Title:  Fate's Price
Author:  Pixie

Email:  Pixie1@gmail.com

Rating:  PG (GS)

Category:  JAG Story

Word Count:  15,500

Disclaimer:  The ten year roller coaster ride that was the JAG television series belongs (and will always belong) to DPB, Bellisarius Productions, CBS, and Paramount. 

Acknowledgements:  To Aerogirl:  I can't thank you enough. You came through for me in a big way, red pen and all, despite my final hour call for a beta read. And to The Captain:  You listened to me rant and rave for weeks while I struggled with this one, and yet you never complained. You were there for me every step of the way - shared brain, dust bunnies and all. Bless you. And finally, to the other VS Authors:  You folks are an amazing bunch of people. It's been an incredible honor working with you.

Author's Note 1:  As is usual and traditional for JAG stories, parts of this have a 'ripped from the headlines' aspect to them. As always, details have been reworked to fit this story, and names have been changed. 

Author's Note 2:  Just a reminder. Captain's rank in the Marine Corps is the rough equivalent of Lieutenant's rank in the Navy. 

Summary:  Harm and Mac deal with the repercussions of one fateful night at McMurphy's Tavern.


********************


The first sleepy rays of the sun reached across the sand, outlining the slim form of the woman who jogged easily along the surf's edge. Her bare feet pounded a rhythmic counterpoint to the breaking waves and screeching gulls. This was her favorite part of the day, when the whole world seemed suspended, just for a moment, between the absolute darkness of night, and the hopeful dawning of a new day. 

A small dog flew past her from behind, shattering the peace in a flash of golden fur and a shower of icy salt water. The animal barked excitedly and dashed headlong into a flock of sand pipers and seagulls, sending them into the air in a blur of scolding feathers. Mission accomplished, the dog turned around and sat down, tongue lolling out in a canine grin as it waited for her to catch up. 

"You're just going to have to wait for me," she called out to it. "I only have half as many legs as you do."

The dog barked once and cocked its head to one side as though listening attentively to every word she said. He'd been her running companion almost since she'd arrived in San Diego, and now he waited until she caught up, and then turned and fell into step by her side, tail flying and glossy coat shimmering in the dim morning light. She heard the jingle of metal tags and wondered, not for the first time, where its owner was. 

Her cell phone chirped, its mechanical sound strangely out of place amidst the roar of the surf and the cry of the birds. She sighed as she slowed to a stop and unclipped it from her waist, watching the dog as it continued on without her. If she had to pick one thing about her new command that she disliked more than anything else, it was the damn cell phone.

"MacKenzie."

"Good morning." 

And just like that, the handful of plastic became her new best friend. "Good afternoon," she said softly.

"Did I interrupt a hot date with Spot?" His voice held a smile. 

"Spot?" She laughed. "Surely you can do better than that, Sailor."

"Well? You didn't like Rufus, Max, or Goldie, either."

"If we ever get a dog, remind me not to let you name it."

"If we ever get a dog, our kids will demand naming rights, and you know it."

Mac groaned. "That does it. We're never getting a dog."

He chuckled. "So how's life in sunny San Diego?"

Mac glanced up at the brightening sky, pleased to see the beginnings of another cloudless day. "Sunny," she said. "How's life in rainy London?"

"I think I'm starting to grow gills."

Mac's lips twitched. "Now there's an interesting mental image."

"You wait. You'll have a matching set before you know it."

"I can't tell you how much I'm looking forward to it," she answered, tongue in cheek.

The low rumble of his laughter tickled her eardrum and set off an answering response in the pit of her stomach. God, she missed him. 

"How's Mattie?" she asked, changing the subject.

"She's doing as well as can be expected, I guess. I'll be stopping by after work tonight to visit."

"She was a little depressed when I talked to her yesterday," she said. "This is all very hard on her."

"The physical therapy's hard, I know. And since she and I are pretty much on our own here, she's alone a lot of the time." He sighed. 

"She's a strong girl, Harm. She'll make it through this."

"I know. I just hate it for her."

"You're her dad. I wouldn't expect anything else."

"I am now, anyway. Final papers arrived this morning. It's one of the things I need to talk to her about tonight."

"How do you think she's going to take it?"

"Hard to say. She's still pretty bitter."

"It could take her years to forgive him, Harm."

"Like it did for you?"

"I hope it doesn't take that long," she said emphatically.

"Me, too," he agreed. And then, "Speaking of bitterness… How are those two new attorneys of yours getting along?"

"You mean Doom and Gloom?" 

He laughed. "That bad, huh?"

Mac snorted. "Let's see… Yesterday morning, I had Davis in my office accusing Gomez of coaching a witness."

"Ouch."

"Wait. It gets better. When I got back from my lunch meeting yesterday, Gomez was waiting to tell me that he was convinced Davis had been tampering with the evidence." She sighed. "I swear, if those two don't kill each other, I might just have to step in and do the job myself."

"Take the easy way out, Mac. Send them TAD on the Watertown for a while. It'll work wonders."

She laughed. "I doubt it. I think the skipper would end up feeding both of them to the crabs."

"See that? Problem solved."

She heard the laughter in his voice and smiled in response. 

"Mac? Can you hold on for just a second?" 

"Sure." There was a soft click, and his voice was replaced by canned music. She wandered down the beach, cell phone still pressed to her ear, but her mind busily going over the details of the hectic day ahead. She had three new cases to assign, one of them a rather messy Article 128. She also had to have a talk with Gomez and Davis. Those two needed to learn a thing or two about teamwork. From their behavior, you'd never believe they were working the same side of the case. She shook her head ruefully. It was a pretty safe bet that Admiral Chegwidden would be highly amused by her predicament with those two.

There was another click, and Harm came back on the line.

"Sorry about that, Mac. Listen. Something's come up here and I need to take care of it."

"No problem. I need to get back and grab a shower anyway. I'm due at the office in an hour. Good luck with Mattie."

"Thanks. I'll let you know how it goes."

"I'm sure it'll be fine. And Harm?"

"Hmmm?"

"I love you."

"I love you, too." The warmth in his voice brought a smile to her face. She was still smiling when she clipped her cell phone to her waist and started back down the beach, and when her four-legged companion splashed up beside her, she laughed and broke into a run, her long exuberant strides sending up showers of seawater in her wake. 



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Monday, August 8, 2005, 
1630 Zulu (0830 Local)
Joint Legal Services Southwest
San Diego, California


The junior officers waited patiently on the other side of her desk, and she considered them for a few moments, inwardly wondering when she had been as young as they. The double stripes on Davis's uniform, and the double silver bars on Gomez's, marked them as rank equals, but in every other way they were virtual opposites. Dark-complected and slim, Captain Gomez carried himself with the relaxed awareness of a panther. Mac doubted anything escaped his notice, including the light floral scent of his partner's perfume. Lieutenant Davis, on the other hand, was red haired and petite, with green eyes and a sprinkle of freckles that made her seem younger than her 28 years. 

"At ease, people. Have a seat." Mac watched them, concealing her amusement. If it was possible to sit at attention, these two were doing it. Spines stiff, eyes straight ahead, hands folded neatly in their laps – they might've been androids for all the outward emotion they showed. Their eyes, though… Their eyes gave them away. Davis's were shooting sparks, and Mac sincerely hoped the lieutenant's gaze wouldn't land on anything combustible. Gomez's eyes, on the other hand, held a twinkle of barely suppressed laughter, and Mac wondered what the two had been up to before she'd called them in here.

She flipped open the file folder that lay on her desk, deciding abruptly that the less she knew about their interaction, the better off she'd be. 

"Tell me where we are on the Dorland case." 

Both officers began speaking at once, and Mac held up a hand, bringing them to a stumbling halt. She bit back a grin of amusement as the two exchanged a glare. Such fire these two had. If she could harness it, there'd be no stopping them. If she couldn't… well… that idea just didn't bear thinking about. 

"Lieutenant." Mac nodded at Davis. "You're lead. Suppose you fill me in."

Mac pretended not to notice the look of veiled triumph Davis cast in Gomez's direction.

"Yes, Ma'am." Davis leaned forward slightly in her seat. "As you know, Petty Officer Dorland failed to report for duty on the Bonhomme Richard last December."

Mac tapped the case file on her desk. "That much I knew, yes." 

Davis flushed slightly. "Captain Gomez and I—" Here she spared another glare for her partner. "—can't seem to agree on an appropriate punitive recommendation."

"Aren't you jumping the gun a little? The trial hasn't even started yet."

"Ma'am, it's an open and shut case. Dorland was ordered to report and he didn't."

"No extenuating circumstances?" Mac asked.

"Not unless you count attendance at a protest rally as an extenuating circumstance," Captain Gomez said.

"Excuse me?" Mac raised an eyebrow at him. 

"At the exact time the Bonhomme was scheduled to depart, Dorland was participating in an anti-war rally downtown."

"In uniform?" Mac's eyebrows rose in disbelief. "Surely he wasn't that stupid."

"No, ma'am. He was in civilian attire."

"Thank God for small favors." Mac breathed a sigh of relief. "So what's the problem with the punitive recommendation?"

"Well, ma'am, it appears that we disagree about the severity of Dorland's crime," said Davis. "Captain Gomez apparently feels Petty Officer Dorland should be returned to his unit with minimal disciplinary action."

Gomez leaned forward, his expression earnest. "His crewmates will make his life hell, ma'am. They aren't going to have any sympathy for a guy who let them down because he suddenly found his conscience."

Davis snapped around to look at him. "No punishment? You've got to be joking. What kind of message is that going to send to his crewmates – that it's okay to walk out on your responsibilities? That the military doesn't care?" She snorted derisively. "That'll help morale."

"Watch the sarcasm, Lieutenant." Mac kept her tone mild. She rather agreed with Lieutenant Davis on this one. "Tell me, Captain Gomez, what do you think the punishment should be?"

Gomez didn't hesitate. "Punitive letter of reprimand, extended tour of duty, and return to his billet, Ma'am."

Mac tapped a pencil against her desk blotter. "And you think that's sufficient to convince the petty officer of the error of his ways?"

"I don't think we need to convince him, Ma'am. I think his crewmates will do that for us."

Mac leaned back in her chair, considering Gomez's words. "The Bonhomme Richard is in the middle of a six month tour. You're saying you think Dorland should ship out to meet them?"

"Yes, ma'am. That's exactly what I'm saying."

"I'm not sure the skipper would agree to that. There's bound to be a lot of animosity toward Dorland within the crew. Putting him back there could disrupt ship's operations." She leaned forward again, making a decision. "Look. Here's the deal. You two are a team on this. Work together. Sort it out. Contact the skipper of the Bonhomme for his opinion if you decide you want to send Dorland back. Let me know what you come up with before you go in front of the judge. Understood?"

They nodded.

"And one more thing," Mac said. "Keep your personal feelings out of the courtroom. You two have to work together, so whatever it is that's causing the sparks to fly needs to be dealt with – yesterday. I won't tolerate it in the office. Understood?"

Davis and Gomez exchanged startled glances, and then nodded at her. "Yes, ma'am."

"Dismissed."

She watched as they stood to leave, amused at the silent undercurrent of conversation that flowed between them. She shook her head. The more things change, the more they stay the same, she thought. 

Her intercom buzzed to life, and she glanced at it.

"Yes, Petty Officer?"

"Colonel, General Abramson's on line one." 

"Thank you."

Mac pulled a legal pad out and grabbed a pen before picking up the handset. Abramson had requested one of her JAG officers for a case, and she suspected he was calling to discuss the details.

"General Abramson, good morning."

"Good morning, Colonel."

Abramson wasn't a believer in social pleasantries, and he launched right into the issue at hand. "Your JAG officer over here is recommending an Article 32 hearing on this incident." 

"I've not spoken with Lieutenant Rankin yet today, General, but I trust his judgment. If he's recommending an Article 32, I'm sure he has cause."

Abramson sighed heavily. "Dammit. Lance Corporal Allerton is one of my best men. This could ruin him."

"I'm sure I'll be speaking with Lieutenant Rankin within the hour. If I find cause to overrule his recommendation, I'll be in touch."

"I appreciate it, Colonel."

Mac's computer beeped at her, and a reminder popped up. 

"I'm sorry, General. I have a meeting in fifteen minutes."

"I'll be busy with a training exercise starting at 1600 hours, Colonel. I'd like to hear from you before that, regardless of the outcome of your discussion with Lieutenant Rankin."

"Understood, sir."

"I look forward to hearing from you."

Mac keyed a reminder into her schedule and finished the call. She was on her way to the door when it opened and Jennifer Coates looked in. 

"Ma'am, I have some requisitions I need signed…"

"Leave them on my desk, Jen. I'll look at them when I get back."

"Yes, ma'am."

"I don't expect this meeting to last more than half an hour. If there are any calls, just forward them to my voicemail."

"Of course, ma'am."

Mac smiled at Jen and hurried past. She was due to meet with Admiral Fredericks about some staffing changes, and she didn't want to be late.

Forty-five minutes later, she slid back into her seat with a sigh. She'd have two new officers joining her staff within the month, and Lieutenant Rankin was being reassigned despite her best efforts to keep him. She hated that her staffing had been so unstable since she'd arrived, officers coming and going almost before she could get them trained for the billet. She'd been promised on more than one occasion that things would settle down, but so far, she'd not seen any sign of calm seas.

She was reading over her email, sighing at the number of messages that had accumulated in the short time she'd been gone, when the intercom buzzed again.

"Lieutenant Rankin on line three, ma'am. He says you're expecting his call?"

"Thanks, Jen. Put him through."

She picked up the handset before the first ring sounded. "Good morning, Lieutenant."

"Good morning, ma'am." 

"I've already had a call from General Abramson this morning. I understand you're recommending an Article 32?"

"Yes, ma'am. I am."

"On what evidence?"

"This isn't the first barroom brawl the lance corporal's been involved in, ma'am."

"I'm aware of that, Captain, but the situation's always been handled in house before. What makes this one different?"

"Ma'am I think there's more to this than your standard 'get drunk, beat up the guy standing closest to you, go home and sleep it off' routine."

"Based on…"

"Based on the fact that the lance corporal and his victim had a history. Ma'am, I think this was planned. I think the lance corporal went into that bar looking for trouble, and I think he had his sights trained on PFC Jenkins from the instant he walked in the door. The whole thing smells of premeditation, ma'am, and I'd like your permission to investigate further."

"And to hold an Article 32."

"Yes, ma'am."

Mac sighed. "Fax me a summary of your evidence and interview notes. I'll take a look and get back to you."

"Right away, ma'am."

"How soon can you get something to me?"

There was a pause while he considered her question. "Is thirty minutes okay?"

"Works for me. I'll be waiting, Lieutenant."

"Yes, ma'am."

Mac hung up the phone and leaned back in her chair, letting out a long sigh. She took a sip from her nearly full coffee mug and made a face. Cold. She shook her head and picked up a pen, reaching for the pile of requisitions Jen had left. She might as well get something done while she waited for Rankin's call.

********

Harm dropped his pen on the desk with a sigh, half convinced he'd be writing his name in his sleep tonight. He spun his chair around to the window, staring out across the London skyline without really seeing it. He'd been here for nearly six weeks now, and although the city was starting to feel vaguely familiar to him, he knew it wouldn't feel like home until Mac joined him and Mattie was on her feet again. 

Since he'd been here, he'd acquainted himself with taxis and the tube, gotten used to buying milk in two-liter cartons, and decided that London traffic was worse than DC traffic. He'd hired a real estate agent and spent his weekends being hauled from one flat to the next until he'd seen so many that they were all starting to look the same. He'd even visited a couple of famous tourist attractions, but all he'd been able to think of while he'd been there was how much fun it would be to show them to Mac and Mattie. 

His telephone rang, and he swiveled around to reach for it. Time to get back to work.

********

Mac picked up the phone, pleased to see that Rankin's call had come in right on schedule. She was going to miss him. He'd slid into his position at JLS with barely a ripple, almost as though the billet had been made for him. They wanted him in Hawaii, though, and there wasn't a thing she could do about it.

"Colonel MacKenzie."

"Colonel, this is Lieutenant Rankin. I've just sent over the information you requested."

Mac's office door opened, and Jennifer came in. She slid a handful of papers onto the desk before slipping just as quietly back out the door, closing it behind her with a soft click. Mac glanced down. Sure enough: Rankin's notes. 

"I've got them right here, Lieutenant. Give me a second to glance through these."

"Take your time, ma'am."

Mac glanced quickly through the papers in front of her, pleased with Rankin's attention to detail. He was thorough, she had to say that for him, and it was one of the reasons she so hated having to let him go. That attention to detail was part of what helped distinguish a good lawyer from a truly great one, and she suspected Rankin had the makings of one of the best. 

"According to this," she said finally, "There's been trouble between Jenkins and Allerton for a while, right?"

"Yes, ma'am. Ever since they were assigned to the same unit."

"And you think Allerton knew Jenkins was going to be at that particular bar that night? That he went there on purpose looking for trouble?"

"That's what my witnesses tell me, ma'am."

"And how reliable are these witnesses? I see you have two listed."

"As far as I've been able to tell, ma'am, they're excellent. Both of them have clean records and good reputations with the rest of the crew. Their fit reps are top-notch."

Mac sighed. "Your research looks solid, Lieutenant. Go ahead with the Article 32. I'll break the news to General Abramson myself."

"He isn't going to take it well. He's made it pretty clear that he doesn't want charges filed against the lance corporal."

"You've got a pretty strong case here, Lieutenant. There isn't much Abramson can do to stop it at this point."

"Agreed, ma'am. I'll get the hearing scheduled and email you with the details."

"Thank you, Lieutenant."

Mac disconnected the phone and hit her intercom button.

"Jen? Would you get General Abramson on the line for me?"

"Yes, ma'am."

Mac turned to her email while she waited for the call. She'd just spotted a message from Harm when her telephone rang.

"General Abramson?"

"I appreciate your efficiency, Colonel. I trust you have news for me?"

"Yes, sir. I do. I'm afraid I agree with Lieutenant Rankin's assessment of the case."

Abramson sighed. "Damn it. The case is that strong, huh?"

"Yes, sir. It doesn't appear to have been just a simple barroom brawl. The evidence points to premeditation."

"When will they hold the hearing?"

"Depends on how backed up they are, General. Probably within two weeks."

"And Allerton's to be confined to the base brig until then?"

"Yes, sir."

"You leaving Rankin here until the hearing?"

"I'm afraid not, sir. I need him back here. I'll reassign the case to local JAG staff, but I'll be sending Rankin out a few days before the hearing to make sure everything's in order. I know your staff's a little inexperienced."

Abramson snorted. "Inexperienced? They're about as green as a watermelon rind, Colonel, but I suppose they can handle the prep on this one."

"My office will stay in touch with them, General. We'll make sure they're prepared."

"I appreciate that, Colonel. Goodbye."

"Goodbye, General."

Mac hung up the phone and glanced at the clock. Davis and Gomez should be giving their opening arguments right about now. She was curious to see how well they worked together in the courtroom. She cast a regretful eye at her computer. Email would have to wait. She clicked off the monitor and stood up. 

********

Harm reached for the doorknob, but before he could pull it open, it was wrenched from his hand, and Petty Officer Emerson almost bowled him over. Harm noticed with some amusement that Emerson actually blushed.

"Oh!  Excuse me, sir!  I didn't know you were there!" 

"It's okay, Petty Officer. I was just on my way out for a late meeting."

The petty officer handed him an envelope. "This just arrived, sir. It's marked urgent, so I thought I should bring it right in."

Harm glanced down at the envelope, noting the distinctive red lettering. He sighed. "Thank you, Emerson. I'll take care of this right away." Dismissing the young officer, he moved back to his desk, sitting down and flipping the computer monitor back on. He keyed in his password and watched the screen flicker to life. The email icon blinked at him, indicating a new message, and he toggled open the program, slitting the envelope with a letter opener while he waited to see what the message was.

It turned out to be an encrypted message from Germany, and he keyed in his password, and then pulled out the contents of the envelope while he waited for the message to open. He glanced at the news articles, and then read over the short note that accompanied them. That done, he skimmed the email message on his monitor, and then keyed open the intercom.

"Petty Officer?"

"Yes, sir?"

"Would you mind getting me a sandwich from that shop on the corner? It looks like I'm going to be working late again."

"No problem, sir. The usual?"

"Please."

"Right away, sir." The intercom went silent, and Harm turned back to the papers on his desk. Time to put out a few fires. Hopefully Mattie would understand.

********

Mac shuffled the papers back into a pile and tucked them into the folder with a sigh of relief. For once, she was caught up on case files, and even though she knew the status wouldn't last for more than an hour or so, it felt good. She looked up at the knock on her door. 

"Enter," she called.

Jennifer looked in. "Judge Harris is here, ma'am. He says he needs to talk to you right away."

"Send him in, Jen."

"Yes, ma'am." 

Jen backed out, and Judge Harris came in. Mac stood to meet him. 

"Good afternoon, sir."

"Not such a good afternoon for me I'm afraid, Colonel. It seems my courtroom isn't exciting enough for your lawyers."

"Excuse me?"

"Lieutenant Davis is one of yours, isn't she?"

"She is."

"Do you routinely train your lawyers to use air horns in the courtroom?"

"Air horns?" Mac asked incredulously, not quite believing Judge Harris's words. "Tell me you're joking."

"I only wish I were," he said, "but my headache says otherwise."

"I don't know what she was thinking, sir, but I'll get to the bottom it." Inwardly, Mac was fuming. Davis was a decent attorney, and a bit of a firebrand, but there was no excuse for that type of behavior in the courtroom. 

"I'll count on that, Colonel." 

He filled her in on the details, and then left to track down some Tylenol for his headache. Mac called Jennifer in. "Get Lieutenant Davis in here right away." 

"Lieutenant Davis is out of the office right now, ma'am. She said she was going to interview a witness for the Dorland case." 

"I want her in my office the instant she returns, Petty Officer." Mac kept her voice low, but it still thrummed with anger, and Jennifer nodded. 

"I also brought you these, ma'am. You said to let you know as soon as they arrived." 

Mac took the papers without glancing at them. "What are these?"

"They're your separation papers, ma'am. I guess you and Captain Rabb can finally set a wedding date." 

Jennifer smiled and backed quickly out of the office, closing the door softly behind her. Mac stood in the center of the suddenly quiet room. The papers felt heavy in her hand, as though they bore the imprint of every military experience she'd ever had within their fibers. Slowly, she lifted them to eye level. 



**********  Begin Commercial Break  **********


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**********  End Commercial Break  **********


Monday, August 8, 2005 
2347 Zulu (1547 Local)
Joint Legal Services Southwest
San Diego, California


"Notice of Separation." The words, in bold black ink, leaped out at her from the page, and she caught her breath. She moved over to the desk, sitting down heavily and setting the papers on the blotter. She read over them, carefully logging the details in her mind. Dates, locations, reserve assignment… The words blurred together, and her mind refused to accept the details. 

This was it. This was what the end of a career looked like - neatly spaced text on plain white paper. No fanfare, no ceremony, no speeches - just black ink and the dry smell of wood fiber. She read the papers carefully, and then picked up the phone. She had a few calls to make. 


********

Harm marked his place with his finger and reached for the phone. "Rabb."

"Harm?"

"Mac!" He put the book aside and sat up. "Hi!"

"Hey."

There was something odd about her tone of voice, and he picked up on it immediately, despite the distance between them. 

"Is everything okay?"

"Yeah. Everything's fine. It's just…" She paused, and he heard her take a deep breath. "My separation papers just got here."

"Oh." A mix of emotions flooded through him at the news. Pleasure, excitement, and relief warred with concern, guilt, and fear. The resulting mess was enough to steal his capacity for intelligent speech.

"Yeah, oh."

"Are you okay?"

She blew out a breath. "Yeah. I mean, this is what we agreed on, right? Fate's choice?"

"Just because we agreed on it doesn't mean it's easy." He said the words gently, wishing he could be there to hold her right now. 

"Maybe not, but at least now we can set a wedding date." She tried to change the subject, but he heard the tremble in her voice and knew she was struggling. 

"Mac… I don't want you to regret this."

"I won't, Harm. I just need some time to get used to it. It's one thing to talk about leaving the Marine Corps. It's something altogether different in black and white."

"Are they letting you go completely?"

"No. They're putting me on reserve status. I'm to be reassigned to a base in the UK and I've been ordered to 'make myself available to the American Embassy for the purpose of providing legal advice on American military matters.’ Marine-speak for 'we might lengthen your leash a bit, but you still belong to us'."

"Is that a good thing?"

"I don't know, Harm. I can't decide if I like it better this way or if it'd be better if they'd just let me go completely so I could move on."

"It doesn't sound like they're giving you much of a choice."

"Nope."

"Have you talked to Harriet yet?"

She laughed a little. "You know Harriet. The first thing out of her mouth is going to be 'have you set a date yet?'  I thought I should talk to you first."

"Give me a second. Let me grab my calendar."

"Did you get a chance to see Mattie?" she asked.

"Sure did."

"How'd she take it?"

"She seemed relieved more than anything."

"She's lucky to have you, Harm."

"She's lucky to have us, you mean," he answered with a smile as he pulled his calendar out of his briefcase. "Okay. I've got the calendar. Did they give you a termination date?"

"August 31."

"Another three weeks, then."

"Yes, and I still don't know who my replacement's going to be." Frustration echoed in her voice. 

"You know the military," Harm said. "I wouldn't put it past them to send somebody in on your last day." 

"Nor would I." 

"When are you supposed to report to your reserve duty billet?"

"September 15."

"I wonder how much leave I can get. If we're lucky, we might be able to have a real honeymoon."

"I'd like that."

Harm looked at his calendar. "How quickly do you think we can plan this?"

"I imagine Harriet will help. She's already offered to let us have the wedding at their house. It saves us having to find a church this late in the game. Why do you ask?"

"I'm wondering if we can do the wedding on September third. That would still give us a week for a honeymoon, plus a few days extra to get back here and get settled."

"What about Mattie?" Mac asked.

"We'll fly back here with her right after the wedding and get her back to King's College. They won't want her to miss too many days of rehab anyway. We should be able to do that and still take a few days for ourselves."

"Do you think she'll be up to taking part in the wedding?"

"I don't know, Mac. You'd have to ask her."

"I'll call her in the morning, then. It's too late there now." 

"Mac?"

"Hmm?"

"We're going to make this work."

She sighed. "I know we will. It's just hard letting go."

"I know it is. And if there's anything I can do to help, all you have to do is ask."

"I could use a hug," she said.

"Will you take an IOU?" 

"Only if the interest rate's decent."

Harm laughed. "And what constitutes decent?"

"I'm thinking 200 percent," she said with a smile in her voice. "Compounded hourly."

"Oh my God. I'm marrying a loan shark."

Mac laughed. "There are all kinds of things you don't know about me, Harm."

"And I look forward to learning each and every one of them." He deliberately dropped his voice to a seductive rumble, and was rewarded by her groan of frustration.

"Harm, you aren't playing fair."

"I never have before…" 

He heard voices in the background, followed by the rustle of shifting papers. 

"Harm?" Mac said. "I need to go. I have a lawyer waiting who seems to think an air horn is a handy way to demonstrate a point of evidence."

Harm laughed. "Could be worse, Mac. Could be a semi-automatic."

Mac groaned. "Don't remind me. I'll send you an email later and let you know what Mattie says."

"Sounds good. Love you."

"I love you, too."

Harm disconnected the phone, but didn't immediately hang it up. Instead, he rested it against his chest while he thought about the conversation. Mac was having trouble with this. He understood that. Hell, he was asking her to give up the one thing that had given her life meaning for years. It was bound to be difficult for her. He only hoped she'd let him help her through it. They were a team now, in every sense of the word, and she shouldn't have to deal with this alone.

********

Mac hung up the phone and hit her intercom button. "Jen? Send her in." 

"Yes, ma'am."

Seconds later, Mac's office door opened to admit Lieutenant Davis. 

"Close the door, Lieutenant."

Silently, Davis did as Mac asked. Then she approached the desk, coming stiffly to attention a few feet away. Mac stood up and approached the younger woman in icy silence. She allowed the tension to build for several interminable minutes, not relenting until she saw beads of sweat break out on Davis's brow. Only then did she speak, her tone low and menacing.

"What in the hell did you think you were doing in there, Lieutenant?"

To her credit, Davis didn't pretend not to know what Mac was talking about. "Making a point, ma'am."

"A point?"

"Yes, ma'am."

"Explain yourself Lieutenant, and it had better be good."

"Ma'am, yes ma'am." Davis took a deep breath. "It was the case I was working on, ma'am. PFC Ellis is facing Article 116 charges for using an air horn beneath a classroom window."

"And…?"

"Ma'am, the class was taking an important final exam. They were halfway through the test when Ellis discharged the air horn."

"And you felt it necessary to provide a live demonstration in the courtroom because…"

"Ma'am, Captain Gomez is defending the case."

"What does that have to do with anything?"

Davis sighed. "The captain contends that any Naval Officer, even a green recruit, should be able to accomplish a mission despite interruptions and distractions. He's arguing that instead of bringing PFC Ellis up on charges we should be thanking him for challenging the midshipmen to overcome obstacles."

"And your answer to that was to discharge an air horn in the middle of Captain Gomez's closing argument?" Mac swallowed a smile. Davis was starting to remind her more and more of somebody else she knew, and she found the comparison highly amusing. 

Davis shrugged. "I just wanted to see if he could continue to concentrate on his closing arguments after that."

"And?"

Mac saw Davis's lips twitch. "Ma'am, I believe I accomplished my goal."

"Tell me, Lieutenant. On what do you base this belief?"

"Well, ma'am, after I discharged the air horn, court proceedings pretty much came to a standstill for a while."

Mac snorted. "Imagine that."

Davis relaxed marginally, and Mac remembered her command responsibilities. Her personal amusement would have to wait. She stepped closer to Davis, invading the woman's personal space and silently daring her to back away, but privately pleased when the younger woman held her ground.

"If you ever pull a stunt like that again while you're under my command, you'll regret it, Lieutenant. And, lest you think that all you have to do is wait me out, I'm putting a note in your record so that my successor knows exactly what happened here today. Unorthodox behavior like what you did today is not acceptable at JLS, understood?"

"Yes, ma'am." Davis's tone was respectful and contrite, but there was an underlying tone of defiance that made Mac decide further action wasn't only appropriate, but necessary. 

"And furthermore, you will apologize to Judge Harris and to Captain Gomez in open court tomorrow – on the record."

"But ma'am…"

"That's an order, Lieutenant."

"Yes, ma'am."

"Dismissed."

Mac waited until Davis had her hand on the doorknob before throwing out her final words. "Oh, and Davis?"

Davis froze and turned around slowly to look at her. "Yes, ma'am?"

"You have weekend duty for the next two months."

If the assignment disturbed her, Davis gave no sign of it. Instead, she simply nodded once and left the room, closing the door behind her.

Mac returned her attention to the papers on her desk. Her separation orders still lay on top, and she stared at them, her mind churning. 

For years, she'd devoted nearly every waking moment of her life to the Marine Corps. She lived by its values, defined herself by her role as a JAG lawyer, and believed with every fiber of her soul that the Marines Corps had literally saved her from herself. Now, like the severing of a lifeline, she was being cut adrift from all that. In a few short weeks she'd be a military bride, living in London, probably spending a lot of time with Mattie, and, for a while at least, not even practicing law in any meaningful way. 

Could she do this? Could she let go of all of it for love? She looked around her office. She understood this world, with its courtrooms and lawyers, its regulations and codifications. She understood the hierarchy, knew the politics, and moved easily within the ebb and flow of its currents. London, on the other hand, was a complete unknown. The city's ways were alien to her, the language often nearly incomprehensible. She'd be alone often, while Harm worked long hours at the office or in the field. Would she be able to handle the loneliness? Could she be content simply as Harm's wife and Mattie's mother? 

Mac picked up the phone and dialed the Roberts residence. Maybe if she kept busy the gnawing anxiety in the pit of her stomach would ease. 


Tuesday, August 9, 2005
0658 Zulu (0658 Local)
King's College Rehab Center, 
University of London
London, England


Harm stepped quietly into Mattie's room. She was still asleep, her hair spread across the pillow and her face free of pain and tension. He glanced at his watch. It was early yet, barely 0700, and the nurses wouldn't get Mattie up for another half hour. He'd wanted to see her before work though, and somehow he knew she'd forgive him for the thirty-minute loss. 

"Mattie?" 

She stirred, but didn't wake immediately, and he tried again. 

"Mattie, honey. It's Harm. Time to wake up, Sleeping Beauty."

This time she opened one eye, peering blearily at him through droopy lashes. The eye closed again. "Mmmf," she mumbled.

"Mattie, come on. We need to talk."

This time both eyes opened, and she glared at him through lids still determinedly at half-mast. "I hate mornings."

He laughed. "Yeah. I know this about you." He pulled a bag from behind his back and dangled it just above her nose. "I bring gifts."

Her nose twitched, and one eye opened all the way. "Croissants?"

"Yep. But only if you sit up for me."

She groaned. "Geez… Isn't it enough that Nurse Hatchet tortures me all day long? Do you really have to do it before I'm even awake?"

"It's Nurse Ratched, Mattie, and you know it." 

She rolled her eyes at him, and he grinned. 

"Besides," he said, "I'm told torture's what dads are supposed to be best at, and I really want to be a good dad."

Mattie glared at him. "Really, Harm. You don't need to try quite so hard."

"I take pride in my work, Mattie. You know that. Now come on, sit up for me."

Mattie sighed heavily, but eased her arms between her body and the mattress. Harm resisted the urge to help her, forcing himself to watch quietly while she struggled. By the time she was semi-upright, sweat was pouring off her face. She dropped her head back against the pillow.

"Those better be some mighty good croissants in that bag of yours, Harm."

"Only the best for you, Mattie."

She snorted her derision, and he laughed as he handed over the bag. They were quiet for several minutes while Mattie devoured the croissant and followed it with several gulps of cool water. 

"Now," she said finally. "What's so important that you had to ruin my dream about Aaron Carter?"

"Umm… Who?"

That earned him another roll of the eyes. "Never mind." She reached behind her head and adjusted a pillow. "So what's up?"

"I talked to Mac last night."

Mattie sighed her exasperation. "Harm. You talk to Mac every night."

"Well, yes, but this talk was different." Harm took a breath. "We set a wedding date."

Mattie's eyes snapped to his. "She got her separation papers?"

He nodded. "Yesterday."

Mattie was quiet for a moment, digesting the news. "So when's the big day?"

"September third."

"Where?"

"The Roberts’s' house. It's easier than finding a church."

Mattie considered that. "So we have to fly back to the States?"

Harm nodded. "Think you're up to it?"

"I can handle it if you can."

"Good." He smiled at her. "I'm thinking we'll fly out on Thursday afternoon. That gives us Friday to deal with jet lag and help with any last minute details."

"Harm?"

"Hmm?"

"Where will we stay?"

"I had an email from Bud and Harriet this morning. They want us to stay with them."

"But what about…?" She indicated her bed with a frustrated glance. "I'm not exactly a low maintenance guest, Harm."

"Mattie, it's okay. Bud and Harriet have a downstairs room that they've already offered for you. You'll love it. They have an entertainment system in there that I'm sure you'll adore."

She perked up. "Wide screen? Surround sound?" 

He nodded. "Flat screen, I think. And they've already rented a bed for you. It's the same one they had in there before Bud got his prosthesis. All kinds of gizmos and gadgets."

"Cool." 

"And, before you even mention it, I'm looking into hiring a nurse to make the trip with us. You won't need to worry about asking me or Bud or Harriet every time you need to use the bathroom."

"Tell me you're going to hire a woman."

"Aww…You don't want me to get that Aaron guy you were dreaming about?"

Mattie glared at him. "He's a rock star, Harm. I seriously doubt he does much nursing."

"I could check." Harm was all helpful innocence.

"Don't even think it." 

Harm laughed, and then glanced at his watch. "I need to get going, Mattie. I've got an early meeting today. Are you going to be okay?"

"Absolutely. I've got lots to do if I'm going to be able to get a wheelchair up the aisle by myself on the third."

"Don't overdo it, Mattie." Harm was suddenly concerned for her, and she blew out a breath at him.

"Harm. Stop worrying and go. You've got a job to do." 

He saluted playfully and backed away from the bed. "Ma'am, yes ma'am!"

She stuck out her tongue, and he grinned. "Careful. My mother would tell you your tongue just might freeze that way."

"Go!"

He lifted his hands in self-defense. "I'm going!" 

And with a final chuckle, he turned and left, leaving her shaking her head ruefully at the empty doorway.


Tuesday, August 16, 2005
0809 Zulu (0009 Local)
Mac's Apartment
San Diego, California


Mac sat on the sofa in her furnished apartment, knees pulled up under her chin. It had been more than a week since her separation papers had arrived, and her feelings of unease had been growing exponentially. The tension mounted with every passing day as she drew closer and closer to the end, until she'd reached the point now where she wasn't sleeping, couldn't eat, and frequently overreacted to the smallest things at the office. Doom and Gloom were avoiding her like the plague. Rankin, who'd only just returned, kept giving her puzzled looks. Even Jennifer seemed to be treading carefully. 

Harriet had been wonderful. At least… she was trying to be. Despite Harm and Mac's repeated pleas for a simple wedding, Harriet had hired a caterer, rented a tent and a hundred folding chairs, made arrangements with Chaplain Turner, and even managed to track down a live band – a step Mac had vetoed in favor of a DJ with decent sound equipment. Mac had been deluged by emails from Harriet about menus, flowers, and music, and she'd done her absolute best to appear enthusiastic in her responses.

The problem was, the enthusiasm was a ruse. Mac wasn't excited. She felt none of the giddy pleasure she would've expected to feel at the prospect of marriage to Harm. Instead, she felt like she was being slowly and painfully torn in half. She wanted this marriage, had wanted it for a very long time. In fact, in many ways her upcoming wedding was the fulfillment of her greatest dream. And yet… and yet marriage to Harm meant giving up the one thing that had given her life meaning and definition for more than a decade. How could she do this? How could she be expected to give up such a huge part of who she was in favor of… what, exactly? Yes, she'd have Harm, but he'd be working for long hours. She wasn't going to fool herself about that. So she'd be gaining only a piece of him, and an unknown future, while giving up something she knew and loved. 

She wrapped her arms more tightly around her knees, and when the phone rang she glanced across at the caller ID. It was Harm, of course. He often called at this time of the day. She imagined he wanted to talk about Mattie and her reaction to their having set a wedding date. She stared at the phone, but didn't reach for it, and when the answering machine picked up she turned the volume all the way down, unable to deal with the sound of his voice.

**********

Harm hung up the phone with a puzzled expression. Where was she? It was just past midnight her time. Late, yes – but not unusually so for her. In the three months he'd been here, she'd never failed to answer the phone when he'd called at this time of the day. His computer beeped a reminder about his morning meeting, and he glared at it. Time waited for no man, apparently – and neither did the military. He stood up with a sigh, reminding himself that she had sounded tired lately. Maybe she'd just gone to bed early. He pushed away the gnawing feeling of concern and grabbed his cover. He had a meeting to attend.


**********  Commercial Break  *********


Introducing the second spin-off in the highly successful Stargate franchise…

Stargate: JAG!

Join Harm, Mac, and the rest of their intrepid crew as they bring law and order to a chaotic galaxy. Watch as they bring the evil Goa’uld to trial for multiple infractions of the UCMJ. Listen to impassioned closing arguments. Witness stunning in-trial weapons demonstrations. See the Tok’ra enlist our heroes’ help for hopelessly mangled undercover missions. Gasp as Harm ejects once again, this time from the experimental X-302!

Harm and Mac, the brains and brawn. Bud, the comic relief and purveyor of eclectic information. Sturgis, the strong, silent type. Together, they are…

SG: JAG!

Coming soon to JAG TV.



**********  End Commercial Break  **********



Thursday, August 18, 2005  
2112 Zulu (1312 Local)
Joint Legal Services, Southwest
San Diego, California


"Ma'am?"

Mac looked up from the court report she'd been reading, glancing at the intercom. "Yes, Petty Officer?"

"General Cresswell for you on line one."

"Thank you, Jennifer."

Mac picked up the telephone and pushed the button. "Good afternoon, General."

"Colonel MacKenzie. I've been hearing good things about what you're doing out there. Are you sure we can't convince you to stay?"

"I've already got my separation papers," Mac hedged. 

"Strange things happen sometimes with military paperwork, Colonel. Things get lost or changed in the strangest ways…"

Mac laughed, but the sound was weak, even to her own ears. She changed the subject. "What can I do for you, General?"

"I thought you'd like to know that we've identified your replacement. He'll be there by the first of next week. That gives you two weeks to help him get settled before you leave." He paused. "Your termination date is August 31, right?"

"Yes, sir. It is."

"Okay. A little less than two weeks, then. He's due to report to you on Monday."

"He, sir?"

He laughed. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to be so secretive. I'm sending Commander Turner." 

"Commander Turner, sir?" Mac pictured Turner dealing with Doom and Gloom, and smiled to herself. That should be interesting.

"Do you have a problem with that, Colonel?"

"No sir," Mac said hastily. "Not at all."

"Glad to hear it. Oh, and Colonel?"

"Yes, sir?"

"I'm sending Vukovic along with him. It's time to get some fresh blood in this office and he's been practically begging to go out there since you left."

Mac resisted the urge to groan. Of all the things she didn't need right now, Vukovic probably topped the list. "Understood, sir." 

"Keep me posted, Colonel."

"Will do."

Mac hung up the phone and reached for her calendar. If Sturgis was going to be here on Monday, she might be able to juggle the schedule and arrange the following weekend off. With him here, she wouldn't feel like she was leaving the office without a command presence. 

********

Harm checked his inbox for the third time since dinner. It had been days since he'd heard from Mac. She wasn't returning his emails, and every phone call he made rolled to her voice mail or her answering machine. She hadn't even been around over the weekend, which was particularly unusual for her. He was certain he'd have been informed if anything serious had happened, but nevertheless, her continued silence was worrisome. Instinct was telling him to get to San Diego as soon as he could find a flight. Reality and responsibility held him back. 

He bent his head over the papers he'd brought home from the office, forcing himself to focus on his work. If he didn't hear from her by the end of tomorrow, he'd call Harriet. It was a last resort, but still better than this constant brittle silence.


Monday, August 22, 2005   
1730 Zulu (0930 Local)
Joint Legal Services, Southwest,
San Diego, California


Mac stared at the blank email form on her screen. She knew she needed to write to Harm, knew that he was probably getting worried, but she honestly had no clue what to say. How do you tell the man you love that you're having second thoughts? How do you say that you don't know if you can give up your career for him? And did she even know that for sure? Had she reached that stage in her constant mind-numbing, introspection? The thought of calling off the wedding tore her apart, but the thought of ending her career was equally painful. The two sides of her psyche had been doing battle since her separation papers had arrived, and frankly, it was exhausting her. 

There was a tentative knock on her door, and she looked up. "Enter!"

The door opened, and Lieutenant Davis stepped inside. "Ma'am? Do you have a few minutes?"

Mac flipped off her monitor. "Come in, Lieutenant."

Mac waited until Davis had seated herself in the chair in front of her desk.

"Is this about the Dorland case?"

"Yes, ma'am. The verdict just came in."

"And?"

"Guilty, ma'am."

Mac nodded. "When's the sentencing hearing?"

"Tuesday afternoon."

Mac made a note on her calendar and looked up. "What did you and Captain Gomez decide about the sentence recommendation?"

"Nine months confinement, bad-conduct discharge, reduction of rank, and forfeiture of pay and benefits."

Mac nodded. "I don't hear anything in there that includes sending him back to his ship."

Davis's lips twitched. "Captain Gomez talked to the skipper. Apparently, the skipper doesn't want Dorland back. Gomez looked a little rattled when he told me about the conversation afterwards."

Mac held back a grin. She could well imagine the skipper's reaction to Gomez's rather unorthodox suggestion. 

"As I recall," she said, after a moment, "Captain Gomez didn't believe severe punishment would be appropriate in the Dorland case - but what you've just suggested is a pretty stiff sentence. Does he agree?"

Davis nodded. "Yes, ma'am. I'm not sure what made him change his mind, but something did."

"I'd like to hear that from the horse's mouth," Mac said, keying the intercom. "Petty Officer, please ask Captain Gomez to come to my office."

"Right away, ma'am." Jen's voice came back promptly, and Mac flipped the intercom back off, returning her attention back to the open case file on her desk while they waited.

Moments later, the door opened, and Gomez stepped inside. "You requested my presence, Colonel?"

"I did." Mac waved him to a chair. "Have a seat, Captain."

He sat down, ignoring Lieutenant Davis. "I take it this is about the Dorland case, ma'am?"

"It is." Mac nodded. "We were just talking about sentencing. Do you agree with Davis's recommendation?"

"Which is?" He glanced at his partner and then back at Mac. "I mean, I know what Lieutenant Davis and I talked about, but I'm not sure what she told you," he said.

Mac raised an eyebrow, but let it be. "Lieutenant Davis suggested nine months confinement, a bad conduct discharge, reduction in rank, and forfeiture of pay and benefits. Do you agree?"

He nodded. "Yes, ma'am."

Mac observed him for a moment, puzzled. "The last time we talked, you were recommending leniency. What changed your mind?"

"Dorland did, ma'am." 

Mac waited for more, but Gomez wasn't forthcoming. Finally, she sighed. Talking to a brick wall wasn't anything she hadn't done before. "Dorland did… how, exactly?"

Captain Gomez shifted uncomfortably, but didn't answer right away.

"Captain?"

"Ma'am, I'd rather not discuss it further."

Mac stared hard at him for a few moments, curiosity warring with ethics in her mind. Finally, she sighed. "All right, Captain. You're dismissed." 

Lieutenant Davis started to stand, but Mac waved her back to her seat. "One moment, Lieutenant."

When the door closed behind Gomez, Mac turned back to the younger woman. "I understand your apology to the court on that other matter was most eloquent."

Davis gave her a short nod. "I did my best, ma'am."

"See that you do your best not to behave that way in one of my courtrooms again. Understood?"

"Yes, ma'am."

"Dismissed."

Mac watched the other woman leave, and then turned back to her computer. She'd just opened her email program again when the intercom buzzed back to life.

"Colonel?"

"Yes?"

"There's somebody here to see you, ma'am."

"Who is it?"

"Commander Turner and Lieutenant Vukovic."

Mac took a deep breath as she felt another bolt slide into place, and yet another door closed behind her. 

"Send them in." 

She stood, automatically straightening her uniform blouse, and moved around the desk to greet her replacement.

**********

Harm paced the floor of his small furnished flat, oblivious to the room around him, his mind wrestling with the problem of Mac's strange silence. She wasn't answering her email, and she wasn't returning his calls. When he called her work number, he either got voice mail or Jen's excuses about Mac being in meetings or out of the office. He felt like he was hitting brick walls everywhere he turned, and it was driving him crazy. 

He grabbed the telephone, quickly dialing the familiar number and then drumming his fingers on the scarred end table while he waited for somebody to pick up the line on the other end.

"Hello?" 

"Bud!  It's Harm."

"Captain!  How are you, sir?" Bud sounded genuinely pleased to hear from him, and Harm smiled. 

"I'm doing fine, Bud. How are Harriet and the kids?"

"They're doing great, sir. The twins are crawling now - getting into everything, and AJ and Jimmy are about as typical as any two brothers ever are."

"In other words, they fight," Harm smiled. 

"All the time," Bud laughed. "Harriet's about ready to lock them both in their rooms and throw away the keys."

In some ways, Harm envied Bud. The other man had a beautiful wife, a gorgeous home, and four healthy children. On the other hand, Harm didn't yet have a wife, was living in a furnished flat, and his one child was facing years of painful rehab. 

"How's Mattie?" Bud asked, almost as if reading his mind.

"She's doing well, actually. She seems to get along great with her therapists, and her mobility's improving every day."

"How's her mood?" Bud well knew the emotional challenges of recovering from traumatic injuries.

"She has her moments," was all Harm said, preserving Mattie's privacy. There was no need to share her moments of frustration and depression with the world. She wouldn't appreciate it.

Bud laughed. "I'm sure she does, sir." 

"Bud, I hate to ask you this, but have you heard from Mac lately?"

"I haven't sir, but I think she usually talks to Harriet during the day. All that wedding talk makes my eyes glaze over." There was a brief silence, and then, in a puzzled voice. "Is there a problem, sir?"

"No. I'm sure it's nothing. I just haven't heard from her in a few days and I was starting to get a little concerned."

"I'm sure she's just busy, sir." 

Bud. Ever the diplomat. He'd make a good ambassador someday. Still, it was probably best not to pursue this conversation any further. Whatever was going on with Mac, it didn't sound like she'd shared it with the Roberts clan.

"I'm sure you're right, Bud. Listen. I need to get going. Give Harriet my love…"

"I'll do that, Captain. You take care of yourself, and we'll see you for the wedding."

"Looking forward to it."

Harm ended the call and sat back. Now what? 


Saturday, August 27, 2005
2055 Zulu, (1255 Local)
U.S. Disciplinary Barracks
Leavenworth, Kansas


Mac locked the door of her rental car and started toward the monolithic concrete structure. She'd come to talk to the one person she knew she could trust with her secret agony, the one person who wouldn't be shocked by her confusion, whom she could trust implicitly to help her clarify the shifting kaleidoscope of thoughts that had disturbed her sleep and derailed her appetite for nearly three weeks. 

She took a deep breath and pulled open the heavy door that separated 'inside' from the rest of the world. She'd been here before, though not as often as she would have liked. It wasn't easy getting away from her job to travel all the way to Kansas, but even when she hadn’t been able to visit, they'd kept in touch through letters and phone calls. 

She approached the registration window, signing her name on the visitors log and then doing her best to make herself comfortable in the hard plastic chairs, along with the handful of other visitors who had arrived for morning visitation. The prison housed close to five hundred military prisoners from all branches of the armed services, but there were fewer than twenty people in the waiting room. 

A guard called for attention, and Mac stood up, comfortable in simple tennis shoes, jeans, and a t-shirt. Prison rules were strict, and Mac knew better than to wear anything that might set off the metal detectors or raise eyebrows. Both mistakes were surefire ways to have visitation denied. At the guard's instruction, she placed her personal belongings and car keys into a locker, slipping in a quarter to lock it shut. She kept a Ziploc baggy of spare change and dollar bills in her hand. The guards would inspect it before they'd let her through to the visitation room. Those things done, she waited while the rest of the group finished locking up their things and lined up to go through the metal detectors.

Mac watched the other visitors, intrigued by the mixed group of humanity that had come together this day for a common purpose – to spend a few precious hours with an incarcerated loved one. One young woman cried openly. An older lady twisted and untwisted a rather bedraggled handkerchief. Two kids, obviously siblings, pulled each other's hair every time their mother turned her back, and above them all towered a balding gentleman who held himself stiffly aloof, looking down his hawkish nose at the odd collection of people as though observing a colony of ants. 

Finally, they were shepherded through the metal detectors and into the main visitation room where they scattered, each family group silently marking out the territory they thought would provide them and their loved one with the most privacy. Once everybody was inside, a door on the other end of the large room was opened, and Mac saw her Uncle Matt for the first time in nearly a year.

She moved across the room, aware of the guards' watchful eyes, but fighting the urge to break into a run. He opened his arms, and she burrowed into them, feeling for that brief instant like she was home, and nothing and no one could ever hurt her. 

It ended all too soon, as a nearby guard cleared his throat meaningfully. Mac dropped her arms back to her sides, painfully aware that it was the only hug they'd be allowed until visiting hours ended. She backed away, but continued to hold his hands, savoring the feel of his strong grip.

"Hi, Uncle Matt." 

"Hello, Sarah." He smiled gently at her, and then led her over to a chair. "It's good to see you." 

They sat down across from each other, with a small table between them. Mac knew she couldn't do more than hold his hand, but she accepted that restriction gratefully in exchange for the opportunity to be near his calm strength.

"I'm sorry it's been so long since I've visited," she said. 

"It's tough to get out here, I know. They plopped me down right in the middle of nowhere."

She smiled. "We used to say that Red Rock Mesa was the middle of nowhere."

"Maybe, but at least I liked it there."

"Are you doing okay, Uncle Matt?"

"Well, it's definitely nicer here than it ever was in the castle," he said, referring to the old disciplinary barracks. "I'm an old soldier. I rather like my creature comforts these days."

"I know. You used to complain bitterly about the summer heat in the old building."

He nodded. "And the winter cold. Frostbite is not your friend."

Mac cringed. "Ouch."

"Yeah." He nodded, and then changed the subject. "You look tired, Sarah."

"I am, a little."

"You're getting married next week, aren't you?"

She nodded. "September third. I wish you could be there."

He shrugged. "But I can't, so you'll just have to write me a long letter and tell me all about it."

"I will."

Something about her voice must have alerted him to trouble, because he stared hard at her for a few seconds. 

"What's going on, Sarah?"

"What do you mean?"

"I've known you for too long for you to be able to bluff me, young lady. There's more to those circles under your eyes than pre-wedding mayhem, isn't there?"

Mac hesitated, and then nodded.

"Talk to me."

She smiled a little. "You sound just like Harm when you say that."

He grinned. "I'd say that's a good thing, since you're marrying him."

Mac stood abruptly and moved a few steps away, coming to a stop in front of a motivational poster. 

She sensed him standing behind her, but didn't turn around. His voice, when he spoke, was gruff with concern. "Sarah?"

"I don't think I can do it, Uncle Matt."

"The wedding?"

She turned around to look at him, tears pooling in her eyes. "I don't think I can give up the Corps."

He studied her for a few moments, and Mac swiped angrily at her tears, scrubbing away the signs of weakness and frustration. Matt led her back over to the chairs and they sat down, but he didn't say anything right away, choosing instead to study his fingernails while he waited for her to pull herself back together. Finally, she took a deep steadying breath, and he looked back up.

"Okay?"

She nodded. "Yeah."

"Good. Now. Explain yourself."

Mac smiled at the gruff words. Warm and fuzzy, he wasn't - never had been, really. But she'd give her life for him in a heartbeat, and suspected he'd do the same for her. She struggled to put her jumbled thoughts into something vaguely resembling logical order, finally settling for a helpless shrug. 

He wasn't impressed. "Come on, Sarah. You can do better than that."

She sighed. "I love Harm, Uncle Matt."

"Did I say you didn't?"

"No…"

"Then I find it interesting that you jump right to that point, all defensive-like."

"It's just… " She blew out a breath. "I don't know if loving him is enough."

"Enough for what?" He looked honestly puzzled. 

"Enough to take the place of what I'm giving up."

"Which is what, exactly?"

She shrugged, mildly irritated. "My career, the Marines, command… "

"Uh huh." He didn't sound impressed.

"I love my work, Uncle Matt."

"I know you do, Sarah. I also know how much you love Rabb. I think I knew it before you did."

That surprised her. "How…?"

"Your letters."

"My…"

He waved an arm, taking in the entire room. "I don't get a lot of excitement in here, Sarah. I think I've read each of your letters at least a hundred times. Would you like a quote?"

Mac lifted a hand. "Umm… No. I'll pass."

He smiled. "That's what I thought. So what are you afraid of?"

"Afraid?" Mac bristled.

"That's what I said."

"I'm not afraid, Uncle Matt."

"If you weren't afraid, you wouldn't be so torn up over this. You'd be moving on to the next phase of your life without a second thought."

"Wait a minute. Are you saying I should just walk away from everything that's given my life meaning for fifteen years?"

"It isn't for me to tell you what to do, Sarah. Only you can know that."

"But you think the reason I can't make up my mind is because I'm afraid."

"Change is hard, Sarah. Change is letting go, moving on, taking risks." He shrugged. 

"Wait a minute. Now you're saying I'm not strong enough? That I don't have enough courage?"

"I'm not saying that at all. You are."

Mac sighed in frustration. "You aren't exactly helping, Uncle Matt."

He leaned forward, his expression earnest. "I can't really help you with this one, sweetheart. You're the only one who can make this decision. I just want to make sure that whatever you do decide, you do it for the right reasons."

"And what should those reasons be?"

"You tell me."

Mac thought about that for a few moments, and then nodded. "Okay, then. The way I see it, as long as I stay in the Marines, I know what my days are going to be like. I know what's expected of me, and how to do my job, and I know I do my job well." She shrugged again. "I'm good at being a Marine, Uncle Matt."

"And?" He encouraged. 

"And nothing, really. It's the devil I know."

He laughed. "You're saying Rabb is the devil you don't?"

Mac grinned. "Well, he can be difficult at times, but that's not what I was saying, really." 

"Then what were you saying?"

"I know how to be a Marine and a lawyer. I don't have a clue how to be a wife and a mother."

"And so we come full circle."

"I don't understand."

"You said it yourself, Sarah. It's the devil you know versus the devil you don't." He watched the two kids as they wrestled over a candy bar on the other side of the room. "I can't do this for you. You're the one who has to decide if you love Rabb enough to take on the challenge of the unknown, to redefine who you are in terms that don't rely on your identity as a Marine."

"And if I don't?"

He brought his eyes back to hers, his expression serious. "If you don't, then I guess it's better if you figure it out now."

Mac stared at him, her eyes wide. "What are you saying, exactly?"

"That if you decide not to leave the Marine Corps, you owe it to Rabb to let him know now – not on your wedding day. You have to let something go, Sarah. This is one of those times when you truly can't have it both ways."

The guard announced the end of visiting hours, and Uncle Matt stood up. "I'll support you, no matter what you decide, Sarah. But I won't support your not being honest with him. He deserves that much from you."

He wrapped her in another tight hug, whispering against the silk of her hair. "I love you, Sarah. Always know that. No matter what."

"I love you too, Uncle Matt." She choked out the words on a sudden flood of tears. "And I miss you."

"I miss you too. Be well."

He let her go and moved to join the line of prisoners getting ready to return to their cells. Around her, several people were already crying. 

As the line started to move forward, Matt turned to her one last time. "You know," he said, "Patton once said that there's a time to take counsel of your fears, and a time not to listen to any fear. Which is this for you?"

"I wish I knew, Uncle Matt."

"You do know, Sarah. You just have to trust yourself."

And with that, he stepped through the door, and was gone. 


Saturday, August 27, 2005
0447 Zulu (2047 Local)
Mac's Apartment Building
San Diego, California


Mac trudged wearily up the single flight of stairs to her apartment. It was near dark, and all she wanted was a hot shower, some decent food, and her bed – in that order. She'd thought about her uncle's words all the way home, deciding finally that he'd been right. She was scared. Scared she wouldn't be a good wife, scared she wouldn't be up to handling Mattie's needs, scared, most of all, that her identity would be swallowed up by theirs. She sighed. So much for her brave words to Harriet all those weeks ago. Apparently, her bravado only extended to her professional life.

Then, on the plane, she'd watched a couple with two young children. The family had been so happy, laughing and talking together, and when the little ones fell asleep, one in her mother's arms, and the other curled up in the window seat, Mac had suddenly understood. 

Identity wasn't external. It didn't come from a thing you did, or a place you lived. It didn't reside in husbands, or children, or even careers. Identity was deeply personal and intrinsically individual. Creating it was like making something out of clay. The shape could be changed by the spinning wheel of life, but the end result, be it a thing of beauty or a shapeless lump – was entirely up to her. Giving up the Marine Corps didn't have to mean giving up who she was. It only meant changing the shape a little, pinching off a bit of clay in one place, and adding it someplace else, until she came up with something entirely new, but no less pleasing than the original. 

She realized that her thoughts had carried her almost all the way down the hall, and she shifted her keys in her hand, preparing to slip them into the lock. A small sound nearby startled her from her introspection, and she jerked her head up, instantly alert. 

A tall, familiar form moved out of the shadows toward her. 

"I was wondering when you'd get back," he said quietly.


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Saturday, August 27, 2005
0450 Zulu (2050 Local)
Mac's Apartment Building
San Diego, California


She stared at him with wide eyes, half convinced he was an apparition. The corners of his lips twitched, and he reached out to take her keys from her unresisting grasp. Unlocking the door, he opened it, and then pulled her inside, closing it securely behind them. He dropped the keys on a nearby table, and turned back to face her, hands on hips.

"Now. Do you want to tell me what's going on?"

Mac blinked and shook her head sharply, struggling to clear the cobwebs. 

"How… When…?"

"The normal way, and a few hours ago. I think your neighbors are starting to think I'm a stalker."

"Where's Mattie?"

"Still in London. She sends her love, by the way." He folded his arms across his chest, waiting for her next question.

"But what about… "

"Work?"

She nodded weakly, still not quite believing he was here.

"I told them I'd be back on Monday," he said. "And I don't care if they try to court martial me for going AWOL. This is more important."

She did a quick mental calculation. "You must've left London… "

"About 1100. Time's a funny thing, isn't it?"

She dropped her duffle bag and moved to turn on a lamp, flooding the room in warm yellow light. Then she opened the small fridge and pulled out two bottles of water, stalling for time, aware of his increasing impatience, but not sure how to explain it all to him. 

He shook his head when she offered him the water, but didn't say anything, knowing that she'd talk when she was ready.

"I went to see Uncle Matt today," she said finally.

"I'm glad. It'll be hard get back to visit him once we're in London." 

She nodded, but her mind raced ahead. 

"How is he?" Harm asked.

"He's good."

"Glad to hear it."

"Yeah."

The silence settled in again, rapidly approaching the awkward stage. She twisted her engagement ring nervously.

"Talk to me, Mac. Let me help."

She sighed. "I'm not sure you'd understand."

"You haven't given me a chance." His voice was mildly accusatory, and she winced. He was right.

"I thought I was okay with all of this," she said quietly. "I thought I could just resign my commission, marry you, and live happily ever after."

"But?" 

She shrugged, moving across to the couch where she sat down, placing her bottle of water on the table in front of her.

"When the papers came in, and the reality of it all hit…" She trailed off, unsure how to put it into words.

He watched her for a few moments, and when she didn't immediately continue, he sat down beside her. 

"Mac. I told you I'd help you through this."

She shook her head. "But that's just it. You can't. It isn't your problem. It isn't happening to you!"

"Is that it, then? You think it's unfair that you have to give up your career and I don't?"

She heard the anger and frustration building in his voice, and shook her head. "No!  I know we agreed to this. I know we both said we'd let fate decide."

"Then I don't understand."

She turned toward him, taking his hand in hers. "It isn't you, Harm. It never was. When Jennifer handed me the papers, and I saw the end of my career in black and white, it suddenly occurred to me that I had no idea how to do this." She paused, and took a deep breath. "I know how to be a Marine, Harm. And I know how to be a lawyer. I have no clue how to go about being a wife and mother." She dropped her head, gazing at his thumb as it smoothed its way back and forth across the back of her hand.

"And this is why you suddenly stopped returning my phone calls? Why you didn't respond to my emails?"

She nodded. "I didn't know what to say. Somehow, 'I don't know' didn't seem to quite cover it."

"No, but 'I'm having a hard time' would have."

She shrugged. "I didn't want to worry you."

He laughed at that. "And you didn't think your sudden silence would worry me?"

"I knew that if I talked to you it would all come out, and I wasn't ready for that."

"So you disappeared, instead."

"I didn't disappear… exactly."

He raised an eyebrow at her, and she sighed. "Okay. I guess I did."

"Yeah. You did."

"So you went to see your uncle because...? Did you think he'd tell you what to do?"

She laughed. "Well, if I went there thinking that, he set me straight pretty fast. I got the impression he didn't want to be held responsible for my choices."

"So what did he say?"

"He told me that I had to decide whether to listen to my fears or ignore them, that I was the only one who would ever know for sure whether the decision I made was the right one."

"Your uncle's a wise man."

She smiled at that. "Yes. He is."

"So?"

"So… what?"

"Did you decide to listen to your fears? Or to ignore them?" 

She looked over at him, seeing the fear in his eyes and the tension in the way he held his body. He looked exhausted, as though he hadn't been sleeping any better than she had, and she realized with a start that he probably hadn't. 

She wanted to kick herself for doing this to him, for putting him through the worry and the anxiety, pushing him to the point where he'd gotten on a plane to come here and see for himself what was going on. Still, she couldn't change the way she'd felt, couldn't deny the terrible ache that had plagued her days since her separation papers had arrived. The ache was easing now, as she became more certain that the decision she'd reached on the flight home was the right one. 

"On the flight home, there was a young family sitting across the aisle from me. Two kids, and their mother and father. I watched them for a long time, and I talked to them a little. They were very nice people."

Harm nodded, but she could tell he was wondering where she was going with this.

"I was struck by how utterly comfortable they all were with each other. Each member of the family was a unique individual, and yet they formed this beautiful family group that was somehow more than the sum of its parts." She squeezed his hand. "I want that for us, Harm. I want to know what that feels like. And if my career is the price I have to pay for the experience, I'm okay with it."

She heard his sigh of relief as he pulled her roughly into his arms. "Thank God," he said against her hair. 

She tilted her head to look up at him, and found his lips waiting for her. The kiss started out as a simple affirmation, but the weeks of separation and her absolute belief in the rightness of her decision touched off an explosion that rapidly flamed out of control.

Hands and lips roamed eagerly over heated skin. Buttons, zippers, and fabric either surrendered gracefully or were destroyed without compunction. A firestorm swept through the room, and when it was over, Mac found herself held close in Harm's arms, surrounded by a scattering of throw pillows, an overturned coffee table, and random pieces of clothing. 

Silence reigned supreme for the several minutes it took them to gain control of their breathing, and then Harm propped himself on an elbow and looked down at her, grinning ruefully as he traced her bruised lips with a gentle finger. 

"You know," he said, "I think I'm looking forward to fighting with my wife."

"Why?" she asked, smiling back.

"If this was any indicator…" He waved a hand at the war-torn room. "The making up is going to be incredible." 

She laughed and pulled his head back down to hers. "Shut up and kiss me, Sailor."


Monday, August 30, 2005
2124 Zulu (1324 Local)
Joint Legal Services, Southwest
San Diego, California


"You'll want to keep an eye on Davis and Gomez," Mac said. "They've been at each other's throats almost since they got here."

"Oh?" Sturgis raised an eyebrow at her.

She nodded. "They work well together when they put their heads to it. Both of them are brilliant attorneys, but they're also both stubborn, strong willed, and hopelessly independent. You'll have to be a master strategist to keep things on an even keel."

Sturgis grinned. "Sounds like somebody else I know."

Mac resisted the urge to stick her tongue out at him. "By the way," she said. "How's Varese?"

He grinned and tipped his head to her in silent acknowledgement of her tactics. "She's doing great. She was thrilled when I got transferred out here. Apparently there's a record deal in the works and it'll be easier if she lives here."

"So when will we be going to your wedding?"

Sturgis laughed. "Let's not jump the gun, Colonel." He pointed at the files. "Tell me about Rankin."

Mac smiled and conceded, returning her attention to the work at hand. "Rankin's my best attorney, but he's being reassigned to Pearl Harbor. He'll be gone by the middle of September. He's been working on an assault case that you might want to get Vukovic involved with. He'd be a good one to take it over if the case isn't concluded before Rankin leaves."

"Anything I should know about Vukovic? You've worked with him more than I have."

Mac considered that for a few moments, choosing her words carefully. "Vukovic is young and inexperienced, and he has a 'win at all costs' attitude that could be dangerous if left unchecked. He's also a bit of a womanizer, so I'd suggest you keep an eye on him. He has potential, but he walks a very fine line between appropriate behavior and an ethics charge." She smiled. "If anybody can keep him in line, Sturgis, I think it'd be you."

He tilted his head, giving her an odd look. "What do you mean by that?"

"Just that I think you'll lead this office with the firm hand he needs."

"Uh huh."

"You're okay with it if Jennifer comes to London? She was only TAD here…"

"I'm fine with it, Mac. I don't think she's exactly the right person to act as my petty officer anyway."

Mac resisted the urge to grin. The idea of Sturgis trying to work with Jennifer Coates on a daily basis was nothing short of hilarious. A scene from an old Three Stooges movie formed in her mind, and she choked back a laugh. 

"Right," she said. "Well, Harm tells me his petty officer has been reassigned, and I'm sure Jen would like the chance to see Mattie again, so that should work out fine. I'll double check it with the general myself."

"Right. Now. What about the rest of these files?" Sturgis waved his hand at the rather imposing stack that sat on the table between them. 

"Well," Mac said. "These are the active cases. Suppose we just take them from the top." She reached for the first file, flipped it open, and took a sip of water. 


Tuesday, August 30, 2005
0730 Zulu  (0730 Local)
King's College Rehab Facility
University of London
London, England


"You look exhausted, Harm. What did you do all weekend?"

Harm grinned and took refuge in time zones. "Well, let's see. I flew to San Diego on Saturday, stayed there for a day, and flew back here yesterday. I think I'm allowed a little jet lag."

"You're getting old."

"Hey… watch yourself, young lady."

Mattie laughed. "So when do we leave?"

"Tomorrow morning. Are you ready?"

"Yep. Got my racing wheels all polished up and ready to go." She waved a hand at the wheelchair beside the bed.

"Are you and Nurse Bridgette getting along all right?"

Bridgette was the young nurse recommended to him by Mattie's physical therapist. She'd be going along for the trip, at Harm's expense, to help see to Mattie's needs and to continue her therapy as well as she was able while Mattie stayed at the Roberts’s. 

"She's a brute when it comes to my exercises, but other than that, she's cool." Mattie grinned suddenly. "Do you know she has a tat?"

"Umm… A tat?" Harm was often bewildered by the intricacies of teen speak.

True to form, Mattie rolled her eyes. "A tattoo, Harm."

"Ahh… Well, then no. I didn't know."

"It's a phoenix."

"You mean bird rising from the ashes sort of phoenix?"

"Yep!  You should see it. It's gorgeous."

"Ahh… And where exactly is this tribute to artistic greatness?"

"On her right shoulder blade. She says you can see it when she wears her swimsuit."

"Uh huh. I'll look forward to it." Harm's tone was sardonic, and Mattie stuck her tongue out at him.

"Right. And on that note, I need to get to the office for a while to finish up a few things before we leave. Is there anything you need before I go?"

"Nope."

"All right then." He bent and kissed her forehead. "I'll see you later."

He waved as he went out the door, and she grinned and waved back. She really was going to be okay.


Wednesday, August 31, 2005
0030 Zulu (1630 Local)
Joint Legal Services, Southwest
San Diego, California


Mac slid into an empty seat in the back of the courtroom. She'd watched Davis give her impassioned sentencing recommendation yesterday afternoon, and was back now to hear the judge's decision, curious to see how it would all turn out. 

Davis and Gomez whispered together at the front of the room, apparently getting along for a change, and Mac breathed a sigh of relief. She was pretty sure those two were going to turn into a good team if they could only get past their stubborn pride and remember to focus on the good of their client. 

The judge banged her gavel once, and all chatter in the room ceased abruptly. Davis and Gomez sat up straight in their seats, eyes forward. 

"The defendant will please rise."

Dorland stood up, Davis and Gomez on either side of him.

"I've reviewed this case carefully," the judge said, glancing down at the contents of the folder in front of her. "It hasn't been an easy one to decide. On the one hand, you have the right of the individual to make a valid decision of conscience." 

Davis must've started to say something, because Mac saw the judge raise a warning hand. "Let me finish, Lieutenant." Judge Marin waited a moment, and then went on. "On the other hand, you have duty to your shipmates, to the UCMJ, and to the requirements of your enlistment." She looked at Dorland. "While I do not condone your actions, I understand the difficulty posed when you are ordered to fight a war you do not believe in."

Mac was stunned by the judge's dispassion. Dorland had missed movement. It was as simple as that. When he joined the Navy, he should've understood that he was choosing to give up some of his individual rights in favor of duty, honor, and service to one's country. The judge went on, and Mac listened carefully.

"I hereby order you to be reduced in rank to the level of seaman recruit, two months confinement at the 32nd Street Naval Station, and three months hard labor."

Mac watched Dorland shake hands with the two attorneys before being escorted away by the guards. Well, she thought, so Dorland wasn't being kicked out of the Navy. Maybe, in the end, he'd get the punishment by peer Gomez had been hoping for all along. She shook her head. The judges here in San Diego seemed significantly more lenient than those she'd been used to in Falls Church. Sturgis definitely had challenges in store. 

Mac stayed long enough to watch Davis and Gomez gather their things, her sharp eyes catching the nuances of emotion that seemed to flow between the two younger officers. She smiled to herself. Another challenge for Commander Turner. She wished she felt close enough to Sturgis to keep in touch with him and find out how all of this turned out. She didn't, though, and Sturgis was anything but the gossipy type, so she doubted she'd ever hear another word about Doom and Gloom. Too bad. Somehow she suspected their story was going to be an interesting one.

Standing, she slipped out of the courtroom as quietly as she'd come. She'd already said her goodbyes to the staff. It was time to move on.


Saturday, September 3, 2005
1445 Zulu (0945 Local)
The Roberts Residence
Falls Church, Virginia


"Are you ready, ma'am? It's time."

Mac turned to Harriet, suddenly nervous. "I think so."

"You look gorgeous, Colonel." 

Mac turned to check the mirror one last time, pleased with the way the simple ivory gown draped across her shoulders and breasts before falling in a smooth flow of satin to the tops of her slippered feet. She hadn’t wanted fussy lace or girlish ruffles, preferring elegance over tradition. She'd even opted against the traditional wedding veil, settling instead for a single white orchid nestled behind her left ear. 

"You look beautiful, Mac." 

Mac smiled at Mattie. "So do you." 

Mattie blushed. "Thanks."

Mac squatted down next to the young girl who'd done so much to help bring her and Harm together. Without Mattie, Harm might never have learned how to say the three most important words he'd ever said to her. It was Mattie who'd taught Harm that not only was it okay to love somebody, but it was also okay to let them know. 

"You really do look lovely, Mattie. Someday, there's going to be a young man out there who's going to see that as clearly as Harm and I do."

Mattie snorted. "Not if I don't get myself out of this chair."

"You will. And Harm and I will be there every step of the way." Mac took Mattie's hand in hers. "You'll never be alone again, Mattie. I promise you that."

"Neither will you." 

Mac felt tears well in her eyes, and brushed them away. Mattie might still be a teenager, but sometimes the young woman stunned her with her maturity. "Thanks."

She stood up and moved behind Mattie's wheelchair. "You ready?"

"Yep." Mattie turned around and grinned up at Mac. "Let's get married." 

Mac and Harriet laughed, and Harriet held open the door. 

Mac stopped the wheelchair halfway through the door, and turned to hug Harriet. 

"Thanks," she whispered. 

Harriet gave her a quick squeeze, and then pulled back and smiled. "Anytime." 

She held the door for Mac and Mattie, and then followed them outside. Mac watched as first Harriet and then Mattie started down the makeshift aisle, a simple strip of deep red carpet spread over the grass between double rows of white chairs. 

Later, she wouldn't remember the brilliant white of his uniform, or the glint of sunshine on his gold wings. All she'd remember was the intensity of emotion that shone from his eyes and drew her toward him with magnetic force. She locked her gaze on his and started down the aisle. 


****  The End ****