Mac could ask for details. "For some reason he called Claire and we're now following him, based on the comments he's made on where they're going. They're on the I-95 right now. I'm tracking them down. Can you call Sturgis and maybe Sergei and get out here?"

The receiver seemed to be frozen in mid-air. Mac was paralyzed, hearing the news. "No, please..." she whispered, then took a deep breath, switching to Marine mode to shut out the panic and the pain. "I'm already out of here. Harm told me that he feared Cramer might come after Trisha and me if she found out about his state. So I'll take Trisha with me and I'll call Harriet to help us out with her parents' mountain cabin for us to hide out for a while. Keep me informed, Fred."

"Sure." He hesitated. "Mac?"

"Yeah?"

"Don't worry, we're right behind them."

Mac smiled, despite herself. "I know, Fred. Thanks. See you."

"See you, too." Fred ended the connection and immediately re-called the telephone company. "Lt. Prumetti here... yes, that's right. What have you got?... I see... So they just left the I-95... Can you give me the coordinates of that pole?... Yes, I've got them... No, by GPS... Okay, I see where they must be heading. Keep tracking, please. I'll call you back. Thank you so much."

"Do you know where they are?" Claire asked in an anxious murmur.

"Yeah," Fred hissed back, "At least I know where they must have left the Interstate. They seem to be heading west now. I suppose she plans on going up in the mountains. No one's gonna find Harm up there." Fred's voice was just a little bitter.

Claire reached over with her right hand and covered his left, briefly smiling at him. "Ci saremo noi, marinaio." [We'll be there, sailor.] Her voice wasn't entirely steady but she was trying to be brave. Fred knew that bravery wasn't a standard trait of Claire's character. At times she frightened rather easily and she tended to panic as long as she couldn't do anything but sit and wait. But it was at times like this that he once more remembered why he felt he could rely on her in full. Like back on Long Island. When the situation needed immediate action, Claire seemed to grow wings. Even frightened to death, she would act, and do it in a considered way. She may break down afterwards, but she always managed to handle the danger.

Fred had to admit to himself that, among other things, he also loved her for being vulnerable. Claire's emotional nature made the highs seem even higher. The sun was brighter if Claire was happy to see it shine. Claire could hear a piece of music for the hundredth time and still cry because it was so beautiful to her. Claire could light up his day just by being rapturous over the first flowers in the snow, or by lying on her back under the stars, totally at peace with the world, smiling contently as she listened to the silence for hours. And Fred adored her for the strength she found within her seeming weaknesses. Because she wasn't ashamed of them. 'This is me, I can't and won't do anything about it,' she used to say. And accepting that people at times might find her emotional side disturbing made her strong.

Fred knew Claire had walked down a long road to come to terms with her own nature. For too long, she had considered herself a frightened little girl, being constantly proven right by the opinions that her classmates would express about her and by the way they kept teasing and humiliating her, the good girl, the ardent student. For too long, Claire had tried to hide behind a mask of professionalism to protect herself from being hurt. She had refused to confront her true self. Until she had met him. Maybe that had been the first time that Claire Farnham had ever really trusted anyone else besides her parents. And she discovered that letting out the emotional side of her character, that she was so afraid of, made her feel free and more light-hearted than she had felt in years. She was aware that, by opening up, she exposed her inside to the danger of being hurt. But for the first time in her life Claire had been ready and willing to take the risk. Because of him. She had told him that. And he had vowed to himself and to her to protect her from the world that she had so long shut out.

"Earth to Fred?" Claire's voice entered his conscious.

"Sorry, I got carried away." He smiled at her.

Claire gently returned his smile. "Care to share?"

Blushing slightly, Fred decided that this wasn't the time for knight-in-shining-armor antics. "Not now," he replied softly, his grin widening.

Claire had an idea where his thoughts had been headed. Again she quickly extended her hand, softly caressing his cheek with the back of her index, smiling. "Ho già capito. Grazie per esserci per me, marinaio." [I see. Thanks for being there for me, sailor.]

Fred's smile intensified, holding just a slightly embarrassed edge. "Vedrai che ce la faremo, mio ben. Sarà tutto okay," he answered softly, reassuringly, earning himself another brief smile. [We're gonna make it, you'll see, honey. Everything's gonna be okay.]

"Lo so," she only answered confidently, turning her concentration back on the street. [I know.]

Fred checked his computer. "Okay, in about 500 yards we should get to the exit that they probably took. Did Harm say anything important while I was out of it?"

"No, he didn't say anything except that he wanted a bandage for his arm."

Just then, Harm spoke up again. ["Why are we stopping here?"]

Fred and Claire listened intently as Harm went on, replying to something Cramer must have said.

["So you're going to push me into the woods in the wheelchair and just leave me? Why not kill me right here?"]... ["Right, they would find me down here,"] obviously they were already out and underway, ["But they'll get to me up there, too, eventually."]... ["Okay, so you'll just drop me, put that wheelchair back into that white Landrover of yours and bring it back to the hospital? Why do you like white cars anyway?"]

"Look out for a white car!" Claire hissed, concentrating on the street that kept getting narrower and bumpier all the time.

Fred's cell-phone started to vibrate. "Prumetti."

"Fred? It's Mac. I'm in the car with Sturgis, Sergei, Jeannine and Trisha. We're to meet Harriet at the cabin as soon as we've got Harm. Where are you?" Fred could tell Mac was trying to hold her fear in check.

"We left the Interstate at exit number 38. We're headed west now. Harm and Cramer obviously left the car. Look out for a white Landrover."

"Understood. I'll call you."

"Okay, bye." Fred ended the call in time to hear Harm's next words.

["I can't get out of the wheelchair. You know that, Commander."]

A cry of pain and a thudding sound followed his statement. Then, low moaning and rustling was heard. It seemed Harm was still trying to keep his friends updated on his state. With a still more slurred pronunciation, he went on talking. ["So that's it? Do I get a last question to ask before you leave me alone?"]

Claire and Fred held her breaths as they frantically searched for any signs that might indicate where Harm and his captor had left their car.

["Okay. Would you mind coming over here? I can't hear you from there. Here's my question: did you kill Sydney Walden?"] Claire turned up the volume of her car's loudspeakers but just then the phone line went dead.

"Shit!" she exclaimed. "What now? Call him back?"

"No," Fred answered, thinking, "I think it's too dangerous. What if he isn't on VibraCall? We must continue the search on the basis of what we have now. We can narrow the area to a diameter of about five miles. I'll call the company to get their last detected position."

"Fred?"

"Yeah?"

"This will work, right?"

He sighed, not wanting to raise false hopes. "I hope it does."

 

Same time
Unknown location

 

Harm's head was pounding and spinning furiously. He had hit it hard when Cramer had pulled him out of the wheelchair and let him drop to the ground. At least he hadn't fallen on his cell-phone. He was lying on the icy ground, half on his right side, half on his belly, but his right hand was within reach of his phone while his body shielded it from Cramer's view. There wasn't much he could do now for whoever might have gotten his earlier call. They'd come and find him or they wouldn't. It was out of his hands now. So, why not use the phone for better things, just in case he should make it out of here safely?

"So that's it? Do I get a last question to ask before you leave me alone?"

Maryann laughed a little. "Curious to the last, aren't we, Rabb? But why not? Ask."

"Okay. Would you mind coming over here? I can't hear you from there. Here's my question:" Harm tried to will the stars to stop dancing in front of his eyes. He needed a clear mind for what was going to follow. "Did you kill Sydney Walden?"

He slowly moved his hand inside his pocket and ended his previous call. Then he tried to locate the key he would need right now. Praying that it worked, he pressed it.

Maryann approached and sat down by his side. "Yes, I killed Doctor Walden," said coolly. "I'm amazed no one found out yet. Seems I really made sure not to leave traces."

Harm wanted the full version, just to be sure. "You went to her house, rang the bell, let her open the door and then you stabbed her."

"If you already knew that, why ask, Commander Rabb?" Maryann replied, icily and sweetly at the same time.

"Just to make sure."

"You're not in the place to investigate me any longer. So why bother?"

Harm only smiled enigmatically. "Just like that."

Maryann cast him a suspicious glance, but all she could detect in the lawyer's expression was neutral interest. "Why did you do it?" he eventually asked.

"Doctor Walden had found out about the chemicals. One of MG's drivers saw her poking around the barrels in the woods, taking notes. The money we save by getting rid of our garbage like that enables Branwick to stay competitive. Branwick's my granddad's life's work and I'd do anything to save the company. Through her disclosures, Sydney Walden had endangered it. So, you see, I had no choice. It was rather fortunate that the admiral showed up when he did."

Fuming, Harm willed himself to relax. "Thank you. No further questions." 'For the moment, Commander Cramer, for the moment only!'

"Good bye then, Rabb. It was nice meeting you. I'm only sorry it had to be under such nasty circumstances. I'll send flowers for your grave." With that, she turned, walked away and took the wheelchair with her.

Harm was alone. He tried to get up but didn't even make it as far as to his knees. 'Maybe I did ask too much of my body today,' he scolded himself, wishing he had listened to Mac's advice. He tried to crawl, but after a few yards he had to give way to his exhaustion. With one last effort he reached for his cell-phone, switching it to acoustic chiming, to make sure he heard if someone tried to call him. Next, he tried to call Mac, but exhaustion made him drop the phone. It toppled to the ground and slid out of reach of his hands. Frowning, he tried to stretch, but then everything just went black, his body finally refusing the service.

 

Same time
Same region

 

"Look, Claire! That's her!" Fred exclaimed, making her jump.

"Who?"

"Cramer! Don't tell me you didn't notice the white SUV that just whooshed past us!"

"What? Uh... yes, I did. So, where did she come from?"

"Straight ahead. Look, there's something like an unofficial parking lot on the other side of the road."

Claire immediately pulled over. They got off the car, looking for traces. "I'm only glad there's some snow left," Claire remarked as she studied the ground.

"Yeah. And I'm glad you always insist on keeping my mountain boots in your car. Would you pass them to me?"

"Sure."

While Fred laced up his shoes, Claire quickly called Mac and supplied her with their present coordinates, always continuing to study the ground. "Look! Those traces could have been caused by a wheelchair!" she then called out to Fred.

"Right," Fred acknowledged, stepping up to her. "Let's go."

"Let's wait for Mac and the rest of us. They should be here in five."

Five minutes later, Harm's SUV came to a halt beside them. Claire chose to stay in the car with Jeannine and Trisha, handing her jacket to Fred, while a very pale but composed Mac, an unperturbedly calm but frowning Sturgis and an excessively worried but still slightly smiling Sergei joined the search party that set off, following the marks left in the snow.

The farther they went into the woods, the lesser became the snow, and with it, the traces. Eventually they ended.

"Maybe we should split up?" Sergei suggested, not sure if he was saying the right thing.

"Wait," Mac cut in. "I'd first like to try something." In her purse, she fished for her cell-phone and dialed Harm's number. They were lucky. Not too far away, a low chiming sound could be heard.

This sound was all that was necessary to make them run. Mac took the lead, the chiming causing joy and fear within her at the same time. Then she saw him.

"Harm!!!"

He lay still. Cold fear clutched Mac's heart. 'No, please, God, no!' She flung herself down on her knees by his side, gently turned him over so that his head came to rest in her lap, feeling for a pulse. He was so cold!

"Is he alive?" Sturgis panted as he reached them, immediately getting down at Harm's other side.

Mac, to her infinite relief, had found a pulse that even seemed to be rather steady. And he was breathing, too. "Yes, he is," she answered, continuing to stroke Harm's head and face in order to get him to wake up. "Harm. Harm! Can you hear me? It's me, Sarah!"

Sarah... Call Sarah... Help... Sarah found me... Slowly the darkness that had prevailed in Harm's mind began to dissolve. "Sarah..." he whispered, fighting with his eyelids, still unable to move for all the fatigue that he felt.

"I'm right here, flyboy, now don't you pass out on me again, do you hear me? We'll get you to the Sims' mountain cabin and we'll all hide out there. You, me, Trisha, Sergei and Janni. You still with me?"

"Yeah... tired..."

In his state of beginning hypothermia, sleeping could be dangerous. Mac knew she had to do everything in her power to keep him awake. "Talk to me, sailor. Tell me everything about how she got to you."

Meanwhile, Sturgis, Fred and Sergei had lifted him onto a makeshift stretcher that Sergei and Fred had hastily constructed with two broken-down saplings, Sergei's coat and their shoelaces. Now they carefully carried him down the hill to his waiting car, always trying to keep him talking.

Finally they were on the road to the Sims' cabin. Sturgis was behind the wheel with Fred at his side. Sergei, Jeannine and Claire had taken the backseat with Trisha while Mac was securely holding Harm in her arms on the middle bench.

"Mac?" he whispered, smiling slightly.

"Yeah?" Mac found his smile was contagious.

"Thanks for coming after me. How did you find me?"

"You called Claire, remember?"

His smile intensified for a moment. "So it was Claire that got the lucky shot."

"Yes. She immediately dragged Fred out and went to your rescue. Fred informed me and had the phone company track your cell's signal."

"Wow. And all that for an old man like me," he whispered, slightly squeezing her hand. Before she could protest, he changed the subject. "I've got a surprise for you, ninja-girl," he admitted softly.

Mac only looked at him with upraised eyebrows.

"Take my cell, please," he told her. As Mac had complied, he smiled again. "Now press that little button up on the right. And listen."

Curious, Mac did as she was told. And Harm watched with growing amusement as her eyes started getting wide while listening.

["Yes, I killed Doctor Walden. I'm amazed no one found out yet. Seems I really made sure not to leave traces."

"You went to her house, rang the bell, let her open the door and then you stabbed her."

"If you already knew that, why ask, Commander Rabb?"

"Just to make sure."

"You're not in the place to investigate me any longer. So why bother?"

"Just like that. Why did you do it?"

"Doctor Walden had found out about the chemicals. One of MG's drivers saw her poking around the barrels in the woods, taking notes. The money we save by getting rid of our garbage like that enables Branwick to stay competitive. Branwick's my granddad's life's work and I'd do anything to save the company. Through her disclosures, Sydney Walden had endangered it. So, you see, I had no choice. It was rather fortunate that the admiral showed up when he did."

"Thank you. No further questions."]

When the recording had ended, Mac gaped at her husband, at a loss of words. This was all the proof they needed. Maryann's voice was faint but still comprehensible. At last, Mac found her speech. "So you're telling me that while she was trying to get rid of you, you, just like that, coaxed her into supplying us with the one decisive piece of evidence that will clear Chegwidden's name?" she asked, thunderstruck by how he had kept a cool head in spite of his situation.

"Yep." Harm just grinned.

Mac bent down and passionately kissed him. "Do you know that you're an amazing man, Harmon Rabb, Jr.?"

Keeping his eyes shut, a very satisfied expression showing on his face, he acknowledged. "Yes. And that's exactly why you love me, Colonel."

As he heard her snort, he had a hard time to keep his mouth from twitching.

 

Tue, March 2nd
1334 ZULU
The Sims' mountain cabin
Allegheny Mountains, WVA

 

The first thing Harm noticed as he woke up was the warm, slender body that was lying in his arms. Mac was still sleeping peacefully, obviously utterly exhausted from the strain of the last few days. Harm carefully buried his face in the curve of her neck, reveling in the feeling of her calmly rising and falling chest against his own. God, he had missed this. Missed her. And there had been desperate moments when he had been forced to believe that he'd probably never be able to hold her like that again.

His relief threatened to overwhelm him. She was with him and this was all he ever needed. Gathering her still tighter into his embrace he willed his emotions to calm down. Trying to shut everything else out of his mind, Harm concentrated only on her scent, the feel of her silky skin, the softness of her hair against his cheeks, the warmth of her body. The evening before, his condition hadn't been life-threatening, but his temperature had been rather low. So Mac had decided that the best way to warm him up again was to lie next to him, skin to skin, under the heavy blanket in the Sims' bedroom. And as soon as the others had left and Sergei and Jeannine had retreated into the guest room, Mac had first called Zanelli at the hospital, quickly explaining the situation and ordering him to cover for them. Then she had built up a strong fire in the bedroom's fireplace, had undressed Harm and herself and had cuddled up to him. Too exhausted even to think, Harm had barely managed to kiss her goodnight before drifting off to dreamland.

But now, after a good night's rest, he was keenly aware of her physical closeness and the effect it produced on him. And suddenly he felt fear rise inside himself. He tensed and swallowed, taking deep breaths to try and calm down, but the fear wouldn't subside. Sure, Mac was in his arms, but what if he'd never again be able to love her the way he longed to? What if Cramer's assault had deprived them of their cherished moments of physical union, the feeling of being as close as they could possibly get to one another, the feel of truly being one flesh and one soul? And what if Mac felt that he couldn't give her all she wanted anymore? Would they drift apart? Would he lose her all the same, even now as he tried so hard to be himself again?

His fear threatened to choke him. 'Power down, Hammer!' he tried to fight his demons. 'You don't know yet what will happen to you. Don't panic!' Slowly he managed to get a grip. But try as he might - he couldn't completely chase the gnawing uneasiness.

A soft whine from the direction of Trisha's makeshift crib made him listen. Obviously Mac's maternal instincts had been on high alert the whole time she had been sleeping, for she instantly stirred, opened her eyes and cast Harm a brilliant smile before quickly getting up and taking her daughter up in her arms. Then she settled down on the bed again and prepared to feed the little girl.

"Good morning, sailor," she said softly, bending down to kiss him. "How do you feel?"

Harm willed away his anxiety and tried a smile. "I don't know where to start," he admitted sincerely.

Mac smiled. "I know what you mean," she agreed, "I haven't slept so well in weeks as I did last night. Thanks to you."

He tried to ignore the sting that her answer evoked. "I noticed," he simply whispered.

"I missed you, sailor."

"And I you, my favorite Marine," he answered, slowly reaching up with his hand and tenderly caressing her cheek, watching her as she half lay beside him with their little girl.

Trisha didn't seem to be too hungry. She stopped sucking and whined very low, her little arms reaching for something in the air that was invisible to her parents.

Mac smiled as she observed her husband watching his little girl in awe. "You want to see to it?" she asked, holding out to him the towel that she used to put on her shoulder when Trisha had finished drinking.

He flashed her a surprised grin. "Yeah, I'd love to. Hold on a second." Gritting his teeth, he eventually managed to shove himself into a half-seated position as well. Mac placed the towel on his shoulder and then put the little girl in his arms. Harm softly kissed his daughter on her black hair as her small head rested against his shoulder.

"Tap her on the back," Mac instructed him. "She needs to get rid of the pressure in her stomach."

"I know," he replied, smiling. "You see, Mac, I may be a man, but I did go to lamaze classes with you, remember?"

She chuckled softly. "I'm sorry, flyboy. Of course you did." Unable to refrain from smiling, she watched as Harm occupied himself with his daughter. He seemed totally absorbed as he held her, the expression on his face mirroring Mac's own.

"I always imagined myself doing this," he murmured, more to himself than to her, "But this feels way different from what I expected."

"You've got it bad, Commander," Mac commented, smirking.

He looked up, grinning. "Jealous, Colonel?"

"Just a little bit," she smiled. "But I'm sure you'll be able to fix that, don't you think?" Her voice was just a little seductive, and to her astonishment, she saw his expression cloud for a second. "Harm?"

'Great, Hammer. Do you always have to be that obvious? Now she's worried and that's the last thing she needed.' "Uh..." he smiled a little sheepishly, "I have another problem to get rid of first."

Mac only raised her eyebrows.

"I'm sure you saw the bag they attached to my bladder at the hospital, right?"

She nodded.

"Well, I guess by now it would long have been replaced by a fresh one. But as that wasn't possible... Mac, I somehow need to get to the bathroom. Rather quickly, I fear." He gave her a lopsided grin.

"I see." Mac suspected that his uneasiness had yet another reason, but she decided to let it slip for the moment. His imminent problem needed attention first. She took Trisha from his arms and bedded her in her crib. Then she put on her bathrobe and rounded the bed. "Do you think you can stand if you lean on me?"

"I think so." He put his hands behind her neck and let her pull him up. Leaning heavily on her, he concentrated on shuffling one foot in front of the other, hearing Mac's labored breathing as she tried to hold him in a standing position. Luckily, the bathroom was next door, and she managed to get him inside.

"You sure you'll cope on your own?" she asked, gasping.

"Guess... so..." came his strained answer.

Mac waited outside, just in case he might need her. Two minutes later, she heard the flush.

"Mac?" came his voice from inside.

"Yeah?"

"Do you have a bandage or something? I got rid of the bag but I need something for the small wound it left behind."

"I'll see to it in a minute." She quickly got the first aid kit from her bag and joined him in the bathroom. Casting him a disapproving frown for his impatient self-treatment, she cleaned the wound that, fortunately, wasn't big. Then she applied a bandage to it. "Better wash and dress now," she advised him, "Bud, Harriet and a friend of hers will be here any minute with our breakfast." She fetched him fresh sweats and helped him clean up.

"What friend of hers?" he asked, curious.

"Do you remember little AJ's comrade, Tyler Crane?" He nodded. "His mom," she went on, "Works with Greenpeace. Harriet told her about the barrels in the woods, and she went out there and checked out the site. She agreed to be a witness in the trial."

"Great. Did you call the admiral yet?"

"No. Actually I'd like to do that first."

He smiled at her. "Go, Marine. I'll manage. You can tell Sergei to come and get me when I'm done here."

"Thanks." She quickly kissed him on the lips, made sure that he was seated safely against the wall and left the room. Outside she ran into Sergei who apparently wanted to take a shower. Mac instructed him to help his brother and get him into the living room once he was finished. Then she asked Jeannine to look after Trisha and went over to the phone.

 

Tue, March 2nd
1425 ZULU
Detention Facility
Washington Navy Yard
Washington, D.C.

 

"Admiral? You have a phone call."

AJ inwardly sighed with relief. Ever since Mac had, casually, told him of their break-in at Minton Greenwood, he had been uneasy about what the lunatics who called themselves JAG officers would do next. Whenever he got a phone call, he could at least be sure that they were still able to get in touch with him and hadn't all got caught doing something illegal. Or worse.

Eagerly, he grabbed the receiver. "Chegwidden," he barked.

"Admiral, it's Mac."

"Just for the record, Colonel, I'm still mad at you."

She actually chuckled! 'There goes discipline...' he frowned.

"And we're all very sorry for what we did, sir."

AJ had to grin despite himself. "The hell you are," he answered, not even succeeding to sound gruff. It felt good to be sure that those kids were working on his release. "So what's the news? I hope everything is going smoothly?" He stretched and stressed the last word and immediately felt his trepidation rise as she hesitated to answer.

"Uhm... yes, sir." She sounded embarrassed.

AJ cleared his throat. "Tell me," he only stated pointedly.

"Umm, yesterday evening Cmdr. Cramer found out about Harm's state, sir."

Couldn't she just spill the beans? Why did she always have to pause? "Go on, Colonel," AJ said, trying to stay calm.

"You know Harm's helpless, sir, so she just walked out of the hospital with him and brought him up in the woods, obviously intending to leave him there to die from hypothermia. He wouldn't have been able to walk away."

"How did you find out?"

"I had brought Harm his cell-phone earlier, to get him to practice his fine motor skills. And I was allowed to bring him some sweats as well. He kept the phone hidden in a small inside pocket, pressed a key in the hope of reaching someone and got Claire. She understood what the situation was about and went after him with Fred who managed to track the signal. They called us and we secured him. We're at the Sims' mountain cabin right now, up in the Alleghenies, hiding out with Sturgis' permission."

AJ let out an exasperated and relieved breath. "Good God, Mac, I'm glad to hear you're safe. How's Harm?"

"Much better now, sir. He's using the time to get to know his daughter." AJ could hear Mac smile and had to smile himself.

"Tell him to keep doing that. He'd just get in your way with the investigation. And he'll hardly be helpful to me in his present state." To his bewilderment, AJ heard Mac laugh out loud at his last remark. "What's so funny, Colonel?" he asked a little gruffly.

"I'm sorry, sir. But you know Harm. Actually, he was infinitely helpful to our cause yesterday night."

AJ's brow furrowed. "How's that?"

Mac was still chuckling. "You see, sir, instead of trying to figure out a way to get away from his captor, he relied on us to find him and got Cramer to confess that she killed Sydney, unaware of the fact that he recorded the confession on his cell."

AJ was speechless. Rabb's damn luck again... "Well... tell him I'm grateful, Colonel. But I order him to stay out of your way from now on. Right?"

"Understood, sir. How are you?"

"Bored."

Again Mac chuckled and AJ loved the sound. "Take care, sir," Mac said warmly.

"You do that, too, Sarah," he answered softly, "All of you. I'd like to have a family to get back to."

"You do, sir."

 

Wed. March 3rd
0424 ZULU
Guest room
The Sims' mountain cabin
Allegheny Mountains, WVA

 

Jeannine was lying on her back, arms crossed behind her head, staring at the ceiling. Sunday she would have to go back to Long Island. It felt strange to think of the college's safe everyday-routine when you were hiding out from a lunatic killer in a deserted mountain cabin with a disabled man, a near-to-newborn baby and your boyfriend of a few weeks. How could she ever get back to her normal life after this? How could she ever get Dorrie or Cass to believe her when she told them of her break-in into a highly secured firm? Although she was sure that her friends carefully followed the events on the news, they'd never, never swallow the role she had played in the affair. And how could you go back to sleep alone when you had shared your nights with one of the most caring and tender young men alive?

Nothing intimate had happened yet between her and Sergei, and somehow Jeannine was grateful for it. Although she had the impression that she already knew him better than she'd ever known her former boyfriend, she felt that this new relationship might go beyond what she'd ever experienced and she needed time to adjust. Sergei was too shy to ever push her to anything. So, by unspoken agreement, they rejoiced in what they had and let things happen when they were due. But she had definitely gotten used to sleep in his embrace and she was going to miss that.

A rustle at her side shook her from her thoughts. Sergei switched off the lights and leaned over to her. Even in the dark she could see his smile. "Spakoynoy nochy, Yanina."

"Good night to you, too, Sergeant." She smiled and closed her eyes as she felt Sergei's head descend to kiss her. Feeling his lips shyly brush hers, she tensed and lifted her head a little to return his caress.

As he felt her respond, Sergei willed himself to refrain from embracing her tightly like he suddenly longed to. He had felt this way before, but out here, in the quiet intimacy of the mountain cabin, she seemed nearer to him than even in his own apartment. The one thing he dreaded was asking too much of her. So he just limited himself to moving closer to her, his head on her pillow, smiling at her in the dark. Suddenly adrenaline shot up high inside his body as she leaned over and kissed him again. Her kiss was soft, but determined. He tentatively wrapped his arms around her and pulled her close, never breaking the kiss.

Jeannine felt a little frightened when she noticed the passion that slowly started to build between them as their kiss grew in intensity. But on the other hand she had never felt as secure as she did right now in Sergei's arms. She sensed his hands on her back under her t-shirt, the sensation being the physical confirmation of Sergei's tender disposition. He wouldn't do anything that she didn't consent to. Her heart went out to him and she again felt fear. Not of him. Tonight, she would have gone anywhere he decided to lead. But she wasn't accustomed to feel so deeply for a man, and she wasn't ready to lose control yet. What if it didn't work out?

Sergei immediately sensed her inward tension. At once he retreated, slightly confused and concerned. "I... I'm sorry, Jan," he whispered.

Jeannine reached out and gently caressed his cheek. "There's nothing you need to be sorry for, Sergei," she said softly, "It felt wonderful to be caressed that way. I just think I'm not ready yet for more. Can you understand that?"

"Of course, and I'm sorry I pushed you." His voice was still uneasy.

Jeannine once again closed the distance and slowly, tenderly kissed him. "You didn't. I love you, Sergei. You know that, right?"

She could hear his relieved smile when he spoke. "I know. Ya tulka looblyóo, Yanina. I really do."

She sighed contently and settled down in his arms, listening to his heartbeat as she waited for sleep to come to her.

 

Same time
The Sims' bedroom

 

Mac closed the door behind herself and quickly checked on the peacefully sleeping baby before she turned off the lights and slipped under the blanket beside her husband. Harm already seemed to be sleeping, lying on his right side, turning his back towards her. Mac smiled a little wryly to herself. She had hoped for a few... inspiring moments before going to sleep. But she would not disturb him now. As could have been expected, he had done everything but obey Chegwidden's order not to get involved in the investigation. First, he had insisted on questioning Casey Crane together, too curious to just sit passively by. To everyone's great relief, Casey Crane had turned out to be an expert on chemical pollution and was more than able to be a key witness.

Later on, Harm and Bud had worked out a defense strategy together. Mac was grateful that she and Fred would have a solid base to work from now, but she had scolded him for wearing himself out. And when she had finally thought that she had convinced him to quit working, he had only called Sergei and done physical exercises until he had been covered with sweat from head to toe. He had earned his rest.

Scooping close to him, she softly bade him goodnight. "Sleep well, flyboy. Sweet dreams." She reached over with her left hand in order to caress his face, but froze when she felt that his cheek was wet. And at her touch, she was shocked to hear that Harm tried to suppress a sob. Immediately she wrapped him in her arms and gently turned him to lie on his back. He barely tried to resist. Both his cheeks bore traces of tears and he squeezed his lips shut as he looked up at her in helpless grief.

Mac was shaken to the bottom of her heart. "Harm? What is it?" she asked gently, hurting to see him this desperate.

He only sniffed and turned his head to the side to avoid her kind eyes. Her compassionate glance hurt too much right now.

"Harm, talk to me," she tried again, softly kissing his cheek, tasting the salt of his tears.

"Can't," he only choked out, again trying to suppress a sob but failing.

Mac felt her own composure weaken, being completely clueless why her love was hurting. "Please, Harm, let me help you. I'm still your best friend, remember?"

"I couldn't bear losing you, Mac," he whispered, still not daring to face her.

Puzzled, Mac tightened her embrace, moving closer. "I already told you on the admiral's porch that, no matter what, you won't lose me," she answered softly, resting her forehead against his cheek. "What makes you think you will ever get rid of me, sailor?"

He drew a shaky breath, seemingly forcing himself to speak. "I might never again be the man you married, Sarah," he said, his voice uneven and strained.

At once she understood where his statement was headed. "Oh, Harm..." she only managed to whisper before her own tears made their way to the surface. She cried silently for a few moments, sharing his grief, but feeling relieved at the same time that they were facing a problem that she was sure they could overcome. He had always been strong for her. Now it was her turn. Gathering her resolve, she turned him onto his left side to face her, quickly wiping away her tears. Then she reached out and caressed away some of his tears as well. "You are all I need, Harm, and you'll always be. You returned to your normal self the moment you moved that eyelid in front of me. I can't even begin to describe what I felt then. It was as if I'd gotten back the air that I needed to breathe."

Harm closed his eyes against the fresh pain that was invading his heart at her words. "Mac, I can't bear the thought of depending so entirely on you." His voice was barely more than a whisper. "I wanted to be the one to give you the home and family you never had, and now it's you who have to provide for me and Trisha."

"Harm, I don't care!" she contradicted almost violently. "As long as I have your mind, your thoughts, your love, your support, your... your..." she stopped, agitated. Drawing a deep breath to calm down, she continued. "It's your inside that I love. And I thank God that, no matter to what degree you get your physical abilities back, He gave me back your company. You and I are going to watch our daughter grow up. Isn't that the greatest gift that we could ever get?"

Tentatively Harm reached out for her and returned her embrace. His feelings were in turmoil. Only one single thought emerged from the whirlwind that his mind had turned into: 'God, from the bottom of my heart I thank You for this woman at my side.' He held on to her for several long moments until he felt he could think straight again. And instantly part of his fear returned. She told him now that she loved him, but would she still do so in twenty years if he couldn't be what she had wanted him to be when they got married? "Maybe I'll never be able to watch out for you," he whispered, "Maybe I'll never walk my daughter down the aisle. Maybe I'll never give you another child. Maybe..." his voice went lower still, "Maybe I'll never be able to love you again, Sarah..." he let his voice trail off, not trusting it to any more words.

Mac was unable to stand his grief, it was tearing at her heart. It was so unlike Harm to give up on himself, and it scared her beyond recognition. Didn't he know by now that, even if she wanted to, she'd never be able to walk away from him? Didn't he know that her heart was tied to his in a bond that no one had ever been able to break the whole time that she had known him? Seeing him lie there, helplessly lost in his despair, she understood that she needed to prove to him that he still was the man she had married, that he hadn't changed, and that, in time, he would be everything he wanted to be for her. And she needed to prove it now. Praying for strength, she cupped his face.

"Listen to me," she said softly, trying a slight smile. "You've surprised everyone around here with your efforts to get back to normal. You managed to accomplish things that others could only dream of. Try to think back to your ramp strike. Did you get back on track that quickly back then? Tell me, did you?"

"No," he whispered, his expression unreadable. "But I didn't have you, Sarah."

'Thank you, God, he trusts me to this,' she sent another silent prayer heavenward. Softly caressing his cheeks, his forehead, his closed eyes, his lips, she went on. "Then let me help you, Harm. Let me prove to you that you are all you could ever be to me."

"How do you think you can do that?" he asked, his eyes still closed.

"Trust me," she only said as she quickly removed her nightgown. He started when he felt her tug at his t-shirt. His eyelids flew open and she could read fear in his eyes as he understood what she was planning to do, fear to fail and disappoint her.

"Mac, I can't..."

She only smiled reassuringly, disposing of his clothes and moving close to him. She cupped his face and felt him tremble as she slowly and deeply kissed him. Drawing back, she looked into his eyes, seeing that the fear had made way for hope and uneasiness that were fighting a battle inside his mind. "Trust me, Harm," she only repeated before kissing him afresh, giving a little jump of joy as she felt his trembling hands starting to shyly caress her back.

 

Thu, March 4th
1103 ZULU
The Sims' bedroom
The Sims' mountain cabin
Allegheny Mountains, WVA

 

Her inner clock told Mac that she should get up and get dressed, considering she had to cover quite a distance to arrive in court. Luckily, the trial had been set up for 1100 so she had at least been able to sleep until now. And she thanked Sturgis on her knees who had arranged for a helicopter to take her to D.C.

She really felt reluctant to get up right now. The remnants of the fire were still glowing in the fireplace, and she felt Harm's even breathing cause the hair at the back of her head to move slightly. His arms encircled her firmly and his warm skin felt very soft and velvety against her back. Mac kept her eyes closed, determined to steal a few more moments before giving in and getting up. All this was so perfect.

What had started out hesitantly and shyly the night before yesterday, had risen to emotional completion last night. Passion and loving fulfillment were back in full in their relationship and she and Harm had relished in the emotions they were once again able to share. Of course Harm was still enormously handicapped, his range of movements being limited to his arms mostly, but they had found ways to overcome the rift and had once again joined into a union that felt like their first time ever.

The psychological effects of Mac's gentle efforts to get Harm's self-confidence up again had already shown yesterday. He had been serene all day, had let her and Fred work out their defense strategy by themselves, busying himself with his physical training. When she helped him shower, he had actually started to whistle, giving her her full share of knee-weakening smiles. And last night had been wonderful. It had, in many ways, reminded her of their weekend at the Waldorf Astoria, back in June. Smiling, Mac remembered how Harm's warm glance had gotten all misty last night when she had been lying quietly in his arms, reveling in the afterglow of their lovemaking, smiling at him without holding back how happy she was.

Sighing inwardly, she tried carefully to wriggle out of her husband's embrace without waking him, but failed. He opened his eyes, smiled tenderly at her and pulled her close once again.

"Good morning, my favorite Marine," he softly whispered, kissing her on the lips.

"Good morning to you too, sailor," she answered with a smile, not objecting as he held on to her.

"Showtime, right?" he asked with an upraised eyebrow.

"Yeah." Her voice was soft, yet determined and optimistic. "I really feel like kicking Krennick's six today." She grinned.

"That's my ninja-girl," he smiled, pressing his lips to her temple. "And I'll love watching it on TV, although I despise the Secnav for allowing the court-martial to be broadcast. Let's go then, Colonel. I'll see you in court. Mac?" he added, sobering.

"Yeah?"

"You and Fred will do great. I know it. I have faith in you, and I'm sure the admiral does, too. You go, girl. I love you."

Mac smiled. "Thanks, flyboy. I feel calm and prepared but it feels good to know that you care. I love you, too." She quickly but tenderly kissed him once again, got up, took her uniform and vanished into the bathroom.

 

Thu, March 4th
1556 ZULU
Courtroom
JAG Headquarters
Falls Church, VA

 

Captain Allison Krennick was feeling uneasy and hated herself for it. Or more so, she hated Mackenzie and Prumetti for getting her into this state of mind in the first place. Until two days ago, she had been confident that she had a firm case, based on facts. Her chain of evidence had seemed immune to any questioning and the prosecution's witnesses were all well prepared. She had actually looked forward to ripping Mackenzie apart in court. Until she had opened her mail yesterday morning. When she had first skimmed through the pages of the file defense had sent to her, she had immediately gotten an indistinct gut feeling that her case was going to blow. She wasn't really able to get to the bottom of why she felt this way, because all this Minton Greenwood/Branwick stuff still didn't prove that the admiral had nothing to do with Doctor Walden's death. But she knew that his friends wouldn't have bothered to go so far into detail if there weren't a point to it. Trouble was, Allison didn't really have an idea what point that might be.

Of course she saw the possible connection between Sydney's discoveries and her being murdered to silence her. And she had understood why Mackenzie dragged the Branwick case into the picture. There was a motive. But that still didn't offer any hints as to who actually killed the doctor. Mackenzie had to know that the prosecution would do everything in their power to dismiss the facts as irrelevant. So why would she introduce them in the first place? True, this wasn't the first time that Allison had to face evidence previously unknown to her in a trial, and usually she wasn't afraid of the situation, trusting her abilities as a tough lawyer. But - to her utter dismay - she had to admit to herself that if there was anyone that she couldn't be sure to beat in the courtroom, it was the Rabbs. And in this case, Harm was the wild card, which was even more dangerous.

Allison had choked on her coffee when she had come across his name on the defense's witness list that for some reason was to be kept confidential yet. She had no idea how they intended to question a comatose person. But she knew that Mackenzie was serious about it if she put him on the list. Krennick had immediately called the hospital but had only been told that the commander was no longer a patient. She had thought of objecting to Harm as a witness because she had been unable to question him beforehand. But, truth be told, she was clueless what she could have asked him anyway. He had been out of it for most of the time and he was listed only as investigator to the Branwick case. All information regarding the affair, including Harm's statement how he had discovered the evidence, was included in the file. What more was there to know? On that ground, objecting to Harm would have seemed as if she were frightened to face him, and that she would never have let happen. But still it bothered her that he would take the stand. Allison hated, hated, hated being at a loss, especially if Harm was involved. Damn.

She turned when she heard the courtroom doors open. Admiral Chegwidden was being led in by two guards, followed by his lawyers. Everyone on the defense's side wore a perfectly neutral expression on their faces. This fact caused the uneasiness Krennick was feeling to deepen even more. What were they hiding? Mackenzie looked damned good, though, she had to admit. Once again, Krennick's jealousy and hurt pride surfaced. When Mac nodded her a cool greeting, she only glared back coldly. She would bring this woman down, she swore to herself. 'Come on, Allison, you can do it.'

Mac was slightly taken aback at the open display of hostility in the blond captain's expression. But it produced the opposite effect of what had been the intention. 'So be it, Krennick,' Mac thought grimly. 'We're at war then. But let me just tell you three things: first, you never even had a chance with Harm, you know that and I know that and we're both aware that this is what your anger comes down to. Second, you're being highly unprofessional, letting your anger cloud your judgment, 'ma'am'. And third: frankly, you don't have a chance today. I'm sorry. That is - no, actually I'm not.'

AJ had witnessed the exchange between the two women, trying hard to hide his smile. He leaned over to Mac when they had sat down. "Would you do me a favor and not turn this into a sequel to 'Death becomes her', Colonel?" he whispered, not hiding the amusement in his voice.

Mac's mouth twitched as she replied very low. "That's Krennick's take on the affair, not mine, sir. And I intend to keep it that way, especially with Trial TV present." She slightly motioned her head in the direction of one of the cameras. "You know, we have an advantage here, sir. I'm sort of accustomed to this. And if the public liked me when I prosecuted they're gonna love me now that I defend."

AJ tried to maintain his composure, looking down to intently study his fingernails.

 

Same time
The Sims' mountain cabin
Allegheny Mountains, WVA

 

"You should really decide what you want to do, big brother," Sergei tried for the third time to reason with Harm. "Either you practice or you watch TV. Mac's going to kill me if you hurt yourself just because you're not paying attention to your exercises."

Harm just looked at Sergei, exasperated. "Sorry for being this rude, boy, but just shut up, okay?" He gave him a frowning half-grin that indicated that he knew his brother was only concerned for his well-being.

"Come over here, Sergeant," Jeannine said from the couch. "If he's half as stubborn as you - well, actually I know he beats you at that - you won't stand a chance trying to dissuade him from what he wants to do. So why don't you just sit down and enjoy watching Mac tear that Krennick bitch to pieces? Our transport to D.C. will be here in two hours anyway."

Sighing, Sergei flopped down beside his girlfriend. "You're right, Janutchka. Let him kill himself if he likes to. I have a medical insurance now so there won't be a problem when I meet with Mac." He shot his brother a quick grin and found it returned, accompanied by a slight chuckle.

Just then, Trial TV broadcasted its opening credits. They all turned their attention to the TV set, Jeannine and Sergei trying to ignore the suppressed panting that came from behind them as Harm continued to torture himself.

["Ladies and gentlemen, let me welcome you today to our live broadcast from Falls Church, Virginia. We're proud that, three years after our transmission of the Misty-James case, we're once again broadcasting a Navy court-martial to you, and not just an ordinary one. The accused who is charged with murder in the first degree is none other than the Navy's top lawyer himself, the Judge Advocate General, Rear Admiral AJ Chegwidden. We'll also meet with a familiar face that we still hold in the highest esteem after her exemplary performance last time. Having changed sides and taken the defense of her commanding officer, Lieutenant Colonel Sarah Mackenzie will guarantee for breathtaking courtroom action.

Since we last saw her, a lot has gone on in her private life, too. The colonel is now married to Commander Harmon Rabb, Jr., whom ZBS viewers remember from last year's outstanding government charity concert, and she has a daughter that is barely ten days old. Nevertheless, she refused to be replaced as defense counsel, wanting to represent her CO herself. But as many of you will have heard from the press, Col. Rabb is under additional emotional pressure right now, her husband having been shot two weeks ago. He is currently in a coma. Still,"]

images of Mac entering the building were shown,

["The colonel does not flinch and is ready and willing to do her duty."]

"This is disgusting!" Jeannine exclaimed.

"Last time was worse," Harm replied. "This time Mac at least hasn't yet been discussed on any talk shows."

The speaker went on, while pictures of Krennick were broadcast.

["And like last time, Col. Rabb will have to face a powerful opponent, a female Navy lawyer who is her superior in rank and known to be a tough prosecutor: Captain Allison Krennick, actually a former working partner of the colonel's husband. According to our source inside the JAG corps, we can even expect something like personal rivalry regarding the commander between the two first chairs."]

"It is worse now," Jeannine commented dryly, employing sarcasm in order to hold her fury in check.

"Next time Singer crosses my path she's a dead lawyer," Harm swore through gritted teeth.

Sergei just stared. Sometimes he still found it difficult to understand his fellow American citizens.

 

Same time
Courtroom
JAG Headquarters
Falls Church, VA

 

On the bailiff's signal, all rose as Judge Amy Helfman and the jury members entered the room. Mac exchanged quick reassuring glances with a slightly pale but determined Fred and with a slightly frowning but calm admiral. When everyone had settled down again, Captain Helfman addressed the room.

"Good morning. The case that will be tried today in front of this board is People versus Rear Admiral AJ Chegwidden, Judge Advocate General of the Navy. I remind the staff of Trial TV to kindly stay within the areas designed for filming and to regard the rules of propriety while documenting this court-martial. Thank you. The charges brought forth against Admiral Chegwidden are assault and murder in the first degree." Helfman turned to the defense. "How does the accused plead?"

Chegwidden and his lawyers rose. "Not guilty, your honor," AJ stated clearly and calmly.

"The accused pleads 'not guilty'," Helfman repeated for protocol and then turned to the prosecution's desk. "Would the prosecution please begin with their opening argument? Captain Krennick?"

Krennick rose, squared her shoulders and self-confidently stepped in front of the jury, casting a quick glance in the direction of the nearest camera. "Good morning. The facts in this case are clear. Prosecution is going to prove that the accused, Rear Admiral AJ Chegwidden, on February 14th went to the victim's, Doctor Sydney Walden's, house, allowed himself be let in by the victim and stabbed her with a kitchen knife. We are also going to prove that Admiral Chegwidden had a motive to kill Doctor Walden, fully aware of the consequences of the crime. We will prove that Admiral Chegwidden is guilty of murder in the first degree. Thank you." Barely a hint of an icy smile tugged at the corners of Krennick's mouth as she rounded her table and sat down again, exchanging a quick look with an apparently confident Lt. Hobbes at her side.

"Thank you, Captain," Helfman went on. "Defense?"

Mac took a deep breath, let her Marine pride show in the way she raised her chin and calmly walked over to confront the jury. "Good morning." Subconsciously she was aware of the soft humming of a camera's zoom that focused on her face. But she didn't consider it disturbing. 'Use the sympathies you gain from this, Mackenzie,' she told herself as she let her expression soften a nuance without letting go of her determination. "A man receives a phone call from a friend he hasn't seen in a long time," she began, adding the slightest dose of warmth and sex appeal to her cool matter-of-fact voice. Fred suddenly envied her for being a woman and being able to play with male senses.

Mac went on in her near-to-gentle tone. "He is surprised when the caller, a woman, asks for his help, but as a gentleman, he offers it and agrees to meet her at her house as she wants him to. Upon his arrival, he finds the door open, goes in and finds the woman dying from stab wounds. He understands he can't do anything for her and decides not to leave her side while she dies. Her son comes in and arrives at the wrong conclusions. These," Mac paused, letting an intense glance wander from member to member, "Are the facts in this case, plain and clear. These facts should already suffice to fully dismiss the charges but," again she paused, straightening her body and sharpening her voice, letting out the tough Marine counselor, "Defense will not limit the case to this.

"We will produce evidence to show that Doctor Sydney Walden's life had been threatened before. We will prove that Doctor Walden acquired knowledge about an environmental crime that made her patients suffer from testicular germ cell cancer. We will prove that this knowledge made Doctor Walden a threat to other projects of the consortium the criminal firm belongs to. And we will prove that, for this knowledge and her obvious intent to seek help by disclosing it to the accused, Doctor Sydney Walden was killed in order to silence her the moment before Admiral Chegwidden reached her house." Once again Mac let a moment of silence pass, meeting the glance of each and every member of the board, hoping for the effect her huge dark eyes usually had on others. When she finally spoke, her voice was low, clear and professionally well-pronounced. "AJ Chegwidden is not guilty of the murder he is charged with. Thank you." Mac exercised a slow, elegant turn on her heel and walked over to her seat, noticing the barely visible expression of pride on AJ's features.

"Thank you, Colonel Rabb." Judge Helfman was glad that she always had excellent control over her face. Otherwise her inward relief about the colonel's by-the-book performance would have shown clearly. But she silently admitted to herself that - had she been allowed to - her smile would exactly mirror that of the TV director sitting opposite to her who was all but doing the happy dance about a one-in-a-million moment of courtroom TV.

 

To be continued...

 

1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5

Carnival ~*~ Dissonance ~*~ People vs. Chegwidden

Back to the fanfiction index! ~*~ Please Send Feedback!