HARM'S APARTMENT
NORTH OF UNION STATION
How'd we get to this point anyway?
The words, spoken what seemed like an entire
lifetime ago, echoed in Harm's head.
Things had seemed so much simpler back then.
Even when they fought, which wasn't often,
they always had known that sooner or later –
usually sooner – everything would be okay
and they would get past whatever they were
fighting about.
But for the last year and a half, everything
had been so different. They fought more
than usual and each fight just seemed to be
yet another nail in the coffin that their
friendship was fast being buried in.
They couldn't seem to turn to each other, they
couldn't seem to be able to rely on each
other. Even during the recent tragedy
which had struck their lives, they'd been
unable to really reach out, to give each other
the comfort they both had so desperately
needed. The most they'd been able to
manage had been generic words of comfort and
support.
And tonight had come what seemed to be the
final nail in the coffin. . . .
EARLIER THAT EVENING
VIETNAM MEMORIAL
WASHINGTON DC
He stood in the cold and the falling snow, his
fingers reverently touching the engraved name.
"History's repeating itself," he
whispered, his words lost in the howl of the
bitter wind. "And I have to try and
stop it. I have to find him, the way I
tried to find you."
He felt her presence before he saw her, so
attuned was he to the essence that was
uniquely hers, even after everything that had
driven them apart. "What are you doing
here?" he asked, a bit more harshly than
he had intended.
She noted his tone, but chose to ignore it,
realizing the aching hurt that was tearing his
soul apart. "Webb called me,"
she gently replied. "He told me
what happened. Harm, I'm so sorry.
What can I do to help?"
"Nothing," he replied, his voice
bitter but full of determination as he turned
to face her. Why now, after all this
time? Why did she have to care?
"There's nothing anybody can do –
except me."
"What do you mean?" she asked
hesitantly, afraid that he would confirm what
Webb had told her. Afraid that he was
walking out of her life again.
"I'm resigning my commission," he
stated, his voice as level and calm as if he'd
just announced what he was having for dinner.
No, her mind screamed. He couldn't do
it. She had to stop him somehow.
"This is no time to make a life changing
decision," she said, hoping to change his
mind or at least get him to reconsider his
decision. She was hoping against hope
that she still held some kind of influence
over him.
"I'm going to find my brother," he
said firmly, taking her gloved hands in his.
"I have to do this. I owe it to
him."
"Which him?" she asked, tightening
her fingers around his. He was still
here talking to her. Surely that had to
be a good sign. "Sergei or your
father?"
"Both," he replied, absently rubbing
his thumbs over her knuckles. "I
couldn't save my father, but I have the
chance. . . ." his voice trailed off in
the wind as his right thumb brushed an odd
bump on her left hand. It wasn't smooth
like her Marine Corps ring should feel, but
pointed and sharp. Holding his breath, afraid
of what he would see, he started pulling off
her glove as he looked into her eyes, praying
that she would deny it all.
She realized his intent and tried to pull her
hand away, but only succeeding in helping him
get the glove off faster. His eyes fell
to her now uncovered hand, where the diamond
sparkled brightly on her third finger in the
lights of the memorial.
She sucked in a breath at the expression she
saw in his eyes as he lifted them to meet her
gaze. Before, they had been full of fire
and determination, the kind of steel that
would give him the strength to disobey an
Admiral's direct order, to find his brother in
a war torn land. Now they were dead,
lifeless, as if nothing in the world mattered
to him anymore. "Harm, I. . . ." she
began, only to be cut off.
"'This is no time to make a life changing
decision'?" he retorted, throwing her
words back at her, his voice oh so soft yet oh
so bitter. He dropped her other hand as
his cold, numb fingers let go of the glove he
had removed, the black leather falling to rest
on the snow covered ground.
"Goodbye, Sarah Mackenzie."
As the tall, proud man turned and walked away
from her, his shoulders slumping almost
imperceptibly, Mac resisted the urge to give
into the tears of frustration and desperation
which were forming in her brown eyes.
"Harm, please," she called out, but
if he heard her, he gave no indication.
His long strides were carrying him out of her
life again, leaving Sarah Mackenzie standing
alone in the bitterly cold December night.
BACK TO THE PRESENT
MAC'S APARTMENT
GEORGETOWN
Mac couldn't remember how she had managed to
pull herself together long enough to pick up
her glove from the snow and leave the
memorial, nor could she remember the drive
back to her apartment. All she was aware
of was the harsh cold that surrounded and
enveloped her, numbing her to everything. She
felt as if she had truly lost her best friend,
this time forever.
"What's the matter, luv?" Mic asked,
trying to pull her into his arms as she
entered the warm apartment. Blindly, Mac
walked past him and stood in the center of the
living room, her arms wrapped around herself
as if she was trying to ward off the freezing
cold of outside, a cold still very much with
her. "What was that phone call
about that had you rushing off on a night like
this?" He walked up behind her and
wrapped his arms around her, but she simply
stood there stiff and unyielding.
"Nothing," she replied, her voice as
dull and lifeless as she felt. "It
doesn't matter anymore. Nothing matters
anymore."
"Nothing?" Mic repeated, astonished.
"We're getting married. How could
that not matter?"
"Mic, please don't," she cried out,
her voice shaking slightly as the tears
threatened again. She pulled out of his
arms and moved away from him to stand at the
window, staring out at the falling snow.
"I can't do this."
"I'm your fiancé," he said gently.
"Let me help you. We should be able
to share things with each other."
"I said no," she exclaimed forceful,
Mic taking an involuntary step backward at the
sharpness of her tone. "What part
of that don't you understand?"
Mic didn't have a response for that, was
almost afraid to respond. He couldn't
remember ever seeing her this despondent, even
when she had fled to Australia after the
incident with the mishap report. Hoping
to pull her out of the mood she was in, Mic
walked over and turned on the stereo, scanning
through the stations, settling on one playing
Christmas tunes. This is perfect, he
thought, as he started singing along with the
song in his slightly off-key bass.
Oh, the weather outside is frightful
But the fire is so delightful
And since we've no place to go
Let it snow, let it snow, let it snow
Oh, it doesn't show. . . .
The song was cut off mid-phrase as Mac strode
over and gave the tuning dial on the stereo a
hard spin, pop music filling the room as the
dial stopped on another station. "I
said no," she cried out, her body shaking
from the cold despite the warmth from the
heater and the fireplace. "Just
leave."
"Sarah, please," Mic pleaded,
desperate to ease the emotional pain that was
obviously tearing her apart. He didn't
know what had caused it, he just wanted to
take it away. "Let me help."
Mac took a deep breath and replied, her voice
steely, "If you love me, if you care
about me at all, you will leave me alone.
I just need to be alone right now."
Mic wanted to argue, but he didn't want to
push her away. She had requested to be
left alone, so he would accommodate her –
for now. Picking up his coat from where
it lay across the desk chair, he pulled it on
and said softly, "I'm going, but I will
be back tomorrow. I love you and I do
want to help. That's why I'm leaving
now."
Mac made no movement, no sound to indicate
that she had even heard him. With a heavy
sigh, Mic left the apartment, quietly pulling
the door closed behind him. Her behavior
had him very worried and he didn't know what
to do. He could not remember ever
feeling so helpless. As he stood walked
down the stairs, a plan began formulating in
his mind. He'd almost rather walk over
hot coals than what he was about to do, but if
he couldn't get through to Sarah, he thought
he knew someone who might be able to.
Back in the apartment, Mac hadn't even noticed
his departure, wrapped up in the bitter sting
of rejection and broken friendships.
Almost from the moment she'd let Mic slip the
ring onto her left hand, she'd been agonizing
over how to break the news to Harm. But
once she'd received the phone call from Webb
informing her of Sergei's disappearance and
Harm's intention to resign his commission to
go searching for him, she had known that she
couldn't tell him now. He'd never liked
Mic and although he'd sworn that he would be
happy for her if she was happy, she knew the
news of her engagement would hurt him and she
couldn't do that to him, not when he was
already dealing with a greater pain.
Struggling to hold back tears, she noticed
nothing around her – not the crackling of
the fire in the fireplace, Jingo's soft
snoring as he lay sleeping in front of the
couch, the soft hum of the heater. It
was as if nothing existed in her pain-filled
world, until a new song began playing on the
radio, it's words drifting into her heart with
the bitter clarity of truth.
And now, is it too late to say
How you made my life so different in your
quiet way?
I can see the joy in simple things
A sunlit sky and all the songs we used to sing
I have walked and I have prayed
I could forgive and we could start again
In the end, you are my one true friend
Mac looked up to the ceiling as the tears
finally began to fall, the words of the song
echoing in her head. 'I could forgive
and we could start again'. Oh, why can't
we do that now, she thought bitterly.
Why can't you be my friend anymore?
Why did we let everything and everyone tear us
apart?
For all, all the times you closed your eyes
Allowing me to stumble or to be surprised
By life with all its twists and turns
I made mistakes, you always knew that I would
learn
And when I left, it's you who stayed
You always knew that I'd come home again
In the end, you are my one true friend
Though love may break, it never dies
It changes shape through changing eyes
What I denied, I now can see
You always were the light inside of me
I know, I know, I know, I know it was you
I have walked and I have prayed
I could forgive and we could start again
In the end, you are my one true friend
My one true friend
I always, always knew
I always knew that it was you
My one true friend
"Oh, Harm," she cried, sinking to
her knees, crying as she hadn't since the
night Harm had left JAG as he had returned to
flying. Rocking back and forth, she
sobbed out all her frustrations and her pain.
"I want us back. I want us to start
again."
Mac couldn't say how long she sat there on the
floor of her living room, tears falling freely
until she had no more tears left to shed,
Jingo rising to sit next to her, leaning his
head against her arm. Once the tears
were gone, reason return and Mac began to
think – think about how they had gotten to
this place and, more importantly, how to
return to where they had been.
It was sixty-five minutes before Mac rose from
the floor, a peace in her countenance now that
she had made a decision. She knew what
she had to do – for herself, for Harm and
for Mic. She owed it to all of them to
set things right. None of them could go
on like this, not and have any chance at real
happiness.
Taking a deep breath, she sat down at her desk
and pulled out a legal pad and pen, her hand
moving swiftly across the page as the words
poured out. After a few minutes, she sat back
and reread what she had written. Satisfied
that she had said what was needed, she tore
the page off the pad and carefully folded it,
stuffing it in a business envelope she pulled
out of a drawer. She paused a moment,
then slid her engagement ring off her finger
and dropped it into the envelope as well.
As she sealed the envelope, she pondered the
best way to deliver it. She couldn't
just walk up and hand it to him. He
might try to talk her out of it and she didn't
want to be talked out of this. It was
something she had to do. She didn't know
what would happen when all was said and done
or who she would end up with. All she
knew is that Harm had been right when he had
thrown her words back at her at the Wall.
This wasn't the right time to make a life
changing decision. When she examined not
only the events of tonight, but also the People
magazine article, the case with Jimmy and
Fanny, the death of baby Sarah plus a
multitude of other things that had happened
over the last few months, she realized that
she was in no condition to make the kind of
decision she had just made. Her life was
too unsettled, her feelings too unsure.
She was just sorry that she had come to that
realization after the fact. This was
going to hurt Mic, even with her promise that
she would carefully consider her decision
again after everything was settled and might
even affirm her original one. But for
all of their sakes, she couldn't let things
continue on the path they were on.
Figuring that she had the whole night to
figure out how to deliver the letter, she
picked up the phone and dialed a rarely used
number, figuring that this definitely
qualified as an emergency. Despite the
grumbling on the other end of the line, she
got the information she needed. Her
second call went a lot smoother and her plans
were firmed up using the information she had
gleaned from the first call.
She was about to dial a third number when
something stayed her hand. In her mind,
she replayed her earlier phone conversation
with Clay and decided against the phone call.
She didn't want to risk anything calling a
halt to her plans. She knew there was a
great risk involved professionally, but she
had to take it. Picking up her pen
again, she wrote out another letter. She
didn't know if it would have any effect, but
by the time he received it, he would be unable
to stop her. Finished with the letter,
she pulled out another envelope and sealed the
letter inside. She would drop both off
tomorrow before she left.
Feeling the best she had all evening, she rose
from her desk and headed for the kitchen,
Jingo by her side. Grabbing a biscuit
from the tin on the counter, she fed it to
him, rubbing his head as she knelt beside him.
"You'll be a good boy while I'm gone,
won't you?" she asked, massaging his
ears. "Mic, or Bud and Harriet if
Mic doesn't want the job, will take good care
of you and I'll be back as soon as I
can." Allowing herself a small
smile, the first one of the night, she went to
her bedroom to pack.
HARM'S APARTMENT
NORTH OF UNION STATION
Harm sat at his table, staring at the open
beer in front of him. He had yet to take
a sip, was even uncertain why he had even
opened it in the first place. He needed
his head to be clear as he began the search
for his brother in Chechnya.
Oh, yeah. There had been a reason he had
opened the beer, a reason wrapped up in a gold
band topped by a sparkling diamond. Of
all the things that could have happened, the
idea that Sarah Mackenzie could drive him to
take a drink was pretty unbelievable.
He'd always been so hesitant about drinking in
her presence, often asking if she minded
before he partook. But she wasn't here,
having been pushed out of his life after she
had kicked a gaping hole in his gut.
He wasn't sure why the sudden appearance of
that damned ring on her left hand had
surprised him so much. The fear that she
would eventually move it over had always been
present. Maybe, after so much time, he
began to worry less and less that the ring
would eventually make its way over to the
other hand. After all, if she really
loved the man and wanted to marry him, why
would the ring have sat on her right hand for
ten months? But on top of everything
else tonight, the knowledge that Mac was now
officially engaged to Mic was painfully
unbearable.
With a sigh of frustration, he stood and
swiped up the bottle, carrying it to the
kitchen sink where he angrily poured the amber
liquid into the sink, watching it flow down
the drain, imagining that it was his life
swirling away. Why not? His
brother was missing, possibly even dead at the
hands of Chechen rebels. His career was
over. Even if he hadn't prepared his
letter of resignation for Admiral Chegwidden,
he would likely have been declared UA and
brought up on DDO charges. Renee was
furious with him. Although she was
hardly displeased that he had decided to
resign his commission – far from it in fact
– her plans for him had been more along the
lines of him going into civilian practice, not
chasing halfway around the world after his
brother. His mother was disappointed and
probably a little mad that he hadn't seen fit
to inform her of Sergei's existence before she
was called to comment on it for a newspaper
story. And his best friend – former
best friend, he bitterly corrected himself –
well, he couldn't even bear to think about
her. For some reason he didn't want to
think about, that hurt the most of all.
Startled out of his morose reverie by a
forceful knock at the door, he dropped the
bottle into the sink, barely noticing when the
brown glass shattered. He strode over to
the door, determined to swiftly dispatch
whoever was unfortunate enough to be standing
on the other side. Yanking open the door
without checking the peephole, prepared to
ream out the person on the other side, he
stopped short when he saw the last person he
ever expected to find on his door step.
He wasn't the only one who was surprised.
Mic was stunned at the countenance of the man
standing on the other side of the door.
He saw the same haunted look he had seen in
Mac's eyes earlier and he had the sinking
feeling that the two were connected. He
didn't want that to be true, but he couldn't
deny that these two had a bond that he would
never truly understand.
"What do you want, Mic?" Harm
demanded after a moment when Mic didn't say a
word.
Stunned, Mic said the first thing that popped
into his head. "You look like hell,
mate," he said.
"Brilliant observation, mate," Harm
retorted bitterly. "Now, if you
don't mind, I have a lot to do." He
started to close the door on Mic, but Mic
pushed back and stepped into the apartment.
"I need to talk to you," Mic said,
closing the door behind him as Harm walked
away from him to the bedroom. Harm
hadn't kicked him out, which Mic took as a
good sign. If Harm's and Mac's moods
were related, maybe he would be able yet to
find out what was going on. He wandered
around the small apartment, noting the smashed
bottle in the kitchen sink and the notepad by
the phone with Harm's morning flight
information. Aeroflot? Mic
remembered being told that Harm had a brother
in the Russian Army and he wondered if
something had happened to him. Perhaps
what was going on with Harm and Mac was
unrelated after all. After all, as close
as Harm and Mac were, Mac would hardly become
despondent over his brother, someone she
barely knew. She hadn't even been that
despondent - although she had definitely
grieved - over the death of her goddaughter a
few weeks earlier.
"Nice place you've got here," Mic
said conversationally, not sure how to
proceed. He and Harm were hardly known
for their friendly talks.
"Something tells me you didn't come all
the way over here to comment on my living
arrangements," Harm called out from the
bedroom where he was going through his closet
one last time, making sure there was nothing
else he needed to pack for his trip.
Spying something on the top shelf, he pulled
down a knit cap. He'd definitely have
need of that where he was going. He
tossed it in the open suitcase on the bed.
Mic took a deep breath, reminding himself that
if something had happened to Harm's brother,
he was entitled to be in a less than friendly
mood. "Something's wrong with Sarah and
I'm concerned," he explained.
"I thought you, being her friend and all,
might know what was wrong." He
hated to admit it to anyone, least of all to
Harm, but he added, "She won't talk to me
about it."
"Don't know and don't care," Harm
lied, snapping the suitcase shut and carrying
it into the other room, dropping it by the
door with a loud thud while Mic forced himself
not to flinch. "I've got problems
of my own, thank you very much. Besides,
why would she tell me something that she won't
tell her own fiancé?"
Mic considered backing off and leaving.
Even if he couldn't stand the man, if
something really had happened to the man's
brother, he could find it in himself to be
considerate of the pain Harm was going
through. But something stopped him from
making a move towards the door.
"Going to Russia again, Harm?" he
asked, mildly curious in spite of himself.
"Not that I think you care," Harm
replied, "but my brother is MIA. I
have to go find him."
"Does Sarah know yet?" Mic asked.
He hated to admit it, but Sarah cared for the
bastard for some God unknown reason that he
couldn't fathom. "You know, she'd
be concerned. She spoke highly of your
brother when. . . ."
Harm yanked the door open and gestured to the
hallway. "I think you need to leave
now," Harm said, his voice taking on a
dangerous edge.
Sighing as he realized that he wasn't going to
get what he was looking for here, he nodded
and started to leave. Stopping in the
doorway, he turned back and said sincerely,
"I hope everything turns out okay with
your brother." When Harm didn't
reply, Mic turned and walked towards the
stairs as Harm slammed the door shut behind
him.
As he brushed the accumulated snow from his
car in the alley, Mic thought back over what
had and hadn't been said. He thought it
was telling that Harm had insisted on his
departure after Mac's name had been mentioned.
Although he was sure that most of his surly
behavior was related to his brother's
disappearance, the feeling returned, stronger
than before, that something had happened
between Harm and Mac which had added to Harm's
bad mood.
He also noted Harm's use of the word 'fiancé'
when he had referred to Mac. Could that be
what was wrong? He was tempted to
dismiss the idea out of hand, but
reconsidered. True, they had never
gotten along, Mic knew that Harm dislike the
way he had pursued Mac and Mic had believed in
the beginning that the relationship between
Harm and Mac went beyond friendship. But since
Mic had moved back to Washington, although the
men had avoided each other as much as
possible, when forced by circumstances to
tolerate each other's presence, they had at
least managed to be cordial to each other.
But what if Harm had gotten so used to the
idea of the ring being on Mac's right hand
that when it had been moved over, it had
suddenly occurred to him that he really did
want Mac but couldn't have her anymore?
Mic had to admit that was how he would feel if
the situations were reversed.
With a sigh, he got into his car and turned
the key, making sure the heat was going full
blast. He'd go home and call Mac
tomorrow. Maybe by then she would have
calmed down enough to let him in and let him
help her.
THE NEXT EVENING
DULLES INTERNATIONAL AIRPORT
Harm stared out the window from his first
class seat on the Aeroflot flight bound for
Moscow. Despite the cost, he hadn't even
flinched when told that the only seats left on
the next flight for Russia were in first
class. Money didn't matter when it came to
finding his brother.
He glanced at his watch, impatient for the
flight to take off. About ten minutes
left until the official departure time and he
could see through the open curtain behind him
that passengers were still making their way to
their seats in the business and coach cabins.
With a frustrated sigh, he turned forward and
pulled two pictures out of the inner pocket of
his leather jacket.
The first, in black and white, was the aged,
laminated photo of him and his father taken
their last summer together with an F-4 on the
deck of the USS Ticonderoga. The second
was more recent, taken of him and Sergei
during his last trip to Russia. He
closed his eyes as he remembered the day the
photo was taken. Somehow, after all the
excitement was over, Sergei had found a camera
and insisted that some pictures be taken so
that both he and Harm would have a visual
reminder of their new bond, even when they
were separated by an ocean. Harm had
taken some pictures of Sergei by himself and
Sergei had taken some pictures of him.
Then Sergei had handed the camera to Mac and
had insisted on some photos of him and Harm
together. Finally, the camera had been passed
to Captain Volkonov and Mac had been pulled in
for a picture, a copy of which was carefully
tucked away in a photo album in Harm's
apartment.
Harm shook his head, trying to banish thoughts
of Mac from his mind. It hurt too much
and he couldn't afford to cloud his mind.
He needed his mind clear so that he could
concentrate on the mission at hand. He
opened his eyes as he returned the pictures to
his pocket, turning again to stare out the
window, working on a plan to find Sergei and
bring him home to the States.
"Izvinite pozhaluista. Ehto myesto
svobodno?" a lyrical female voice asked.
Harm uttered a soft curse, despite the fact
that he didn't understand a word of what was
just said. He had hoped that the seat
next to him would remain empty, hopes that
apparently had just been dashed. He
wasn't really in the mood to make idle
conversation over the ten hour flight to
Moscow. Maybe he'd be lucky and his seat
companion wouldn't speak a word of English.
That would guarantee a quiet flight left to
his own tortured thoughts.
Still facing the window, he began, "I'm
sorry, I don't speak. . . ." trailing off
as he was struck with the strongest feeling of
déjà vu. He'd had this exact same
conversation before on another flight to
Moscow to find a missing loved one. He
whipped his head around to find himself
looking into the brown eyes of the woman he
now thought of as his former best friend as
she slid into the seat next to him.
"Something tells me that you need me
again to come up with the dispassionate
plan," she commented as she fastened her
seat belt. When he didn't say a word,
merely turning his head back to look out the
window, she added, "At least you're not
arguing with me."
"Maybe because I don't care
anymore," he muttered under his breath,
so softly that she couldn't hear him even
seated next to him, even as a tiny part of his
heart which he had hoped he had closed off to
her was pleased that she would be coming with
him. After all, they had done so well
together during two previous trips to Russia.
THE FOLLOWING MORNING
SHEREMYETEVO AIRPORT
MOSCOW, RUSSIA
After sitting on the runway for forty-five
minutes waiting to take off, a ten hour flight
and a partner who could barely stand to look
at her, much less speak to her, Mac was not
only tired but frustrated. All her
attempts at conversation, even about the plan
to locate Sergei, had been met with a stony
silence and turned head. Furious with
herself and with him for letting things
between them degenerate to this state, she had
eventually given up, settling into her seat to
sleep. That had only led to more
problems later in the flight when turbulence
had woken them both up. Mac had shifted
as she had slept and had eventually ended up
with her head resting against Harm's shoulder.
Then he had woken up and discovered their
position.
Forcing down the warm feeling that he had at
feeling her snuggled up against him, Harm had
pulled away from her forcefully, startling Mac
before she had a chance to completely awaken
and realize what was going on. Mac, for
her part, despite the intense feeling of
sadness, hadn't reacted, even when he had
succinctly suggested that she move to the only
other empty seat in the cabin a few rows in
front of them. She had merely given him
a hard stare and settled back in to fall
asleep again, this time turned away from him
so that she wouldn't accidentally end up
leaning against him.
After silently making their way through
customs and baggage claim, they had left the
airport and had promptly been met by a
familiar, friendly face. "Beautiful
Colonel," Alexei exclaimed, siding up to
Mac. "I knew you would come back
and this time Commander Rabb is with you.
You do not have to chase after him into
Chechnya."
"It's good to see you, too, Alexei,"
Mac said, forcing a cheerful smile.
"How'd you know we'd be here?"
"Mr. Webb told me that you would be
coming," Alexei replied, taking their
bags from them. He nodded towards Harm.
"Commander, it is good to see you
again."
"Thank you, Alexei," Harm replied
automatically, trying not to think about
Alexei's earlier statement about Mac's
following him into the war-torn province.
That seemed like another lifetime ago.
"But unfortunately, I do need to go into
Chechnya. My brother is
missing."
"Actually, *we* need to go into
Chechnya," Mac clarified, shooting Harm a
tense glance which he ignored. Alexei
took their bags and loaded them into the trunk
while Harm and Mac climbed into the back seat,
sitting as far apart as possible, both looking
out their respective windows.
"You two!" Alexei exclaimed as he
got behind the wheel. "Willing to
drive through a war zone for each other and
now with each other." Alexei then
muttered something under his breath in Russian
directed towards Mac, which had her biting her
lower lip nervously as she wondered whether
Harm was going to ask for a translation.
Harm, despite his intense curiosity, remained
silent while trying to ignore those statements
that he had understood. He didn't want
Mac to care. He didn't want her to go
through a war zone with him or for him.
'Are you going to tell me now that you do not
love Commander Rabb?' Alexei's question echoed
in Mac's mind. She couldn't answer that
question. Or maybe she didn't want to admit
the answer to that question. She
couldn't decide which was more accurate.
She thought she had buried any romantic
feelings once and for all that night on the
ferry, but now that Harm was mad at her for
accepting Mic's proposal – or, probably more
accurately, for the way he had found out about
it – and he seemed to barely be able to
stand the sight of her, those feelings were
oddly resurfacing.
Trying to push those thoughts from her mind,
Mac directed Alexei, "Actually, Alexei,
we'd appreciate it if you could take us to see
Major Sokol." At the slightly
disgusted look Harm shot her as he turned his
head, she countered, "Do you have a
better idea? We can't just drive into
Chechnya like I did last time. I knew
from Mark where to find you. We have no
idea where to begin looking for Sergei.
We're going to need his help to get
anywhere."
As much as he wanted to, Harm found that he
couldn't argue with her conclusions.
He couldn't just run off half-cocked hoping to
find his brother in the middle of a war.
With a terse nod from Harm, Alexei pulled away
from the airport while muttering in Russian
that at least *he* wouldn't be driving them
into Chechnya this time.
JAG HEADQUARTERS
FALLS CHURCH, VIRGINIA
Mic strode into the bullpen, clutching the
letter from Mac which had been delivered to
him at work that morning, trying not to glance
at the two dark offices in the corner.
After spending the previous day trying to get
a hold of Mac and even trying to contact Harm,
he'd had the sinking feeling that she had
followed him to Russia again. The letter
was just a confirmation of what he had already
known deep down. But he took no comfort
in her promise to revisit her decision to
return his ring when she returned. He
thought it was the ultimate bitter irony that
as soon as he'd finally won her and got her to
move the ring over that he had lost her,
possibly forever.
He entered the Admiral's outer office and
stopped in front of Tiner's desk. Tiner looked
up from some paperwork and smiled at him.
"Hello, Commander Brumby," he said
brightly, still having a hard time remembering
Mic's status as a civilian. "What
can I do for you?"
"I'd like to see Admiral Chegwidden if
he's available," Mic replied, not
bothering to correct the way Tiner addressed
him.
"Actually, the Admiral asked not to be
disturbed," Tiner reported. He
lowered his voice and added confidentially,
"He's in kind of a bad mood today."
Mic could just imagine what had the Admiral in
a bad mood. He was hardly the man to
take well to the news that two of his officers
had just packed up and taken off for Russia
with barely a moment's notice. He was
about to suggest leaving a message when the
Admiral's voice came over the intercom on
Tiner's phone.
"Tiner, get me Webb on the phone,"
AJ barked, "and you'd probably better get
a hold of Mic Brumby, too. He's going to
need to hear this."
Tiner pressed a button on his phone and
informed his CO, "Sir, Commander Brumby
is here right now wanting to speak with
you."
"Then send him in," AJ ordered,
"and don't forget about Webb."
As Tiner dialed Webb's number, he glanced
sympathetically at Mic. "You can go
in, Sir," he told Mic.
As Mic entered the inner office, he found AJ
sitting at his desk, two sheets of paper laid
out on the desk in front of him. One Mic
assumed was a letter from Mac, being on the
same type of paper as the letter Mic now held
in his hand. The other he could only
assume was from Harm. On the corner of
the desk was a newspaper Mic recognized as the
previous day's edition of the Washington
Post. He'd seen the paper and had
read with more interest than he wanted to
admit the story about the Russian son of an
American POW from the Vietnam War who had gone
missing in Chechnya.
Looking up over his glasses at Mic, AJ
gestured to one of the chairs in front of his
desk. "Please take a seat,
Mic," he said, glancing at the paper Mic
held in his hand. "That's from
Colonel Mackenzie, I take it?"
"Yes, Sir," Mic replied sadly.
"It was delivered to me at work this
morning." He didn't see any need to
mention the fact that enclosed with the letter
had been her engagement ring, which Mic was
keeping safe on a chain around his neck, even
as he feared that she wouldn't take it back.
AJ held up one of the letters on his desk.
"This is from the Colonel as well,"
he informed Mic, "informing me that she
was on a flight last night to Russia with
Rabb." He left out Mac's quite
passionate defense of Harm's decision to
search for his brother and her equally
passionate insistence that she had to
accompany him to watch his six.
Secretly, AJ felt marginally better knowing
that Harm wasn't going to be alone, even as he
was furious that not one but two of his
officers had taken it into their heads to take
off without permission.
As the SecNav had once said, Harm caused him
more problems than anyone else under his
command, with Mac probably not that far behind
him in the problem-causing department.
But the fact that they were two of the best
lawyers in the military usually balanced out
that fact. But AJ wasn't so sure that
was going to keep them out of trouble – or
in the military – this time.
Before Mic could say anything, Tiner's voice
came over the intercom. "Sir, I've
got Clayton Webb on line two," he
announced.
AJ pressed a button and put Clay on
speakerphone so Mic could hear and participate
in the conversation. "Webb, what
the hell is going on with my people?" he
demanded.
"They've gone to Chechnya to find Sergei
Zhukov," Clay replied matter-of-factly,
refusing to let AJ ruffle his feathers and
praying that he could stay as far away from
the ex-SEAL as possible until Harm and Mac
were back from Russia. He still had very
vivid memories of a broken nose, courtesy of a
furious Admiral during their first trip to
Russia.
"I knew Rabb was going to go, come hell
or high water," AJ exclaimed.
"How the hell did Mac end up going with
him?" Harm had given no hint that
he hadn't planned on pursuing this alone.
"Mac called me the night before
last," Clay explained calmly.
"I had informed her earlier of Rabb's
decision hoping she could talk him out of it.
After talking to Harm, she asked me for his
travel information." He paused for
a long moment, then added, "AJ, I
don't think Harm knew she was going with him,
probably not until she showed up at the
airport last night."
"Let me get this straight, Webb," AJ
said. "You call Mac, hoping she'll
talk Rabb out of going and she ends up going
with him!? Explain that one to me."
"You know there was no way she was going
to stay behind if he did end up going,"
Clay pointed out. "The last time
she was in Russia, she traveled all the way to
Chechnya in a taxi to find him. And the
time before that, they traveled together
through Siberia in a gypsy wagon."
AJ glanced at Mic, trying to gage his
reaction, but Mic merely stared at the phone,
listening to what Clay was saying, seemingly
disinterested. But Mic was far from
disinterested. Mac had never gone into
detail about her first trip to Russia, merely
mentioning in passing that she and Harm had
been there before. There were obviously
a lot of things Harm and Mac had shared over
the years which Mic knew next to nothing
about.
AJ pushed his concern for Mic from his mind
and pressed Clay for more information,
"What else do you have? Any idea on
their plans now that they're there?"
"AJ, I've told you everything I
know," Clay insisted, forcing down the
concern he felt for his friends, a concern
that like AJ's was only mildly assuaged by the
fact that Mac was with Harm. "I
honestly don't think that Rabb has a solid
plan beyond going into Chechnya to find his
brother. The man's operating on
autopilot. Hell, he'd probably get
himself killed if Mac weren't there to watch
out for him."
AJ had to admit that Clay had a valid point.
After everything Harm had gone through trying
to find his father, AJ knew that this had to
be like history repeating itself to him, only
this time he hoped to have more influence over
the outcome. He remembered the haunted
look in the younger man's eyes when Harm and
Mac had returned from Svischevo after finding
that Harm's father was dead after all.
Despite his initial refusal to entertain
Harm's ideas of going after Sergei, AJ didn't
want to see that look again, which might
happen if Harm couldn't or wasn't allowed to
find his brother. "Is there any way
we can keep tabs on them," AJ asked,
"short of going in after them
ourselves?"
"Well, if I were to hazard a guess, I'd
say they're going to approach Major Sokol for
help." Clay replied, hoping that AJ
wasn't seriously suggesting the possibility
that they travel to Russia after Harm and Mac.
Ideas like that were hazardous to Clayton
Webb's health. "They're in Russia
this time without sanction. The last
time, Harm was traveling with a Russian
military officer under the guise of official
business. That made it easier for him to
get into Chechnya, a lot easier than it would
be for two Americans traveling alone, even if
one of them does speak the language.
They're going to need some kind of help to get
into Chechnya and Sokol's probably their best
bet. Either him or Captain Volkonov.
I don't think traveling in a taxi is going to
cut it this time."
AJ considered for a moment as Mic jumped in,
speaking for the first time since the call had
started, trying not to think about how Mac had
followed Harm into Chechnya during their last
trip to Russia, "Can you convince Major
Sokol or Captain Volkonov to keep us informed
if they are contacted or better yet, get them
to somehow stop Rabb and Sarah from going in
Chechnya at all?"
"Mr. Brumby, hello," Clay said,
giving no hint of surprise at Mic's presence,
not that he really cared. If Harm and
Mac couldn't straighten out their personal
lives, that was their problem. "I'd
say it's a safe bet that nothing is going to
stop Rabb and Mackenzie from going into
Chechnya, even if they have to go in on their
own. Rabb's not going to stop and Mac's
not going to let him go in without her."
Clay didn't care how Mic might construe that
last comment. If the man didn't realize
that there was a spark of something more than
friendship between Harm and Mac, the man had
to be either incredibly blind or naive.
As AJ glanced at Mic again, he marveled at how
the man was managing to hold it together under
the burden of the knowledge that his
girlfriend had essentially run off with
another man, even if the trip was purportedly
under the guise of friendship. Shaking
his head at the complicated lives of his
officers, AJ ordered, "Webb, do it.
Contact Major Sokol and Captain Volkonov.
If either of them hears from Rabb and
Mackenzie, I want to know about it
immediately. I want to know where they
are and what they are doing at all times, down
to what they're having for breakfast."
Clay felt compelled by some quirk of his
personality to make a token protest, even as
he was already pulling up the contact
information for Major Sokol on his computer.
This was AJ he was talking to after all and he
couldn't seem too cooperative. It was
bad for his image. "AJ. . . ."
he began before being cut off.
"I don't care, Webb," AJ retorted,
"just get it done. As soon as you
know anything, I want to know it. No
matter what the time. Understood?"
AJ hung up the phone before Clay had a chance
to protest further. He looked at Mic
sympathetically.
"I'm sorry, Mic," he said, removing
his glasses and rubbing the bridge of his
nose. "I know it's not much to go
on, but I'm sure they'll be fine. Mac's got a
good head on her shoulders and will do her
best to keep them out of trouble."
God knew Rabb wouldn't be thinking clearly in
this situation, AJ thought. AJ just
hoped that he was correct that they would be
fine.
"What about someone following them to
Russia?" Mic asked.
"Like yourself?" AJ asked carefully.
"And then what? Do you really think
if you did find them that you'd be able to
convince her to come home?" AJ
hated it, but he felt the question needed to
be asked.
Mic couldn't reply, knowing that in this
particular battle, there was no way he'd come
in any higher than second place to Harm.
His silence told AJ all he needed to know.
He felt for the man, but oddly AJ wondered if
this entire situation might help resolve the
tangled web of feelings between the three once
and for all.
"Mic, I'm sorry the news isn't
better," AJ said sympathetically.
"I will keep have Webb to keep me
informed and pass on anything that I learn if
you'll make sure that Tiner has numbers where
you can be reached."
"I'll make sure that he has them,"
Mic replied. He took a deep breath, then
asked somewhat hesitantly, "Sir, there is
one more thing. In her letter, Sarah. .
. .well, she hinted that she might go as far
as risking being declared UA or resigning her
commission."
AJ was surprised that Mac would have put that
in her letter to Mic. She must not have
pulled any punches in that letter as she
hadn't in the one she had left for AJ.
"And you'd like to know what I plan to
do," he finished the thought.
"I can't answer that question at this
point." Which was the truth.
AJ had one officer who had turned in an
official letter of resignation and another who
had said point blank that if he felt compelled
to do so, he should consider her letter to be
one of resignation as well. AJ the friend was
at war internally with Admiral Chegwidden the
commanding officer and it was not a pleasant
battle.
"I suppose I understand that, Sir,"
Mic replied, feeling conflicted. On the
one hand, he understood how much Mac loved her
job and the Marine Corps. On the other,
Mic couldn't help thinking that if she did
resign her commission, then she wouldn't be
constantly going out of town or out of the
country on investigations, leaving them more
time to concentrate on their relationship, if
they still had one when this was all over.
It might be a bit selfish on his part, but he
was tired of competing with her job for her
attention, among other things. He just
didn't want something like being declared UA
to affect her future chances of perhaps
getting a job at a civilian law firm. He stood
and held out his hand to AJ. "I
appreciate your help, Sir," he said as AJ
shook his hand.
"I'll let you know as soon as I hear
anything," AJ promised.
"Thank you, Sir," Mic said,
resisting the urge honed by years in the
military to come to attention and wait to be
dismissed.
As soon as Mic left, AJ leaned back in his
chair and sighed, shaking his head. He
had the feeling that the fallout from all this
was not going to be pretty, in more ways than
one.
LUBYANKA PRISON
MOSCOW, RUSSIA
"No, that doesn't surprise me,"
Sokol said into the phone in English as an
aide entered his office. Sokol motioned
to the man to wait. "I've been
keeping an eye on the situation down there and
thought that this might be coming. Yes,
I understand and I'll do what I can.
No, I don't think there's any chance of that.
Yes, I'll keep you informed." As he
hung up the phone, he turned his attention to
the aide. "Yes?" he inquired
in Russian.
"Major, you have visitors, a Harmon Rabb
and Sarah Mackenzie," the aide replied,
also in Russian.
"Send them in," Sokol ordered as he
came from behind his desk to greet Harm and
Mac. He gestured to two chairs situated
in front of his desk. "Please, have
a seat," he said in English as he leaned
against the front edge of his desk.
"I had a feeling that I'd be seeing you
sooner or later. In fact, I just got off
the phone with Clayton Webb and he requested
that I assist you as much as possible."
"Thank you," Mac replied while Harm
stared at the window behind the desk, not
really seeing beyond it. "We
appreciate any assistance you can give
us."
Sokol picked up a folder on his desk.
"I had already heard about Sergei
Zhukov's disappearance and took the liberty of
gathering some information, assuming that you
would eventually come searching for him."
Harm, his interest caught, started to reach
for the folder, but Sokol passed it to Mac.
"It's in Russian," Mac told Harm
once she'd opened the folder. A
frustrated Harm waited impatiently while she
scanned the contents. "It says that
he was flying recon for troops being
transported out of Chechnya after the military
declared victory in the fighting a few weeks
ago. Just outside Urus-Martan
south of Grozny, Chechen rebels attacked
the troop convoy with truck bombs and shot
down two of the helos flying recon. Two
of the four men in the helos are known to have
been killed, one is known to have been taken
prisoner by the rebels and the fourth is
believed to have escaped the rebels but is
still missing."
"And the fourth would be my
brother," Harm said, the first thing he'd
said since entering the office.
"Yes," Sokol replied. "It
is suspected that he may try to reach Grozny
and hook up with the Russian Army there, but
there have been incidents of kamikaze
bombings, such as the one on the troop convoy
your brother was protecting, in and around the
Grozny area plus a few bombings at the homes
and offices of various public officials.
Grozny is not a safe place these days."
"Was it ever?" Mac muttered as she
read through the rest of the information and
glanced at the enclosed map.
"Depends on whose propoganda you're
reading," Sokol replied dryly.
"So how do I get into Chechnya?"
Harm asked.
"How do we get into Chechnya, you
mean," Mac interjected.
"Sarah, Rabb is right," Sokol tried
to reason with her, even knowing that it would
probably be futile. "You shouldn't.
. . ."
"Just tell us how to get into
Chechnya," Mac insisted, shooting Harm
and Sokol both a look that dared them to argue
with her. Harm briefly considered taking
on the challenge, but decided not to do so in
front of Sokol.
Sokol picked up another folder and handed it
to Harm this time. "I took the
liberty of preparing documents for both of
you," he explained as Harm looked through
the papers, Mac leaning over as far as she
could to see. "Your cover is that
of human rights observers who have been
granted limited access to observe the
withdrawal of Russian troops and the
resettlement of refugees from
Ingushetia."
"What about Russian guards?" Mac
asked. "I can hardly imagine that
human rights observers would just be allowed
to wander Chechnya alone given the Russian
government's reluctance to cooperate with
humans rights groups in the past."
"That's not a view I would openly discuss
once you leave this room," Sokol warned
them. "Officially, you will be
escorted by a Russian Army officer whose 'job'
it is to make sure you see what the Russian
government wants you to see.
Unofficially. . . ." He walked over
to the door and opened it, motioning someone
in. Harm and Mac were only mildly
surprised to see Captain Volkonov.
"Unofficially," he continued,
"I personally selected the officer who is
to accompany you. Are either of you
carrying anything identifying you as members
of the American military?"
"No," they both replied.
"Since we're here unofficially," Mac
explained, repeating the suggestion Clay had
made, "it was suggested to leave our ID
cards and dog tags behind and travel on
tourist instead of military
passports."
"Good," Sokol proclaimed.
"The Chechens believe that most of the
West has turned a blind eye to what has been
going on there and a couple of American
military hostages would probably draw the kind
of international attention they would
like."
"What about American human rights
observers?" Mac asked.
"Oh, the Chechens love the human rights
people," Sokol replied, "if they get
a chance to talk to them and tell their
'stories'. It's the closest thing to a
safe disguise you'll find. Captain
Volkonov will be traveling in civilian guise
as well. It will make him a little less
of a target than someone traveling in the
uniform of the Russian Army. Now, the
next flight to Chechnya will not be leaving
until morning, so I've taken the liberty of
having my aide arrange hotel accomodations for
you. Alexei will take to the hotel when
you leave here. Any questions?"
"Where exactly will we be landing in
Chechnya?" Harm asked.
"The plane will take you to Grozny, since
that is where we suspect your brother will be
heading," Sokol informed them.
"There you will be met by a local
government official who will provide you with
a civilian vehicle. Any further
information we discover on your brother's
whereabouts will be passed to this same
official in a confidential packet to be
relayed to Captain Volkonov through military
channels for you to follow up on."
Thank you for the help," Mac said as she
and Harm both stood to leave.
Sokol walked over to her and kissed both her
cheeks. "Bud' zdorov," he
said, repeating his admonish from a few years
earlier to be safe. He nodded towards
Harm. "Commander, I do hope you
find your brother."
"Thank you," Harm said even though
it pained him to be grateful to Sokol. But he
had to admit that the man had come through for
them so far.
HOTEL POSOLSKAYA
MOSCOW, RUSSIA
Mac noted with detached interest that the
hotel Alexei took them to was the same one
they had stayed in during their first trip to
Russia. At any other time, the thought
might have brought back pleasant memories.
Now, it was only a reminder of what wasn't
anymore. But Mac had a bigger concern
than memories of their previous trip to
Russia. She had to find some way for her
and Harm to end up sharing a room. She
had the feeling that if separated from her,
Harm wouldn't hesitate to take off for
Chechnya without her.
Not surprisingly, that's exactly what Harm was
thinking. Captain Volkonov had left them
at Lubyanka with a promise to meet them at the
hotel at seven in the morning and with a phone
number where he could be reached in case they
needed anything before then or wanted to meet
for dinner. Harm figured that as soon as
they were settled in their rooms, he would
slip out and call Volkonov to arrange an
earlier meeting time, leaving Mac
behind.
As they approached the front desk, Mac
breathed a sigh of relief that, according to
her name tag, English was not one of the
languages that the desk clerk spoke.
That would definitely make it simple to change
their reservations. "Hello,
reservations for Rabb and Mackenzie," she
said in Russian, both of them handing over
their passports. Smiling to herself, she
added, "We'd like to change our
reservation to a single room."
"Not a problem," the clerk replied
as she pulled up the reservation. As she
checked them in, Mac struck up a conversation
with the woman, inquiring about the weather
forecast and local attractions. Later,
she could pretend to Harm that the
conversation had been about the 'messed up'
reservations. As the clerk went to get their
key, Mac turned to Harm, affecting a
frustrated sigh.
"We've got a problem," she said,
giving her words a slightly angry edge.
"Sokol's aide apparently forgot to inform
Sokol that he was only able to get a
reservation for one room. We’re going
to have to share again."
Harm shot her an angry glare, but didn't say
anything. Mac added for affect, "I
don't like it any more than you do, but they
don't have any rooms available. I guess
this hotel one of the more popular ones,
especially for foreign travelers."
Harm was frustrated, but it never occurred to
him not to take Mac at her word.
Instead, he was imagining his plan to get away
from her going down the drain. As light
a sleeper as Mac was, it would be very
difficult for him to slip out without her
knowing about it. He'd have to think
about another plan to become separated from
her before morning. He considered the
problem as he followed Mac up to their room.
As they entered their room, another problem
presented itself. There were a couple of
notable absences among the furniture in the
room – namely, the two chairs that should
have been at the table by the window, leaving
the only possible sleeping places as the bed
or the floor.
"I'll sleep on the floor," Harm
insisted, an angry edge to his voice at the
messed up reservations and the lack of chairs
in the room that he could use as a sleeping
place in a pinch.
"No need," Mac retorted, frustrated
with his attitude continually oscillating
between being angry at her and ignoring her.
Maybe this sharing a room wasn't such a good
idea, she thought. Then again, maybe the
close quarters would force them to confront
the issues between them. "The bed
is big enough for both of us if we stick close
to the edges."
She bent over and unzipped her bag, giving
Harm a nice view of her backside, which he
didn't quite succeed in ignoring.
Straightening up with a pair of sweats in her
hands, she added, "I'm going to change,
then take a nap." She entered the
bathroom, forcefully closing the door behind
her.
Harm had to admit that a nap wasn't a bad
idea, despite the fact that he had no desire
to share a bed with her, and pulled a pair of
sweats out of his own bag. He was just
finishing changing as she came out of the
bathroom. "What time did you want to go
to dinner?" she asked as she climbed into
the bed on the side closest to the door,
concerned that if he claimed that side for
himself, it might make it easier for him to
try and get past her.
"Hadn't thought about it," he
replied shortly as he walked around the bed
and climbed under the covers on the other
side. Both of them faced the edge
of the bed, their backs to each other.
Before closing his eyes, Harm couldn't resist
getting one last dig in.
"Planning to tell your fiancée about
sharing a bed with another man?" he
taunted her.
What has happened to you, Harm, she wondered
as she sighed sadly, refusing to dignify his
angry question with an answer. Either he
had been so good at ignoring her that he
hadn't noticed that she wasn't wearing the
ring or he had noticed and didn't care.
Mac didn't really care to contemplate the
ramifications of either scenario. As she
closed her eyes, she couldn't prevent the
single tear that slipped down her cheek.
THE NEXT MORNING
RUSSIAN MILITARY TRANSPORT PLANE
SOMEWHERE OVER SOUTHERN RUSSIA
After a tense dinner and night, Harm and Mac
were both very tired and restless when they
got up to meet Captain Volkonov, neither
having gotten much sleep the night before.
With hardly a word between them, they changed
into the cold weather gear Volkonov had
brought for them and departed for Vnukova
Military Air Field, where they boarded the
flight that would take them to Grozny.
They were seated at the very rear of the
plane, where they could discuss their plans
with little chance of being overheard.
"Major Sokol has arranged for a vehicle
for us to use," Volkonov was telling
them, holding up a map of the region while
Harm and Mac looked over his shoulders.
"However, there are problems. Many
roads, where there are roads, are in bad
repair. Also, many have been
mined. The local garrison in Grozny will
provide us with another map which shows the
specific areas they believe to be mined.
Anyway, if Sergeant Zhukov is trying to stay
out of sight, he would probably stay off the
roads with the renewed fighting in the
area."
"Where exactly did Sergei's helicopter go
down?" Mac asked.
"Here," Volkonov replied, pointing
to a mark on the map. He moved his
finger as he pointed out the cities.
"Here is Grozny to the north and
Uras-Martan just south of where he went down.
Since most of the troops moving north, it is
believed that he will head north to
Grozny."
"But wouldn't Uras-Martan be
closer?" Harm asked, studying the map.
"Only if he wanted to be captured,"
was the reply. "It's a small
village and there's not much of an Army
presence there. And the Chechens would
love to get their hands on a Russian soldier
they could make an example of."
Harm and Mac both shuddered at the thought.
Considering the reports they had heard of how
Russians had tortured and killed Chechens,
neither doubted that the Chechens would be any
less brutal in return.
"About how long would it take to travel
on foot from where he went down to
Grozny?" Mac asked.
"If he could walk straight into Grozny,
less than half a day," Volkonov replied,
"even at this time of year. But he
has been missing for four days. Anything could
have happened – he got lost, had to divert
to avoid the rebels, been captured or
killed."
"He's still alive," Harm said with
an air of certainty.
"Perhaps," Volkonov murmured, a bit
more realistic.
Mac smiled, trying to assure them all.
"If Sergei's anything like his father and
brother," she stated, "then he has
to be alive. Stubbornness and
determination in the face of impossible odds
are, I'm convinced, Rabb family
characteristics."
A voice called Captain Volkonov's name from
the front of the plane and he excused himself,
leaving Harm and Mac alone. Tentatively,
afraid of being rebuffed, Mac reached out and
took one of Harm's gloved hands in hers.
"Harm, we will find him," she said.
"We found where your father had been,
didn't we, despite the odds? We just
have to have faith."
"I know," he replied softly,
surprising her by not pulling away.
"I am just. . . .I don't want this to
turn out like that did."
She squeezed his hand comfortingly and
continued, "It's okay to be scared. I am,
too. But Harm. . . ." she trailed
off, uncertain about the wisdom of getting
into touchy areas, but she forged ahead,
"I know a lot has happened between us and
much of it recently hasn't been good.
But you can count on me to listen and to be
there for you, even when you try to push me
away. I. . . .care too much about you to
let you push me away. You've always been
able to count on me and you always will."
Harm looked down at their joined hands, not
quite sure how to respond. Why did
everything have to be so complicated?
"I guess maybe it is a good thing that
the Admiral sent you after me again," he
admitted reluctantly.
Mac smiled at the admission, seeing it as
progress, however small. But she felt
compelled to correct him. "Harm,
the Admiral didn't send me after you,"
she said.
Harm looked up sharply, but before he could
ask for clarification, Volkonov rejoined them.
"We'll be landing in about thirty
minutes," he told them, folding the map
and stashing it back in his bag.
"We'll be met at the air field by an
assistant to the mayor who will be our
contact. In addition to the vehicle,
he'll also provide us with sleeping bags,
blankets and supplies in addition to any
updated information on Sergeant Zhukov's
whereabouts."
"Captain, thank you for your
assistance," Harm said, offering his
hand. "I can't imagine this mission
is officially sanctioned by the Russian
Army."
"No," he replied, shaking the
offered hand firmly, "but when Major
Sokol asked, I was glad to help. You
helped me, Commander, when I went after
General Krylov."
"Where is Krylov, by the way?" Mac
asked. She hadn't heard anything since
they had left Russia the last time.
"At Lubyanka still," Volkonov told
her, "trying to trade interesting stories
for his life, but I expect he will eventually
be executed as an example of what happens to
traitors." Harm and Mac shuddered,
remembering how that had nearly been Sergei's
fate. Both prayed that they would be
able to save him this time.
Mac was looking out the window as they
landed at the makeshift air strip just outside
Grozny. "My God," she
exclaimed as she got her first look at
Chechnya's capital. "There's not
much left to the city." The sight
before her reminded her of photos she had seen
of bombed out German cities after World War
II. Not even Bosnia had looked this bad.
"No," Volkonov said. "The
Russian Army even had difficulty finding a
suitable building to house the commandant,
given the damage to most of the buildings.
Many of the people live in basements.
The government is saying it probably will not
rebuild, leaving the city as an
example."
Both Harm and Mac remained quiet, not wanting
to risk getting into an idealogical debate
with the man who was risking so much to help
them. All three were silent as the plane
came to a stop and the other passengers
disembarked. Once everyone else was out,
they made their way to the front of the plane
and down the steps to the ground.
A man in his mid-forties stepped forward in a
long coat and the traditional fur cap.
"Dabro pazhalavat Groznyj," he said,
holding out his hand to Captain Volkonov.
"Menia suvat Vasili Ivanovich
Meinov." <Welcome to Grozny. My
name is Vasili Ivanovich Meinov.>
"Zdrastvuitye," Volkonov replied,
shaking the man's hand. "Menia
suvat Kapitan Andrei Nikolaiovich Volkonov.
Eta Harmon Rabb i Sarah Mackenzie."
<Hello. My name is Captain Andrei
Nikolaiovich Volkonov. This is Harmon
Rabb and Sarah Mackenzie.>
"Zdrastvuitye," Vasili said as he
shook Harm's hand then kissed Mac's cheek,
eyeing her up and down. Noticing the
man's interest, Harm put an arm around Mac's
waist as a subtle message. Shrugging, Vasili
led them to a nearby car, Harm and Mac
climbing into the back seat while Volkonov got
into the front seat. Mac tried not to
read too much into the arm that had been put
around her, but she couldn't help taking it as
another sign that maybe all wasn't lost on
that front.
"Nikokoy vadityel'?" Volkonov asked
as Vasili drove away from the air strip.
<No driver?>
"Moy vadityel' ubival v bombe mashyne na
proshlay nedele," he replied. Harm
looked at Mac questioningly.
Mac felt slightly comforted that Harm appeared
to be warming up towards her. Softly, she
explained, "Captain Volkonov asked where
Mr. Meinov's driver is and he said that the
driver was killed in a car bombing last
week."
"You do not speak Russian, Mr.
Rabb?" Vasili asked, switching to
English.
"No, but I'm trying to learn," Harm
replied, only mildly surprised that the man
spoke English. He had picked up some
Russian language books after his last trip,
but after two months, he was still having a
hard time getting past the Cyrillic alphabet.
"But Mac speaks Russian."
"Who is Mac?"
"That's me," Mac interjected.
"It's the short form of my family name.
You speak very good English, Mr. Meinov."
"Thank you and please, call me
Vasi," he replied. "I worked
in the Russian embassy in London for a
year."
"How'd you end up here?" Harm asked,
astonished at the change from London to
Grozny.
"The government tells me to go, I
go," he replied, shrugging.
"The government needed Russian officials
down here. We do not get to chose where
we go. Much like the American military
officer who comes to Chechnya to search for
his brother."
Harm and Mac looked startled that Vasi
apparently knew so much about them. Seeing
their expressions in the rear view mirror, he
explained, "Major Sokol and I went to
university together. We are like
brothers. That is why he asked that I
help you. You can trust me as you would
trust him."
Harm looked like he was about to say something
to that when Mac shook her head.
Lowering her voice so that only he could hear
her, she reminded him, "We wouldn't have
gotten this far without Mark's help,
remember?"
"True," Harm admitted reluctantly.
He hated having to rely on Sokol for anything,
but he would do anything to find his
brother.
JAG HEADQUARTERS
FALLS CHURCH, VIRGINIA
"I've just heard from Major Sokol,"
Clay announced. "He heard from his
contact in Grozny. Harm and Mac are on
their way with Captain Volkonov to the site
where Sergei's helicopter went down.
From there, they plan to see if they can track
Sergei back towards Grozny."
"How does Major Sokol plan to keep track
of three people in the middle of a war
zone?" Mic demanded.
"They have a battery powered radio with
them that will allow them to keep in touch
with Vasili Meinov, their contact in
Grozny," Clay replied. "That
way they can be passed information that may
help them find Sergei or they can radio out
for help. Unfortunately, there is
another problem."
"What is it, Webb?" AJ asked,
slightly exasperated.
"Despite Russian claims of victory and
the beginning of a troop pullout," Clay
reported, "there has been increased
fighting in and around Grozny. The
rebels have been bombing troop convoys,
government offices in the city, the cars of
public officials, homes of Russian
officials." Mic blanched at the
thought of Mac being caught in the middle of
that, despite her military training and time
in Bosnia. AJ looked angry that Clay was
just now telling them this.
"Webb, I. . . ." AJ began angrily,
stopping when his intercom buzzed. He
pressed a button. "Tiner, I thought
I asked not to be disturbed."
"Sorry, Sir, but I've got the SecNav on
line one," Tiner replied.
Punching another button, AJ picked up the
handset and said, his voice calmer, "Good
morning, Mr. Secretary. What can. . .
."
"AJ, I just returned from the Far East
and read an interesting story in the Washington
Post about an MIA Russian Army soldier who
just happens to be the son of an American
Vietnam War POW," the SecNav said.
"Now, if this story is true, considering
the events of a few years ago, I wanted to
make sure that this soldier's brother and his
partner don't get any ideas into their heads
about taking another 'vacation' in
Moscow."
This was the moment AJ had been dreading, when
he would have to explain Harm and Mac's
absence. Taking a deep breath, he
replied carefully, "The story is true,
Mr. Secretary. Sergeant Sergei Zhukov
apparently is the son of Lieutenant Harmon
Rabb, Sr. However, Commander Rabb and
Colonel Mackenzie have been gone on assignment
since before that article came out.
Unless someone called and informed them, which
I know I didn't, then they probably don't even
know what has happened."
"Good, let's try and keep it that
way," SecNav said, hanging up.
Mic breathed a sigh of relief. He saw
AJ's misdirection of the SecNav as an
indication that he wasn't quite prepared to
accept Harm and Mac's resignations yet.
"Thank you, Sir," he said as AJ hung
up his phone.
"Don't thank me yet, Brumby," AJ
retorted. "I'm only willing to give
them leeway up to a point. I still
haven't decided what I'm going to do, so I'm
not about to go around telling people they've
resigned."
"AJ, if that's all, then I need to get
back to Langley," Clay said,
standing.
"Webb. . . ."
"I know and I will contact you as soon as
I know more," he replied. As soon
as he left, AJ studied Mic, whom he thought
looked haggard. "How are you doing,
Mic?"
"I'm worried about Sarah being in the
middle of a war," he admitted.
"I didn't get much sleep last night,
worrying about what might happen. And I
wish. . . ." he trailed off, looking at
AJ sadly. "I wish I could
understand why she felt she had to do this,
especially now that, well, two days before she
left, she had finally moved the ring
over."
AJ was shocked. He hadn't known that and
the knowledge added a whole new dimension to
the situation. But he had long since
stopped trying to figure out this particular
tangled web. "Normally, I would say
congratulations," AJ began, "but
that hardly seems to fit right now. As
for why, I don't think anyone can really
explain Harm and Mac's relationship, maybe not
even them." And maybe that's
part of the problem here, he thought.
Mic considered for a moment, then asked,
"Sir, can you tell me about their first
trip to Russia? Mr. Webb was talking
about it yesterday and. . . .well, I thought
it might help me understand."
AJ hesitated. This was something Mic
should really be discussing with Mac, but she
wasn't here. Seeing the determination in
Mic's eyes, he asked, "Are you familiar
with what happened to Rabb's father?"
"He was a pilot shot down in Vietnam and
declared MIA, as I recall," Mic replied,
remembering what little Mac had told
him.
"Yes, shot down Christmas Eve 1969,"
AJ confirmed. "While Harm always
hoped that his father had survived, he became
convinced of that in late 1997. He and
Mac had gone to California to investigate a
body found in the hull of the USS Hornet,
which was being scrapped. The body was
that of an officer who had been killed during
the last days of the Vietnam War by a
Vietnamese officer who was being transported
on board ship. The murder was over a
book listing the names of American MIAs and
POWs who had been transported to Russia during
and after the war."
"I take it Harm's father's name was in
this book?" Mic asked.
"So Rabb said," AJ replied.
"The book was stolen from him and Mac
after they escaped a fire on board the Hornet.
The thief was an undercover ex-KGB agent who
was looking to destroy the book the keep the
truth from coming to light."
"And that would be Major Sokol," Mic
concluded, recalling what Mac had told him of
the man's background.
"Yes," AJ confirmed. He took
off his glasses and tossed them on the desk
with a sigh. "Rabb began developing
contacts with Russia, determined to find his
father now that he knew where to look,
assuming the information in the book was true.
A few months later, he was approached by a man
offering to sell him information on his
father's whereabouts. The man ended up
murdered by another ex-KGB agent, a Colonel
Parlovsky, but no one knew that at the time
and the FBI suspected Harm. The Navy was
conducting an Article 32 hearing when he
escaped from the brig. He went to Mac,
who had resigned to work for Dalton Lowne's
firm." AJ paused, not sure how much
Mic knew about Lowne.
Mic nodded, indicating he was aware of who
Dalton was. AJ continued, "Mac
ended up taking over his defense and got him
off. That was the last I heard about it
for several months, until Harm went to
California supposedly to see his mother.
While there, he met with a man, a former
Russian Air Force officer, who had known his
father in Russia. Apparently, after the
Article 32 hearing, Colonel Parlovsky sent him
a photo of his father taken in 1980 at a rail
station in Siberia. Harm asked for leave
to go to Russia to follow up. Since she
speaks Russian, I sent Mac with him."
AJ noticed Mic start at that piece of
information, but the other man didn't say
anything. AJ went on, "They were
approached by Major Sokol, who was convinced
to find the KGB file on the senior Rabb.
The file indicated that he had escaped shortly
after the photo was taken in '80 from a place
called Beloyka. The only flight there
was cancelled, so Harm and Mac got their hands
on a MiG-29, intending to fly to Beloyka
themselves. Only someone set them up to
steal that MiG and ordered them shot down so
they couldn't discover the truth. They
ejected, were rescued by gypsies and traveled
to Perm, intending to take the train to
Beloyka. But they were discovered in
Perm by Major Sokol, who promised to help them
find Harm's father.
"The Russian put out a story that they
had been taking a pleasure ride in the MiG
when they had run into a flock of geese,
causing them to crash into a lake. Not
buying the story, I traveled to Russia myself
and was there when Sokol brought them back to
Moscow. Turns out Parlovsky was the one
who had ordered them shot down, but before he
died, he told Harm to look in a village called
Svischevo. Harm discovered that his
father had died two years after his escape,
saving Sergei's mother from Russian soldiers.
That was apparently the end of it, until Harm
discovered his brother's existence during his
last trip to Russia."
"I see," Mic said, although that was
only partially true. He certainly had a
greater understanding of Harm's determination
to find his brother. Harm's obsession
made sense. What Mic still couldn't
understand was why Mac would go so far for
him. It gave him a lot to think about.
"Sir, I appreciate your taking the time
to tell me this."
"I'm sorry, Mic," AJ said sincerely.
"I hope you find the answers you're
looking for."
"Thank you, Sir," Mic replied, lost
in thought as he stood and left the office.
He went downstairs and walked outside to the
courtyard, brushing the snow off before
sitting at a table, trying to gather his
thoughts.
So many things were going through his mind as
he processed the story AJ had just told him.
Why would she go to such lengths for Harm, a
man who was supposedly just a friend?
Even more importantly, would she do the same
for him? That question bothered Mic the
most of all. Granted, he didn't get into
the same types of dangerous situations that
Harm did, but it would be nice to know that
the woman he loved and wanted to marry would
go to the ends of the earth for him.
Right now, he couldn't honestly say that he
could answer that question in the affirmative.
"Commander Brumby?" a woman's voice
asked. Mic looked up to see Harriet
walking towards him, her hands stuffed in her
coat pockets. "Isn't a little cold
to be sitting out here?"
Mic stood and gave her a warm hug when she
reached him. "It's just Mic
now," he reminded her. "How
are you doing, Harriet?"
She shrugged as she pulled away and sat down
opposite him after brushing off another chair.
"Okay, I guess," she replied, her
voice distant. "I just. . . .there
are days when it still doesn't seem real.
And after the trial. . . ." she trailed
off, looking down at her lap.
"I'm sure you and Bud will be able to
work things out," Mic said, trying to
offer what comfort he could. "You
two have a good marriage, the kind I've always
wanted to have."
Harriet looked up at him, sympathy in her
eyes. "You're thinking about
Colonel Mackenzie, aren't you, Sir?" she
asked. "I know she went to
Russia."
Mic looked at her, surprised. He hadn't
been aware that anyone knew outside of him,
Clay, AJ and presumably Renee. Harriet
explained, "She called just before she
left. She wasn't sure, with your work,
if you would be able to take care of Jingo by
yourself and asked Bud and I to help."
Mic suspected there was a little more to it,
that Mac had called Bud and Harriet because
she suspected, after the way she left, that he
wouldn't want to take care of Jingo. But
he wasn't about to tell Harriet that.
"Jingo's fine," he told her.
"I took him over to my place until she
gets back."
"That's good, Sir," she replied,
looking down at her lap again.
"So what are you doing here,
Harriet?" he asked.
"Well, my parents are in town for a few
days and wanted to spend some time with
AJ," she replied. "I was. . .
.I guess I needed something to keep me busy,
so I asked the Admiral if it would be okay if
I came in and did some work today."
"I guess I can understand the
feeling," he said. He realized his
mistake and tried to correct, "I'm sorry.
I can't really understand, but. . . ."
"It's okay, Sir," Harriet assured
him. "I know what you meant.
But at least you know Colonel Mackenzie will
be coming home to you."
"Yeah, maybe," Mic replied softly.
He paused a moment, then asked, "Harriet,
you've known Sarah and Rabb a long time,
right?"
"Yes, Sir, four years now," she
replied. "I met them and Bud not
long after Bud and the Colonel had transferred
to JAG. I had taken Bud's place on the
Sea Hawk as PAO and they were there on an
investigation."
Mic considered, wondering how to ask his next
question. There was still so much he
needed to know. Finally, he asked,
"Harriet, did you ever think. . . .that
there might be something between them?"
"The Commander and the Colonel?"
Harriet asked, a little stunned. Surely,
he wasn't suggesting. . . . "Sir,
you don't think. . . ?"
Mic realized what Harriet was thinking and how
his question had sounded and rushed to
rephrase. "No, I don't mean like
that," he assured her. "I
think that I know Sarah well enough to know
that she wouldn't. And, I may not like
him, but Rabb doesn't strike me as the type
either. No, I meant more in the way of
unrequited feelings."
"Well," Harriet began, feeling
distinctly uncomfortable. Even if he was
almost engaged to Mac, she didn't feel
comfortable discussing something so personal
about Harm and Mac with him. "I
really don't feel comfortable discussing this,
Sir."
"Harriet, the woman I love has gone
halfway around the world with another man on a
crusade," Mic exclaimed, slapping the
table in frustration. "I don't
understand why that happened, why she would do
something like that. I need to
understand that."
At Harriet's startled glance, he apologized,
"I'm sorry, Harriet. I know that
you're being loyal to your friends and I don't
fault you for that. I just. . . ."
Harriet reached out and put a hand on his arm.
"I know, Sir," she said.
"I'm sorry that I can't help you. I
really wish I could. I just don't know
what to say to you."
"Thanks anyway, Harriet," he said.
"Look, you should probably get to work.
I'm sorry to keep you."
"That's okay, Sir," she replied as
she got up. "I really do hope
everything works out for you."
"Thank you, Harriet," Mic
replied. "It did help just having
someone listen."
Harriet managed a small smile for him.
"I'll see you later, Sir," she
replied as she turned and left to enter the
building.
As Mic watched her leave, he turned over their
conversation in his mind. He certainly
didn't fault her for not answering his
questions. He'd seen and heard how close
Harriet and Bud were to Harm and Mac.
After all, Harm and Mac had stood up for them
at their wedding, were godparents to little AJ
and would have been godparents to baby Sarah
had she lived.
And truth be told, Mic knew deep down what the
answer to his question was. There was
something between Harm and Mac that went
beyond mere friendship or even beyond the
close relationship of best friends. The
question was how far and how deep did their
feelings for each other run? And could
Mic love Mac enough to overcome that?
OFF HIGHWAY M29
NEAR URAS-MARTAN, CHECHNYA
As they had neared the crash site, Volkonov
had to pull their car off the road and the
three officers hiked a kilometer on foot
through a forested area to the crash site.
Mac gasped when they got their first look at
the two downed helicopters in a small meadow,
now little more than burned out twisted hulks
of metal. "It's amazing that anyone
was able to survive this," she said to
herself.
Harm was close enough to hear and jumped in to
explain what he saw in the wreckage.
"Well, depends on when the fire started,
while in the air or after they were on the
ground," he explained, careful to control
his emotions, as he walking around the
wreckage, careful to stay away from the sharp,
jagged edges of metal. He pointed to one
of the vehicles, the more badly damaged of the
two. "This helo looks like it was
hit by a missile almost dead center, broke
apart while still in the air. The pilots
probably never had a chance." He
looked at Volkonov, who had the accident
report, for confirmation.
"That is correct," he agreed,
reading the report. "Both pilots in
that helicopter were killed."
Mac watched Harm carefully, knowing this was
not easy for him. It could just as
easily been his brother in that helicopter.
As he looked over the other vehicle, the one
his brother had been flying, he paused –
whether to collect his thoughts or control his
emotions, Mac wasn't sure. Probably
both.
Finally, Harm continued with his observations,
his voice steely. Mac could sense the
emotional turmoil just below the surface.
"This helo was hit near the tail and
judging from the damage, Sergei was able to
control it enough to attempt to land. It
hit the ground tail first. The cockpit
sustained the least damage, which gave Sergei
and his co-pilot a chance to escape."
"Sergei did escape, but his co-pilot was
reported as being captured, right?" Mac
asked, looking at Volkonov. When he
nodded, she continued, "So how did they
get separated? I would have thought they
would have stuck together."
"I don't know," Harm admitted.
"It's possible the co-pilot was injured
badly enough that he couldn't travel and
Sergei went to get help, possibly hoping to
catch the convoy they had been protecting.
He may not have known that they had been
bombed as well."
"And while Sergei was gone, the rebels
showed up," Mac concluded.
"How many survived from the convoy?"
Volkonov checked the report and replied,
"Six men out of fifty-two. And all
of them were rescued by Russian soldiers from
another convoy."
"But they didn't find Sergei," Mac
said. "So how do they know that
Sergei wasn't captured but the co-pilot
was?"
"The Chechens have bragged about
it," Volkonov told her. "I
wouldn't be surprised to hear soon that they
have executed him."
"So Sergei probably either got lost
trying to find the convoy or he came close to
the rebels himself and is on the run from
them," Mac pointed out.
"Generally, pilots have a good sense of
direction," Harm interjected, "but
getting lost is a possibility if he had some
kind of head injury or was disoriented by the
crash. But I doubt it. If he was
able to make a relatively controlled landing,
then those possibilities are unlikely.
He's likely on the run from the rebels.
What we need to do now is see if we can find
anything that will give us a clue in what
direction he took off in."
All three spread out around the crash site,
looking for blood, fabric, footprints in the
snow, anything. After a moment, Mac
walked over to Harm. "Harm, I need to go,
um, take care of personal business," she
told him. "I'll be back in a few
minutes."
Harm nodded, but warned her, "Don't go
too far. And you have a weapon,
right?"
Mac pulled a pistol out of her coat pocket.
"Taken care of," she replied before
turning and heading into the forest.
Harm returned to the task at hand and after
another moment, called to Volkonov,
"Captain, over here."
"You found something, Commander?" he
asked as he headed towards Harm.
"Blood and some footprints," he
replied, motioning with his hand.
"Heading off in that direction."
"It's possible that the co-pilot had a
weapon and managed to fire at the rebels
before being captured," Volkonov pointed
out. "Or the blood could be from
the co-pilot as the rebels carried him
off."
"True," Harm admitted reluctant.
"But wouldn't there be more sets of
prints if that were the case? So far,
it's all we have to go on unless you found
something."
Volkonov shook his head.
"Nothing," he confirmed.
"Then I suggest as soon as Mac gets back
that we get some supplies from the car and
head off in the direction of those
tracks," Harm said. He glanced up
at the sky and the flakes that were beginning
to fall. "Damn, if we get more than
just a dusting, it would probably cover up any
evidence."
He stood, still looking down at the blood and
tracks. If the blood was Sergei's, he
could be hurt – and badly. Even if he
hadn't been captured yet, in this weather,
hypothermia was a possibility. And he'd
already been out here for four days.
Harm's head jerked up and his blood ran cold
when a feminine scream split the air.
Volkonov grabbed Harm's
shoulder before he could run off in the
direction of the scream. "We need
to be as quiet as possible," he
cautioned. "We do not know how many
men there are out there." He pulled
his pistol out of his pocket and checked the
clip. "I know how you feel about
the Colonel, but we need to be careful not to
get us or her killed."
Harm took a deep breath and nodded, readying
his own gun. He knew Volkonov was right.
He just had to trust that Mac protect herself
until they could get to her. "Come
on, let's go," he said tersely.
As quickly as possible while being quiet, they
moved in the direction from which they had
heard the scream, Harm resisting the urge to
tear through the trees like a bull when they
heard another scream. Nearing a small
frozen creek, they could make out through the
trees Mac and two men, one of whom was
pressing Mac against a tree while the other
man egged him on in a language that Harm
didn't recognize as Russian. Harm was
only slightly relieved that Mac was doing her
best to hold him off. Hiding behind a
tree, Volkonov right behind him, he made a
visual survey of the scene, noting that the
spectator was holding a gun.
"We need to take them both out at the
same time," Harm said. "One of
them has a gun. You take the spectator.
I'll take the one who's got Mac. On my
signal."
Volkonov nodded his assent, realizing just why
Harm wanted that man for himself. He
moved off slightly to position himself behind
another tree, lifting the gun as Harm did the
same. 'Come on, Mac. Push him
away. Let me get a clean shot.'
His hands tightened around his gun when she
kneed the man and he responded by knocking her
head against the tree. Mac slumped from
the impact and Harm saw his opportunity.
"Now," he said. A split second
later, two shots echoed in the cold winter air
and both assailants fell to the ground.
Harm tore out from behind the tree towards
Mac. Before she could completely rise,
he pulled her into his arms, holding her tight
against his chest while Volkonov checked both
men. "They're dead," he
announced, but Harm wasn't paying attention,
his only concern the woman in his arms.
He pulled back slightly and looked at her, his
eyes going wide at the scrapes and abrasions
on the side of her face where she had hit the
tree. "Are you okay? Did they hurt
you?" he asked, his voice
concerned.
"I'm fine," she insisted,
breathing heavily. "I was managing
to hold them off while waiting for you to get
here."
"There's a creek. Let's see if we
can get those scratches cleaned up," he
said, leading her towards the creek. He
set her down on a rock on the bank after
brushing the snow off and pulling a
handkerchief out of his pocket, he squatted by
the creek, pounding on the thin ice with his
fist until it broke. He dipped the
handkerchief in the freezing water, then
returned to Mac.
"Sorry, but this is going to be
cold," he apologized as he pressed the
cloth to her face, gently wiping away the dirt
and grit from the scratches. She
shivered a little at the icy feeling.
"You know, Marine, I've never known you
to scream like that." He attempted
to keep his voice light and teasing, trying to
keep her mind off what might have happened,
even as those thoughts consumed him inside.
But Mac wasn't fooled. She could hear
the turmoil just beneath the surface of his
voice, could see it in the tense way he held
himself.
"Harm, I'm fine," she insisted
strongly, her hands on his cheeks. She
gazed into his eyes and almost smiled at the
concern she saw there. "Anyway, the
scream was for your benefit. They
surprised me, getting a hold of my gun before
I knew what was happening, and I knew I had a
better chance of fighting them off with your
help. I didn't want to call your name
and let them know there were others out here.
I wanted to give you the element of surprise.
As far as they knew, my scream was a typical
female reaction."
"Only you could make screaming sound
logical," he replied, managing a small
smile as he continued wiping her face.
"You don't know how scared I was when I
heard you scream."
Mac chuckled at the admission.
"Harmon Rabb, scared?" she teased.
"I think that's the first time I've heard
you utter those words."
"Don't tell anyone," he shot back
with a genuine grin. "My
reputation, you know. Do you have a
handkerchief on you so I can dry this?"
She pulled one out of her coat and handed it
to him. He set the wet cloth to the side
and used the dry one to wipe the water off her
face, drying it. "We found some tracks
that we want to follow near the crash
site," he told her. "We need
to go back to the car for supplies. When
we do, we need to see if we've got some
antibiotic ointment to put on these scratches.
How does the rest of you feel?"
"A little sore," she admitted,
"but I'll be okay, thanks to you."
She leaned forward and kissed his cheek in
gratitude.
As she pulled back, he turned his head
slightly and as a result, their lips were
nearly touching. For a long moment, they
just stared at each other, both thinking how
easy it would be to close the distance.
Not far away, they heard a tree branch snap
under the weight of snow on top of it and they
pulled away from each other, diverting their
eyes, the moment broken. Quickly, they stood
and made their way back to Volkonov, who was
still with the bodies.
"We need to get out of here,"
Volkonov urged. "There could easily
be more rebels out here."
"Agreed," Harm said.
"Let's get back to the car and get our
gear and head after Sergei.
Captain, how much daylight would you say we
have left?"
"Depends on the weather," he
replied. "Sunset is about two hours
away, but if the weather gets worse, it will
get dark quickly."
"Then let's get moving," Harm said,
taking off in the direction they had come from
with long strides, Mac and Volkonov hurrying
to catch up to him. "I want to get as far
as possible before we have to set up camp for
the night."
After a few minutes, they reached the car and
while Harm pulled out the first aid kit to
tend to Mac's face, Volkonov began pulling
their gear out of the trunk. "Harm,
I have to ask," Mac began as he smeared
ointment on her scratches. "Are you
sure that these tracks are Sergei's?"
Harm was quiet for a moment before answering.
Finally, he said, "Absolutely sure, no.
But right now it's the only lead we've
got."
JAG HEADQUARTERS
FALLS CHURCH, VIRGINIA
"AJ, we've got a problem," Clay
declared as he rushed into AJ's office, Tiner
close behind him.
"Sorry, Sir," Tiner began.
"He. . . ."
"That's fine, Tiner," AJ said,
looking up from a report he had been reading.
He stared at Clay impassively, while inside
his concern for his officers intensified.
Tiner came to attention and said, "Aye,
Sir," before leaving the office, closing
the door behind him.
"Has something happened to Harm and Mac,
Webb?" AJ asked.
"No, last I heard from Sokol was that
they found what they think is Sergei's trail
and are following it," Clay assured him,
taking a seat in front of AJ's desk.
"It's almost nightfall over there, so
they're probably getting ready to set up camp
for the night. No, this problem is
closer to home."
"Webb. . . ." AJ said in a warning
tone, not in the mood for the spy's usual
games.
"I have a contact at the State Department
who has contacts at the Russian Embassy,"
he continued calmly, refusing to let AJ rattle
him. "The embassy received a visa
application about an hour ago."
"Brumby," AJ said, sighing.
He'd been half expecting something like
this.
"AJ, things are tenuous at best over
there," Clay said. "If I could
have stopped Harm and Mac from going over
there, I would have. But I know that
they can handle themselves in a tight
situation. Brumby's going over there is
only likely to get someone killed, maybe
himself, maybe Rabb and Mackenzie. The
man doesn't have the type of experience with
these types of situations that they do."
"As if this situation couldn't get any
worse," AJ muttered, rubbing the bridge
of his nose. Aside from Mic's lack of
experience with these situations, AJ knew that
Mac would not take kindly to Mic coming over
there to drag her back home. "I'll
see if I can talk to Brumby, convince him to
let things play out, but I can't guarantee
anything. What about from the embassy's
end? Could they be persuaded to deny the
application?"
"I'm already working that angle,"
Clay replied. "But if it is denied,
I don't want him to get some crazy idea about
trying to sneak into the country or going
through the Australians for help getting in.
The best bet is to talk to him and get him to
reconsider."
"I'll talk to him," AJ agreed.
He changed subjects back to the events in
Chechnya. "Earlier you said they
found a trail they think is Sergeant
Zhukov's."
"They went to the crash site and
apparently Rabb found a trail of blood and
some footprints heading off into the
woods," Clay explained.
"They're following them now."
"The odds that they are on the right
track?" AJ asked.
"Unknown," Clay replied.
"The tracks could be Sergei's or they
could have been made when the co-pilot was
captured by the Chechens. Or they could
be completely unrelated to the crash, left by
someone else passing through the area.
But right now it's their only lead."
"It's like looking for a needle in a
haystack," AJ muttered. "A
haystack in the middle of winter in a war
zone."
"So was the first trip to Russia a needle
in a haystack," Clay reminded him.
"Keep me informed," AJ
ordered.
Clay stood to leave. "AJ. . .
." he began, then paused. He wasn't
good at talking about his emotions.
"You once said that Harm and Mac are the
closest thing to friends I've got. You
don't get a chance to make many friends in my
line of work. Trust that I am doing
everything possible to make sure they come
back alive."
AJ nodded, surprised at the admission.
Maybe years of friendship with Harm and Mac
were mellowing the man out. Silently,
Clay left the office as AJ stood and grabbed
his coat and cover off the coat rack.
Striding into the outer office, he informed
Tiner, "I'm going out for an early
lunch."
"Yes, Sir," Tiner replied, not
asking any questions as usual.
MIC'S APARTMENT
WASHINGTON DC
Mic was busy throwing clothes into a suitcase
when his doorbell rang. Muttering a curse at
the interrupt, he came out of the bedroom and
threw the door open, surprised to find AJ
standing on the other side.
"Admiral," he said, startled,
"please come in."
"Thank you," AJ replied, stepping
into the apartment. "Nice
place."
"Thank you, Sir," Mic replied,
curious as to the reason for the visit.
He didn't think the Admiral had come by in the
middle of the work day just to comment on his
home. He didn't think anything was wrong
with Mac or AJ would have said something right
away. "Can I get you anything,
Admiral?"
"Some coffee would be great," AJ
replied as Mic led him to the couch. AJ
sat down and scratched Jingo, who had trotted
over to him, behind the ears. "It's cold
outside. Wouldn't be surprised if we see
some snow."
"Hmmm," Mic murmured as he went into
the kitchen, returning a moment later with two
cups of coffee, handing one to AJ. Mic
sat down on the couch and looked at AJ
expectantly. "What can I do for
you, Admiral?"
"I understand you're planning on taking a
trip," AJ began, jumping right into the
subject.
"That's right, Sir," Mic replied.
"I'm going to Russia. I plan to
bring Sarah home."
Oh, boy, AJ thought. "Mic," he
said, "what exactly is your plan, aside
from bringing Mac home?"
Mic hesitated and AJ could tell that he hadn't
thought much beyond that point. Shaking
his head, AJ went on, keeping his tone
friendly, "Mic, it's winter over there
and there's a war going on. You can't
just wander in there, get Mac – assuming she
would even agree to it - and wander back out.
With thinking like that you're only likely to
get yourself hurt."
"And what about Sarah?" Mic pointed
out, frustrated. "What about her
getting hurt or worse, following Rabb on his
damned crusade?"
Taking a deep breath, AJ asked, "Mic,
remember what I asked you the last time they
were in Russia? You need to think about
that. If Mac were over there, let's say
on official business, would you be having the
same reaction, ready to fly over there and
'rescue' her? Or is it just the fact
that she's over there with him?"
Mic was silent, but AJ had a feeling he
already knew the answer to the question.
He decided to change tactics, realizing that
Mic was not likely to be persuaded as long as
the emphasis was on the fact that Mac was over
there with Harm. "Tell me,
Mic," he said, "just what kind of
experience do you have in situations like
that? Have you ever been in a war zone
or gone on field exercises in the middle of
harsh winter conditions?"
Mic just stared at him for a long moment, then
reluctantly shook his head. "But that
doesn't mean I can't handle myself over
there," Mic retorted.
"Maybe, maybe not," AJ said calmly.
"But how do you think Mac would feel if
you went over there and got yourself hurt or
killed?"
"And what about how I would feel if I
just let her stay over there and possibly get
hurt or killed?" Mic countered.
"And if you were to go over there, you
think Mac would just willingly abandon the
search of Sergeant Zhukov and return home on
your say so?" AJ asked quietly.
Something told him that he hadn't even
considered the possibility that Mac would
refuse to return. The next words out of
Mic's mouth confirmed that theory.
"Why wouldn't she?" Mic asked.
"I'm her fiancé and if I insist that she
needs to come home, she should."
AJ shook his head sadly. "I'm
hardly one to give advice on
relationships," he said, "given my
history, but I do know that it doesn't work
that way. Mac's a very strong-willed,
independent woman whom I think would not take
well to being ordered to do something like
that."
"Admiral, why don't you just order her
home?" Mic asked. "You are her
commanding officer."
"She's already indicated in her letter
that she's willing to risk being declared UA,"
AJ pointed out, setting his empty coffee cup
down on the table in front of the couch.
"Given that, I don't think the risk of a
DDO charge really concerns her at this point.
Besides, and I know you are not going to like
this, Harm is going off half-cocked and he has
a better chance of finding his brother and
making it out of there alive with her.
She's got a good head on her shoulders and he
needs her to be able to think things through
for him."
AJ could tell from the expression in Mic's
eyes that he did not like the idea of Harm
needing Mac for anything. He continued,
"I know you and Rabb have never gotten
along, but as his friend, I don't want to see
him get killed and as his best friend, I know
that Mac doesn't either."
He paused before adding, "I am not sure I
should be saying this, but you know Harm
doesn't like you and I'm sure he doesn't think
you are the right person for Mac."
Mic started to interrupt, but AJ held his hand
up to stop him. "Let me finish.
Regardless, Harm has stepped back and said
nothing, allowing Mac to make her own choices,
regardless of how he feels about them. On the
other hand, you appear to be trying to force
her to chose between you and her best friend.
If it comes down to that, don't you think that
Mac might resent your forcing her into that
position? Mic, don't do anything without
considering the long term consequences.
Maybe you can find her and talk her into
coming home. But would your relationship
really be better for it long term?"
"I'm just so frustrated," Mic
exclaimed, running a hand through his
hair.
"I can understand that," AJ said.
"But can you trust Mac enough to take
care of herself and come home? What if
she sees your coming after her as a sign that
you don't trust her? Just think about it
some more before you make any decisions."
"I'll try," Mic conceded and AJ
resisted the urge the breathe a huge sigh of
relief. "Have you heard anything
else from Russia?"
"I spoke to Webb not long ago," he
revealed. "They found a trail that
is possibly Sergeant Zhukov's and are
following it now. Given the time,
they're likely getting ready to call it a day
and set up camp for the night."
Mic nodded, trying not to think about Harm and
Mac spending the night together in the
wilderness, even if someone else was with
them. "Keep me informed," he
requested.
"I will, Mic," AJ promised as he
stood to leave. "I've known Harm
and Mac a long time and they've gotten out of
tight situations before. I believe they
will make it back this time as
well."
"Thank you, Sir," Mic said, shaking
AJ's hand at the door. "I. . .
.well, I do appreciate everything you're
doing."
"Goodbye, Mic," AJ said as he left.
After closing the door behind him, Mic leaned
against it and sighed. He couldn't just
let her go halfway around the world with
another man without putting up a fight.
But what if AJ was right? What if in
fighting for her, he ended up pushing her even
further away, perhaps right out of his life?
What was he supposed to do?
5 KM NORTHEAST OF URAS-MARTAN, CHECHNYA
The weather had steadily grown worse until
visibility was reduced to almost nothing.
If it hadn't been for the GPS they had been
provided, they probably couldn't be sure that
they were even traveling in the right
direction towards Grozny. About an hour
after they had left the crash site they had
come upon the burned out shell of a house and
Harm had reluctantly agreed that it would make
a good place to camp for the night.
Although it wasn't much in the way of shelter,
requiring them to still put up the tent they
had brought with them to protect them from the
falling snow, the four walls would provide
some relief from the howling wind.
While putting up the tent, they had debated on
the need for a posted watch. Harm was
concerned after Mac's close call with the
rebels earlier, but Volkonov pointed out that
no one would be traveling in this weather
unless they wanted to freeze to death.
There were some things that could stop even a
war and near-blizzard conditions was one of
them. Besides, he pointed out, they
should take the opportunity when available to
catch up on rest.
After a meal of rations, Volkonov had gone out
behind the house, leaving Harm and Mac alone.
They stood side by side, watching the snow
fall through a window opening, when Harm
suddenly spoke. "How's your face
feel?" he asked.
"Stings like hell," she replied,
"but I'll live. That isn't what you
really wanted to ask me, was it? What's
on your mind?"
"What, you think I'm not concerned?"
he teased.
"No, I'm sure you are, which is a big
change from outright ignoring me," she
replied. At his hurt expression, she
quickly moved on. "You just sound
like you have something on your mind, besides
my injury and Sergei."
"I've just been thinking about something
you said this morning," he replied.
"On the plane to Grozny, what did you
mean when you said that the Admiral didn't
send you after me?"
Mac had been wondering most of the day when he
was going to bring that up. On the plane,
Volkonov had interrupted them before he could
respond to what she had said. "Just
what I said, he didn't send me after you.
I came on my own this time."
"But how?" he asked, confused.
"You still would have had to request
leave. . . ." he trailed off as it hit
him. "You didn't even tell the
Admiral you were coming. You went UA,
didn't you?"
Mac sighed and replied, "Honestly, I'm
not sure what the Admiral will do. I
told him in the letter I left him that he
could either declare me UA or take the letter
as my resignation."
Harm grabbed her shoulder and turned her to
face him. "Why, Mac?" he
demanded. "Why did you throw away
your career like that?"
"Because, contrary to everything that's
happened," she explained, "I'm still
the same woman whose career was saved by a man
willing to overlook her betrayal in the
Arizona desert and by a man who stood up for
her when she killed her husband. I'm
still the same woman who took in a fugitive
whom I knew could never murder anyone and I'm
still that woman who got shot down in a MiG
helping her best friend find his father.
Harm, I'm still your best friend and I
couldn't let you run off and risk getting
yourself killed. Your chances of getting
through this are better with me."
Harm felt incredibly bad for the way he had
been treating her. She possibly had
given up her career for him and he'd been
acting like an ass because of hurt feelings.
Pushing the hood of her parka out of the way,
he leaned forward and kissed her cheek.
"Thank you," he whispered.
"I know I don't deserve your
loyalty."
"Shhh," she returned, placing a
gloved finger over his lips as he pulled away
from her. She turned to gaze into his
eyes, trying not to let his nearness affect
her, trying not to think about how easy it
would be, trying to remind herself that she
had someone waiting for her back in
Washington. "It doesn't matter.
I'll always be there for you."
Harm took her hand and pulled it away, trying
to ignore how good it felt to have her there
for him, trying to forget about how much he
wanted to ignore everything pulling them
apart. Swallowing hard, he closed his
eyes, trying to block thoughts of her from his
mind. But his body didn't seem to be
taking instructions from his head anymore.
Opening his eyes and losing himself to all the
emotions he saw swirling in her brown eyes and
the ones churning in himself, he lowered his
lips to her in a tender kiss.
Almost of their own volition,
Mac's arms went around his neck, holding him
against her as she deepened the kiss, her lips
parting slightly as his tongue slipped between
them, gently probing. She knew from
experience what it felt like to be kissed by
Harmon Rabb, but that single, bittersweet kiss
didn't begin to compare to this kiss and
maelstrom of emotions it was bringing forth in
her.
Volkonov was about to step through the doorway
back into the house when he caught sight of
the couple kissing. Grinning to himself,
he stepped back and decided to take a slow
walk around the house. After all,
despite the severe cold and near blizzard
conditions, it couldn't hurt to make sure
everything was secure.
Harm arms went around Mac, holding her tight
against him as he drank in her taste and feel.
Even through the layers of clothes, it felt so
good to finally hold her in his arms the way
he had always wanted to that his body couldn't
help reacting. In another time and
place, it would be so easy. . . .
He forced himself to break off the kiss,
tearing himself away from her as he began to
pace the snow-covered floor. Sadness in
her eyes, Mac grabbed his arm and placed her
other hand on his cheek, forcing him to turn
to face her. "Harm, there's nothing wrong
with feeling," she insisted, caressing
his icy cheek with leather covered fingers.
Please don't let him back away from me now,
she thought. It never even crossed her
mind that she had a man, one whom she had
agreed to marry, waiting for her back in
Washington. All that mattered was the
man standing in front of her and the feelings
bubbling to the surface between them.
Harm shook his head and Mac could see the
torment in his eyes. "It's too
late," he countered, his voice hinting at
the torment in his soul. "I can't.
. . .it's just too late."
"Nothing's final," she pointed out,
glancing down at her left hand which held onto
his arm. "It's not too late.
But it soon will be if you don't say
anything."
Harm looked down at her, indecision in his
eyes. The officer and the gentleman was
at war with the man who wanted and felt.
Mac pressed him even further, "Please,
just talk to me. Don't shut down on me
this time. The stakes are too high now,
higher than they've ever been."
"I can't," he whispered, looking
away from her. "You're going to
marry Brumby. What I want and feel
doesn't matter anymore." He started
to pull away from her, but she held fast,
convinced that the walls he had built around
his heart were finally about to come crumbling
down.
"No," she insisted firmly.
"I'm not letting you talk around the
subject, speak in riddles and just walk away
from me, not this time. I need to know
and you need to face the truth. What do
you want? Want do you feel?"
Pressing herself against him, she pulled his
head down to hers, brushing her lips against
his. When he didn't make a move to pull
away, she deepened the kiss, wrapping her arms
around him again.
This time when the kiss ended, instead of
pulling away from her, he rested his forehead
against her, fighting to control his breathing
and his emotions. He opened his mouth to
speak, but this time it was Mac who pulled
away as she caught sight of Volkonov returning
out of the corner of her eye.
"I am sorry to interrupt," he
apologized as Harm and Mac put some distance
between themselves. He looked from one
to the other, misinterpreting their actions as
embarrassment. "It is too cold out
there. I am just going to turn in for
the night."
"That's not a bad idea," Harm said,
avoiding looking at Mac. She could see
that Volkonov's untimely interruption had
given Harm the chance to clamp down on his
emotions again. "We're finished
here."
Mac stood there for a long moment, watching as
Harm following Volkonov into their tent.
She had been so close. He had been so
close. She sighed as she leaned against
one of the walls, resisting the urge for
tears. It wasn't Volkonov's fault.
He'd had no idea what he had been
interrupting. Looking down at her gloved hand,
remembering the ring that had sat there for
only a few hours until she had removed it, she
swore that she would not put the ring back on
until she heard definitively from Harm's own
lips that he did not want her, did not love
her. And given his reactions surrounding
their two kisses, she was almost positive that
he could not tell her that and still be
telling the truth.
A few hours later, Mac awoke, the side of
her face feeling like it was on fire.
Groaning in pain, she clicked on her small
flashlight, careful to keep it pointed away
from Harm and Volkonov. She shined the
light along the edge of her sleeping bag,
looking for the antibiotic ointment.
Closing her fingers around it, she quietly
climbed out of the tent so that she wouldn't
disturb anyone.
She ripped her gloves off, her fingers shaking
in the cold, trying not to think about the air
temperature, let alone the wind chill.
Yanking off the gauze pad Harm had earlier
taped over the scrapes, wincing as the tape
pulled her skin, she opened the tube of
ointment with fumbling fingers and began
smearing it on her face. A part of her
was glad that she didn't have a mirror so she
could look at the wound.
"Mac, what is it?" Harm asked,
concerned. Mac turned around to find him
standing behind her, concern written all over
his face. Before she could reply, he
caught sight of her face and gasped softly.
"My God," he said softly, pulling
his own gloves off. "The scratches
have become infected."
"I was afraid of that," she
admitted. "I woke up and the side
of my face felt like it was on fire."
Harm pressed his hand to her forehead,
checking for a fever. "You don't
have a fever," he reported.
"Let's hope it stays that way. Do
you know where the first aid kit is?"
"It should still be in my backpack,"
she replied, clasping her hands together and
blowing on them in an attempt to keep them
warm. "I just kept out the ointment
so I wouldn't have to dig for it the next time
I needed to apply it."
"Which one is yours?" he asked,
moving to the corner where the three
military-issue backpacks were lined up against
the wall.
"The one in the middle," she said.
He opened the pack and dug through it, pulling
out the kit and carrying it over to her.
Setting it on the window sill, he took pulled
the ointment out of her clasped hands and
finished the job she had begun of applying it.
"Maybe I should have Captain Volkonov
take you back . . . ." he began, but she
cut him off sharply.
"It's just a few scratches," she
insisted. "I'm not going to go
anywhere. If we leave, then you'd be out here
by yourself. You know better than to try
and go into a situation like this without
backup. Anyway, haven't you figured it
out yet? I didn't come halfway around
the would to watch your six and help you find
your brother just so you could send me
away."
"You think that means I'm going to stop
trying?" he asked as he capped the
ointment. Opening the first aid kit, he
pulled out a gauze pad and the roll of tape.
"I think even you have to admit that your
chance of finding your brother is better with
help than without, right?" she countered
as he covered her wound again.
Reluctantly, he nodded. "And
finding your brother is the most important
thing, right?" Again, he nodded.
"Then it makes sense for me to stay.
I'll be fine. I've had worse than these
scratches. Remember the mountains?
I was shot."
"And the wound got infected, also and you
ended up in the hospital for three days,"
he reminded her, his voice tight.
She grinned, trying to lighten the mood.
"Okay, maybe that was a bad
analogy," she admitted. "The
point that I was trying to make is that you
need help and I'm not about to let a few
scratches stop me from doing that. You need
me, even if you won't admit it." It
suddenly struck Mac that her last statement
could be applied to more than just the search
for Sergei.
Harm was silent, not trusting himself to
respond even as he recognized the truth of her
words. If he replied, they might get
back into topics that were better left alone
right now. He needed to concentrate on
finding his brother. Nothing else should
matter right now.
Stuffing everything back into the first aid
kit, he bent down to pick up their gloves from
where they had dropped them on the ground.
He pulled on his gloves then held out hers.
As she took the gloves from his hands, his
eyes went wide when he got a good look at her
left hand. Seeing the expression in his
eyes, she took a deep breath. After
their conversation earlier, she thought it
best not to push him again so soon. But
she could leave him with something to think
about. "I took it off before we left
Washington," she told him. "As
I said earlier, it's not too late."
She brushed her lips against his, then turned
and climbed back into the tent, leaving Harm
standing there staring behind her.
MCMURPHY'S TAVERN
WASHINGTON DC
Mic had a dejected air about him as he plunked
himself down at the bar and motioned for the
bartender. After AJ's visit, he had done
nothing but think about what the older man had
said. Mic just wished that something
would happen that would show him what to do.
Right now, he was damned if he did, damned if
he didn't.
"Is this seat taken?" a woman's
voice asked. Mic looked up to find Renee
standing over him.
Shrugging, he motioned to the stool next to
him. "I'm just here by
myself," he said, "trying to decide
what I should drown my sorrows in."
"Sounds like your day has gone about like
mine has," she said, sitting down. The
bartender came over and both placed orders,
Mic for a double shot of whiskey and Renee for
a rum and coke. Once the bartender moved
off, she turned to Mic. "Actually,
the last few days have been pretty
rotten."
"Let me guess – Rabb," Mic said,
taking a handful of peanuts from a bowl.
"I don't know what it is with that
man," she exclaimed, tossing her purse on
the bar. "I've been hinting –
hell, I've been dropping anvils – about
wanting a future. I think he should go
into civilian practice. So he resigns
from the Navy. But what does he do next?
Takes off to Russia on some damned fool
expedition to find his brother. Yeah, I
feel bad that his brother his missing, but
what does he expect to do about it? I
mean, Russia's a big country. Anyway,
enough about me. I'm trying not to think
about it. What's got you down?"
"Would you believe the same thing?"
Mic replied, chuckling a little at the irony.
"Sarah finally agreed to marry me and not
forty-eight hours later, she's on a plane to
Russia with your boyfriend."
"What?" Renee asked, surprised.
"Mac went to Russia with Harm?"
"Haven't you been talking to anyone since
Harm left?" Mic asked. When she
shook her head, he continued, "She left
me a letter saying that she was going to
Russia to help Rabb find his brother.
I've been meeting with Admiral Chegwidden to
get updates. Apparently, Mr. Webb has a
contact from the former KGB in Moscow who is
keeping tabs on where they go and what they
do."
"And?" she asked. "What's
going on? Not that I think I care at
this point. Especially if he's there with
another woman."
"I think you do care," Mic pointed
out, "same as I do. After all, the
people we want to have a future with have run
off together, no matter what the reason.
To answer your question, when I spoke to the
Admiral a few hours ago, he said that they had
found a trail they think belongs to Rabb's
brother and are following it."
"Well, that's good," Renee said,
relieved. "Let's go back to
that other thing you just said about them
running off together. You don't think
there's something going on between them, do
you? I mean, like they've been going
behind our backs or something."
"No, I don't," he replied.
"I don't think Sarah would and no matter
what I may think about Rabb, he's too damn
honorable to do that."
"You know," Renee pointed out as the
bartender finally returned with their drinks,
"you sound more sure about Harm than you
are about Mac."
Mic looked at his glass for a long moment
before replying, "It's not that I doubt
Sarah's faithfulness. It's just that I'd
feel better if I didn't know. . . .that she
does have feelings for him."
"Mac has feelings for Harm?" Renee
asked. She considered herself good at
reading people and she'd completely missed
that one. It was with reluctance that
she admitted, "I wasn't aware of
that."
"You haven't been around as long as I
have," he pointed out. "Before
Sarah and I started seeing each other, I used
to see things – smiles, little touches,
gestures. I've always know that he was
my competition for Sarah's affections.
After he left JAG to return to flying, I saw
the chance to really make a move on Sarah.
After he returned, things were tense between
them and I think they got very good at burying
their feelings." He paused and
laughed bitterly.
"I think that if he had never left
JAG," he continued after a moment,
"that we wouldn't be sitting here having
this conversation, because Sarah would never
have taken my ring. Maybe I should have
seen this coming. In the last few
months, they seem to have been getting back
their old relationship. Maybe it was only a
matter of time before other feelings started
resurfacing, too."
"Are you giving up?" she asked,
taking a sip of her drink.
"Honestly, I don't know what to do,"
he admitted. "I was very close to
going to Russia and bringing Sarah home.
Then the Admiral came to talk to me and
pointed something out. Would she end up
resenting me for it if I went over there
intending to bring her back? On the
other hand, I've been thinking – if I don't
do anything, will I be as much as stepping
back and letting Rabb have her?"
"Damned if you do, damned if you
don't," Renee said, echoing his earlier
thoughts. "Sounds like you and I
have a lot in common, Mr. Brumby."
"Unfortunately," he muttered, taking
a swig of his whiskey.
They were both silent for several minutes as
they drank, each lost in their own thoughts.
"You know," Renee began, "I
came here hoping to drown my sorrows, but I
really hate drinking alone and I'm hungry.
How'd you like to have dinner with me and we
can commiserate together?" At the
raised eyebrow look Mic shot her, she laughed.
"No, I'm not talking about something like
that. No revenge for being ditched.
I could just use someone to talk to and I
think you could as well."
Mic laughed as well, conceding that she had a
point. Maybe she wasn't as bad as Mac
had always thought. "So where would
you like to go?" he asked.
THE NEXT MORNING
5KM NORTHEAST OF URAS-MARTAN, CHECHNYA
By morning, although the wind was still
blowing, leaving the wind chill well below
zero, the snow had finally stopped falling.
Harm had gone outside immediately upon waking,
swearing loudly as he made a visual inspection
of the trail they had been following the
previous day. Mac, coming out of the
house, joined him. "Weather wipe
away the tracks?" she asked, already
knowing the answer.
"Yes," he said angrily, tossing
aside a branch he had been holding.
"We know the tracks went off that way,
but then what? We could end up walking
in circles trying to pick up the trail
again."
"If we continue in that direction, it
takes us back to Grozny, correct?" she
asked.
"I believe so," he replied.
"I know it's not the ideal
solution," she continued, "but what
if we just start heading towards Grozny?
Maybe we'll get lucky and pick up the trail
again, assuming that it was Sergei's trail we
were following." She felt compelled
to add that last part, reminding him that they
might already be on the wrong trail.
"I don't know," he exclaimed,
frustrated. "Mac, my brother is out
there somewhere. And yes, there's a part
of me that knows he may already be dead, just
like my father was. But I have to know
for sure. You know that."
"I know," she said quietly, taking
one of his hands and squeezing.
"You were haunted by what happened to
your father and weren't able to lay him to
rest until our first trip to Russia. And
if you can't find Sergei or, worse case, find
out what happened to him, you will always
wonder and be haunted all over again."
Harm was silent, staring down at the ground as
if his gaze could burn away the snow that had
fallen, revealing the tracks below. A
voice called out and his head jerked up.
"Commander, Colonel," Volkonov
called out, trudging through the snow towards
them. "I was on the radio with
Vasili Ivanovich."
"Something about Sergei?" Mac asked
as hope dawned on Harm's features.
"Maybe," he replied, his voice
breathless. "The Grozny garrison
intercepted a radio call. Some Chechens
have reported chasing a lone Russian soldier
through the woods last night. They lost
the soldier but reported that they are
following him towards Grozny."
"And the Russians think it is
Sergei," Mac concluded.
"Yes," Volkonov replied.
"There are no other Russian soldiers
reported missing except for his co-pilot.
Two hours ago, the Chechens bragged that they
had executed this morning a Russian captured
after a helicopter was shot down."
"Do the Russians have an idea where this
sighting was?" Harm asked, a ray of hope
in his voice even as he tried to push the
thought from his mind that it could easily
have been Sergei who had just been executed.
Volkonov held up the folded map in his hand
and pointed to a mark. He pointed to
another mark on the map as he continued,
"We are about here. The Chechens
said they were about here when they spotted
the soldier."
"It doesn't look that far," Mac
said, hope in her own voice. "And
it is going in the direction of Grozny."
She tightened her fingers around Harm's hand,
which she still held in hers, while silently
praying 'Please let this be it.' Aloud,
she told him, "I think we need to gather
our stuff and get started."
"Agreed," Harm said in a take charge
voice. Mac couldn't help smiling at the
strength in his voice, something she couldn't
recall hearing this entire trip.
"Everyone make sure you have plenty of
ammo handy. If this is Sergei and he is
being chased by the Chechens, we may have to
go through them to get to him."
In less than five minutes, they had their
packs on their backs and were trudging through
the snow towards Grozny, on the alert for any
trouble, praying that they were getting closer
to their goal.
TWO AND A HALF HOURS LATER
"According to the map and GPS, this is
where the Chechens reported chasing
Sergei," Harm said, stopping and leaning
against a tree, trying to catch his breath.
He'd been on field exercises before but never
through snow that was nearly knee deep and in
temperatures that could only by the most
charitable mind be called merely bitter cold.
He didn't think Antarctica could feel this
cold. Thank God to the Russians for
providing them with plenty of decent cold
weather gear.
Mac stopped next to him and braced a hand
against the tree. "You okay,
Flyboy?" she asked, her normal teasing
tone while using that nickname absent.
She was concerned about him. Although
she had absolute faith in his abilities –
she'd seen him come through many difficult
situations in the past – as tired as she
was, she had the feeling that he was running
on pure adrenaline. As a sailor, she
knew that he didn't have the same kind of
survival training that she had as a Marine.
Right now, probably the only thing keeping him
going was probably the hope that they might be
close to finding his brother.
"I'll live," he replied, his hands
on his knees as he hunched over, breathing
heavily. "Remember, Sergei's been
out here for five days and if that is him the
Chechens are chasing, then he's alive and he's
still going. I have to keep going."
"We should take a break and eat,"
Volkonov suggested. "We need to
maintain energy."
Before Harm could protest, Mac jumped in to
agree, "Yes. The snow is deeper
than yesterday, making it harder to move
through. We're expending a lot more
energy."
Harm sighed as he slipped the straps of his
pack off his shoulders. "No more
than fifteen minutes," he insisted,
digging a pack of beef jerky out of his
backpack. "We need to get to Sergei
before the Chechens do."
As Mac removed her own backpack and started to
open it, she stopped, listening carefully.
She couldn't explain it, perhaps it was
intuition, but she felt like they were being
watched. She was about to say something
to Harm when she heard the crack of a rifle at
about the same time she saw a bullet go
whizzing by, barely missing her head.
She and Harm reacted at the same time, Mac
diving to the ground as Harm pushed her down
with a hand to the center of her back.
He followed her to the ground as they both got
their rifles ready, preparing to fire back.
Mac could see Volkonov a few feet away, now
crouching behind a wide tree. Everyone was
silent as they waited for another shot so they
could determine which direction the shot had
come from.
Finally another shot came and Harm motioned
with his hand. As all three lifted their
rifles, Mac thought she saw a flash of blue
from a coat and fired. A voice cried out
as her bullet found it's mark and they all saw
a figure slump to the ground. Breathing
a sigh of relief, all three rose and, holding
their rifles ready, made their way to the
figure.
When the person didn't move, Volkonov nudged
him with the toe of his boot. When there was
still no movement, he kicked the downed man's
rifle away then knelt and turned him over to
find a large red stain spreading across the
person's chest. Mac gasped when she got
a good look at the person who had been
shooting at them. "He looks even
younger than Sergei," she exclaimed
softly, trying to keep her voice from shaking.
"Colonel, you did what you had to
do," Volkonov insisted pragmatically.
"This child would have killed us if given
the chance."
Mac nodded mutely, knowing he was right, but
that knowledge didn't assuage her guilt.
She had killed a child who if back in the
States would have been going out on dates and
attending high school dances. She barely
felt it when Harm put his arm around her
shoulder or when Volkonov moved a few feet
away to allow them some privacy.
"Mac, it's not your fault," Harm
insisted, pulling her against his chest even
as he remained alert for any further signs of
trouble. "Captain Volkonov is
right. He wasn't shooting at us because
he wanted us here and he probably wasn't
shooting at us just to wound us, either."
"I know," she whispered against his
chest. "I've killed people before.
You know that. But never like
this."
"Unfortunately," Harm pointed out
gently, "we're in the middle of a
war."
"But what kind of country, even one at
war, sends children out to do a man's
job?" she asked.
"I don't know but there's too many of
those countries in the world," Harm
replied quietly as he pulled her away from the
evidence of what she had done.
As they rejoined Volkonov, Mac said, her voice
lifeless, "Let's get out of here and walk
a little bit farther before stopping for a
break. I need to get out of here."
Harm picked up her fallen backpack and helped
her put it back on. "Agreed,"
he said, wanting to get her out of there,
hoping she could put it behind her.
"Let's get out of here."
THREE HOURS LATER
About an hour after their close call with the
young Chechen, they found the first sign that
they were on the right track, or rather Mac
had. Lost in thought over what she had
done and looking down at the ground, she had
seen something out of the corner of her eye,
but had just walked past it, thinking it was
merely trash. She had only moved on a
few feet before stopping, remembering that
this wasn't the US and they weren't likely to
find litter in the middle of a Chechen forest
during winter. It wasn't like this was a
hot place for hikers. Brushing the snow
aside with her boot, she uncovered a wrapper
for rations, the writing on it in Russian.
Slipping off her backpack, she knelt to pick
it up while calling out to Harm, trying to
contain her excitement, "Harm! I
think I found something."
Harm rushed over as fast as he could through
the snow and she held out the wrapper to him.
"The writing's in Russian," she told
him as he took it and turned it over in his
hands. As Volkonov joined them, she
asked, "Would Chechens have Russian field
rations?"
"Not likely," he replied as Harm
showed him the wrapper. "Although
it is possible they stole some."
"Then we're on the right track,"
Harm said confidently. "I can feel
it."
Volkonov smiled a little at that. At
Mac's questioning look, he explained,
"When he insisted that Sergeant Zhukov
was his brother, that he felt something, I
told him 'A lawyer who feels? Now you
sound Russian'."
Mac smiled a little at that as she picked up
her pack again. "Harm has always
been one who feels deeply," she confided
softly. Harm turned back to look at her,
having overheard her.
"You aren't suggesting again that I'm
being driven by my emotions again?" he
asked.
"We had this discussion a couple years
ago at the Perm rail station," she
explained to Volkonov. To herself, she
quietly answered Harm's question, "No
more so than I am this time." Harm
stared at her but said nothing in response.
Volkonov radioed back to Grozny with the
latest news while Harm and Mac did a quick
recon of the area, seeing if they could find
any other sign of Sergei's presence.
"They will pass the information on to
Major Sokol," he told them as they all
gathered together again.
"Apparently, he is in contact with your
friend Mr. Webb in Washington and is keeping
him informed of your progress."
"Let's get going," Harm suggested,
starting off through the trees again.
"Let's find my brother."
ONE HOUR LATER
For the last half hour, they had been
following a set of footprints they had found
and both Mac and Harm grew even more confident
that they would soon meet up with Sergei.
Every so often Harm, who was walking slightly
ahead of Mac since she had insisted that she
was there to watch his six, looked back at
her. Finally, she called him on it.
"Stop worrying," she insisted.
"I'm not going to fall apart over that
boy's death."
"Mac, stress has to relieve itself,"
he reminded her.
"Well, it can relieve itself later,"
she retorted, her voice firm. "We
don't have the time for that now. We
have to find Sergei."
Shaking his head, Harm turned back around.
He remembered that day in the Appalachians
when she had killed the poacher. At the
end of the day, she had fallen apart for a few
minutes, freaking at the sight of the man's
blood on her clothes. Although there was
no blood on her clothes this time, he knew her
well enough to know that what she had done was
eating her up inside.
Mac breathed a sigh of relief when he turned
back around, thankful that he hadn't pressed
the issue. Her first sight of the boy
she had killed still haunted her and if she
closed her eyes, she could clearly see his
youthful face in her mind. But she
couldn't let it affect her, not now.
There was still too much at stake.
Just seconds later, before she even realized
what was happening, Mac found herself thrown
to the ground as a powerful explosion ripped
through the air, crying out as the injured
side of her face hit a rock as she hit the
ground. Dazed, tasting blood in her mouth, she
struggled to rise to her feet. On her
knees, her eyes went wide with horror as she
caught sight of the prone figure several feet
away from her, the pristine snow around him
turning red. "Harm!" she cried out.
Quickly throwing her
backpack to the ground so that she could move
unencumbered by it's bulk, she rushed to
Harm's side, her whole body trembling as she
yanked off one of her gloves and, pushing the
hood of his parka aside, pressed her fingers
to his neck, breathing a heavy sigh of relief
when she found his pulse, not as strong as
normal, but at least steady.
"Harm? Can you hear me?" she
pleaded, gently shaking his shoulder.
She closed her eyes, trying to prevent the
tears that involuntarily sprang into her eyes.
No, this couldn't be happening. Not now.
Not when Harm was so close to finding his
brother. Not when they were so close to
finding each other.
"Thank God!" she cried as Harm
groaned, trying to push himself up.
"Careful," she cautioned.
"We don't know how badly you've been
injured. Move slowly." She gently
helped him roll onto his back, Harm moaning at
the effort expended and the pain it caused.
Mac bit her lip to keep from crying out when
she the jagged piece of shrapnel that had
punctured his thick parka, imbedding itself in
the right side of his abdomen.
She scrambled back to her dropped pack,
pulling out the first aid kit and a spare
undershirt to press against the wound.
"Harm, I'm going to try to remove this
shrapnel," she informed him, "then
I'll press this shirt to the wound, see if we
can get the bleeding to slow down. You
wouldn't happen to have any alcohol in your
pack, would you?" She forced a grin
at her last statement, trying to relieve the
gravity of the situation.
"No," he managed to gasp.
"But I'm sure if you ask Volkonov, he
probably has some vodka. . . ." his voice
trailed off and Mac clasped her hand to her
mouth as both realized at the same time that
they had nearly forgotten about him.
"Mac. . . .check on him. He was
ahead. . . .closer to the blast."
Mac nodded mutely, tears threatening as she
climbed to her feet. Praying that her
fears would be unrealized, she moved along the
trail, taking only a few steps before she
spotted Volkonov on his side slumped against a
tree at the edge of the black scorch marks the
indicated the blast area, the snow surrounding
him red with blood. Taking a deep breath
in an effort to quell the nausea, she forced
herself to move forward, bending down to check
his pulse. Closing her eyes, she said a
brief prayer for the brave man who had
volunteered for this mission to return a favor
at the cost of his life. Resisting the urge to
be sick, she made her way back to Harm's side,
the tears freely falling.
Harm knew from the look on her face that the
news wasn't good. "He's dead,"
he gasped, Mac nodding mutely as she folded
the shirt she had retrieved. Pushing his coat
and clothes aside as best she could, she slide
the folded fabric underneath, prepared to
slide it over the wound as soon as she removed
the shrapnel. "Was it a land
mine?" Again she nodded in reply.
Mac glanced at him, a question in her eyes.
Harm nodded at her and she pulled at the
shrapnel with a hard yank, wincing as he cried
out in pain. The metal wouldn't budge and she
whispered, "I'm sorry," as she tried
again, this time managing to pull the metal
out of the wound, quickly pressing the shirt
against the wound as the blood flowed freer.
Harm groaned again in pain and, one hand still
pressing on the wound, she opened the first
aid kit with the other, searching for
painkillers. Pulling out a bottle of
aspirin, she handed it to Harm who opened it
with a little difficulty and removed three
pills, instead of the usual two, and swallowed
them dry.
"I need to try to bind this wound,"
she said, taking back the bottle of
painkillers and tossing in the general
direction of the first aid kit. "Then, we
need to try and get out of here. I'll
help you. We need to find a place to set
up shelter and this trail isn't wide enough to
put up the tent."
"I think I can manage," he said
between gasps of breath as she took one of his
hands and pressed it to the wound in place of
hers. She began digging through her
pack, searching for anything she could use to
bind the wound. After pulling out an extra
pair of long johns, she helped him move so
that she could pull his pack, which he had
been laying on, off his back, accompanied by
more moans of pain from Harm. Digging
through his pack, she produced another pair of
long johns and another shirt.
Helping him sit up, moving slightly so that he
could lean against her while still allowing
her to work, she pulled off his parka and
pushed aside the two shirts he was wearing,
gasping at the sight of the shirt pressed
against his wound, already soaked crimson.
Taking a breath to steel herself, she began
talking, trying to calm herself as much as
him.
"I'm going to put another shirt over the
wound," she told him as she folded the
shirt in question. "Then I'll use
the long johns to tie the shirts in place.
I just hope the bindings to slip when we move.
Speaking of which, I think we should go
through our packs and see if there's anything
we can get rid of. I want to try to get
us down to one pack. You don't have the
strength to carry one."
Harm nodded as she tied the makeshift bandage
into place. "We need to get the
radio out of Volkonov's pack and any food he
has left," he pointed out quietly, his
voice filled with pain. Mac nodded in
return, despite her reluctance to go back over
there. Harm hadn't asked for any details
of Volkonov's condition and she hadn't
volunteered any information. From the
visual evidence, she knew his death had been
horrifying and she found herself hoping for
his sake that it had been quick.
After binding the wound, Mac helped Harm pull
his clothes back into place and pulled his
parka back on, making sure he was well
protected against the cold. "Wait
here a moment while I get the radio from
Volkonov's pack," she told him. As
she stood, Harm leaned to the side, slumping
against his pack lying on the ground.
After a few minutes, she returned carrying the
radio and several ration packs. Handing
the radio to him, she suggested, "Why
don't you try to contact Grozny while I start
going through our packs?"
Harm pushed himself back into an upright
position, working on making the call as Mac
began going through her things. Aside
from the sleeping bags, rations, the tent in
Harm's pack and the first aid kit, all of
which were essentials, most of what was left
was clothes. She considered tossing
aside all the clothes except for a few items
to use as bandages for Harm's wound, figuring
that lightening their load was more important
than being able to change clothes every day.
Finally she decided to keep one change of
clothes for each of them, just in case
something happened, such as falling into
water, making a change of clothes necessary.
Rolling her chosen clothes up, she moved back
over to Harm, who was uttering soft curses
under his breath. As she began going
through his pack, he quietly said the words
she probably least wanted to hear, "The
radio's broken. It must have gotten
knocked around in the blast."
"So we're stuck out here with no link to
the outside world," she concluded as she
tossed aside items from his pack, replacing
them with the clothes she had chosen from hers
and storing away the radio, hoping that the
damage wasn't too severe and she could attempt
to jury rig a fix later. Zipping the
pack closed, she lifted it onto her back,
testing the weight. It was a little
heavy for her, but she hoped that it wouldn't
be long until they found a place to set up
camp. Of course, the pack would probably
seem heavier once they were underway and she
was having to help support Harm as well.
Harm began standing, but a wave of dizziness
caused him to lose his balance, causing him to
slump against Mac and nearly knocking both of
them to the ground. With much effort,
Mac managed to steady him, standing against
his uninjured side as she put as arm around
his waist. They took a few steps and Mac
could see in his face that every step was a
supreme effort. He noticed her concern
and tried to shake it off. "I'll be
fine," he insisted weakly.
Managing a weak smile, Mac reminded him,
"Once, you made me a promise and now I'm
going to make you the same one. I'm
gonna get us out of this. I
promise."
Harm smiled at the familiar words, more
thankful than ever that she had refused to
listen to him and had come along. He now
realized that he'd never get through this
without her, in fact, he might have been
consigned to lying in the middle of a Chechen
forest as he bled to death, cursing lost
chances.
THE SAME TIME
JAG HEADQUARTERS
FALLS CHURCH, VIRGINIA
AJ strode into the bullpen earlier than usual,
Clay right on his heels as he related the
latest news he had heard from Grozny,
reporting that Harm and Mac had found evidence
that they were indeed on Sergei's trail.
AJ inwardly breathed a sigh of relief that the
news coming out of Russia seemed to be getting
better.
Moving into his open outer office, he was
surprised to find a couple waiting, a
stylishly dressed woman nervously pacing the
floor while the man sat, checking his watch.
AJ had never seen them, but it wasn't hard to
guess who they were. "Mr. and Mrs.
Burnett?" he asked.
Trish stopped her pacing and turned towards
him, nodding as Frank stood. "Yes,"
she replied. "I'm Trish and this is
my husband Frank. We need. . . ."
she trailed off, upset and Frank continued for
her.
"We're trying to find out about our son,
Admiral Chegwidden," he told AJ.
"We've been trying to get a hold of him
since he said that he was planning to go to
Russia. We don't know if he went or not
and we're concerned."
AJ opened his office and motioned them in.
"Please, come in and we'll tell you what
we know," AJ offered. Motioning to
Clay, he made introductions. "Mr. and
Mrs. Burnett, this is Clayton Webb with the
State Department."
"We met," Frank said, nodding
towards the other man. "He came out
to see us during Harm's last trip to Russia,
after he and Mac were reported shot
down."
"Mr. Webb was just updating me on the
latest news from Russia," AJ told them as
everyone took seats. "Let me start
at the beginning to get you caught up.
Three days ago, Harm left for Russia
accompanied by Colonel Mackenzie. With the
help of a Major Sokol, they traveled to
Chechnya to begin searching together with a
colleague of Harm's from his last trip to
Russia. The latest news, Mr. Webb was
just telling me, is that as of a few hours ago
they had found evidence of Sergeant Sergei
Zhukov's trail and are following it."
"And this is the most recent news?"
Frank asked for confirmation, clasping his
wife's hand. Both looked relieved to
know that Harm wasn't in this alone.
"Yes," Clay replied.
"Harm and Mac are in radio contact with a
friend of Major Sokol's who is a government
official in Grozny. As Sokol hears from
Grozny, he passes the information along to
me."
"And they're sure that Sergei is still
alive, that he hasn't been captured or
killed?" Frank asked. "I know
when Harm went to Russia the first time, even
though it brought closure. . . .Harm took it
hard that he wasn't able to find his father
alive."
"The reports we're getting are that
they're very confident they're on the right
track and that Sergeant Zhukov is still
alive," Clay confirmed.
"We're confident that it's only a matter
of time before Harm and Mac find him and are
on their way back home," AJ added, trying
to ease the minds of parents concerned for
their son. "Harm and Mac are two of
the finest officers to serve under me and
they've gotten out of tight situations before.
I have every confidence they will make it out
of this just fine."
"I hope so," Trish said softly,
tears threatening. Wiping her eyes and
smiling weakly, she apologized, "The last
time I spoke to Harm, it wasn't a very
pleasant conversation. I had been called
by some reporter," she gestured to the Washington
Post which had sat on AJ's desk for the
last three days, "asking for a comment on
a situation I knew nothing about. I was
upset that Harm hadn't told me about it and I
said some things. . . ." She trembled
slightly as she thought about her only child
being in a potentially deadly situation
thinking that she was mad at him.
"Trish, I'm sure Harm understood,"
Frank insisted, putting his arm around her
shoulders. "I'm sure he doesn't
hold it against you for being upset."
AJ gazed at them sympathetically. An
idea occurring to him, he asked, "When
did you get into DC? Have you gotten
checked into a hotel yet?" Aside
from their concern, both looked utterly
exhausted.
"We just got here about two hours
ago," Frank replied, "and came here
straight from the airport by taxi. We've
got reservations at the Inter-Continental but
haven't checked in yet."
AJ looked at Clay expectantly. Clay
understood the unspoken message and offered,
"I need to go into DC. I'd be happy
to drop the Burnetts off at their hotel and
make sure they get settled."
"We appreciate that," Trish said
softly.
AJ wrote out something on a notepad and tore
off the page, handing it to Frank.
"Here's the number for JAG," he said
as Frank glanced at the paper. "Give me a
call once you get settled with a number where
you can be reached and as we get updates from
Russia, I'll make sure they're passed on to
you immediately."
"Thank you, Admiral Chegwidden,"
Trish said gratefully. "We
appreciate all your help."
"Glad to do it," AJ said, standing
to shake each of their hands. After
Frank and Trish left the office, Clay hung
back, giving AJ a knowing glance.
"You're not going to accept their
resignations," Clay stated with an air of
certainty.
AJ looked at Clay impassively, his arms folded
across his chest. Clay continued,
fighting back a grin, "You care too much.
If you were just going to accept their
resignations, you would have done so already
and you wouldn't be putting as much effort
into keeping up with their movements and
reassuring those closest to them that
everything is going to be okay." Before
AJ could reply, Clay turned on his heel and
walked out of the office.
AN HOUR LATER
CHECHEN FOREST
Mac stumbled against a tree, reaching out with
her free hand to brace herself against it, her
other arm around Harm's waist trying to hold
him upright. His eyes were closed, his
breathing was heavy and his face was white,
all evidence of the extreme pain he was in.
"We'll rest here for a few minutes,"
she gasped, helping him lean against the tree.
"How are you feeling?"
"Hurts," he ground out through
gritted teeth, clutching his side as he leaned
back against the trunk of the tree. He
resisted the urge to slide to the ground,
afraid that once he was down, he would be
unable to get up again. "Maybe. . .
.you go ahead. . . .find help."
"I don't want to hear it," she
insisted, struggling to draw air into her
lungs in the frigid air. "I'm not
leaving you out here to possibly freeze or
bleed to death, so I don't want to hear any
more talk like that. We find a place to
set up shelter and work on trying to fix the
radio. Got it?"
"What if. . . .can't fix radio?" he
asked.
"Then we'll worry about that if and when
it happens," she said firmly in a tone
that indicated she wasn't going to accept any
further arguments.
"Mac," Harm began, Mac shooting him
a glare daring him to argue with her further.
He shook his head. "No
arguments," he insisted weakly.
"Just. . . .thank you."
Mac was touched. Expressions of
gratitude were often unspoken between them and
to actually hear him say the words was one of
the most precious experiences. Smiling
at him, she replied in a teasing tone,
"Normally, I'd say something about such
an uncharacteristic statement coming from you,
but I don't have the energy right now."
Harm managed a small grin at the remark as Mac
let the backpack slip off her shoulders and to
the ground, flexing her shoulders, trying to
ease the ache in her muscles.
"Maybe we should eat a little
something," she suggested, leaning over
to open her pack. "We need to keep
our energy up. We don't know how long
we'll be walking before we find a place for
shelter." Opening a ration pack,
she handed him a slice of jerky and took one
for herself. "Fortunately, the weather
does seem to be better," she continued as
she ate, "which gives us one less thing
to worry about for now. At least we can
still see another set of footprints, which
gives us hope that we are still following
Sergei's trail."
"I hope," Harm replied, looking down
at the ground. He'd come halfway around
the world to rescue his brother and not only
had he not found him yet, one man was dead and
it was only through Herculean effort that he
was able to keep moving long enough for them
to find shelter. A man's death was now
on his head and Mac had been forced to kill a
boy, all because of his obsessions.
"Harm, try not to think about it,"
Mac pleaded. "I know it's hard to
right now, our primary mission is survival.
That's what we have to concentrate on."
"I know," he said quietly, finishing
off his jerky. "Let's move."
"Are you sure you don't want to rest some
more?" she asked, greatly concerned about
pushing him too hard in his weakened
condition.
"Shelter, then rest," he insisted.
Nodding reluctantly, she took up her backpack
again and then helped him begin moving again.
She tightly clasped the hand draped over her
shoulder, praying that she had enough strength
for both of them.
FORTY-FIVE MINUTES LATER
Mac was to exhausted to even breath a sigh of
relief when they finally stumbled upon a run
down cabin about fifty yards off the trail
they were following. They were barely
through the door before they collapsed to the
floor, Harm groaning in pain. "You
okay?" Mac asked worriedly.
"I'll be fine," Harm insisted
wearily. "But I think I'll just lie
here for a while."
Mac looked up at the damaged ceiling above
their heads. "At least we have a
roof over our heads," she said, then
laughed weakly. "Well, kind of.
With the dirt floor, we can still put up the
tent for extra protection from the
elements." Slipping off the
backpack, she climbed to her knees and began
going through it, pulling the tent out.
"Mac, take a break," Harm suggested,
a hand on her arm. "You need to
rest."
Mac shook her head. "No," she
insisted, her lower lip trembling slightly.
"I can rest after I get this tent up and
get you taken care of."
Harm didn't have the strength to argue with
her, watching silently as she struggled to put
together the tent, which was really a two
person job. Finally, she got the tent
assembled and laid out their sleeping bags
inside. She turned around to find him crawling
towards her, the agony of every movement
evident on his face.
She moved to help him, but he shook her off,
climbing through the tent opening and into a
sleeping back. Exhaling with relief that
he had made it, he closed his eyes.
Satisfied that he appeared to be comfortable
for the moment, she made a quick visual
inspection of the binding on his wound,
satisfied that it had held and the bleeding,
while not having stopped completely, did
appear to have slowed. Unfortunately,
the only thing that would likely stop the
bleeding would be stitching the wound, which
she didn't have the supplies to do.
Covering the wound again, she left the tent,
returning a moment later with the backpack,
setting it next to her sleeping bag. She
climbed into her bag, moving around restlessly
within the confines of the narrow space,
trying to find a comfortable position to sleep
in. After a moment, she heard Harm's
voice. "Mac?" he asked,
sounding a bit hesitant.
"Hmmm?" she murmured in reply.
"Come here," he suggested, holding
out his arm. She scooted closer to him,
snuggling against his uninjured left side, her
head against his shoulder as he wrapped his
arm around her. She smiled as she
remembered another night in the wilderness
when they had snuggled up together to sleep.
She closed her eyes, her features relaxing as
she allowed herself to forget for the time
being everything except the man in whose arms
she rested.
THREE HOURS LATER
LUBYANKA PRISON
MOSCOW, RUSSIA
"Shto!?" Sokol demanded into the
phone angrily. "Vy
uvyerenny?" He frowned as he
listened to the voice on the other end.
<What!? Are you sure?>
"Nyet, nada znayu bol'she!" he
insisted. "Uznavaesh!"
He slammed down the phone, running a hand over
his head. He couldn't call Clay with
this. There were just too many unknowns.
Taking a deep breath, he resolved not to say
anything until he knew more. Meanwhile,
he cursed that Mac had yet again followed Harm
on one of his damned crusades. First
Siberia, then Khankala Army Base and now this.
<No, I need to know more! Find
out!>
THE SAME TIME
CHECHEN FOREST
Mac awoke with a start, not entirely sure why.
She quickly determined that they had been
sleeping for nearly three hours.
Propping herself up on one elbow, being
careful not to disturb Harm, she looked down
at him, who appeared to be sleeping relatively
peacefully. Pressing her hand to his
forehead showed no sign of fever, for which
she was thankful. She closed her eyes,
intending to settle back into sleep, her head
nestled against his shoulder, but a moment
later she sat straight up in the sleeping bag,
her eyes wide open, when she heard the
unmistakable sound of a branch snapping
outside.
As Mac pulled on her gloves, which she had
earlier taken off, and grabbed her rifle, Harm
stirred next to her. "What?"
he murmured sleepily.
"I don't know," she whispered,
keeping her voice down in case it was not an
animal as she hoped but one of the rebels.
"I thought I heard something
outside." As quietly as possible,
she checked her clip while Harm looked at her
with concern.
"It could just be an animal," he
pointed out, trying to push himself into a
sitting position as well, grimacing in pain.
Mac placed a hand on his shoulder and pushed
him back down.
"You're in no condition to do
anything," she reminded him.
"I'll check it out and be right back.
And if it is an animal, maybe we'll have
something to eat besides field rations."
He grimaced at the thought and she nearly
laughed at the idea of Harm being forced to
eat meat.
"Mac?" he said seriously, grabbing
her arm as she tried to climb out of the
sleeping bag. She looked down at him,
expecting an admonishment to be careful, so
she was caught completely off guard when he
moved his hand to her shoulder, pulling her
down to him, stunning her with a tender kiss.
"We'll talk when I get back," she
promised as she pulled away, expecting him to
back off yet again.
He surprised her even more by nodding his
agreement. "Yes," he promised.
"We will talk."
Harm's eyes on her, Mac climbed out of her
sleeping bag, out of the tent and silently
crept towards the door, holding her rifle
ready. Stopping at a window, she knelt
below it, peeking up through the broken panes
of glass, searching in the dark for any sign
of movement.
"Astanovka!" she called out firmly.
"U menya est' vintovka!"
<Stop! I have a rifle!>
Mac couched under the window, listening into
the darkness, positive that if there was
someone out there, there was only one.
If there had been more, surely they would have
rushed the place as soon as she had spoken or
she would have heard more noise from outside.
After a moment, she heard a weak voice from
outside somewhere near the door.
"Pazhalsta," the voice pleaded.
"Ya baleyu. Ya dolzhen imet'
ubyesnshche." <Please. I'm ill.
I must have shelter.>
"Moment," Mac said, scooting back
over to the tent. Harm looked at her
questioningly. <Just a moment.>
"There is someone out there," she
whispered. "He claims he's ill and
needs shelter."
"He's probably a rebel," he reminded
her, keeping his voice low.
"Yes, and I will be careful," she
promised, patting her rifle. "If he
is a rebel and lying about being ill, he'll be
sorry he messed with this Marine." Harm
managed a smile at the assertion.
Slowly, she made her way to the door, opening
it just a crack, sticking the business end of
the rifle through the opening. After a
moment, she pushed the door open and took a
cautious step out, on high alert for any signs
of attack. Out of the corner of her eye,
she saw a figure slumped against the wall to
her right.
Pointing her rifle directly at him, she
insisted, "Tvoy kistey! Padnimaesh'
ony!" <Your hands! Raise
them!>
Slowly, he did so and looked up at Mac, a
pleading look on his frostbitten face.
Sighing with relief, Mac shouldered her rifle
and helped him to his feet. Studying his
white face, she switched to English.
"I do believe you actually look worse
than your brother does."
"Colonel
Mackenzie?" Sergei asked hesitantly,
wondering if he was dreaming. She couldn't be
here. She was back in Washington with
his brother. That's it, he was dreaming.
He'd been out in the cold and the snow for too
long and he was starting to hallucinate.
But the arm wrapped around him felt so real.
"Come on, let's get you inside," Mac
said, half supporting, half carrying him
through the door. He was very unsteady
on his feet and Mac wondered if the frostbite
that was evident on his face was present on
his other extremities. At least Harm's
injury she could perform first aid on, keeping
it bandaged in an attempt to stop the
bleeding. But she couldn't do anything
about frostbite out here in the wilderness.
Sergei needed adequate medical attention just
as much as Harm did, maybe even more
considering how long he'd been out here.
Harm's eyes went wide as Mac and Sergei came
through the door and he promptly tried to get
up, momentarily forgetting about his own
injury. But the sharp, burning pain in
his side reminded him and he feel back to the
floor, gritting his teeth, trying not to cry
out.
"Stay there," Mac ordered, shaking
her head. "The last thing I need is
you making your injury worse by not staying
put, especially now that I've got two of you
to take care of."
Chastised, Harm asked, "How is he?"
"Is that you, big brother?" Sergei
asked, his words slightly slurred. Harm
looked at Mac with concern.
"I think he's a little delirious,"
Mac replied, "from being out in the cold
so long. He's definitely got some
frostbite and hypothermia has likely set in.
Think you can reach over and unzip my sleeping
bag? I want to get him in it and try to
warm him up."
Harm managed to unzip the bag as far as he
could and pushed the flap to the side as Mac
helped Sergei into the tent and then into the
sleeping bag, zipping it back up around him.
He promptly settled in to sleep, but Mac
gently shook him and he looked up at her with
tired eyes.
"Stay with us just a little bit
longer," she encouraged as she turned
around to retrieve the first aid kit from the
backpack. Opening it, she dug around,
pulling out a thermometer and sticking it in
his mouth. "I want to try to get
you warmed up some before you sleep. Are
you wearing any wet clothes?"
Sergei tried to open his mouth to speak, but
Mac shook her head, so he settled for a simple
shake in response. Mac breathed a sigh
of relief that it was one less thing to worry
about. Now she just had to get both him
and Harm to hang on until someone stumbled
across them or Harm and Sergei were well
enough that they could risk moving again.
Unfortunately, she knew that the latter
scenario was not very likely, but they might
not have a choice but to go with that option.
Both needed medical attention as soon as
possible.
Mac took the thermometer out of Sergei's mouth
and read it, doing a quick conversion from
Celsius to Fahrenheit in her head. About
ninety-four degrees. As she recalled
from her basic survival training, the
threshold for hypothermia was ninety-five.
Now that it was confirmed, Mac knew the best
she could do would be to keep him dry and to
warm him up as much as possible. At
least that was more than she could do for the
frostbite.
Pushing back the hood of her parka, she pulled
off the knit cap she was wearing underneath
and helped Sergei put it on his head over the
cap from his pilot's uniform. Mac was
amazed that he wasn't worse off considering
how little head protection he'd had.
Must be that Rabb stubbornness and
determination, she thought, smiling slightly
despite the seriousness of the situation.
"Are you going to be warm enough?"
she asked. "Would you like a
blanket as well?"
Sergei shook his head. "Sleeping
bag. . . .very warm," he murmured
drowsily, pulling the flap up over his head.
Feeling she had done the best that she could
for him for the time being, she promised
herself to check on him every hour or so.
Going around Sergei, she crawled to Harm's
side.
"How is he?" he asked quietly,
careful not to disturb Sergei, whose even
breathing indicated that he had fallen asleep.
Mac stretched out on her side next to him on
the cold dirt floor and whispered in reply,
not pulling any punches, realizing that Harm
would know if she was holding back, "His
temperature is ninety-four degrees, which is
just below the threshold for hypothermia.
He had mild frostbite on his face and ears.
I don't know about his hands and feet. I
didn't want to uncover them and risk any
further damage than what might already be
there. Fortunately, other than some obvious
cuts and bruises on his face, he doesn't
really show signs of other crash-related
injuries. He's very lucky in that
regard."
"We still need to get him medical
attention," Harm concluded.
"I can attempt to keep the hypothermia at
bay," she explained, "but out here,
I can't really do anything for the frostbite.
Conventional wisdom says not to warm body
parts that might freeze again. That
could cause even more damage."
Harm paused for a moment to think. He
had an idea, but he had the feeling that Mac
was not going to be too happy about it.
"Do you have an estimate on how far we
are from the highway?" he asked.
"I think we've actually moved back
towards the road as we've continued," she
replied, curious where he was going with that
line of questioning. She knew for sure
that they weren't close enough to the road to
be seen from it. "I'd have to check the
map and GPS, but I'd say a kilometer, maybe
two."
"Mac, what if you head back for the road
and try to get to the car in the
morning?" he suggested. At the
disapproving look on her face, he added,
"No, wait and hear me out. If you
can get to the road, get the car and drive it
up close enough that Sergei and I should be
able to make it to the car, then we can get
back to Grozny."
"Harm, I can't just leave you and Sergei
here," she protested. "Neither
of you is in any condition to take care of
yourselves, let alone each other. And what if
the car isn't there any more? It could
have been stolen. Or what if it's been
damages by shells or passing troops? I
can't take the risk on something that might
not pan out."
"Mac, you can't not take the risk,"
Harm pointed out. "You said your
that you can't treat Sergei's frostbite and
that there only limited treatment you can give
for the hypothermia. Then there's my
wound from the land mine. I don't like
the idea of sending you out there alone, not
after everything that we've already been
through on this trip. But be honest,
what are the odds of someone finding us out
here in the middle of the woods? Yes, we
have been keeping in contact with Grozny and
they will notice when we don't check in, but
will they even know where to begin looking for
us? What if circumstances – renewed
fighting for instance – prevent them from
looking for us? How long can we really
hold out here?"
Mac looked down at the ground, knowing that he
was right. But there was still a part of
her that was scared that if she left,
something would happen to Harm – or Sergei
– without her and she knew she couldn't live
with that. "I'll leave the first thing in
the morning," she conceded.
"Good," Harm said, reaching up to
brush his fingers over her cheek, tracing the
edge of the bandage. "How is this
feeling?"
"It's okay," she replied, diverting
her eyes. He promptly lifted her chin to
look into her eyes.
"Do I have to take off the bandage and
check for myself?" he asked softly.
Under his persistent gaze, she relented.
"It still burns and that area of my face
feels warm," she conceded.
"I'll definitely need antibiotics
myself."
Satisfied, Harm changed the subject.
"You should get some rest if you're going
to head for the car in the morning," he
said, unzipping his sleeping back and pushing
the top aside.
Mac looked at him confused. "What
are you doing?" she asked.
"You gave up your sleeping bag to
Sergei," he pointed out, shifting so that
he was lying on his uninjured left side.
He patted the space beside him. "You need
a place to sleep."
"We have a couple of blankets in the
backpack," she said. "I'll
just use those and sleep on the floor."
"No, you won't," he insisted.
"If we lay on our sides, it will be
tight, but there will be room for both of us
in here."
Nodding at his reasoning, she climbed into the
sleeping bag, settling in with her back
against his chest. The position left her
lying on the side of her face that was
bandaged and she bit back a groan of pain.
"Mac, turn around so that you're lying on
your other side," Harm encouraged her.
"You're not going to get any sleep lying
on the side of your face like that."
Hesitantly, Mac turned over, a part of her
being uncomfortable being in such an intimate
position with Harm, while another part of her
wanted nothing more than to lose herself in
his arms. Not entirely sure of Harm and
his feelings, she lay there stiffly, afraid to
get too close. Harm slid an arm under
her and pulled her closer to him so that she
was snuggled up against his chest. After
a moment, wondering just why he was being so
tender, she closed her eyes against the tears
threatening and relaxed in his arms.
THE NEXT MORNING
Mac awoke the next morning feeling remarkably
refreshed, considering that she had woken up,
thanks to her internal clock, every so often
to check on Sergei. Fortunately, upon
satisfying herself that he was doing as well
as could be expected, she had fallen promptly
back asleep.
Sometime after her last check of Sergei, Harm
had rolled over onto his back, pulling her
with him so that she awoke half lying on top
of him, her arm draped over his chest and his
wrapped around her back. She propped
herself up on an elbow and watched him sleep,
looking remarkably peaceful in slumber despite
the pain he must be feeling. After a
moment, his eyes fluttered open.
"Morning," he said.
"Good morning," she replied,
slightly embarrassed to be caught staring at
him. "How are you feeling?"
"Not bad," he replied, gently
pushing her away so that he could slide out
from under her. She tried to cover her
hurt reaction, but he noticed. "Mac, I
have to, um, nature calls."
Mac flushed red with embarrassment.
"Oh, sorry," she said, unzipping the
sleeping bag and crawling out, standing by to
assist him in getting up. With her help, he
manage to climb to his feet, his hand against
his side as he gritted his teeth against the
pain. They slowly made their way
outside, Mac standing in wait beside the door
while Harm made his way around the side of the
cabin, leaning against the side of the
building for support.
While she was waiting for him to return, Mac
reflected on everything that had happened the
last few days. How had everything gotten
so jumbled up? When she had agreed to switch
Mic's ring over, she had truly believed that
she was doing the right thing. Or had
she only managed to convinced herself of that
because she and Harm were so far apart?
Even taking Mic's ring in the first place, she
had to admit to herself, had been more about
reacting to Harm's rejection on the ferry
rather than any feelings she might have had
for Mic. Then, as soon as she had moved
the ring over, everything had been thrown up
in the air again by Harm's announcement that
he was planning to resign his commission.
Consciously, she'd convinced herself until
that moment that she'd buried any feelings
she'd had for Harm. Unconsciously, she
had to wonder if a part – maybe a large part
– of her had been using Mic to try and force
Harm's hand regarding his feelings for her.
Sighing sadly, she closed her eyes and leaned
her head back against the wall, humming softly
to herself, wishing this could all be easier.
She didn't realize that she was alone until
she heard Harm speak. "That sounds
beautiful," he commented as she opened
her eyes. "What is it?"
"Just a song I heard on the radio,"
she replied vaguely, shrugging. "I
thought it was a beautiful song."
Harm stared at her intently as he sat down on
a tree stump, wondering what she wasn't
telling him. He couldn't put his finger
on it, but he sensed that the song seemed to
affect her deeply. Gently, he pressed
the issue, "Do you know the words?
I'd like to hear them."
Reluctantly, Mac nodded. "After I
heard the song," she explained softly,
her voice distant, "I went out the next
morning and bought the CD that the song is on.
I've got the song memorized now, it's been
running through my head so much."
Softly, hesitantly, she began to sing,
avoiding looking at Harm.
And now, is it too late to say
How you made my life so different in your
quiet way?
I can see the joy in simple things
A sunlit sky and all the songs we used to sing
I have walked and I have prayed
I could forgive and we could start again
In the end, you are my one true friend
For all, all the times you closed your eyes
Allowing me to stumble or to be surprised
By life with all its twists and turns
I made mistakes, you always knew that I would
learn
And when I left, it's you who stayed
You always knew that I'd come home again
In the end, you are my one true friend
Though love may break, it never dies
It changes shape through changing eyes
What I denied, I now can see
You always were the light inside of me
I know, I know, I know, I know it was you
I have walked and I have prayed
I could forgive and we could start again
In the end, you are my one true friend
My one true friend
I always, always knew
I always knew that it was you
My one true friend
As her voice trailed off, she felt Harm take
her hand in his, rubbing his thumb over her
knuckles, much as he had done that night at
the wall, right before he had noticed the
ring. She felt compelled to explain,
"I first heard that song the night before
we left Washington, when I got home after you
left me at the Wall. It just. . . .it
spoke to me."
"We never did have that talk last
night," he pointed out, tugging on her
hand gently to pull her towards him.
When she was close enough, he took her other
hand and looked up at her while she continued
to look down at the ground.
"I guess the timing was wrong," she
said, her voice filled with regret. Not
that she'd blamed Sergei. He was, after
all, the reason they were in Chechnya in the
first place. "I wonder if it will
ever be right."
"We will have that talk. . .
.Sarah," he told her, her head jerking up
at her name coming from his lips.
"I promise that and I promise that it
won't be like before."
Like before, Mac thought bitterly. Like
the ferry, the single event that had started
the journey they'd begun ten months ago.
Maybe they needed to close the circle back to
that night before they could move forward.
Slowly, she nodded. They would have
their talk. They had to at this point or
neither of them could move forward, whether
together or separately.
"You should eat something before you
leave," Harm said, dropping her hands as
he dropped the subject. "You'll
need your strength."
Mac nodded, silently agreeing to drop the
subject for now. This wasn't the time or
place, not with their survival still of
paramount concern and with Sergei only feet
away. She put her arm around him and
helped him up, supporting him as they went
back into the cabin.
Inside, they found Sergei awake and outside
the tent, standing at one of the broken
windows, looking out into the frozen woods.
Harm managed a smile as he said,
"Someone's looking better than he did
last night."
Sergei turned around slowly, his movements
still somewhat affected by the hypothermia and
the cold, although he wasn't stumbling and out
of it as he had been the night before.
"Brother," he said softly,
immediately embracing Harm. "What
are you doing here?"
"Finding you," Harm replied,
thinking that few sights had ever looked so
good as his brother standing in front of him.
"Someone had to rescue your six."
Sergei nodded, remembering the story his
mother had told about how Harm had traveled
halfway around the world to discover their
father's fate. Despite the circumstances
surrounding his birth and their meeting a
couple months earlier, it warmed Sergei to
realize just how much he meant to his brother.
"Thank you," Sergei replied as Mac
went into the tent to get some breakfast for
all of them, leaving Harm leaning against the
wall.
"So how did you end up back here at the
cabin?" Mac asked when she returned,
handing each of them some rations.
"We thought from the tracks in the snow
that you were ahead of us."
"I was," Sergei revealed, tearing
open his food pack. "I saw the
cabin, but it was still daylight so I kept
moving. But it was getting dark and the
Chechens were still after me, so I turned
around. I thought I could find shelter
and confuse the rebels."
"I guess it's a good thing for all of us
that you did turn back," Mac commented,
finishing off her breakfast.
"Are you going to get started?" Harm
asked.
"I guess," Mac answered reluctantly.
"The sooner I get started, hopefully the
sooner I can get back."
"Where are you going, Colonel?"
Sergei asked, looking from one to the other.
"Call me Mac," she said, "and
your brother suggested last night that I head
back to where we left our car near your crash
site. Between your hypothermia and his
injury, we need to get back to Grozny so we
can get medical attention."
"And your injury, too," Harm
reminded her as Sergei looked at him,
confused.
"What happened to you, Harm?" Sergei
asked. "I thought I remembered the
Colonel said that I looked worse than you do,
but I wasn't sure."
"You were a bit out of it last
night," Mac replied, "but you did
hear correctly. Yesterday, we got caught
in the explosion of a land mine. Captain
Volkonov was killed and Harm suffered a
shrapnel wound."
"I am sorry to hear about Captain
Volkonov," he said respectfully.
"He was a good man." He was
silent for a moment, then asked, concerned,
"And you, Harm? How are you?"
"I'm fine," Harm said quickly with
an air of indifference, before Mac could say
otherwise. He shot her a look and
continued, "My side is painful and it
hurts to walk, but I'll be fine. Anyway,
Mac, you should get going."
Sergei went into the tent, allowing them some
privacy. "Harm," Mac sighed.
"I'll be fine," he insisted, his
hand pressed against her cheek.
"I'm feeling better and so is Sergei.
We can keep an eye on each other until you get
back."
Mac sighed heavily. "I just wish
that there was another way," she said.
"But there isn't," he reminded her.
"The radio's broken and, even if you knew
what was wrong with it, there's no guarantee
you could fix it. Do you have the keys
to the car?"
"Now you ask me that," she said,
shaking her head. "Actually, I got
the keys off. . . .his body when I went
through his backpack."
They were both silent for a moment,
remembering, then Harm said softly, "You
should get going." He paused a
moment, then leaned forward and brushed his
lips against hers in a feather-light kiss.
Mac pulled away and headed for the door,
pausing in the doorway to look back at him.
Managing a small smile for him, she turned and
walked out into the frigid December air.
"When are you going to tell her?" a
voice behind him asked. Harm turned
around slowly to see Sergei standing just
outside the tent, studying him intently.
"What do you mean?" Harm countered,
pretending that he didn't know what Sergei was
talking about.
"Colonel Mackenzie," Sergei
clarified, nodding towards the doorway she had
just gone through. "When are you
going to tell her you love her?"
"Sergei, it's not that simple," Harm
said sadly, staring up at the damaged ceiling.
"It should be," Sergei countered,
unable to understand his brother. He
barely knew Harm and Mac, yet it was very
obvious to him. "So why is it not
that simple?"
"Sergei," Harm exclaimed,
exasperated. Shaking his head, he
finally replied quietly, "She's marrying
someone else."
"What!?" Sergei exclaimed, unable to
reconcile what he had just seen between Harm
and Mac with what Harm was telling him.
"What I just saw was not a woman in love
with someone else. Where is this man she
is marrying?"
"He's in Washington," Harm replied.
"Look, why am I even talking about this
with you?"
"He is in Washington and she is
here," Sergei continued, ignoring Harm's
last statement. "She has followed
you to Russia for the third time and her fiancé
is in America. Does that not say
something to you? And what about you?
You obviously love her. So why is she
marrying someone else?"
"She didn't follow me to Russia the last
time," Harm countered, ignoring the rest
of what Sergei had said. "She was
sent to Russia by the Admiral. . . ."
Sergei interrupted, "But she did follow
you to Chechnya. And what about the
rest?"
"What it says to me is. . . .I don't know
what it says to me," Harm replied,
frustrated. "She tried to tell me
how she felt, but a few days later she shows
up wearing his ring. I couldn't say
anything after that. She made her
choice. It's not my place to
interfere."
"Even if you love her?" Sergei
asked, still confused. He had thought
his brother was a smart man, but now he wasn't
so sure. "What about this talk you
are going to have with her? If it is not
your place to interfere, what were you going
to tell her?"
Harm sighed. That was the question he'd
been wrestling with since their kiss when he'd
found out she'd thrown away her career for
him. He'd told her that it was too late.
But was it really? What did it say about
her relationship with Mic that she would take
off her engagement ring and follow another man
halfway around the world? He just didn't
know. "How did you know about that
anyway?" he asked.
"When I woke up, I was going outside when
I heard you and Colonel Mackenzie
talking," Sergei revealed. "So
what are you going to tell her? If you
love her and she loves you as I think you do,
give her a reason not to marry this other
man."
"I don't know if. . . ." Harm began,
suddenly stopping and holding his side. Sergei
looked at him with concern.
"What is it?" he asked as Harm began
unzipping his parka. He pulled up his
shirts, both with a red stain over the area of
his injury, to find the makeshift bandage that
Mac had tied on soaked through, blood seeping
out to stain the waistband of his pants.
"Sit," Sergei said, pushing Harm to
the ground. "Do you have something
else that we can use as a bandage?"
"I don't know," Harm replied, his
voice tired. "I'm not sure what we
kept from the three backpacks after. . .
.maybe in the backpack in the tent."
Sergei went to check, returning after a moment
with a t-shirt. "This was all I
could find," he said.
"It will be good enough for now,"
Harm said, taking a deep breath despite the
burning pull in his side. He untied the
long johns as Sergei folded the shirt.
Harm took the shirt and placed it over the two
shirts already pressed against the wound and
retied the bandage before straightening his
clothes. "Mac will be back soon
with the car."
"Why don't you lie down?" Sergei
suggested, holding his hand out to help Harm
up. Harm stood with difficulty, then
slumped back against the wall, feeling
slightly dizzy from the blood loss.
Sergei rushed forward, grabbing Harm to keep
him from falling to the ground. He
helped Harm into the tent and back into his
sleeping bag, zipping it up around him.
"You need to lie down yourself,"
Harm said weakly. "You don't look
all that great yourself."
Sergei nodded and settled into his own
sleeping bag. He closed his eyes,
intending to sleep until he heard Harm's
voice.
"Talk to me," Harm said.
"I want to stay awake until Mac gets
back."
Sergei smiled, seeing the perfect opening.
"Tell me about Colonel Mackenzie,"
he encouraged. "How did you
meet?"
Harm smiled at the memories, surprising Sergei
somewhat by not protesting the topic.
His brother definitely had it bad. Only
he needed to be convinced of that.
"It was in a Rose Garden. . . ."
JAG HEADQUARTERS
WASHINGTON DC
As soon as Clay had gotten the call from
Sokol, he had called and woken AJ up at home.
Realizing the gravity of the situation, AJ had
in turn placed calls to Mic and to Trish and
Frank, requesting that everyone meet at JAG as
soon as possible. Given the very early
hour of the morning, all of them were gathered
within half an hour of Clay receiving the call
from Russia.
"I had some news from Major Sokol,"
Clay began, keeping a tight lid on his
emotions. He wasn't used to showing how
much he cared. "Last night, he
received a phone call from Grozny reporting
Chechen rumors of Russian Army
officer found in the woods, killed by a land
mine. This morning, some Russian troops
were sent to check it out and they confirmed
the officers identity. It was Captain
Volkonov."
"He was the officer traveling with Sarah
and Rabb, wasn't he?" Mic asked, even as
he knew the answer. Clay would not have
called them all together in the middle of the
night if it was otherwise. Clay
reluctantly nodded his confirmation, bringing
a gasp from Trish.
"What about Harm and Mac?" Frank
asked, clasping Trish's hand.
"There were footprints leading away from
the blast site," Clay revealed. "The
Russians believe that they were able to walk
away from the explosion. However, there was
some blood in a location away from Volkonov's
body, which leads them to believe that one of
them was injured in the blast."
"But we don't know which one?" Mic
asked, his anger mounting. Damn Rabb and
his obsessive crusades. If Sarah had
been hurt because of him. . . .
"No, we don't," Clay replied.
"The Russians are mounting a search for
them. . . ." Clay hesitated, which AJ
picked up on immediately.
"Webb, what aren't you telling us?"
AJ demanded, a warning tone to his voice.
Clay sighed, replying, "AJ, their cover
over there was as human rights observers who
were being escorted around by a Russian
officer."
"And the Russians have no great love of
human rights observers," AJ finished.
"Sokol is doing everything he can,"
Clay continued. "He's on his way to
Chechnya as we speak."
"Then so am I," Mic declared, his
voice edgy. "I'm sorry, Admiral,
but I should never have let you talk me out of
going."
"Mic, just a minute," AJ said,
trying to calm the other man. "What
exactly are you going to do over there?
Do you think the Russians are going to welcome
you with open arms?"
"I don't care," Mic began, only to
be interrupted by Clay.
"Damn it, Brumby," Clay exclaimed.
This was what he'd tried to avoid by getting
AJ to talk Mic out of going to Russia.
"Give your head a shake. This isn't about
you and your girlfriend."
Mic was about to reply until he got help from
an unexpected quarter. "I want to
go to Russia, too," Trish said, as
everyone else turned to look at her.
"Trish, I don't think that's a good
idea," Frank began, but Trish shook her
head.
"Frank, if Harm is out there somewhere
injured," Trish explained, "I need
to be there when they find him. Harm has
to know. . . ." she stopped, putting her
hand over her mouth as she struggled to hold
back tears. She had already lost her
husband to that country and didn't know what
she would do if she lost her son as well.
"Trish, Harm doesn't blame you for what
you said," Frank tried to console her.
Trish shook her head, her voice stronger as
she continued firmly, "I'm going to
Russia. Harm is going to need me.
And what if he doesn't find Sergei? You know
that will destroy him after what happened to
his father."
"Webb, what if we all go?" AJ
suggested, looking for a compromise.
"When Harm and Mac are found, I assume
they will be returning to Moscow, especially
if one or both of them are injured. We
can be there in Moscow when they arrive."
Clay considered. It would give everyone
what they wanted, to go to Russia, and yet he
could work to keep them out of Chechnya.
It wasn't like there were passenger flights
there and he doubted any of them were as
industrious as Mac and would try to travel to
Chechnya in a taxi. He looked
around the room, his gaze finally settling on
AJ. "Visa permits for five?"
he asked.
"Do it, Webb," AJ ordered, "and
see about getting all of us a flight."
"Admiral, I have a suggestion, since time
is a consideration," Frank said. "I
have a private jet. It doesn't have the
range to get us all the way to Moscow.
We'd have to stop in England to refuel.
But it would get us to Russia faster than
waiting for a commercial flight tonight."
"Webb, can we get clearance for a private
jet to land in Moscow?" AJ asked. Clay
nodded. "Then do it. Mr.
Burnett, I know you need to file a flight
plan. What time can everyone be ready to
leave?"
"I just need until about seven to let my
office know that I have an emergency,"
Mic said. "I can call from the
airport."
"Okay, let's say we leave just after
seven, if Webb can make the visa arrangements
by then," AJ suggested. Clay nodded
again. "What airport are you at,
Mr. Burnett?"
"Dulles," Frank replied.
"Then why don't we meet at Dulles at
six," AJ suggested. Mic, Trish and
Frank quickly made their goodbyes and left.
"What are you going to tell the
SecNav?" Clay asked, intensely curious.
He'd been present for AJ's last conversation
with the man. "You told him that
Rabb and Mackenzie were on assignment."
"I know what I told him," AJ
retorted, going through a stack of folders on
his desk, trying to figure out which ones he
needed to delegate out before he left.
"I told him they were on assignment.
I never said where."
"AJ," Clay began. AJ looked up
at him expectantly. "I'm sure they
will be fine."
"You'd better hope they are, Webb,"
AJ warned. "Because if they aren't,
a broken nose will be the least of your
worries."
Clay resisted the urge to sigh.
*That* was why he hadn't wanted to go to
Russia.
FOUR HOURS LATER
CHECHEN FOREST
"Harm, Sergei," Mac called, out of
breath. After parking the car again on
the side of the highway at the closest point
to their location, she had run through the
snow the nearly two kilometers back to the
cabin, knowing that time was probably of the
essence.
"Colonel, come here," Sergei called
back from inside the tent. Mac stuck her
head inside the tent and was shaken to find
Sergei checking the dressings on Harm's wound,
which were soaked through with blood.
"What happened?" she whispered as
she climbed inside, kneeling at Harm's side.
She pressed her palm to his forehead, relieved
that he didn't have a fever. But his
face was very pale, nearly as pale as Sergei's
frostbitten one. "Harm?"
"Started bleeding more," he replied
weakly, "just after you left. You
got the car?"
Mac nodded, fighting to hold it together, now
glad that Harm had persuaded her to go get the
car. If the bleeding didn't stop, Harm
wasn't going to make it staying out here.
"Then we need to get going," Harm
said.
Mac was torn. One the one hand, she was
very concerned about moving Harm given his
worsening condition. But if they didn't
get to the car and get back to Grozny, it was
possible Harm could die out here. She
looked at Sergei, trying to gauge his
condition.
"I am okay," Sergei said in response
to the unasked question. "I will
help support Harm."
Mac nodded mutely, helping Harm into a sitting
position as he straightened his clothes.
"Mac, it will be okay," he
whispered, leaning against her.
She nodded again. "I made you a
promise, remember?" she pointed out.
Harm nodded, managing a weak smile.
With Sergei's help, she got Harm on his feet
and out of the tent. She glanced at the
backpack, sleeping bags and tent, then decided
it was best to leave them behind. It
wasn't that far to the car and they needed to
move as quickly as possible.
"Come on, let's go, Sailor," she
whispered as they left the cabin.
MIC’S APARTMENT
Mic quickly tossed some clothes in a small
suitcase and snapped it shut, not bothering to
check what he had packed. If he needed
anything else, he figured he could buy it in
Moscow. All that mattered right now was
getting to Mac. He double-check his
coat, making sure his passport was in the
inside pocket, and was about to walk out the
door when he stopped suddenly.
He wasn’t sure why he suddenly remembered
that he and Renee had planned to have
breakfast together. Maybe
subconsciously, he thought that she might like
to be made aware of the situation.
Setting down his suitcase, he picked up the
phone and dialed.
“’Lo,” a sleepy voice answered on the
other end.
“Renee, it’s Mic,” he said.
Renee sat straight up in bed, a small part of
her concerned, despite her anger at Harm.
“Do you know what time it is?” she asked.
“Is this about Harm?”
“I’m on my way to Russia with the Admiral,
Clayton Webb and Rabb’s parents,” he
explained.
“So you decided to go after your fiancée
after all,” Renee concluded, a bit shortly.
“Good for you. I take it that means
you won’t be making our breakfast?”
“Renee, don’t you care what’s happening
to Rabb in Russia?” Mic asked, a little
surprised at her attitude and his. Why
did he care so much about Harm and Renee’s
relationship?
“I care in that I hope he doesn’t get
himself killed,” she retorted. “Other than that, I have come to the
conclusion that I am tired of coming in second
place to his career and his obsessions.
Don’t you get tired of the same thing with
Mac?”
“It’s not coming in second place to
Sarah’s career that concerns me,” Mic
replied softly.
“There’s that, too,” Renee agreed.
“I guess that’s why he’s been so
reluctant to commit to me.” Renee sighed.
She’d really thought Harmon Rabb was the one
for her – at least if she’d been able to
get him to leave the Navy for her. “Well, have a good trip. Tell Harm
‘It’s been nice’ when you see him.”
“Maybe you’d like to tell him that
yourself,” Mic suggested. He wasn’t
sure he wanted to go wading into those waters.
“Yeah, I guess you’re right,”
Renee said. “Goodbye.”
“Renee,” Mic said before she could hang
up. “I think I’ll have a lot
of free time when I return from Russia.
Rain check on our breakfast?”
“I guess I’m not the only one who came to
that conclusion,” she pointed out. “Sure,
rain check. Just give me a call when you
get back.” She hung up the phone
before he could say anything else.
Mic stared at the phone for a long moment
before he placed it back on the base.
He’d never thought he’d give up on Mac so
easily. Then again, maybe it wasn’t so
easy after ten months of waiting for her to
make a decision that her heart wasn’t really
into. He picked up his suitcase again
and walked out the door, locking it behind
him.
HIGHWAY M-29
CHECHNYA
Despite it only being two kilometers from the
cabin to where Mac had parked the car, it took
the three of them nearly an hour to make the
trek through the snow. Harm had steadily
grown weaker as they had traveled until Mac
and Sergei were pretty much dragging him
between them. Mac was amazed at how well
Sergei was holding up considering that between
the onset of hypothermia and frostbite, he was
not in any condition for a trek through the
woods himself.
Reaching the car, Mac left Harm and Sergei
leaning against the trunk while she struggled
to unlock a door that she’d had unlocked
just two hours earlier. Finally, after a
struggle during which she’d nearly broken
the key in the lock, she got it unlocked and
pulled the driver’s door open, quickly
unlocking the back door. “Let’s lay
him across the back seat,” she suggested as
she opened the door. With Sergei’s
help, Harm stumbled along the side of the car,
leaning against it as he made his way to the
door and crawled into the car, Sergei climbing
in behind him.
“I will sit back here with him,” Sergei
said, settling uncomfortably on the floor in
front of the seat.
“Good,” Mac said, getting behind the
wheel, her voice business-like even as she was
scared inside. “Why don’t you try to
keep some pressure on the wound, see if the
bleeding will slow down. The good news
is that we’re not that far from Grozny.
The bad news is the roads are icy so it will
be slow going in places. Sergei, I want
you to let me know immediately if he gets
worse back there.”
“I’ll be fine,” Harm insisted, his words
slurred. “Just get us to Grozny.”
“I will,” she promised, looking back at
him and giving him a comforting smile. “Sergei, how are you doing?”
“I am fine,” he lied. He was tired
and cold again from their trek to the car.
But he thought Mac had enough to worry about
with Harm in the condition he was in.
Mac wasn’t quite convinced, knowing that if
he was anything like his brother he was
probably minimizing his own condition.
But they would be back at Grozny soon, where
they could at least get some rudimentary
medical treatment until they could be
transported to a hospital. She turned
around in her seat and turned the key in the
ignition, resisting the urge to groan in
frustration when the engine wouldn’t turn
over. Great, first she had a hard time
getting the car unlocked and now it wouldn’t
start. Taking a deep breath, she turned
the key again. “Thank you,” she
whispered as car finally started and she
shifted into gear, taking off in the direction
of Grozny.
GROZNY, CHECHNYA
Due to the icy roads, it had taken them nearly
an hour to make the twenty kilometer drive
with a few close calls when the car had hit
patches of ice and started fishtailing.
Mac winced each time the car’s abrupt
movements cause Harm to moan in pain.
Finally, they had entered the city, but could
only get within a block of the field hospital
due to rubble in the streets.
Stopping the car at the side of the road, Mac
turned around, about to suggest that they walk
the rest of the way. But one look at
Harm’s ashen features and she knew he
probably wouldn’t be able to make it, even
with her and Sergei supporting him. “Sergei, I’m going to run to the hospital
and see if I can bring back some help,” Mac
said with a worried glance at Harm.
“Go!” Sergei encouraged her.
Mac reached into the back see and grasped
Harm’s hand. “I’ll be back soon
with help,” she promised.
After Mac left, Sergei looked down at Harm.
“That is a woman in love,” he said firmly.
Harm opened his eyes and shot his brother a
dirty look.
“Sergei. . . .” Harm said weakly, while
Sergei chuckled a little.
“It is good that you are in no condition to
argue with me,” Sergei teased. Harm started
to laugh, but the sound quickly turned into a
groan of pain. Sergei sobered quickly.
“Sorry, big brother,” he said. He
was quiet for a moment, then asked, “Why
have you not told Colonel Mackenzie how you
feel?”
“It’s not that simple,” Harm replied,
his voice quiet. “I thought she knew.
. . .I asked her to wait. But then she
took his ring.”
“You thought she knew but you did not tell
her,” Sergei mused. “How could she
know if you do not say anything?”
“I said that I was that way only with
her,” Harm justified. Sergei shook his
head.
“This does not make sense,” he complained.
“Start at the beginning.”
Harm sighed, realizing Sergei wasn’t going
to let the subject drop. But this
wasn’t easy for him to talk about. In
fact, since that night he’d never mentioned
it to another living soul. “We were in
Australia on a case,” he began, his
words labored. “She had gone to the
beach with Mic. . . .”
“Mic? This is the man whose ring she
wears?”
Harm nodded weakly in response. “This
was before the ring,” he explained.
“Anyway, it was a topless beach. . .
.Sergei!”
Sergei looked down, embarrassed. He
couldn’t help the image that Harm’s words
created in his mind. Definitely not
something he should be thinking about,
especially when it concerned the woman his
brother was in love with. Shaking his
head, he encouraged Harm to continue, “So
she went to this. . . .beach with Mic.
What happened?”
“Nothing then,” Harm continued. “The next night, I took her to dinner and on
the ferry, some comments were made about my
not understanding why she went to the beach
with Mic and she indicated that she might not
have been topless after all.”
“I do not understand,” Sergei confessed.
“Either she was wearing a top or she was
not.”
“At the beach, she’d had this magazine
laying across her chest so I really couldn’t
see,” Harm explained. “I made the
comment that she shouldn’t behave like that
with someone she works with and that she
wouldn’t do it for me. She asked me if
that was a request and. . . .I started talking
about something else.”
“Something else!?” Sergei exclaimed.
“Why did you not say ‘yes’?”
“It’s not that simple,” Harm protested
as Sergei muttered something under his breath
in Russian. “What was that you just
said?” he demanded.
“I said you are an idiot,” Sergei
retorted. “The woman you love asks if
you want her to go topless for you and you
start talking about something else! What is so
difficult? You say yes, go to your hotel
room. . . .”
“Sergei, this is Mac we’re talking
about,” Harm argued. “I respect her
too much to just jump into bed with her!”
“And did you tell her this?” Sergei
countered.
“Well, yes,” Harm replied. Sergei
just stared at him and he shrugged. “Okay,
kind of. She accused me of not being
able to let go and I said not yet and then we
talked about how I was only that way with
her.”
“And from this she is supposed to understand
that you love her and want her to wait for you
to be ready?” Sergei asked, shaking his
head. “I thought you were a lawyer.
Do lawyers not know how to say things to
persuade people? Is that not your
job?”
“Well she must not have felt the same for me
because a few days later she was wearing his
ring!” Harm exclaimed, groaning with the
effort.
Sergei was ready to throw up his hands.
Clearly, his brother was smart in some things
and really dumb in others. “And you
did not think that she wears his ring because
she thinks you rejected her?”
“I didn’t reject her!” Harm argued.
“How does she know that?” Sergei
countered. “I am confused by what you
just told me. She must have been
confused that night, listening to you.
No matter now. Why did you not say
anything after she wore the ring, when you
knew that if you did not say anything you
would lose her?”
“Because why would she have taken his ring
if she didn’t want to?” Harm replied.
“If that is what she wants, then I have to
be happy for her. She made her
choice.”
“Only because you did not give her another
one,” Sergei pointed out. “If this
other man is what she wants, then why did she
follow you into Chechnya twice? I do not
know many friends who would follow each other
into a war.”
“Harm, when my mother first told me about
you and your mother, I knew that my mother was
not his first choice,” Sergei continued
realistically. “She always knew that
he was just – what is the word? – settling
because he could not be with your mother.
Our father and your mother could not be
together because of circumstances not in their
control. But you and Colonel Mackenzie
have a choice. You can chose to be
together. She does not have to settle
for second choice. But you have to say
something.”
“Sergei, the choice was taken away from me
the day she put on that ring,” Harm
countered softly. “If she wants to be
with me, she has to make the next move.
I will not hurt her by destroying a
relationship that she apparently wants.”
Sergei, shaking his head, was about to say
something when he caught sight of movement out
of the corner of his eye. He looked
towards the window to find Mac standing there,
looking at them through the partially opened
window. From the pained expression on her
face, he could tell that she had heard at
least some of what they had been talking
about. He opened his mouth to speak, but
she shook her head. Sergei muttered
something under his breath in Russian about
both of them being idiots as she opened the
car door, motioning to a Russian Army captain
behind her.
“Harm,” Mac said gently, her voice steady
as if she hadn’t heard a thing. “This is
Doctor Romakov. He wants to look at your
wound while we’re waiting for the orderlies
to get here with a stretcher.”
Sergei pulled his hands away from where they
were pressing against the wound and the doctor
leaned into the car, pulling the fabric away,
probing the wound with his fingers while Harm
winced. “My apologies,” Romakov said
in heavily accented English. “You are
a lucky man. The wound is deep and you
have lost much blood.”
“But he will be okay?” Sergei asked, in
English for Harm’s benefit.
“Yes,” the doctor replied as the orderlies
arrived, carrying a stretcher between them.
“He has made it this far.”
“Typical Rabb stubbornness,” Mac commented
as she and the doctor stepped away from the
door to allow Sergei to get out of the car and
the orderlies to reach in to pull Harm out.
“Speaking of which, Sergeant Zhukov here has
frostbite and a mild case of hypothermia.
His temperature was 34.4 Celsius.”
“Colonel, I am fine,” Sergei protested.
“My brother is. . . .”
“Is being taken care of,” Mac insisted as
two more orderlies arrived with another
stretcher. "I have the feeling that
you are not doing as well as you have been
pretending.”
Sergei was about to protect, but Mac took his
arm and led him towards the other stretcher.
When he nearly stumbled despite her hold on
him, she shook her head and commented, “See
what I mean? Your brother and I didn’t
come all the way into Chechnya just so you
could collapse and die from hypothermia on
us.”
Chastised, Sergei let himself be placed on the
stretcher, the orderlies wrapping blankets
securely around him. As they lifted the
stretcher, Sergei reached for Mac’s hand.
“Colonel, promise you will talk to him,”
he asked softly. He knew she had heard
at least part of their conversation.
Mac nodded, blinking back tears. After
all that they’d been through together, it
had taken Sergei to get Harm to open up about
his feelings for her. Even if Harm
couldn’t yet tell her directly, it was a
start. Maybe Harm was right, maybe she
should make the first move. She had the
feeling that no matter what Sergei said or how
they had promised to talk, her absent ring was
going to remain a barrier between them until
she told him that it wasn’t.
TWO HOURS LATER
Once they had reached the field hospital, Mac
had tried to follow Harm, but she was pulled
back by a medic who insisted on examining the
scratches on her face. She’d protested
in Russian, but the man ignored her, leading
her to a bed of her own to clean up her
infected scratches and to give her pain
killers and antibiotics. As the
medic was finishing up, the doctor who had
gone back to the car with her came with an
update on Harm and Sergei's conditions.
She was told that Sergei would be fine, his
hypothermia was mild and easily taken care of.
He did have frostbite not only on his face and
ears, but also his hands and feet, but nothing
serious enough to threaten any limbs.
Harm was another matter.
The doctor said that the damage from Harm's
shrapnel wound was worse than they had
originally thought and had caused some
intestinal damage which would require surgery.
He was stabilized for now, but would be
transported to a hospital in Moscow on the
return flight of the military transport flight
that was on the way.
Knowing how serious Harm's condition was, Mac
would not be held back this time, wandering
among the beds until she found him and pulling
up a chair at his bedside. He was asleep
from the effects of pain medication, so Mac
contented herself with holding his hand.
Eventually, her pain medication kicked in and
she fell asleep resting her head against
Harm's shoulder.
She was awakened by a hand on her shoulder.
With tired eyes, she looked up find Major
Sokol standing over her.
"Mark," she said, blinking her eyes.
"What are you doing here?"
"We received reports of Captain
Volkonov's body being found in the
woods," he explained, pulling up another
chair and sitting down. "The
Russians sent out some troops to look for you
and Rabb and I flew down to see what I could
do to help. The flight I flew in on is
the one that will be taking you two and
Sergeant Zhukov back to Moscow."
"When do we leave?" she asked,
concerned about getting Harm the medical
attention he needed.
"An ambulance is being readied now to
transport the three of you to the air
field," he replied. "Sarah,
there's something else I should tell
you."
Mac looked up at him expectantly.
"When I arrived in Grozny, a message was
waiting for me from my aide at Lubyanka,"
he continued. "There's a private
flight on the way from Washington."
Oh, no, she thought, a feeling of dread
settling in the pit of her stomach.
"And?" she asked, almost afraid to
hear the answer.
"Your Admiral is on the flight, along
with Clayton Webb," he answered.
"Rabb's parents are coming – it's their
plane everyone's coming in on – and. . .
." He paused, studying her intently.
"And Mic Brumby is on the flight."
Mac looked down at Harm's hand in hers,
shaking her head. This was the last
thing she needed right now.
"Great," she muttered. She was
silent for a moment, then looked back up at
Sokol. "When do they arrive?"
"They had to stop for refueling in
England," he explained, "so that
added nearly two hours to their trip.
They'll be landing a little over an hour after
you do."
FOUR HOURS LATER
SAVIOR'S HOSPITAL FOR PEACE AND CHARITY
17 FEDERATIVNIL PRASPEKT
MOSCOW, RUSSIA
Once they had been transported from the
airfield to Moscow's second largest hospital,
Mac was once again relegated to waiting.
Sergei was admitted overnight for observation
while Harm was rushed into surgery.
After checking on Sergei to make sure he was
doing okay, Mac left him to sleep and took up
residence in a waiting area just down the hall
from the operating room to wait out Harm's
surgery.
Nearly two hours later, the surgeon, a British
doctor in Moscow on a fellowship, came out to
tell her that the surgery had gone well and
that a nurse would take her to Harm's room
once he was transferred from recovery to his
own room.
Nearly an hour after that, Mac was seated back
at Harm's side, clasping his hand tightly.
"Hey, Flyboy," she said softly,
running her fingers through his hair.
"You gave me quite a scare out there.
You knew your injury was worse than you let me
know, didn't you? But you just had to
protect me."
She smiled slightly, remembering other tight
spots they had been in over the years.
"You know, I haven't been this scared
about you since we were on the
Suribachi," she continued, kissing the
back of his hand as tears threatened. "I
honestly thought for a few moments then that
you were going to die on me before I could
tell you how I felt. Then I tried and it
all came out wrong and I didn't listen to what
you were trying to tell me. Believe me,
I am so sorry for that. It's funny,
we're lawyers but when it comes to
communicating with each other. . . . "
She trailed off, sighing sadly.
"But I don't want it to be like that
anymore," she continued, her voice
stronger. "I did hear the last bit
of what you told Sergei earlier and this time,
when we have that talk that we keep talking
about, we're not going to dance around the
subject by speaking in riddles and innuendos.
This time we'll get it right."
"I'm sorry," she began when she
heard the door to the room opening,
momentarily forgetting that not everyone here
spoke English. She was about to repeat
it in Russian then she looked up and
recognized the figure standing in the doorway.
"Mic!"
Quickly, Mac brushed the
tears from her eyes with one hand, her other
still clasping Harm's hand tightly.
"Where is everyone else?" she asked,
trying hard to control the nervousness she was
feeling.
"They're with the doctor, getting an
update on his condition," he replied,
nodding towards Harm. "I wanted. .
. .well, I needed to come find you
first."
"I guess you want to talk," she
mused quietly, sighing sadly. She'd
never meant to hurt him like this, but there
was no easy solution to this tangled
situation. "But now's not a good
time. Harm's still not awake yet and. .
. ."
"Sarah," Mic interrupted, his voice
sad. He knew she was slipping away from
him and he didn't want to drag this out,
waiting around while she hovered over Harm.
"I really think we need to do this now.
I think. . . . after all these months you at
least owe me that."
Mac might normally have taken offense at that
last remark, but she couldn't. He just sounded
so defeated, as if he knew already that he had
lost her. Sighing, she nodded. "I
guess you're right," she agreed.
She looked down at Harm again, still concerned
about leaving him alone.
"He'll have a roomful of visitors in a
few minutes," Mic pointed out.
"When was the last time you ate
anything?"
"Some field rations," she replied,
chuckling a little at the thought, "on
the flight to Moscow."
"Then why don't you let me treat you to a
decent meal?" he suggested, opening to
door to the room and gesturing towards the
hall.
"I'd really prefer not to leave the
hospital," she countered, "at least
not until Harm wakes up."
"Well then how about we stay in the
hospital," he conceded. "I'm
sure the hospital has a cafeteria."
Squeezing Harm's hand then gently laying it
back down on the bed, she stood and followed
Mic out the door. "I'm not sure
that will be much better than the field
rations," she commented.
"Frank, he looks so pale," Trish
said softly as the doctor led her and Frank
into Harm's hospital room. She sat down
in the chair Mac had previously occupied and
picked up Harm's hand. "He feels
cold."
"Mild case of hypothermia, Mrs.
Burnett," the doctor informed her.
"The injury was probably a contributing
factor since Ms. Mackenzie is not similarly
afflicted. But he will make a full
recovery."
"When should he wake up, Doctor?"
Frank asked, watching his wife out of the
corner of his eye. He was concerned
about how hard she was taking this whole
situation given the disagreement she'd had
with Harm before he'd left for Russia.
But he knew there was nothing he could say.
She need to hear from Harm that he understood
how she was feeling.
"We're keeping him lightly sedated,"
he replied, "and it will be a few hours
before we start to bring him out of it.
We wanted to give him some extra time to
heal."
"Thank you, Doctor," Frank said,
shaking his hand.
"Take all the time you'd like with your
son," the doctor said. "I'll
be back in to check on him in a few
hours." The doctor left, leaving
them alone with Harm.
Trish was quiet for a few moments, holding
Harm's cold hand against her cheek.
Finally, she spoke, her voice so quiet Frank
had to strain to hear her. "Do you
remember when we went to Germany after Harm's
crash?" she mused. "The first
time we walked into his hospital room, he was
unconscious and looked so pale. There
were all these machines and wires and
tubes."
"I remember," Frank said, putting
his hand on her shoulder. He wasn't
quite sure where she was going with that.
After his crash for several days it had been
touch and go, a complete recovery or even
survival not a sure thing. But this wasn't
like that. A few weeks and Harm would
likely be back to his normal, active
lifestyle.
"How many calls do I have to get telling
me my son is in a hospital somewhere?"
Trish asked, fighting back tears.
"And is the day going to come when we're
told that he won't recover? And when is
he going to stop coming to this God-forsaken
country? The first time he's presumed
dead in Siberia, the second time he nearly
gets blown up when someone tries to
assassinate the President of Russia and this
time. . . ."
"Trish. . . ."
She released Harm's hand and turned to Frank,
her face determined. "I need to see
him," she insisted.
Frank didn't pretend that he didn't know who
she was talking about. "Trish, are
you sure this is the right time?" he
asked, even as he knew that he wasn't going to
be able to talk her out of it.
"I need to know," she argued.
"I need to know why my son traveled
halfway around the world to risk his life for
someone he only met two months ago."
Sighing in resignation, Frank asked,
"Would you like me to go with you?"
Trish shook her head. "No, you stay
here with Harm," she replied.
"I want someone to be here with him.
I'm going to send Admiral Chegwidden and Mr.
Webb in, also. I'm sure they are anxious
to see him."
Before Trish could walk out of the room, Frank
pulled her into a tight hug. Trish had to
smile. She'd been very lucky to find him
and was thankful that he was there for her
once again as she faced the ghost of Harmon
Rabb, Sr.
HOSPITAL CAFETERIA
Both Mac and Mic were silent as the entered
the cafeteria and got their food, Mic looking
oddly at the choices. Once they were
seated, Mac commented on it, trying to lighten
the mood.
"You're not likely to find hamburgers and
fries here," she pointed out, failing
miserably to project a jovial tone.
"Maybe I'll have to make a stop at
McDonalds while I'm here," Mic mused,
making his own attempt at projecting cheer.
"They do have one of those here, don't
they?"
"Two, I think," she replied,
distracted, noting that he had said 'I' and
not 'we', but afraid after all these months to
read anything into it. After pursuing
her two years, she couldn't imagine him
walking away that easily. But maybe he was
about to surprise her. "Before we
left Russia the first time, I made Harm take
me to one. . . .I'm sorry. I probably
shouldn't have said that."
"No," Mic replies sadly.
"It's okay. That's what it's always
come down to, isn't it? You and
Harm."
"Mic. . . ." she began, but Mic held
up his hand to stop her, shaking his head.
"No, please let me finish," he
requested. "I need to say this and
it's going to be one of the hardest things
I've done." He looked down at his
food tray for a moment, trying to gather his
thoughts and figure out what words to use.
Finally, he began, "When I first came to
JAG, I thought there was something going on
between you and Rabb. I was new in town
and it seemed so obvious to me. I'll
admit that I was attracted to you but I wasn't
about to go after another man's woman.
But when I asked, he assured me that you two
were just friends and I took that as a signal
that I could pursue you. But I will
admit that in the back of my mind I had
doubts, especially after the way he defended
you at your trial. There were a few
moments when I honestly thought he wanted to
tear me apart."
Mac chuckled in spite of herself.
"Yeah, I kind of thought that, too,"
she admitted. "Harm and I have
always been very protective of each other,
even back in the beginning, when we barely
knew each other. But I guess you really
don't want to hear that."
"Actually, it helps," Mic replied.
"I mean, not in making this any easier,
but it – I guess it helps me understand
everything a little bit better. Let me
ask you something. Did I ever really
stand a chance?"
"I'm not sure how to answer that
question," Mac said, sighing as she
looked up at the ceiling. "I mean,
there are so many variables involved.
Mic, you're a great guy. You're smart, a
great lawyer, you make me laugh. . . ."
"But I'm not him," Mic said sadly,
shrugging. "And as long as he's
around. . . .actually, that's not quite right.
Even when he wasn't around, you still couldn't
let him go, could you?"
Mac had to smile at the irony of that
statement. Letting go was what it came
down to for her and Harm. Shaking her
head, she pushed the thought from her mind and
replied as gently as possible, "I'm
sorry, Mic. Under other circumstances, I
think it would have been very easy to fall in
love with you. You said all the right
things, the things that I wanted to hear. . .
."
"But I wasn't the person you wanted to
hear them from," he concluded.
"I think I always knew that. I
don't want to admit it, but maybe that's part
of why I reserved my commission. I was
in Australia, you were here with him and I
thought that if I was here too, you would
finally move the ring over. Finally, you did
move the ring over, but after so long I was so
happy that I never stopped to ask why after
all this time. Maybe I didn't want to
question. I wonder now if deep down I
knew that you hadn't so much decided to marry
me as you had decided to settle. I guess
your taking off after Rabb to Russia like you
did answered that question."
Mac looked down at her plate for a moment
before asking quietly, "So now
what?"
Mic shrugged. "I know in your
letter you said you would possibly take back
the ring when you returned," he replied.
"But I've decided that I can't ask you to
do that. Aside from the fact, to be
honest, that I don't like the idea of only
holding second place in your heart, I don't
think it's fair to you either. Now that
I have admitted, I guess, that your heart
can't really belong to me, I can't make you
settle for something less than what you truly
want."
Mac had tears in her eyes as she reached
across the table and clasped his hand.
"You're probably being better than I
deserve," she pointed out, blinking back
the tears. "It wasn't fair to you
to let you go on believing for so long that I
could love you the way you deserve to be
loved. And you do deserve a woman who
will make you the center of her universe.
That woman just isn't me and it took Harm
resigning his commission and this trip to
Russia for me to admit that to myself.
I'm just sorry that I couldn't admit that
before I got your hopes up by moving the ring
over. That wasn't fair to you
either."
"Then I guess that's it," Mic said
sadly.
"So what are you going to do?" Mac
asked. "I mean, are you going to
return to Australia, stay in Washington or
something else?"
"For now," Mic replied, "I
think I'll stay in Washington. I do like
my job, even if it's not quite what I'm used
to from the Navy. And I do have friends
here. But who knows? Maybe someday
I'll decide to go back to the Navy full-time
as I was talking about. Maybe I'll meet
someone else. With everything that's
going on, I guess I'm not in the frame of mind
to make any life changing decisions."
"How ironic," she mused quietly.
Louder, she said, "I know it's probably
not a good time to say this, but I hope you
know that you can count on me to be one of
those friends."
Mic nodded. "I appreciate
that," he said. "I just hope
you won't think me unfriendly if I keep my
distance for a while. I just think it
would hurt too much right now."
"I'd say that's fair," she agreed
sadly. "And believe me, I am so
sorry that I hurt you like this."
"No worries, mate," Mic said,
forcing a smile. "Look, I'm going
to go walk around the city for a while.
I've never been to Moscow, you know. And
I'm sure that you want to get back to Rabb
before he wakes up."
Mac stood, picking up her tray. She
wasn't quite sure what to say. Everything she
could think of just seemed so inadequate.
Finally, she simply whispered,
"Goodbye," before she walked away.
Tossing the remains of her meal in a trash
can, she looked back at Mic still sitting at
the table, removing from around his neck the
chain containing her engagement ring.
She sighed as she watched him stare at the
glittering gem for a long moment before
slipping it into his shirt pocket.
Trish was still debating internally what
she was going to say as she pushed open the
door to Sergei's room. What was she
supposed to say to the child her husband had
with another woman?
Sergei, flipping through a magazine a nurse
had brought him after he had woken up, look up
at the sound of the door opening and smiled
politely, curious who this stranger was who
was just staring at him, her eyes shining
bright with unshed tears.
Finally, Trish spoke, a small tremor in her
voice, "You look like him."
In that moment, Sergei realized who she was
and said, "You are Harm's mother."
Trish nodded as she pulled up a chair next to
the head of the bed. "Trish
Burnett," she introduced herself as she
sat down. "How are you
feeling?"
Sergei was touched by the genuine concern he
saw in her eyes. He knew this couldn't
be easy for her, just as it hadn't been easy
for Harm when he'd first heard the truth.
"I am doing better," he replied.
"I will not lose any parts from frostbite
and the doctor says that I can leave hospital
tomorrow."
Trish smiled, quickly warming up to Sergei.
A part of her had been hoping that there was
some small chance that he wasn't telling the
truth, but after only a moment in his
presence, she knew he was a Rabb, as much as
her husband and son were. And it wasn't
just the familiar eyes and grin. There
was just something about his presence that
reminded her of the man she'd fallen in love
with nearly forty years earlier and of the
child she'd raised. "That's good
news," she said sincerely.
"There have been a lot of people worried
about you."
"How is Harm?" he asked, his concern
for his brother evident in his voice.
"He came through the surgery okay,"
Trish replied. "He's still
unconscious, but the doctor said he's being
kept sedated for a little bit. He should
be awake in a few hours."
"I would like to see him," Sergei
insisted, moving as if to get out of bed.
Trish put a hand on his shoulder to hold him
back.
"Now, just a minute, young man," she
said in that 'mother' tone of voice. "Why
don't we see what a doctor or nurse says
before you take off? Anyway, after
coming halfway around the world to find you, I
don't think your brother would appreciate it
if you got up too soon and collapsed."
Sergei had to smile at the tone and the words.
Maybe it was a mother thing, but she reminded
him a lot of his own mother, usually around
the time he would do something that she didn't
quite approve of. He nodded reluctantly,
settling back against the pillows as Trish
stuck her head out the door, motioning to a
nurse in the hall. A minute later, a
doctor entered the room.
"Shto vas bespakoit?" the doctor
inquired. <What's the matter?>
Sergei looked at Trish and asked the doctor,
"Vy gavarite pa-angliyski?" <Do
you speak English?>
The doctor nodded and replied, "Yes, I
speak English." He was confused as
to why a Russian patient would ask such a
question.
"Doctor, this is Trish Burnett,"
Sergei introduced Trish.
"I'm Sergei's stepmother," she added
without hesitation, smiling at Sergei.
"How is he doing?"
"He is good," the doctor explained,
understanding Sergei's question now. "His
temperature is now thirty-five three.
The. . . .threshold for hypothermia is
thirty-five. The frostbite is improving.
He can leave hospital tomorrow."
"That's good to hear," Trish said,
relieved. "Sergei would like to go
see his brother. Could we get a
wheelchair so I can take him to Harm's
room?" She shot Sergei a stern look
daring him to protest about the wheelchair.
"I will have nurse bring it in," the
doctor replied just before he left the room.
Sergei looked up at Trish.
"I do not need. . . ." he began,
Trish shaking her head and smiling.
"Yes you do," she insisted.
"You are not going down the hall to
Harm's room unless it is in a
wheelchair."
Sergei found himself laughing. "Are
all mothers like that?"
"Probably only the ones who know if they
aren't, their men will not stay down when they
should," she replied, smiling herself.
This kid was definitely a Rabb.
"Your father and brother are the same
way. Getting them to stay in bed while
sick took an act of God. Your mother is
like that, too?"
Sergei nodded. "Sometimes, she
would get this look," Sergei explained,
"and say how like my father I am, often
when I was sick and would not stay in bed as
you said." He paused, then asked
quietly, "Am I like him?" He'd
often asked his mother the same question, but
Trish had known his father a lot longer than
his mother had.
Trish nodded, a tear slipping down her cheek.
"She's right," she replied.
"Like your brother, you are definitely
your father's son."
Twenty minutes later, Trish pushed Sergei
into Harm's room, smiling at her husband to
let him know everything was okay. She
pushed the wheelchair up next to the bed and
introduced Sergei to everyone.
"This is my husband, Frank Burnett,"
she said, going around the room, "Admiral
AJ Chegwidden, Harm's commanding officer, and
Clayton Webb. Everyone, this is Harm's
brother, Sergei."
Sergei smiled, knowing for sure that Trish had
accepted him by her introduction. Not
just plain Sergei. Not Sergeant Sergei
Zhukov of the Russian Army. He was
Harm's brother Sergei. He smiled as he
shook Frank and AJ's hands and nodded to Clay.
"It is good to see you again, Mr.
Webb," he said.
"Sergei and I met the last time we were
all in Russia," Clay explained. "How
are you doing?"
"Better than my brother is," he
replied, turning towards the bed when he heard
what sounded like a laugh. He found Harm
looking at him with tired eyes.
"Welcome back, big brother."
Trish leaned over and brushed her fingers over
Harm's cheek. "Should have known
you'd wake up before the doctor said you
would," she said, smiling down at him.
"Mom," he began, his throat dry and
his tongue heavy. Trish motioned to
Frank to pour Harm a glass of water from the
pitcher on the stand next to the bed.
She supported his head as she held the glass
for him while he took a small sip.
"When did you get here?"
"We arrived just after you got out of
surgery," she replied. "Your
friend Major Sokol contacted Mr. Webb and said
that your escort had been killed, so we all
insisted on coming to Moscow.
Fortunately, we arrived to find out you all
had been flown to Moscow from Grozny."
Under other circumstances, Harm might have
laughed at Sokol being characterized as his
friend. He looked from Trish to Sergei,
his brow furrowing in puzzlement.
"Mom, I'm sorry. . . ."
"Shhh," she interrupted.
"Don't worry about it. It's not
important anymore. Anyway, I went down
to Sergei's room while we were waiting for you
to wake up and introduced myself. We had
a very nice conversation."
Harm looked at Sergei, who smiled and nodded.
He looked back at Trish and mouthed 'Thank
you'. It shouldn't anymore, but
sometimes his mother's strength and
understanding amazed him.
He looked around the room, smiling at Frank
and Clay before his gaze settled on AJ.
"Admiral. . . ." he began.
AJ sighed, shaking his head. "I
suppose I should be grateful that Colonel
Mackenzie's in better shape than you
are," he pointed out, his voice stern.
"At least I won't have to be without both
of my top attorneys for too long." Harm
looked at him, startled. AJ ignored the
look and continued, "And when you return
to JAG after the New Year, we will need to
have a discussion, particularly about how to
properly fill out paperwork, such as personnel
action requests."
As gratified as he was to know that he still
had job, AJ's statement reminded his
drug-clouded mind of something important.
"Where is Mac?" he asked.
"Was she admitted to the hospital?"
"No, she wasn't admitted that I know
of," Trish replied. "Come to
think of it, we haven't seen her since we got
here."
"She came to see me while you were in
surgery," Sergei added. "But I
have not seen her since then."
"I haven't seen Brumby either," Clay
pointed out, ignoring the stern glances
everyone else threw him. It wasn't like
Harm wasn't going to find out that Mic was in
Russia, he justified to himself.
"He took off just after we arrived while
we were talking to your surgeon."
"Mic is here?" Harm whispered, a
feeling of dread settling over him. He'd
actually begun to believe that maybe. . . .
"Mic," Sergei said to Harm.
"This is Colonel Mackenzie's fiancé?"
Harm nodded, closing his eyes. He didn't
want to think about this anymore. He opened
his eyes, hearing the door open, to see Mac
entering the room, smiling. He kept his
expression carefully neutral as her gaze
settled on his.
"You're awake," she said, taking
Trish's place at the head of the bed.
"The doctor said you probably wouldn't
wake up for a few hours."
"I'm still pretty tired," he said,
his eyes drifting closed. Right now, he
wanted all of them to leave him to his regrets
and recriminations. "I could use
some more sleep."
Mac was so concerned about Harm's condition
that she didn't stop to think about his
unusual behavior. Sergei looked over at
Trish, realizing what Harm was doing, and
shook his head sadly. Trish privately
agreed that there was something going on that
needed to be dealt with, even if she wasn't
quite sure what. But this probably
wasn't the best time to press the issue, at
least not in front of everyone.
"You know, we all came straight to the
hospital from the airport. Why don't we
all go get checked into our hotel?" Trish
suggested. "I know I could use some
rest, having been up since three this morning.
We can all come back and visit with Harm
later. We can take Sergei back to his
room on our way out. I'm sure after six
days out in the cold and snow, he could use
some more rest also."
There were nods all around, but Mac said,
"I think I'll just stay here with Harm
for a while." Harm shook his head,
closing his eyes again.
"No, you should go," he insisted.
"You're probably dead on your feet.
Go get some sleep."
Mac hesitated, her concern and desire to be at
Harm's side at war with her fatigue.
"Are you sure?" she asked.
He nodded, insisting, "Go. I'll see
you later."
Mac leaned over and kissed his forehead.
"I'll see you later," she promised.
As Trish started to pull Sergei's wheelchair
away from the bed, he motioned to her to wait.
He leaned over and began softly so that only
Harm could hear, "Harm, you need. . .
."
Harm sighed. He just had to have a
brother with the characteristic Rabb
stubbornness. "Not now,
Sergei," he said a bit shortly.
Sergei sighed and motioned to Trish to wheel
him out of the room. Once they were out
in the hallway, Trish asked, careful to make
sure the others were out of earshot,
"What was that all about? Why
didn't he want Mac to stay?"
Sergei sighed. "He loves her,"
he explained, looking up at Trish, "but
he will let her go before he interferes in her
relationship with this Mic person."
"Oh, Harm," she said softly, shaking
her head. Sometimes, the things her son
did amazed her. Maybe later she'd have a
few words with her pigheaded son and if that
didn't work, maybe she could sit down with an
equally stubborn Marine and convince one or
both of them to straighten out this tangled
situation.
AN HOUR LATER
Harm, despite his earlier insistence that he
was tired, was still awake, staring at the
ceiling as he turned over recent events in his
mind. He'd been convinced that he was
ready to finally 'let go', as Mac had put it
on the ferry, but then finding out that Mic
had followed her to Russia just strengthened
his resolve to step away and let her make her
own decisions. If Mic was who she wanted, then
he had to be happy with that.
He sighed, picking up off the stand the
international edition of Time that one
of the nurses had found for him. He
flipped through the pages with disinterest,
not really reading any of the stories,
especially since most of them seemed to be
about the just resolved election deadlock.
Frankly, after a month, he was a little tired
of hearing about it. He tossed the
magazine onto the bed and closed his eyes,
opening them again when he heard the room door
open.
"How are you doing, mate?" Mic
asked, stepping into the room.
"Fine," Harm replied shortly, hardly
in the mood for chit chat with Mic Brumby of
all people. "If you're looking for
Mac, she went with everyone else to get
checked into a hotel."
"Actually, I was looking for Admiral
Chegwidden," Mic said. "I
wanted to let him know that I will be on a
flight tonight to London and I'll catch a
flight to Washington from there."
"Did what you needed to do?" Harm
asked, a bit sarcastically. If Mic noted
his tone, he didn't let on.
"Actually, I did," Mic replied.
"Now it's time to get on with my
life."
"I'm sure you and Mac will be very happy
together," Harm said, the sarcasm still
present. He wasn't in the mood to
pretend to be happy for his best friend, not
with Mic.
Mic looked at him puzzled. "Have
you spoken to Sarah?" he asked.
"She was in here for a few minutes with
everyone else before they left for the
hotel," Harm replied. "But we
haven't really talked. What's the
point?"
Mic sighed and resisted the urge to just
leave. This is why he was walking away
from Mac? Shaking his head, he said
firmly, "The point would be that for some
unknown reason, Sarah really cares about you,
enough so that she followed you halfway around
the world to keep you from getting yourself
killed. She cares enough that she has
decided that she wants to take a chance on
you. We mutually decided not to continue
our engagement."
"Excuse me?" Harm asked, stunned.
This was the last thing he'd expected to hear,
especially from a man who'd traveled halfway
around the world for the woman he'd asked to
marry him.
"You heard me," Mic replied.
"Sarah and I are not getting married.
She doesn't want to settle and honestly,
although I don't agree with the decision, I
love her enough not to make her settle for
less than what she really wants. And you
seem to be what she wants." Mic
sighed as Harm continued to stare at him
silently. "Look, you are not in the
best condition, so this probably is not the
best time for a tense discussion like this.
Just tell everyone that I've headed back to
the States. Goodbye, Harm."
Harm silently watched Mic leave the room,
surprised. He'd never thought Mic would
ever walk away so easily. Or maybe it
wasn't so easy. Harm knew that watching
Mac with another man had been one of the
hardest things he'd ever had to experience, so
there was a part of him that could understand
what the man was going through, although he
would never admit it aloud.
But now he had other things on his mind.
Earlier, he'd jumped to conclusions and had
pushed Mac away once again. Closing his
eyes, finally drifting off to sleep, he
promised to try and make it up to her the next
time he saw her.
Harm awoke just over two hours later,
slightly disoriented. He wasn't alone in
the bed. Forcing his eyes to focus, he
saw Mac lying pressed against his uninjured
side, sound asleep. He tried to pull his
arm, which had fallen asleep, out from under
her as gently as possible without waking her,
but his movements caused her to stir.
"Oh, you're awake," she said
sleepily, pushing her hair out of her face as
she propped herself up on an elbow.
"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to fall
asleep on your arm."
He flexed and rubbed his arm, trying to regain
his sense of feeling. "That's okay,"
he said, his voice kinder than it had been
earlier. "I thought you had gone to
the hotel to sleep."
"I couldn't sleep," she replied,
stifling a yawn. "I guess after
three nights, I missed sleeping next to you.
So I decided to come back here especially
since I didn't get much of a chance to see you
earlier."
That was his opening. "Yeah, about
that . . . ." he said quietly, looking
away from her. "I guess I should
apologize."
"Apologize?" she asked, confused.
"Apologize for what?"
Harm looked back at her and explained,
"Earlier, when I suggested that you go to
the hotel with the others, I wanted you to
leave." He stopped, watching her
for any reaction, but she merely waited for
him to continue. "Right before you showed
up earlier, I was told that Brumby had come to
Russia with everyone else."
"So you decided to push me away
again?" she asked, an edge of anger to
voice. "Didn't what has happened
between us the last three days mean anything
to you?"
"I guess I deserve that," he said
quietly.
"You're damn right you do," she
retorted. "If you hadn't just had
surgery, I'd probably kick your six from here
to Washington for that." In spite
of herself, she started laughing. It was
hard to stay mad at him, not when he was just
being so. . . .so Harm. "So what
changed your mind?"
"You wouldn't believe me if I told
you," he commented. But she
wouldn't let him leave it at that and gave him
a withering stare. With a sigh, he
continued, "After you guys left, I had
another visitor – Brumby."
"Mic came by to see you?" she asked,
incredulous.
"Actually, he was looking for the
Admiral," he explained, "to tell him
that he was flying to London tonight and would
catch a flight from there to Washington.
And he told me that you two had mutually
decided to end your engagement."
"I had just left Mic in the hospital
cafeteria when I showed up the last
time," she said, her voice sad.
"I'd been in here with you, waiting for
you to wake up after the surgery, and he
showed up wanting to talk. I didn't want
to leave you, but he wanted to get our talk
over with. I guess I did owe him that
since I'd basically been stringing him along
for ten months and then as soon as I did move
the ring over, I took off with another man to
a war zone."
"Mac, we don't have to talk about this
now," he insisted, taking one of her
hands in his. "If it's too
upsetting for you. . . ."
"No," she insisted, her voice
stronger. "For the last few days,
we've been promising to talk, so I guess this
is as good a time as any."
"I guess so," he agreed.
They were both silent for a long moment, then
Mac said, chuckling, "Okay, I guess I'll
start since I was the one who said this was
'as good a time as any'. I guess it goes
back to when you left for the Patrick Henry.
We had been so close, probably closer than
we'd ever been and then all of a sudden you
were gone and that hurt. You know, Chloe
even said that we were in love with each
other the night you first told me that you had
applied for a return to active flight
status."
Harm smiled at that. "Chloe always
has this way of putting things," he
pointed out.
"Then you came back," she continued,
"and nothing was the same. It was
almost as if we were strangers. At best,
we just seemed to be nothing more than
coworkers, but there were times when we almost
seemed to be strangers. But we seemed to be
working through that. Even if we weren't
as close as we once had been, at least we were
friendly again. Then came Australia and
everything fell apart.
"I tried to open up to you, tried to tell
you how I felt, but you just shut down on me.
Looking back, I guess I wasn't as clear as I
could have been," she explained.
"But when you shut down on me, it hurt so
much. Then Mic came along and he said
all the right things – all the things I had
wanted to hear from you. I told him at
first that I couldn't take his ring, but he
insisted that I at least wear it on my right
hand."
"I'm sorry," Harm said quietly.
"I didn't mean. . . ." Mac
help up her hand to stop him.
"No, let me finish," she requested.
"Believe me, I do want to hear what you
have to say and you'll get your chance to say
it. But now that I've started, I really
want to get through this."
She was quiet for a moment, gathering her
thoughts. Finally, she continued,
"I know this is going to sound bad and
cruel, but when I took his ring, although a
part of me was flattered by the attention and
the idea that if you couldn't give me what I
wanted, then I'd stick with someone who was
offering me that. But there was another
part of me, deep down, that was hoping that
once you saw the ring you would come forward
and say everything I'd wanted to hear on the
ferry. At the airport, I'd even told Mic
that he was only to kiss me on the cheek in
front of everyone, but then you made that
comment about it being a friendship ring and
– I know this is going to sound petty –
but I wanted to show you what you had passed
up on, so I kissed him."
"That was for my benefit?" he asked,
surprised. God, how had everything
gotten so screwed up?
Mac nodded sadly. "But still you
wouldn't say anything," she continued.
"And Mic was in Australia, so I didn't
have to really deal with him pressuring me to
move the ring over. Then he moved to
Washington and again I was hoping you would do
something. But you didn't and now I had
Mic constantly around, exerting subtle – and
not so subtle – pressure to get me to move
the ring over. We seemed to be fighting
a lot of the time."
"So why did you finally move the ring
over?" he asked quietly, not quite sure
he really wanted to hear the answer.
"Mic was getting tired of waiting and he
was a little restless," she replied.
"He loves his job in Washington, but he
started missing Australia and the Navy and
since I seemed to be in no hurry to make a
decision, he started talking about moving back
to Australia and rejoining the Navy. I
didn't have you and Mic was slipping away from
me, so – I guess, just as I had taken his
ring as a reaction to what happened on the
ferry, I moved the ring over in reaction to
Mic's talking about leaving."
"Mac, I know you probably don't want to
hear this," he said quietly, "but
that almost sounds emotionally manipulative.
He played on your desire for a family by
threatening to leave."
"I don't know, maybe," she replied.
"I know you don't think so, but Mic is a
nice guy. Maybe he was unconsciously
trying to force my hand. I'm not really
sure. I guess it doesn't really matter
anymore since it's over."
"I guess not," he agreed.
"I guess that makes it my turn now.
On the ferry, you seemed to be saying
everything that I wanted to hear, but I was a
little confused. It just seemed to come
so out of the blue. Then, of course, a
few days later, you were wearing Brumby's
ring, so I figured you must not have wanted
the same things I'd wanted."
"You thought I had wanted just a
fling," she said quietly, trying to keep
the accusatory tone out of her voice.
Honestly, she could see why he might thing
that.
"I'm not sure. Something like that,
I guess," he admitted. "In
addition to that, the last few months had not
been the best for me – my return to JAG, our
strained relationship – and I wasn't really
in a good place for the type of relationship I
wanted from you. My life seemed to be
such a mess and I didn't think it was fair to
inflict that on you. With Renee, to be
honest, I didn't really have to put a lot of
effort into the relationship, but that
wouldn't work with you. So I tried to
tell you that I wanted you to be patient, to
wait until I was ready. When you showed
up at the airport wearing Mic's ring, I
thought that was your answer."
"Oh, Harm," she said sadly, unable
to believe how two intelligent people had
managed to screw up so completely.
"Anyway, if that was what you wanted, I
was determined to stand back and be happy for
you," he continued, "even if. . .
.no matter how much it hurt. You had made your
choice and I had to live with that. I
wasn't going to risk our friendship by
interfering."
"Then why did you seem ready to end our
friendship when you found out I had moved the
ring over?" she asked, looking down at
her now bare left hand.
He thought about it for a moment.
"You remember that night I first told you
about returning to flying and you said that
you didn't need to hear that at that
point?" he asked. When she nodded,
he continued, "It was the same thing.
I had found out my brother was missing in a
war and I had just made the decision to resign
my commission. I think maybe the longer
the ring stayed on your right hand, then less
likely it was to eventually move. Then
it did move and it was. . . .the straw that
broke the camel's back, to fall back on cliché."
"We're quite the pair, aren't we?"
Mac mused. "So now what?
Where do we go from here?"
"Well," he said, pulling her back
tight against his side, "when we get back
to Washington, how'd you like to go out to
dinner, maybe a movie?"
Mac looked at him, resting her chin on his
chest. "Are you asking me out on a
date?" she teased with a bright smile on
her face.
Harm smiled back at her and Mac could swear
she felt her heart racing in her chest.
"Yeah, I guess I am," he replied.
"Well?"
She nodded. "Yes, I'd love to go on
a date with you," she replied happily.
"Good," he said. "We're
going to do this right. I don't want to
rush anything. Because as much as I want
you, I want my best friend back, too."
Mac nodded in agreement. "Yes, I
want that, too. We go slow and rebuild
our friendship as we build a romantic
relationship. I like that idea."
They smiled at each other, content in their
decision, feeling better than they had in a
long time. After a moment of silence,
Harm spoke up, "Would you think it moving
too fast if I said I wanted to kiss you?"
Mac couldn't help laughing. She had
never imagined Harm asking permission to kiss
her. It wasn't like they had never
kissed before. Finally, she replied,
"I'd be disappointed if you didn't kiss
me." Mac stretched up and pressed
her lips to his, running her fingers through
his hair as he deepened the kiss, his tongue
slipping between her slightly parted lips.
Neither Harm nor Mac noticed when the door
opened, nor Trish and Sergei sticking their
heads in the room, smiling at the sight they
saw. Trish pulled Sergei's wheelchair
back, letting the door close again.
"Good," Sergei said, satisfied.
Trish smiled in agreement, patting Sergei's
shoulder. "I guess I don't need to
sit your brother down and have a long talk
with him after all," she commented.
CHRISTMAS EVE
MAC'S APARTMENT
"You made it," Mac said as she
opened the door to Harm, who was dusting snow
off his coat. "I was beginning to
wonder a little bit given the weather. The
snow seems to have picked up in the last few
hours."
Harm grinned at her as he handed her the gifts
he had in his hand and stepped inside the
apartment. "Did you really think I
was going to miss spending Christmas with
you?" he teased, hanging up his coat and
following her to the couch.
"How about some hot apple cider?"
she asked, heading for the kitchen after
setting the presents under the tree.
"Sounds good," he replied, sitting
on the floor next to the tree, looking through
the presents underneath. Most of them
were for Mac, of course, from various
coworkers at JAG and even one from her uncle
at Leavenworth. But there were a few
from Mac with his name on them. He
picked up one box and shook it gently.
"Hey, stop that," she teased,
holding out one of the steaming mugs in her
hands as she sat down next to him.
"I'm a firm believer in waiting until
Christmas morning to open Christmas
presents."
Harm set the present back down and took the
offered mug, taking a cautious sip of the hot,
spicy liquid. "Didn't you know half
the fun is trying to figure out what's in the
boxes?" he mused.
Mac looked sideways at him, studying him
intently. "I don't know," she
replied, her tone serious. "Maybe I
just never figured you to be impatient to see
your presents."
Harm shrugged. "Actually, I haven't
been," he revealed. "My father
being shot down on Christmas Eve kind of
ruined the holiday for me. This is the
first Christmas in thirty-one years that I've
really looked forward to, so I'm kind of
curious to figure out what all the fuss is
about – shaking the boxes, singing carols,
all that holiday cheer stuff."
"I guess I can see your point," Mac
replied, smiling at the thought of getting
into the holiday spirit. "Christmas
wasn't a very big deal when I was growing up.
More often than not, my father would be drunk
and. . . .well, I'm sure you can figure out
the rest." Mac quickly changed the
subject, not wanting to ruin the cheerful mood
by dwelling on her childhood. "So I take
it you and Sergei were able to make it to the
Wall?" Sergei had gotten leave from
the Russian Army and had agreed to come to
Washington for a few weeks to spend Christmas
with his American family. He'd even
promised to consider again the idea of going
to college in the States.
"Yeah, we made it," Harm replied, a
thoughtful expression on his face. He
turned to look at her. "I wish you
had changed your mind and come with us."
"I would have been intruding," she
explained, shaking her head when he seemed
about to protest. "No, I would have
been. This was Sergei's first trip to
the Wall and that's something special.
Call it a kind of 'father-son' time for the
three of you. So how was it?"
"Um, it was an emotional experience," he
replied, leaving it at that. "I'm
glad I got the opportunity to take him."
"So he doesn't have a problem being by
himself tonight?" she asked.
Harm laughed at that. Have a problem
with it? "He couldn't get me out of
the apartment fast enough. He seems to
have this idea that we're. . . .well, I think
you can figure it out."
"That we're sleeping together?" she
finished, grinning. "Well, unless
you plan on sleeping on the couch, then we
will be sharing a bed tonight, just without
the sex. We still are taking this slow,
right?"
"Right, slow," he agreed, even as he
sounded a little uncertain and disappointed.
"That's what we agreed to. We want
to get this right."
"Are you trying to convince yourself of
that?" she teased, laughing.
"Anyway, even if we hadn't agreed to go
slow, I mean, you just got out of the hospital
and endured a twelve hour flight home just
last week. You still need time to make a
complete recovery."
Harm laughed, turning her words back on her,
"So are you trying to convince yourself?
Actually, I tried to explain that we do want
to go slow. We both just came out of
long term relationships and neither of us has
the greatest track record anyway with
relationships. He said that he thought
waiting four years was slow enough. I
think he's been spending too much time with
Mom."
"God help us," Mac laughed.
"I think if we were to let your mother
and brother have their way, they'd have us
married off by Valentine's Day. Add
Harriet into the mix. . . ."
"I know. Did you see the three of
them huddling together at the JAG Christmas
party Friday night?" he pointed out.
"I got goose bumps every time they would
look over at us and start laughing," Mac
revealed. She sobered and added,
"It was good though to see Harriet in
better spirits. This last month and a
half has been rough for her and I know that
what happened at the trial didn't help.
But at least she and Bud seem to be working
things out. You know, I think we all
have had this idea that Bud and Harriet have
the perfect, normal marriage. If they
couldn't make it, what chance do the rest of
us have?"
"I don't know," Harm replied
thoughtfully, wrapping his arm around her and
pulling her against him. "Then
again, maybe the sign of the perfect marriage
is how you make it through the bad
times."
"By that token, maybe we've got it
made," Mac joked. "After all,
if after everything we've been through the
last four years, we haven't run screaming in
the other direction from each other, maybe
we've got a shot a having that perfect, normal
marriage."
They both looked at each other and broke out
laughing. "Normal? Us?"
they exclaimed in unison.
Smiling contentedly, Mac rested her head
against his shoulder and watched the
flickering lights of the Christmas tree.
"I'd just settle for what I've always
wanted," she said. "A good
man, a great career. . . ."
"And comfortable shoes," Harm
finished. "Lots and lots of
them." He turned his head and pressed a
kiss to her forehead. "Merry
Christmas, Mac."
"Merry Christmas, Harm."