'Dissonance' - Chapter Three Author: Daenar Disclaimer: See Chapter One Tue, June 2nd 2231 ZULU Harm's apartment Dwayne Myers Naval College Long Island, N.Y. Harm jumped when the telephone started ringing. Today his third year students had managed to completely tire him out. They had been a little troublesome from the start and with today's weather's inclination to heavy thunderstorms, things had gone wild. They had been talking about Dixieland Jazz and a cadet had brought his banjo. Everyone had paid attention as Harm had explained how the student's instrument worked and where to find the differences between a banjo and other instruments of the same family, like a guitar, for instance. Of course, Harm had brought his guitar along to let them see and hear what he meant. But after the practical part of the lesson, Harm had gone back to the peculiarities of Dixie instrumentation and it was then the chaos had started to erupt. The banjo boy had started making funny noises with the chords of his instrument, and once laughter had spread in the general class mood, all had quickly followed the path down to ridicule and had started to laugh at practically everything, unable to fight the urge to snort without reason. At first Harm had played along a little, thinking once the joke was made the students would calm down again. At least this concept had already worked once in Mac's class when a laughing epidemic had threatened to spread. But this time it didn't work. Before long Harm had found himself shouting like a drill sergeant, distributing reprimands and extra assignments until he had frightened the class back to discipline. Upon arriving home, Harm had only flopped into the nearest armchair and had dozed off almost immediately. Now the phone brutally woke him from his soothing dreams of a certain Marine colonel. On the fourth ring Harm had come to his senses and grabbed the receiver. "Rabb," he said, still a little disoriented. "Commander Rabb," he heard a calm, friendly voice greet him form the other end of the line, "This is Lieutenant Commander Peter Laird. Am I disturbing you, sir?" Harm pulled himself up into a comfortable sitting position and stifled a yawn. "No, absolutely not, Commander." He tried hard to sound awake. "I was just relaxing a bit after an especially tiring lesson." "Let me guess, third year students, sir?" Harm detected sympathy and slight amusement in the teacher's voice. "Yep." Chuckling slightly, Harm asked: "So they're like that all the time?" "Almost," Laird confirmed, obviously still smiling. "But once you tell them unmistakably where their place is they'll pull themselves together, sir." "Well, then from now on things should go smoothly," Harm stated, hoping Laird was right. He heard the lieutenant commander chuckle. "I see. Sir, actually I wanted to talk to you about something." "I'll be at your service, Commander. But first I wanted to thank you," Harm said sincerely. "Without your thorough preparation I don't know if I'd have managed to make things go as easily as they have gone so far. I owe you for that." Laird sounded embarrassed. "No big deal, sir. I like being prepared and I imagine what it must be like being thrown into a totally unknown situation. I just thought I could help." "You sure did, Commander. As I said, I owe you. Thanks again. But now tell me: What can I do for you?" "Nothing, sir, actually," Laird answered. "I just wanted to ask you if you decided yet what you'd do about the Benny-Goodman project." Harm had been expecting the question sooner or later. "Honestly, Commander, I don't know," he answered, sighing. "When Cadet Odenberg told me about it, I was hoping we could... well, make you come back again soon." Harm was careful not to mention the investigation on the telephone. He had no idea if the line was secure. Laird instantly got the concept. "Me, too, sir. But it seems my recovery will take longer than I thought. So I wanted to assure you of my full assistance and cooperation for the concert as far as I can offer it being ill. Sir..." Laird hesitated, seemingly unsure how to approach what he wanted to say. "Permission to speak freely?" "Go ahead, Commander," Harm encouraged him. "Sir, ever since I came up with the idea of this soirée, the band has been excited about it. Of course, when Cadet Waters suddenly died, the rehearsals were forgotten, the tragedy overshadowing all that was going on. But now I start getting emails from the band members asking me what would become of our plans. Captain Wells has good connections to someone in the administration of Carnegie Hall, you know. We were actually planning to do it there. It would be a dream for the band to be on that stage." Harm had slightly paled upon guessing where Laird was headed. "I imagine, Commander," he choked out, trying not to let his fear show. "Sir, for the sake of the students who have worked so hard for entire months, I beg you not to cancel the concert. If I may I'd like to add that ever since your arrival I keep getting emails from many of my students, especially from those who are part of the marching band, who tell me that you're doing a great job. They love you and your unorthodox ways of rehearsing. Cadet Stiller tells me you rely on her experience and she thinks the band draws advantage from a little change of style from time to time. She's as sure as I am that you can pull this off, sir." Harm swallowed hard. Carnegie Hall. There were so many places all over the States one could have really nice concerts in. But it had to be Carnegie Hall of all of them. The hall of fame. Now wasn't he lucky once again? He frowned, thinking of how disappointed the cadets would be if he said no. "What about the first clarinet?" he asked instead of replying directly to Laird's plea. "Without Cadet Waters I don't see how we can play Goodman at all." Laird sighed heavily. "That's indeed a problem, sir. Gonzalez plays decently but he's not up to being a soloist. There's Cadet Hannah Brown in first year who right now figures as our substitute. Technically, she'd be able to do it but she's way too shy to do a proper soloist's interpretation. Apart from her, there's no one right now. But I promise you, Commander, that I'll come up with someone skilled if you agree to have the concert." At a loss about what he could do to prevent it, Harm gave in. "All right, Cmdr. Laird. I'll do it. When's the concert supposed to be?" "Three weeks from now, sir, on Sunday 21st of June. First weekend is out of the question with everyone going home, but after that you'll be able to dispose of the musicians' time to full extent. They're used to it and actually enjoy the excitement of constant rehearsal. But don't worry, you can leave a lot of that to Cadet Stiller. She's good at rehearsing and, strange as it seems, people tend to listen to what she says." He fell silent for a moment, but Harm didn't say anything, sensing Laird was not done yet. "Thank you, Cmdr. Rabb," Laird finally said with a heartfelt sigh. "You don't know how much this means to me and to the band. I'll owe you now." "Let's just say we're equal, Commander," Harm replied, smiling to himself, wondering silently how much weirder things would still get in the course of this assignment. With a deep sigh he rose and got himself a bottle of water from the fridge. Sitting down again and running his hand through his hair, he forlornly stared at the telephone, longing to call Mac. 'Now it gets tricky, Hammer,' he silently said to himself. 'You didn't ever imagine being on stage in a Carnegie-Hall concert, did you?' Just then, God had mercy with his faithful servant and made the telephone ring. It wasn't Mac but a solution to one of his problems, instead. "Rabb." "Good evening, Commander. This is Lt. Prumetti." "Fred, now that's a welcome voice," Harm greeted his young friend, "And I'm off duty, so call me Harm. What brings this about?" "Just wanted to know if everything was all right, you know, apart from the job." Fred seemed a little unsure about how to address Rabb the friend, not Rabb the commander. Harm grinned, pleased to see people back in D.C. were caring about their well-being. "Tell the admiral we're holding up, Fred. Mac's gradually transforming into a decent musician, actually. I can see she enjoys being a part of the group. Who'd have guessed?" He chuckled softly and heard soft chuckling from the other end of the line, too. [A.N.: It isn't as improbable as it may seem that Mac actually develops her musicality this quickly. I can tell from my own orchestral experience, but actually I was thinking of a scene of "Mr. Holland's opus" where Holland succeeds to teach a boy to play the bass drum in no time, and the boy isn't musical at all. It's just hard work. We know Mac to be hardworking and rhythmical as well, so...] "I'm glad to hear it," Fred stated. "For me it always used to feel like being 'high', being part of an orchestra. I remember the first time we'd try the second movement of the fourth symphony of Brahms - afterwards I'd walk home like someone not from this world. It was like the music had swept me away!" Harm could hear Fred was getting more enthusiastic all the time. Curiosity made him cut in, though. "Wait a minute, you play?" "Yes. Back in Venice, I studied music with the Conservatorio Benedetto Marcello. You know, people normally don't take private music lessons in Italy. Either they start conservatory as children, study their ten years parallel to school, pass the exams and get a music degree or they don't play at all. There's no such thing as a private music culture in Italy. But, as I said, I got to study music and for three years was first clarinet in the conservatory orchestra, at times even helping out at La Fenice when the opera-house musicians were on strike once again..." Harm inhaled sharply, causing Fred to interrupt himself, confused. "Did you just say 'clarinet', Lieutenant?" he asked. Fred instantly snapped back to military mode. "Yes, sir." Harm had jumped to his feet in sudden excitement. This wasn't a coincidence - this was providence! "Why did you never tell us?" "You never asked, sir." Now that was a typical Fred-ish statement. 'Always the modest gentleman, this guy,' Harm thought with a huge grin. "Lieutenant, tell the admiral I request your immediate assistance at Dwayne Myers from Monday, June 8th until Sunday, June 21st. And bring your instrument. That's an order." "A... aye, sir." Fred sounded totally taken aback. "May I ask why, sir?" Harm's grin could be heard over the line right back in Fred and Claire's living-room in Rosslyn, and Claire watched in silent amusement as her fiancé's face suddenly turned white. He had to sit down in a nearby armchair, hearing the commander say: "You'll save me and the marching band from canceling a Carnegie-Hall concert, Lt. Prumetti. You'll take the soloist's part in our grand Benny-Goodman soirée!" Thur, June 4th 1957 ZULU Dwayne Myers Naval College Long Island, N.Y. "F...fforget it!!!" Mac saved herself from shouting something not too nice, once again quickly trying to brush off the stain that showed clearly on her skirt. She knew why she hated white. She knew why she just loved her marine uniforms. She knew why she would have to quit drinking coffee for the next weeks and also quit sitting down on the grass. And she just hated it. Rubbing hard with a soapy edge of her towel, she managed to make the fresh stain bleach remarkably - but on a close look it could still be seen and right now she didn't have the time to change her uniform. It was the fourth day now that cadets were to wear their ordinary summer whites and at the end of each day Mac had carried yet another skirt or blouse to be cleaned. This had to stop now, for she had only one set left. "Pat, you coming?" Jeannine asked worriedly, standing in the open apartment door, her flute case in her hand. "Yeah," Mac answered, straightening her shirt and applying a little compact powder to her forehead where the last remainders of her collision with her drum were finally fading away. Then she joined Jeannine, grabbed her instrument and they headed over to the gym where the rest of the band was already assembled, including Harm who - surprisingly enough - somehow managed to be punctual to his lessons. "Nice of you to join us, Cadets," came his half-grinning remark, accompanied by a glance on his watch. Mac and Jeannine snapped to attention. "I'm sorry, sir, if we kept you waiting," Mac shouted, inwardly fuming at Harm's attitude and herself giving him the reason. "But, with all due respect, sir, I believe we still have 23 seconds." Harm had to fight hard to refrain from laughing. 'My Marine...' he thought, inwardly chuckling. "Right. Now get in line." "Aye, sir!" "At ease, everyone," Harm began, clearing his throat. "I received a call from Lt. Cmdr. Laird two days ago. First of all he tells me to say hello to you all and tell you he keeps getting better. But with mononucleosis you have to be patient. Anyway, we talked about the Benny-Goodman project and..." seeing his students hold their breath, he took a little dramatic break, "We decided there will be a concert in Carnegie Hall on Sunday, June 21st", he finished with a content grin. "Yes!" Danny shouted, making a fist, then quickly sobering and adding. "Excuse me, sir." "You're welcome, Cadet." Harm tried not to let his grin get too wide. "Excuse me, sir," Jeannine ventured carefully, a frown showing on her face. "Yes, Cadet Stiller?" "Sir, what about the soloist? Without Meryl, er..., Cadet Waters?" Everyone's eyes turned on Harm. "Taken care of, Cadet," Harm replied with the hint of a smile. "A friend of mine, an Italian navy lawyer, who's right now participating in the officers' exchange program and working with us at JAG back in Falls Church, studied music in Venice and has volunteered to play the solo clarinet." 'Well, sort of,' he silently added to himself. "Lt. Prumetti will be joining us next week for rehearsals that will be held every day at 1600 for the next two weeks, starting on Monday, not excluding the weekends." At this, more stifled cheers could be heard. Harm was relieved that the reaction was positive. He had feared the band wouldn't want a 'grown up' in their lines. But then, Fred was just a few years older than the rest of them. They'd have fun. "Sir?" Cassandra shyly stepped out of line, her cheeks slightly flushed and her voice a little hoarse. Harm smiled. "Yes, Cadet Odenberg?" "Uhm..., sir, I think I can speak for all of us if I say how much this means to us. Thank you so much, sir, for going along with this plan. I mean, you didn't have to and... well... maybe you don't feel you really want to do all the extra work and don't feel too well about this but we'll never forget that you're actually doing this for us." She looked down on her feet with a shy smile. The entire band was nodding. Harm was touched. 'Heck, Hammer, you can pull this off, you have to. Look at those guys! You can't let them down!' Feeling a little embarrassed himself he again cleared his throat and with his hand rubbed his neck. "Uhm... you're welcome, Cadet. Just promise me, all of you, you'll help me through this, right? 'Cause..." He grinned and put his finger to his lips like a conspirator. "...and this is off-record, understood?" They nodded eagerly. "'Cause I'm pretty scared to walk up on that stage. I need your full support or we all can forget this thing. Did I make myself clear?" "Yes, sir!" they shouted, all smiling broadly, proud that Harm had considered them trustworthy enough to speak freely. Casually looking into several faces, Harm for some seconds caught Mac's gaze and felt his heart swell at what he saw: in her eyes were shining pride for her brave man, joy for being a part of the group, anticipation and excitement regarding the upcoming events and, most of all, pure and unconditional love for him, brought to the surface for the briefest moment by the efforts he was making to save his students' dream, even if for him it meant doing something he dreaded. He was shaken from his daydreams by Jeannine's voice. "Sir, do you have a copy of the score to send to your friend?" "Actually, no, Cadet. Thank you for reminding me. Do you know where I could find one?" "I don't know for sure, sir, but I think Meryl's copy is in the attic together with her things. I... I could get it for you after the rehearsal if you like." Harm could tell Jeannine was uneasy at the thought of searching between her dead friend's personal belongings. "Thank you, Cadet Stiller. I'd very much appreciate that. Let Cadet O'Hara help you, so it won't take too long." 'And you'll have someone to cling to if it gets too hard', he silently added. Maybe Mac would even be able to dig up something useful for their investigation. "Yes, sir." Jeannine sounded relieved. "Now," Harm turned to address the whole group again, "Go get your music-stands. No marching today. I'd like to hear how much is still left to do before going on stage. So I'll know what we've got when Lt. Prumetti shows up next week." "Aye, sir!" all shouted eagerly, putting their instruments down and hurrying to get ready to show the commander just what they were able to do when properly motivated to give their best. Fri, June 5th 2251 ZULU Ladies' restrooms Marriott Marquis Hotel Times Square New York City, N.Y. Mac critically surveyed herself in the mirror. Yes, that would do, she decided, satisfied with her looks. After receiving Harm's invitation she had at once mailed to Harriet to send her one of her evening dresses, one she hadn't worn in quite a long time. She thought maybe Harm hadn't even seen it on her. It was a very romantic, feminine dress, not quite the style she usually wore. But being a happy college girl had made her feel like putting it on. Perhaps it was the color that had kept her from wearing it all these years. Dalton had talked her into buying it and the clear pearl-white silk with the thinnest layer of chiffon falling loosely over it somehow always reminded her of a wedding dress. With all her shattered dreams of marriage she had never felt she could put it on after Dalton's death, not even when she had been engaged to Brumby. It just didn't feel right. But today it did, she noted with a slightly accelerating heart rate. The dress clung to her upper body right down to her waist, failing to be off-the-shoulder by a few inches as some hint of a short sleeve clung to the curve of her shoulder, thus creating a perfect oval that went right around her bust. From her hips the long, wide skirt fell right to the floor, swinging with every step she made while the light chiffon of the topmost layer was allowed to flutter just a little more than the silk that was underneath, sustained by a not too puffy petticoat. No additional decorations were found on the whole dress, no lace, no frills, no embroidery, nothing. Simple, just as Mac liked it. Around her neck she wore a simple tight pearl-white satin ribbon, with a tiny, round pearl brooch attached right in front. Besides that Mac didn't wear any jewelry and her hair was simply tucked behind her ears. A small pearl-white purse, fitting shoes (comfortable ones!) and a pearl-white silk shawl in case the temperature dropped a little completed the outfit. Mac closed her eyes and tried to steady her breathing. She'd never been this nervous going out with Harm. Not even after they had returned from Venice, when he'd properly asked her out on a date for the first time. But she somehow had the feeling this weekend would be special. He had sounded as if he wanted it to be. It hadn't been easy to get away. First, she'd had to get Pablo to stop trying to persuade her to go on a weekend trip to Martha's Vineyard with her. Telling him that she had to see her sick grandmother in Santa Monica had finally made him back away. But she could tell he wasn't amused at all. Not that she really cared, though. Then she'd had to try on the dress without being noticed by Jeannine, which was quite difficult as they had come so close that they always left their room doors open inside the apartment. Finally, she'd had to leave the campus with a traveling bag, dissuade Pablo from driving her to JFK and take a cab instead. The driver had taken her to Times Square where she'd had to find a quiet place to change. She decided on the Marriott's restrooms, that choice leaving her the task, though, to go in in jeans and sweatshirt and leave again in full evening attire. Well, she'd survive the stares. And once outside, she'd see Harm. Taking her traveling bag she left the restrooms, crossed the lobby high-headed, ignoring other people's glances, and stepped onto the walkway outside, only to see a tall familiar figure standing about a hundred yards away, obviously looking for someone. Continually shifting his weight from one foot to the other, Harm scanned the area for any signs of his favorite marine. He was beginning to sweat in his black tuxedo. But that was his own fault, because for once in his life Harmon Rabb had been early. Now he stood waiting for Mac, his eyes wandering until they suddenly locked on an unearthly apparition in white that had just emerged from the Marriott Hotel and was walking in Harm's direction. 'Fancy dress' he had written. 'Fairy' was what he got. Unable to move Harm just stared as Mac approached him, with every fiber of her body impersonating the meaning of her name: princess. It wasn't until she had reached him that he woke from his daydream, letting out the breath he didn't know he'd been holding. "Hey," was all he could choke out. She smiled in return, her cheeks slightly flushed. "Hey..." Taking her bag for her, he leaned in and brushed a shy kiss to her cheek. "You're so beautiful, Marine," he said softly. Her flush deepened. "Thanks." Then, relieved to find a topic that would ease the tension, she looked at him with a cocked eyebrow. "No uniform, Commander?" He flashed her a quick flyboy-grin. "Nope. This is just you and me tonight, all private. Harmon and Sarah. And my parents later on." "Your parents?" she asked with a slight feeling of shock. Mac had never yet met Trish and Frank Burnett and she was anxious to make a good first impression. Harm was chuckling slightly at her startled expression. "Hey, this isn't a tribunal or examination or anything. Mom just keeps trying to talk me into bringing you over since I let slip that we might have gotten involved. And today turned out to be a lucky occasion as they're in New York." Mac still felt a little uneasy and, to tell the truth, was just a little angry that he hadn't told her beforehand. Thankfully, she was nicely dressed and didn't have to worry about her appearance. 'Okay, I'll let it slip this time, squid,' she thought, determined to let nothing spoil her weekend with her beloved sailor. So with an astonished smile she only asked: "Then why did you tell me to dress up so much?" His grin showed that he was enjoying himself. "Because Mom and Frank invited us to something very special. Come on, jarhead, let's get your stuff to the hotel and I'll tell you on the way, okay?" It was impossible to resist his good humor. Mac's half-smile grew into a radiant grin. "Agreed." Rising on her toes, she kissed him tenderly. They shared a warm glance and Mac let Harm take her arm to lead her to a cab. The driver put Mac's bag in the trunk and opened the back doors for her and Harm to get in. Then he sat behind the wheel and turned, smiling at the young couple. "Where to, ma'am, sir?" "Uhm... Waldorf Astoria, please," Harm said, feeling a little uneasy. Mac's head snapped in his direction, her eyes staring at him. "Harm, are you crazy?" she hissed when she had recovered from her initial shock. Harm shook his head in silent amusement. "Calm down, Mac," he replied in a soothingly low voice. "Frank's some sort of a special guest there by now. He gets special conditions. For his stepson, too." He felt Mac relax as he caressed her cheek with the back of his hand. "Okay," she smiled, obviously a little embarrassed. "But I guess you're still paying a lot for the name, aren't you?" she asked, tilting her head inquisitively to one side. "You're not supposed to know that," he retorted, grinning, in an 'end-of-conversation' tone. A smile on her lips, Mac suppressed an exasperated sigh. Sometimes this sailor beside her could be insufferable. But something deep inside her just loved to be courted that way, she had to admit to herself. For a while they sat in silence, both inwardly laughing about the chaste distance they were keeping between them, while they looked out of the windows into different directions. Harm holding Mac's hand in his lap was the only sign telling they belonged together. 'This is ridiculous!' Mac thought. 'Why am I suddenly so shy?' She felt like a young girl going out on her first date. Allowing herself a look at her partner, she felt that, unlike her first impression, his tuxedo had a similar effect on her as had his dress whites or mess dress. 'I should get used to the concept that it's the man inside who's affecting me,' she acknowledged with a smile. Looking up to his face, Mac found Harm was watching her with amusement. "What?" Before answering he gave her a critical survey from head to toe. "Just doing the same you did, jarhead," he said, referring to her non-too-subtle scrutiny. "Jerk!" she hissed, laughing, leaning to his shoulder and letting him slide his arm behind her back. "So, tell me, Professor, how did you plan to broaden my educational horizons?" Harm smiled widely. "Have you ever been to the Met?" "Oh my God..." Mac's voice trailed off. Of course she hadn't. An evening at the Metropolitan Opera had been something of a dream in her youth. And when she'd finally had the means to make it come true she'd never had the time or the right company. "There's more," Harm enthusiastically continued. "It's not 'just' an evening at the Met but it's a premiere. Frank was invited and he asked me if you and I wanted to join him and Mom." Mac needed some moments to digest the news. Even though she had been a highly respectable woman for quite a few years now and, as a high-ranking officer, had been to many high society events, this was another dimension. It was a fairy tale. Sarah Mackenzie was going to stay at the Waldorf Astoria with her very own Prince Charming and was invited to a Metropolitan Opera premiere by his well-connected parents. She swallowed hard and Harm could see just a hint of fear shining in her eyes as she looked up to him. "What is it, Mac?" he asked gently, cupping her face with one hand. "I..." she swallowed again and then laughed, a little embarrassed about her behavior. Sobering she then said: "I... please, don't laugh, Harm, but I feel I don't belong there, you know, easy life of the rich and all that stuff. I'm a runaway teenager, ex-alcoholic, I have no connections whatsoever..." "Stop it, Mac," he ordered her softly, cutting her off before she could slip even deeper into her complexes. Putting his free hand to the other side of her face, he made her look straight into his eyes: "It's who you are now that defines where you belong, Mac. You are the bravest woman I've ever met. You went through hell of your own free will, achieving what so many others don't: you fought a victory over your addiction. You made the decision to set your life straight and joined the Corps. You followed that path with every ounce of strength you could possibly muster. You beat them all in law school. You built yourself a great career. It's you who are second in rank after the admiral, not me. It's you who are chief of staff at JAG. You make men turn their heads because you're a stunning woman as well. And deep down you have an affectionate heart that enables you to be the truest of friends and the one woman I'll ever truly love in my life. Now, tell me, who deserves to be graced by society's attention?" When she remained silent and shifted her head to look down, he turned her face up again with a gentle effort, locking his gaze with hers once again. "Tell me, Mac, who does?" She swallowed, willing her tears down. "I do," she said in a low voice. Harm smiled. "Exactly. And it's up to me to thank the Lord on my knees that I have your attention." She returned a teary smile. "You have far more than my attention, sailor, and you know it. Thanks, Harm," she added very low, "Thanks for showing me who I am. With all those rich guys around at the college I tend to forget it." "I love you," he simply replied and closed the distance between them, underlining his words with a passionate kiss. When they arrived at the hotel Mac gathered her courage, straightened to full height and entered the lobby. She still felt out of place but Harm's words had given her the strength she needed to will the feeling away. She was Lt. Col. Sarah Mackenzie, Chief of Staff to the Judge Advocate General, and people would show her the respect she deserved. They received their keys, secrecy still banishing them to separate rooms, but Frank had obviously seen to it that Harm and Mac's rooms had a connecting door. They had barely enough time to put away Mac's bag before they had to leave again to go to the opera house. It seemed Frank had spared no expense as a limousine drove up to the entrance when Harm asked for their ride. Opening the limo's door for Mac, Harm helped her get in and then joined her inside the spacious vehicle. "Aren't we going to wait for your parents?" Mac asked. "Frank had a business meeting earlier and Mom went with the ladies group to an exhibition. We're to meet them there." "Uhm... Harm?" "Yes?" "What if anyone sees us? That could blow my cover." Harm frowned. "Yeah. I thought about that, too. But tell me, what are the odds? Who knows you? The students, right? They won't go to a Met premiere without their families. How many of them live in the area? Maybe six or seven families. I'd say it's highly improbable one of them shows up. So, who else knows you? Only the Gonzalezes. I've heard, they're not really opera lovers. Maribel told me that much. If they go they do it for society. And I happen to know Juan and his wife are going to a Rotary dinner tonight. So what are the chances Maribel or Pablo or one of their cousins show up alone? I think we're quite safe. And besides, I'm in civvies and thus less obtrusive." Mac nodded consent. It was a little risky but not too much. She'd be careful. "So, now listen, my student," Harm said with a sly smile as he pulled out a program. "Being invited by someone who's in the city's administration does have advantages. You get these for free even before you arrive at the opera house. Well..." he opened the program. "My mom tells me today's artists are some of the finest to be had. I've already seen two of them on stage, actually. By the way, we'll be seeing the premiere of 'Tosca' by Giacomo Puccini. Conductor: James Levine, main characters: Tosca, the opera singer: Angela Gheorghiu; Cavaradossi, the artist: Roberto Alagna; Scarpia, police chief of Rome: Samuel Ramey. Do you know the story?" "No such thing as music in my youth, Harm," she reminded him gently. "Okay, listen, I'll try to explain. Cavaradossi and Tosca are engaged. The story is set in Rome in the early nineteenth century. Royal troops have just destroyed the Republic of Rome that had been installed under the influence of Napoleon. Because of this, republicans must hide to escape capital punishment. Cavaradossi is painting a picture in a church when a republican friend asks him for help. The artist hides him in the church. Tosca comes to see her fiancé and he's very secretive. She's very jealous and thinks he's hiding another woman from her. Scarpia shows up. He's cruelly persecuting the republicans. Scarpia wants Tosca for himself so he manages to kindle her jealousy until she subconsciously lets something slip about the hideout. Cavaradossi is arrested for helping a criminal. That's the first act. Follow me, Marine?" "Yep. Go on." Harm silently wondered why he didn't get any sharp replies. 'Maybe she's enjoying herself so much she'll allow herself to let go of her Marine mode,' he thought, hoping he was right. It would do her good. "Okay," he went on, "Second act. Scarpia invites Tosca over to dinner to 'negotiate' Cavaradossi's release. But all he wants is her. Cavaradossi won't tell anything in questioning. Scarpia has him brought up near to where he and Tosca eat so she can hear his screams while he's tortured." "That son of a bitch!" Mac blurted out, surprising Harm quite a bit. "Hey, don't take it too hard, it's only a play." "But I was thinking about how that poor woman must feel! My God, if I imagine hearing you scream in agony while I'm sitting in the adjoining room, having dinner with your enemy..." Harm could tell Mac was agitated. Somehow he felt flattered by her emotional display. "I guess one would have to be sorry for my enemy after you dealt with him," he retorted dryly. Mac cast him a quick satisfied smile and nodded consent. "Anyway," Harm continued, "Cavaradossi tells Tosca to be strong and not care about his physical pain. But being a loving woman she can't and finally consents to give herself to Scarpia in return for her fiancé's life." He grinned. "Now, those were women! Nowadays you wouldn't find any woman willing to do such a thing without negotiating alternatives." "I would," Mac said quietly. Harm's brows went up in astonishment. "For you, I would", Mac repeated. Harm was touched. "I wouldn't let you," he gently replied. "Try and stop me," Mac retorted, smiling. Instead of answering, Harm kissed her. "Thanks, my ninja-girl." "You're welcome." "Where were we? Ah, yes. Tosca consents, they take away Cavaradossi and Scarpia signs a secret paper that tells the executioners to fake the shooting in order to save his reputation. Tosca is to tell Cavaradossi how to act and then leave the city together with him unnoticed. She takes the valuable document and when Scarpia tries to embrace and kiss her, claiming his prize, sort of, she stabs and kills him. He's yelling for help, dying, and she's horrified at realizing what she's done." "I wouldn't be," Mac declared, "He deserved it." "But you're a soldier, Marine. We're supposed to kill our enemies. She's an opera singer. Imagine what this must have cost her." "I see your point, counselor. Go on." "Third act: Cavaradossi's last night. Instead of requesting his last meal he begs for a pen and paper as his last grace and writes a letter to his beloved. Big aria. This scene always gives me the creeps, Mac," he admitted. "I know how he must feel. It's like going on a mission, not knowing if you'll survive. Well, he's still worse off, knowing he won't. But still it's very similar, I think. You gotta put all your feelings, all that's been left unsaid, into one single letter in case you don't make it back. I can't count how many times I told you how I felt in my letters when we were flying off the Patrick Henry during the Kosovo crisis." Mac paled slightly as she imagined Harm writing to her in the knowledge he might never see her again. Instinctively she put her arms around him, holding him tightly for some moments until he relaxed as the dreadful memories faded. "Go on," she encouraged him, wanting to change the mood. Harm sat up again and straightened his dinner jacket. "Okay. Time's up and Tosca comes to see him, explaining their plan. He's overwhelmed by the prospect of salvation and reunion with his fiancée. So when the execution is about to begin he and her play a tearful goodbye and lightheartedly await the proceedings. Problem is, Scarpia had never given the order not to shoot him. So when Cavaradossi falls, hit by the bullets, Tosca signals him to stay down and not move until all soldiers are away. Then she rushes to his side - and finds him dead. And just then, when she's in the middle of her despair, soldiers come up to arrest her for the murder of Scarpia. Oh, I forgot to tell you this scene is set on top of the Castel Sant'Angelo, the prison of Rome which is situated on a very steep hill. So, Tosca does the only thing she can. She climbs onto one of the walls and jumps. End of opera." "Whoa," Mac made, impressed. "That's quite a plot. Promising huge amounts of emotion I'd say." "You got it," he confirmed, grinning. Just as he put the program in his inside pocket, the limo slowed down and stopped right in front of the well-known façade of the Met. Sat, June 6th 0043 ZULU Metropolitan Opera Lincoln Center New York City, N.Y. Trish Burnett stood at the first-floor railing, eagerly skimming the area for her son and his partner. After all that Harm had told her about Mac, saying Trish was curious to get to know her was brutal understatement. Trish was all but dying to see the woman she was sure would one day be her daughter-in-law if she ever were to get one. Catching sight of a black and a white figure starting to ascend the stairs, she excitedly grabbed her husband's arm. "Frank, that's them! Look!" Frank lovingly put an arm around his wife's shoulders and looked into the direction she had indicated. "Yeah, definitely. Quite a sight, aren't they?" Trish was bubbling with excited joy at what she saw. "Frank, look, of course you can immediately see the uncanny resemblance to Diane, but Mac's just so much more beautiful from inside. Look how she beams at him, as if she were emanating some kind of an aura! She's a gorgeous girl, Frank. And look at how he smiles back at her! He loves her. I've never seen my son like this before, and, believe me, I've seen him in a lot of moods." "Hey, honey, calm down. You don't want to scare Mac by being so giddy, do you?" Frank said gently. Trish laughed, blushing slightly. "Yes, you're right. I'll behave. It's just... Frank, for so many years I've been hoping Harm would finally find someone who'd really make him happy. And somehow I knew it could have been no one else than Mac. When I heard him say they might have gotten closer..." Frank grinned. "I know. I was there. Your scream nearly made me drop my wine glass." "I'm sorry." "Forgiven. And now just be yourself, okay?" "Thanks, Frank." Trish turned and opened her arms to her son who stepped close to her and embraced her warmly. "Hi Mom!" "Harm! It's so good to see you! It's been too long, you know..." "I know, Mom. I'm sorry but I've been very busy of late." Trish bit back a laugh. "Oh, really?" "Mom!" he said, laughing, letting go of her. She watched him as he cordially shook Frank's hand and then gently took the hand of the slender young woman next to him. He pulled her a little closer, pride and love shining in his eyes. Trish hoped her tears wouldn't rise too easily but seeing Harm like this was just too much for a mother. "Mom, Frank, this is Mac," he said simply. "Mac, these are my parents." To her astonishment Trish felt that the young woman's hand was slightly shaking as she took it. Mac was a little pale as well and her eyes seemed those of a frightened deer although she was smiling. 'My God, the poor girl seems afraid of making a bad impression,' Trish thought, compassion instantly filling her affectionate heart. 'I'm only glad Harm told me a bit about her history. Otherwise I would be at a loss about why she's reacting this way.' "Good evening, Mrs. Burnett," Mac said shyly, "I'm pleased to meet you." "Hello Mac," Trish said warmly, taking Mac's hand into both of her own and giving her a heartfelt smile. "I'm so happy we finally get to know you. Harm's been talking about you constantly these past seven years and I think it's a scandal we've never met before! And that's Trish to you, not Mrs. Burnett. You don't mind that, do you?" "No, ma'am... uh... Trish", Mac stammered, blushing, angry with herself for being this clumsy but relieved at Trish's easy manner. 'It's very hard to believe this shy little girl could be the no-nonsense Marine Harm has told us about,' Trish thought in amusement. 'But look at him - he's an aviator hero, but fails to tell a woman who loves him that he loves her back. With these attitudes I don't wonder anymore why it took them so long to figure it out.' She put her hand on Mac's shoulder. "Sarah... you don't mind my calling you Sarah, do you? I love that name." Mac was surprised but on second thought she liked the idea of letting Harm's mother be one of the select few that called her by her given name. Not even Harm did, regularly. "No, I'd like that, Trish," she smiled. Harm was smiling broadly, seeing his mother obviously liked his Marine. "Sarah," Trish repeated, making a gesture to her husband, "This is my husband Frank." "Nice to meet you," Mac greeted, shaking hands with him, already feeling far less uneasy than she had before. "Same goes here," Frank replied with a smile and then turned to his stepson, grinning. "You definitely perfected your taste with women, son. Congratulations." Seeing Mac blush and fidget uncomfortably at the straightforward praise, Harm put a soothing arm around her shoulders and grinned back at Frank. "I think I had an excellent taste with women from the start. I just didn't really know it." That made all of them laugh, any remainders of previous tension fading away. 'They like me,' Mac thought, relieved, 'They really like me. Thank you, God!' Just then the bell announced the beginning of the performance. Harm loved watching just how much Mac enjoyed the evening. The performance was smashing in every respect, the orchestra was gorgeous and the three main characters not only sang divinely but their acting was fit for the Academy Awards. Frank had gotten top-class seats in the third row, and during the interval they just remained seated, having so much to talk about. While Mac was animatedly conversing with Frank, Trish leaned over to her son who was watching his partner with a smile. "Happy?" she asked in a low voice, winking at him knowingly. "You have no idea," Harm answered softly. "I'll ask again: she's quite the girl, isn't she?" Harm chuckled, remembering his reaction back then. Today he didn't mind that Trish brought up the subject. "She is," he admitted. "And I'm determined to stick to her." "Harm, I'm so glad. I'd already given up hope you'd say that about a woman one day," Trish said, her voice not entirely even. "Take good care of her, my dear. She's special." "I know," Harm replied with a smile. Mac was overwhelmed. The music left her breathless and the story and its interpretation were so loaded with emotion that she couldn't take her eyes off the stage. She squeezed Harm's hand, glad he was so close by. When Alagna was singing Cavaradossi's last aria, writing his farewells to his fiancée, Mac felt tears trickle down her cheeks. She let them flow, she didn't care. Remembering their conversation back in the limousine, she imagined Harm sitting there, writing to her as he had told her he'd done so many times. Maybe he had even written a letter on the evening of her wedding rehearsal dinner. True, those had been training flights, but knowing that bad weather had been coming in... Mac had always tried to avoid thinking of that fateful night. But right now she couldn't fight the memories: how she had been paralyzed at hearing the dreadful news that Harm was lost at sea. Gnawing fear had grown inside her with every minute, as they couldn't locate him. She remembered vividly the flush of hope that ran through her soul when they found Skates - only to turn into painful disappointment when Harm wasn't found anywhere near his RIO. She also remembered the wave of despair that had washed over her when the rescue teams had been ordered back on board the carrier. The feeling of being utterly helpless, knowing the man she loved was at the very moment dying out at sea, had nearly driven her out of her senses. Then a faint ray of hope had broken through the darkness when Chloe had suggested Mac should try to locate him with her thoughts just like she had done when Chloe had been lost in the woods. Mac would never forget how her heart had skipped several beats at the sudden revelation where he was floating. And then, finally, overwhelming relief had nearly made her faint, at the news that he'd been found alive thanks to the coordinates she'd supplied - how she'd done it she still couldn't explain. What if it had gone wrong? What if she hadn't been able to locate him? What if, a few days later, someone had handed her an envelope with his handwriting that held a letter in which Harm told her he loved her and she found out too late? Such thoughts were still haunting Mac, even after such a long time. She felt more tears well up inside her and decided to concentrate on the music again. Tosca and Cavaradossi were now singing their farewells, convinced they'd be united in an hour's time, not knowing the dreadful fate that awaited them. Then, after a breathtaking finale, the curtain fell and a hurricane of applause broke loose. Harm took his handkerchief out of his pocket, put his left index finger under Mac's chin and gently dried her tears, smiling. She was beautiful even when she'd been crying. The applause lasted a full twenty minutes. When they could finally let rest their red, sore hands, Mac, Harm and his parents left the auditorium and went to await their limousine outside the building. "Thank you, all of you, for a wonderful evening," Mac said with a huge sigh. "This really was a hallmark event in my life." Trish beamed at her. "I'm glad you enjoyed it, Sarah." Encircling her in his arms, Harm brushed a gentle kiss to Mac's lips. "Thank you for accompanying us," he smiled. Reveling in the feeling of being a happy family, none of the four was aware of a pair of large dark eyes staring at them from a short distance. Maribel Gonzalez had been less than thrilled at the prospect of having to accompany her aunt to just another boring night at the Met. But little had she known the evening would turn out to be so humiliating. She had seen them only on exiting the building and she had stopped short in her tracks as she'd recognized the tall dark-haired man in the tuxedo. And she'd felt her knees fail her when the gorgeous woman he held in his arms had for a second turned in her direction, long enough to be recognized as no other than Cadet Patricia O'Hara, the girl she had thought to be her brother's new girlfriend. Suddenly Maribel was convinced there was no Cadet O'Hara at all. Whoever Harm's girlfriend was - she was a grown-up woman, and Maribel had to recognize that she'd never even have the hint of a chance with Harm as long as the other woman was near. It was clear that Harm worshipped her. If Maribel guessed correctly her competitor even knew his parents quite well. Maribel was fuming. No, she wasn't heartbroken, but she was deadly mad at the man who'd fooled her. Maribel knew Harm was a JAG lawyer. She hadn't thought he could be on an investigation, but obviously he was trying to spy on her family's business, and the woman probably was his partner, planted inside the college to collect further evidence. 'Okay, Harmon Rabb, Jr.,' she thought grimly. 'If you can fool us, we can do the same with you. In no time we'll have the true identity of your pretty little girlfriend, and I swear to you, when we do hell will break loose!' Sat, June 6th 0417 ZULU Waldorf Astoria Hotel New York City, N.Y. Having bid goodnight to Harm's parents, Harm and Mac exited the elevator and silently, hand in hand, walked to Harm's door and entered his room. When he had closed the door behind them and switched on only a small side-light, the tension between them became palpable. They stood face to face, watching each other earnestly, lost in thoughts and lost in each other's eyes, neither of them speaking a word. Harm's heart was beating wildly when he finally closed the distance and with trembling fingertips traced the outlines of Mac's face. He knew exactly what he wanted to do but didn't dare to start. Mac's gaze was intense, but not really focused on him. Her eyes seemed to trespass the border of his face and look right into his mind. What she saw thrilled and scared her at the same time. With an equally trembling hand she reached for his and made it rest on her cheek. Harm swallowed and closed his eyes for a moment, unable to endure the eye contact. But then he forced himself to again look at her and, as if in slow motion, leaned in and let his lips brush hers. Mac's response was immediate. After a moment of timid tasting their kiss grew in passion and Harm put one arm around her waist and buried his free hand in her hair. Mac let herself be drawn close and wrapped her arms around his neck. She didn't argue when his hand found the zipper of her dress and slowly lowered it. Instead she brushed his dinner jacket off his shoulders, then removed his bow-tie and waistcoat and began to unbutton his shirt, thus revealing his well-shaped body she'd been dreaming of constantly since Venice and occasionally before. Seeing her dress drop to the floor, Harm couldn't believe this was really happening. Breaking the kiss he pulled Mac close and let her bury her face on his bare chest. He took long and deep breaths, taking in the scent of her shampoo and perfume, closing his eyes and imagining what he might see upon opening them again. He felt himself tremble with an anticipation he tried not to let show too openly. After endless moments he felt her stir in his arms. "Harm," she whispered, "I don't know if..." Her voice was strained. A wave of disappointment washed over him. "It's all right," he said soothingly as he stroked the back of her head and then let go of her. She stepped out of her dress and shoes and picked them up, heading for the connecting door between their rooms. He followed her, opening the door for her with a smile that was just a little sad. But he wanted her to know he wasn't upset. She turned in the doorway, her white satin underwear clearly visible on her olive-tanned skin against the dark background of her room. "I'm sorry," she whispered again, "I really don't know why..." He gently cut her off. "There's nothing to apologize for, Sarah. I told you we'd do this when time was right. For both of us." "Thank you, Harm. I love you." "I love you, too, Sarah. Sleep tight." "You, too, sailor." With that she closed the door, leaning against it and fighting her tears. This was what she'd wanted for so long. Why'd she have to be such a coward? Sat, June 6th 0521 ZULU Waldorf Astoria Hotel New York City, N.Y. Harm, in his boxers, was lying on his back on top of his king size double bed, unable to sleep. The growing intimacy between him and Mac was playing and re-playing in his mind. The image had chased away every last remainder of inward calmness he might have had earlier. God, he wanted her! Badly. But at the same time he'd never be able to do anything that she didn't fully consent to. How could he possibly? He worshipped her, so she had to be the one who set the level of intimacy. He froze when he suddenly heard the connecting door open. Cautiously he sat up and saw a figure approaching in the darkness. Getting up, he met her halfway in the middle of his room. "Mac, what's up?" he said worriedly as he let his hands rest on her upper arms, noticing she was in her terry-cloth robe, trembling slightly. "Nothing really..." she replied in a very low voice. "Can't sleep, my favorite Marine?" he asked softly, trying to read her expression in the darkness. "Yeah..." she whispered, swallowing. "Harm," she started, closing the distance and letting herself be embraced by her rather surprised partner, "I... I want to feel you close to me." Her voice was barely audible. Harm felt her shake, at the same time noticing how his heart rate doubled in the fraction of a second. "You sure?" he whispered. "You don't have to do this, Mac, if you don't want to." Even in the darkness he could feel her firm glance. "I want this, Harm. If you do." "I do." He inhaled sharply as she stepped back a little, opened the belt of her robe and let it slide to the floor, revealing her unblemished body. Harm had always tried to imagine what she might look like nude but his imagination hadn't come close to what he saw. Her round but slender form, her silky skin that in the moonlight shimmered just a little bit, the perfect proportion of her limbs... When she saw him this paralyzed, she again closed the distance, nearly driving him crazy in their closeness. Slowly Harm seemed to wake from his state. He gently lifted her to his arms and carried her over to the bed where he lowered her on her back. Quickly removing his boxers, he joined her, at first lying next to her on his back as well, taking her hand. To his astonishment he heard Mac chuckle. "I thought I was the one who's scared." She felt rather than heard him laugh. "I feel like a school boy who doesn't know what to do, Mac." Somehow his confession eased the tension. "What? The great Harmon Rabb is at a loss with a woman? Impossible," she stated in an amused half-whisper. "Come on, flyboy, start by kissing me." "Aye, ma'am," he murmured just before their lips joined in a warm, passionate kiss. Both were aware that the situation was quickly getting out of hand. With a huge effort, Harm eventually managed to draw back and very earnestly, tenderly looked into her eyes once more. "Are you really sure about this, Sarah?" His voice was very warm and velvety, making Mac feel secure and confident. "Yes, I am," came her soft but firm reply that carried audible traces of her smile. "You?" "I've never been so sure about anything in my life before," he said, swallowing heavily at the prospect of what would follow. "I love you, Harmon Rabb, Jr.," he heard her whisper before she kissed him again. This was the final signal Harm needed to let go of his lifeline. "I love you, too, Sarah Mackenzie." With his right index finger he gently traced her smile. "Mac..." "Yeah...?" "I'm not imagining things, right? This is really happening, isn't it?" She could tell he was only half-joking. He could hear her smile when her reply came in a barely audible whisper. "We're both in the middle of a dream, but this surely isn't our imagination." With this said, they joined in a lovemaking so deeply sensitive and emotional neither of them had ever experienced in their lives. Same time Unknown location The computer screen flickered in the dark, lighting the deserted office in a pale blue. The figure in front of it didn't move, seeming to stare blankly through the words and pictures on the monitor. Only fingers were moving quickly on the keyboard, the clicking being the only sound in the room, accompanied by the low hum of the computer's ventilation. With an expert's knowledge, the hacker maneuvered his way through the jungle of government organization structures, being stopped a couple of times by rather pitiful jokes authorities called security precautions. Building one virtual bridge after another, the man slowly approached his target, still not giving any outward sign of even noticing, let alone feeling satisfaction, as he pushed the 'enter' key one last time. The screen turned all black to reveal a tiny hourglass. Moments later a picture slowly started to appear before the person's eyes, accompanied by some data related to it. It was a passport photo of a woman. Chin-length dark hair, big brown eyes. She was wearing a Marine lieutenant colonel's uniform. The shadow in front of the computer moved, extended one arm and picked up the receiver of a telephone, dialing a number. "Jefe, soy Bernardo." [Boss it's me, Bernardo.] The voice was hoarse. He paused, listening. "Sí, tengo los datos que usted me preguntó. Sí, la identidad de ella." [Yes, I have the data you asked me for. Yes, her identity.] Another brief interval while the computer's ventilation hummed on. "Es como supusimos: Es su partner...sí, avogada. Teniente Coronello Sarah Mackenzie, sí, del JAG." [It's as we thought: She's his partner...yes, a lawyer. Lt. Col. Sarah Mackenzie, yes, from the JAG.] Another interval in which he listened intently to the person on the other end of the line. "Sí, supongo que está protegiendo a la hija, pero seguramente ella y el comandante están recogiendo informacíones sobre la organisación...sí, entiendo. Nos vemos mañana. Muy bien, jefe. Adiós." [Yes, I suppose she's protecting the girl, but surely she and the commander are collecting information on the organization...yes, I understand. See you tomorrow. Very well, boss. Goodbye.] The hacker inserted a floppy disc, copied the file, switched off the computer and quietly disappeared into the darkness. Sat, June 6th 1312 ZULU Waldorf Astoria Hotel New York City, N.Y. A brilliant ray of the morning sun passed in between two slats of the blinds outside the window. Mac woke from the warmth she felt on her nose, blinking and closing her eyes rapidly at the light that shone in her direction. Her sense of orientation didn't fully work yet, and for the briefest moment set her wondering what she was doing in another bed than her own, naked. But just then a slight rustling of sheets to her right reminded her where she was and, more important, with whom. Mac drew a deep, content breath, smiling and snuggling back into her pillow. Turning her head a little she watched her partner, friend and lover sleeping peacefully, the hint of a smile gracing his handsome face. She longed to touch him, caress him, kiss him, but she refrained from all such notions, wanting him to get as much rest as he could. She'd watch over him. Letting her thoughts wander, she wasn't surprised they immediately took her back to what had happened some hours ago. 'Now I know what taking one's breath away means,' she thought, smiling, again feeling shivers on her spine as she had at his touch. 'How does he do that?' she wondered, thinking of her previous relationships. The comparison to Chris forbid itself. She had been drunk most of the time. Farrow? The guilt and the fear of being charged with fraternization had prevented her from really letting go. Dalton. Well, they'd had their moments but the memory felt shallow. And Mic... Maybe with him she'd come closest to love until now. He was a good man and he had adored her. But in all those years since she'd first known a certain aviator it had been Harm, and only Harm, who'd been able to make adrenaline flow in her veins without even touching her, to make her feel at home in the few moments they'd come close and to prevent her heart from ever truly opening itself to any other man, despite the fact that until Venice she'd always felt they couldn't have a future together. A future together. Wow. Butterflies were starting to flutter in her stomach as she recalled the conversation they'd had in her office after Webb had told them of their assignment. 'As long as it takes, Harm,' she repeated in her mind, 'I'll always be there for you.' The sunray had wandered on and was causing Harm to subconsciously wrinkle his nose. He had such a funny expression on his face that Mac couldn't help but giggle. He stirred, turned his head in her direction sleepily and blinked. For a second she noticed pure astonishment in his eyes upon seeing her, but then his memory clicked in and the warmest of all smiles spread over his features. "Hey, my favorite Marine," he said very softly, "How's the situation?" "Pretty agreeable, Commander," she replied with a smile. "Definitely," he grinned, lifting the blanket a little to invite her to join him. Mac turned to lie on her other side and spooned up against his warm body. He encircled her in his arms and kissed her on the back of her neck, causing her to feel new shivers. "That was quite a night, wasn't it?" She could hear him smile against her back. Blushing slightly she replied: "Tell me about it, flyboy. Excuse me if I'm being naive, but where on earth did you learn that? Don't tell the Marine Corps, but you had me eating from your hands, squid." She felt his laughter against her back. "Wow. Now that's a flattering confession, Colonel. I'll write it down and make you sign it, so I can hold it up whenever you get your little green Marine nose up too high." Shifting in his arms so that she faced him, she playfully slapped him, laughing. "Ouch," he made, not very convincingly. His grin was contradicting his statement. "And how would you 'make' me sign the confession, counselor?" she asked mischievously. Mirroring her mischief, he pulled her close and started trailing little kisses from her cheek along her jaw down to her neck. "With this...and this...and this..." he murmured between the kisses, making her giggle. "Okay, I see your point." "Do you?" he grinned, pinning her underneath himself and kissing her tenderly. Then his face suddenly sobered, making Mac look at him worriedly. "What's up, sailor?" His eyes conveyed a bad conscience when he locked his glance with hers. "We didn't use any protection, Sarah." She gave a sigh of relief. "Oh, that's what's bothering you? You had me worried for a minute. Harm, that's absolutely no problem. Okay, normally it sure would have been, but I know I can trust you 'cause when we donated blood some months ago we were all tested for infections. And you haven't been with another woman since then, have you?" Her glance was sincere. "No, I haven't. But what about..." "I'm on the pill, Harm," she gently cut him off. At his astonished glance she smiled. "No, I haven't been with anyone but the hormonal regulation makes me feel better. That's why I never quit taking it after..." she let her voice trail off, not wanting to mention Mic when she was sharing Harm's bed. Harm's expression relaxed. "You know, normally I'm not this thoughtless, but with you I lost control." She took up his previous remark. "Now that's a flattering confession coming from a pilot. Would you please write it down and sign it for me, Commander?" His face showed something between a frown and a smile. "Hit and wounded, Colonel. Truce?" "Truce." She kissed him long and passionately. When they parted for air, Harm looked at her in amusement. "Why, Mac, I could get used to that. What was that for?" "Just a starter," she whispered seductively. "Tell me, we're not supposed to meet your parents today, are we?" "No," he answered, a grin slowly spreading over his face, understanding where she was headed. "You sure you're not hungry yet, Marine?" he teased. "Oh, I'm definitely hungry," she purred, snuggling even closer to him. "Well, then I guess it's my task to feed you," he murmured before kissing her afresh. Sat, June 6th 2108 ZULU Unknown Location Three men were sitting around the small table in the farthest-off corner of the dirty little bar. One was smoking a thick cigar, wearing a far-away look, seeming to meditate on his thoughts. The second was chain smoking cigarettes and nervously shifting on his chair. The third sat by calmly and watched. Finally the man with the cigar looked up to the others' faces. "Algunas proposiciones para arreglar esta situación?" [Any propositions to handle this situation?] The cigarette-man took a deep breath. "Tenemos que suprimir a ella. Es demasiado peligrosa para nosotros, estando en el colegio." [We've got to do away with her. She's too dangerous for us, staying at the college.] The cigar-smoker nodded, looking at the third man. "Gomez?" The quiet man didn't shift upon answering. Seeming like frozen, he said: "No creo que sea una buena idea, jefe. Segundo las informaciones que recibí los dos son amigos muy vecinos. Corre la voz que Rabb quiere a ella. Si suprimos a Mackenzie el comandante nunca nos deja en paz. Será mejor escamotear a él. Y si no nos da ninguna ocasión podemos siempre hacerle entender que el coronello va a sufrir muchísimo si no acaba de investigar. Y quando le tenemos así dependiente de nosotros, encontraremos una posibilidad para terminar a todos los dos." [I don't think that's a good idea, boss. According to the information I got, the two of them are very close friends. There are rumors that Rabb loves her. If we do away with Mackenzie the commander will never leave us in peace. It'll be better to make 'him' disappear. And if he doesn't give us an opportunity we can always make him understand that the colonel will suffer very much if he won't drop the investigation. And once we've got him depending on us, we'll find a way to finish them both.] Thin, evil smiles slowly appeared on the faces of the other two men. The one with the cigar raised his glass of wine. "Comandante Rabb, Coronello Mackenzie, que sus vidas sean benditas y felizes." [Cmdr. Rabb, Col. Mackenzie, may your lives be blessed and happy.] To be continued...