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."