Title: Back From Russia
Author: Anne Taul, anne_taul@gowebway.com

Summary: This is Anne's own take on what might have happened immediately following the season 3 cliffhanger, "To Russia With Love."

Disclaimer: JAG, its characters and premise are the exclusive property of Bellasarius Productions, Paramount Television and CBS Entertainment. No monetary gain is appreciated from this endeavor, nor is any copyright infringement intended. This story is created purely for recreational purposes.

Note: This was written before "Gypsy Eyes" aired.

 

Back From Russia

Mac came to and felt the cold ground pushing hard against her face. "What is going on?" she thought to herself. Suddenly it all came flooding back. They were in the plane, the missile had come at them, they took evasive action, then the crash. She had seen the crash, but not actually been part of it. Why? It became clearer to her, just before the plane went down, Harm had ejected her seat to get her away from it. Harm! Where was he? She raised her head off the ground and called his name. No answer. She called again, but still no answer. She raised to the sitting position and looked around. Pieces of the crashed Mig were everywhere, but no sign of Harm. Maybe he ejected too, and was thrown clear in another direction. As she stood up, she caught sight of a slight movement from the direction of the largest piece of debris. It was barely detectable, but movement none the less. She hurried in that direction. Soon it was obvious that it was one of the very long legs of Lt. Commander Harmon Rabb, Jr. that had twitched to produce this motion. Arriving at his side, she found Harm beginning to regain consciousness, but still very groggy. His left shoulder had taken most of the impact and appeared to be dislocated and partially crushed.

Sarah MacKenzie helped her partner as he struggled to sit up. She left him propped against a large section of the plane's wreckage. He winced with pain every time he moved. Mac feared that perhaps he had other injuries besides the shoulder, things she couldn't see, maybe even serious things.

"I've got to get you out of here, Harm", she said

"Well, it doesn't look like we're going anywhere right now."

"Are you alright?" Mac asked, mostly out of habit.

"I'm a little sore, but I'm sure I'll be fine"

"We may be here a while. Do you have any idea where we are?"

"No, while we were coming down, I wasn't able to get a good fix on our position. But maybe we should start preparing for a cold night, I do know we've traveled North."

"Okay, what do you suggest?"

"Well, I'll get up and go through some of the wreckage to see if there's anything we can burn for heat, or eat." As Harm said this, he moved to try to stand up. He slumped back down from the pain in his left side. Mac caught him before he hit the ground.

"That's some nasty injury you've got there, Flyboy", she observed.

"Naw," he said, "probably just a pulled muscle"

"Harm, I think that is more than a pulled muscle," she chided. "You could have some serious internal injury or something. At any rate, let me go through this mess, you rest now."

"Don't get all macho and start babying me, you ...jarhead," he teased..

Rabb surveyed the landscape of their surroundings. It was mostly flat, wide-open space. There was a small grove of trees on the edge of a woodland area on one side, not too far away. The remains of the aircraft were strewn over a fairly wide area, with most of the larger pieces close to his present position. "Hell of a landing, Rabb, " he mumbled to himself. He remembered how he had thought of Mac on the way down. She had come on this trip to Russia with him as a favor ­ to help him piece together information about his dad. It was his fault that she was here, going down in this plane. He remembered the decision that it was most important to make sure nothing happened to her. He had pulled the eject switch on her seat hoping to throw her clear of the crash. Apparently it had worked. Why, he wondered, had he not had the presence of mind to get himself out of there too. "Oh well, she was safe," he thought., But he wasn't really sure just why that was so important to him right now.

He watched her as she came walking back toward him, carrying an armload of supplies, and dragging the used parachute she had cut from her seat. "She really is lovely," he thought, just in passing.

She spoke first, "Who do you think shot us down? Parlovsky or Sokhol?"

"Could have been either one," he answered. He was silent for a moment, then continued, "but maybe you trust Sokhol. After all the two of you have been so close." With this he smiled, obviously waiting for her reaction.

"No, I don't trust him a bit. I've got some things here that will burn, if we want to risk starting a fire and being spotted from the air. Sorry, though, no food or water. I'll go look for something in the edge of the woods, there."

She knelt beside him and bandaged his shoulder, which had begun to bleed. "You're going to have to be more careful," she quipped, "It's not necessary to take all this damage just to impress a girl."

"Yeah, right," he responded, with a laugh. "But, Mac, seriously, whoever is responsible for shooting us down will be looking for us to finish the job. You can bet on that. We've got to be careful."

"You mean, You're not going to protect me, Sailor?"

"You're the big, bad marine. Isn't there a chapter in your handbook or something about this?"

"Well, now that you mention it...."

"It'll be dark soon maybe we both better try to get some rest. We're apt to need it."

She pulled an end of the parachute material up over him, then walked to the other side of the fabric, lay down and pulled it over herself.

Mac was very relaxed, beginning to drift toward sleep when she heard her companion ask, "Are you asleep yet?" She sat up letting her cover fall from around her shoulders. She saw that Harm had doubled the fabric around himself, but still was shivering.

"It's gotten pretty cold." She said.

"Yeah, I even saw you shudder from it a little." He said.

"You were watching me?" she questioned.

"Better than TV" he teased.

"It may even get colder." she observed, "I think it's time to consider lighting that fire."

"Mac, I might rather freeze to death than have our friends find us. Who knows what they want, or what they'll do."

"Normally I would agree", she began, "but, Harm, you're hurt, and we need to make sure you save enough energy to heal properly."

"Then there is only one thing to do."

"What's that?"

"You won't like it Major"

"We don't have many options. I can learn to like almost anything"

"Okay," he grinned widely. "Come over here and snuggle up."

"What?"

"We're going to have to share body heat, if we're going to stay warm. Come on, I won't bite. Or, at least I won't draw blood"

"Gee, thanks"

"Don't mention it."

She sat down next to his right side and pulled the cover up around them both.

"How's the shoulder?" she asked.

"It's beginning to throb, thanks. But I'm sure it's getting better."

"Let me look," she said as she reached across him.

As she leaned over him to examine the wound, Harm was acutely aware of her presence. He ignored this strange thought, especially when she began moving the joint that she had immobilized earlier. After she had redressed the injury, she moved back to his right side. This time as her face passed back close to his, her nearness was too much to ignore. Her lips were very close to his, so he leaned slightly forward and kissed them lightly. He was surprised by the sensation.

She rocked back on her heels and looked at him quizzically. "What was that?" she asked.

"I don't know, just an impulse." He said, sheepishly.

"What kind of an impulse?" she asked.

He wasn't sure just how the next thing happened, but he took the back of her neck in his hand and pulled her head in close to his. This time he really kissed her. To his amazement, she wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed him back.

"Why did I come over here?" she asked when the kiss finally ended. "Oh, yeah, body heat." She moved closer to him and pulled the parachute securely around them both. As they lay there near sleep, she felt his arms go around her, pulling her even closer. She didn't protest. Soon, in a feeling of warmth and security, she fell to sleep.

Harm stared into the sleeping face of the woman he held in his arms.. "She's so beautiful," he thought. Just looking at her had a strangely mesmerizing effect on him. Feelings were beginning to rise up inside of him that he knew he must control. But he couldn't help thinking about kissing her, and how it felt now to hold her in his arms. He had denied a possibility that these feelings might exist for so long that he almost believed it was impossible. Yet, there she was in his arms ­and he knew it was true. He wouldn't let her know though. No, it would scare her off, then he wouldn't have a chance. Even more than these strong new feelings, he cared for her and respected her as his friend, the best friend he'd ever had. She was so peaceful in her slumber. He decided that he'd let her continue to sleep for a while longer. No need to wake to the rude reality of their situation too soon.

As Mac drifted into a wakeful state, she felt Harm's strong arms around her. It felt good. She was warm, and safe, and happy. She nestled a little deeper in his embrace. When she finally did reach full wakefulness, she looked up into his eyes. "Good morning," he whispered.

"What happened to us last night?" she asked.

He leaned down to kiss her lips tenderly. When he felt her responding, he asked, "Do you mean that"

"That's it." She said as she sat up.

"I guess you just couldn't control yourself, Major."

This time she moved toward him and initiated the kiss. After a passionate moment she pulled back slightly and announced her plans to go to the nearby wood and find some breakfast.

"I'll come with you, " Harm offered, moving to get up. The sharp pain in his left side clenched him and sent him falling back to his seated position.

"You're still too sick to get up, Harm. I'll go. You stay here and guard our camp. You're the officer of the watch." She chided him.

"Aye, Ma'am," he murmured as he watched her walk away.

Harm was puzzled by the new effect his partner was having on him. Mac had been such a big part of his life for so long. They worked together every day, but more than that ­ they were partners. They were not the kind of partners that just share the same caseload, but rather they shared a respect and trust that came from each of them knowing with certainty that the other could be counted on in a pinch. When she had first come to Jag, Mac had been such a mystery. She was a hard ­ core , by the book marine, but there was a vulnerability about her that seemed to indicate a suffering and tortured life. She hadn't been forthcoming with many details at first, though. As time passed and they became friends, she opened up enough to give him glimpses of her past. This made her even more fascinating. Over the years the friendship had grown and become more. Harm recognized that she was probably his best friend. They'd shared so much. That's why these developing feeling for her seemed a little out of place. But when he thought about her, he visualized her soft brown eyes and the way they could look right through him. When he stared deep into them, they positively hypnotized him.

<<>> His thoughts were interrupted by the sound of someone moving toward him. He jumped involuntarily, then realized he must have dozed off and been dreaming. He opened his eyes only to see Mac standing over him, smiling at him. "Did I startle you?" she asked sarcastically.

He made no comment, but reached up to liberate her of some of the things she carried. "What is all this?"

"Breakfast!" came her answer.

"Doesn't look like Beltway burgers to me"

"I only wish," she sighed. "Actually, I found a little stream and got some water. There's not too much, but it's fresh. I picked some berries and roots to eat with it. It may not be a gourmet feast, but, for now, it'll have to do."

She sat down beside him and they shared the meager meal, ending it with a very passionate kiss. She pulled away first and buried her face in his chest. "I'm not sure how we got here," she said.

He raised her head to look into her eyes. As he brushed a lock of hair off her face, he answered by saying, " I think it's been coming for a while."

"What do you mean?"

"Well, do you remember the first time I kissed you?"

"Yes. No. Do you mean on the dock at Norfolk?"

"You do remember."

"But you weren't kissing me, you were kissing Diane."

"Wait a minute. You said that, I never did."

"But you were in love with her."

"Yes, I was, once. Maybe I even was for a long time after her death. I was in love with her until I met a woman who was as beautiful, as loving and as exciting as she was."

"Annie."

"No, Sarah. Not Annie"

"This must be serious, you called me Sarah."

"Yes, I did. Mac's alright for a guy's partner or a guy's best friend, but a guy feels funny when he really, really wants to kiss somebody named Mac." He pulled her in closer to him and finished with, "especially when it's the woman he's madly in love with."

Their mouths merged into a deep, passionate kiss. She broke it first and moved back to look at him. "What did you say?" Her tone was almost disbelieving.

"You sound shocked," he said with a laugh. Then with a much more somber tone, he took both her hands in his, gazed into those brown hypnotic eyes, and pronounced, "I love you, Sarah."

Her only reply was, "When did this happen?"

"Oh, I think, probably, the first moment I saw you. I tried not to think about it, and I tried to deny it. Now, though, it's too strong ­ I can't." He kissed each of the hands he held in his own, in turn.

"Harm, I have feelings for you, you must know that by now, but I'm not sure yet where they're leading."

"That's okay, Darling. At this point, there's not too much we can be certain of."

She raised up the covering he sat under and crawled up close beside him, laying her head on his chest and wrapping her arms around him. He embraced her as well.

After some time (46 minutes and 38 seconds to be exact), she raised up to look at him. His eyes were filled with love and longing as she asked him, "What should we do next?"

"My plan," he explained, "is to hold you like this forever."

Having no better plan immediately ready herself, she snuggled back down into the nest of his arms.

They must have fallen asleep, because they awoke to hear voices nearby. Harm whispered in her ear, "Be still." She did as he asked, but the voices moved closer and she soon recognized them as belonging to Sokol and Parlovsky.

"I believe they are awake now, comrade" she heard Parlovsky say.

She opened her eyes and looked toward them in time to hear Sokhol mutter something under his breath about how she could do better. She tightened the grip of her arms around Harm's waist.

"On your feet, both of you." Came the order. She scrambled to get up.

"He's injured. He can't stand." She informed them.

"Then kill him now." This came from Sokhol.

"No." she shouted. "Leave him alone."

"Call the truck to move them to the holding facility." This time it was Parlovsky.

"You must spare her any harm." Warned Sokhol.

"We send her to the camp, like all other prisoners." Parlovsky was beginning to sound annoyed.

"Sarah, I'm sorry, but we have no choice." Said the man she had known as Mark Falcon.

A large military truck arrived and several men dressed in camouflage loaded Mac and Harm into the rear of it. The ride was bumpy and lasted several hours.

When they finally stopped, they were in an abandoned prisoner of war camp. Mac recognized the name as the one she and Harm had been trying to find when their plane was shot down. They were taken off the truck and placed in a "cell." Really it was a burrow dug into the ground, almost like a cave with bars across the entrance.

"Sarah, these are our finest accommodations." Sokhol promised. "I don't care anything about him, but I want you to be as comfortable as possible."

"Gee, thanks," she answered sarcastically.

She looked around the new surroundings. There was a small cot in one corner with several blankets piled on it, a bamboo rug and a small table with a chair in another corner. A lantern hung on the wall providing the only light. There appeared to be a closet, or at any rate, an opening, leading off of one wall. Looking through this, she could see that it led into another room. The second room was filled with cobwebs. It looked as though no one had been inside it in a very long time.

She got Harm settled in the bed, tucked him in and gave him a passionate goodnight kiss. Then, at his request, she lay down beside him, with her head on his chest until he went to sleep.

When she was sure that he was asleep, she got up, taking care not to disturb him. She moved cautiously into the second room. Underneath the cobwebs, it was filled with overstuffed filing cabinets. No labels were on the drawers. She pulled out a stack of files, sat down on the floor and began going through them.

The contents of the files proved to be so interesting that Mac didn't hear someone come into the room behind her until she heard Harm's voice asking, "What's in all these?"

She hesitated to tell him for a few moments, but knew that she didn't have the right to keep information from him. "Well, some of them are records kept by the Soviet government about political prisoners who were detained here..."

He stopped her. "Is there anything about my dad?"

"Some of the other files are about the activities of the Soviet intelligence agencies during the cold war, and were apparently sent out of here somehow to other countries."

"What do mean? Like the prisoners were spies, or something?"

"Apparently so. Some of this information could have set the technology of the Soviet Union back decades. Just the stuff about the space program and aircraft could have given other nations an edge that the Russians might not have caught up with for decades."

"Mac, you never answered my question. Did you find anything about my father."

"Nothing specific yet, but there are several references to pilots and aircraft experts. He could be part of that group, if we could find a file that named names."

"I'll help you look. The men who were involved in this were probably heroes."

"Yeah, and maybe there's something here to tell what happened to them.. I really hope so, Harm."

"It's the closest I've come. Where do you want me to start looking?" As he lowered himself to the floor to sit beside her, she could see that the pain in his side had gotten worse."

"You shouldn't be out of bed. Let me do the looking. I promise I'll let you know as soon as I find something."

"Not a chance, Sweetheart. Don't try to muscle me out of this. I've waited my whole life to find this."

She knew that he was right, and admired his determination. There was no way she could argue with him about this. Instead she asked him, "Do you think Sokhol knew about this when he assigned us to this cell?"

"I don't care." Was the only answer.

After a while (3 hours and 26 minutes), Mac got up and walked around behind her partner. She gently massaged his shoulders, while trying again to coax him to get some rest. "Maybe we could contact Clay Webb and get him to continue this follow ­ up." She suggested.

"You know better." He commented.

"Harm, wearing yourself out isn't going to accomplish anything."

"What? You don't think it's sexy to see a man search for the truth? And to think I was doing all of this just to impress you"

She squatted behind him, wrapping her arms around his neck. "I'm already impressed, Sailor."

This time she sat back down on the floor facing him, picking up a stack of files to continue the search.

He looked at her and smiled that big smile that always melted her. "You don't really have to help me with this, but I'm sure glad you are."

"I wouldn't have it any other way." She said as she leaned forward to kiss him lightly.

"You're an amazing woman, Sarah MacKenzie."

"And don't you forget it."

"Never."

Late into the night they had found burial records for a number of the spies in a small village not too distant from the place of their confinement. The prisoners had died here or escaped from this facility, but had ended up in the village where their interment wouldn't be questioned or considered out of the ordinary. These records made it look like more records on these prisoners were being kept at the location of their cemetery. Harm became very hopeful at the discovery of this new information, but Mac reminded him that there was still no evidence to suggest that his father had been one of these prisoners.

Several hours later when Harm found a list of names, or rather numbers, of those transferred to the cemetery or "final station" as it was being called, he let out a yell that startled Mac. He grabbed her shoulders and gently wrestled her to the ground. "This is it," he shouted, "after all these years, this is it!"

They made plans to sneak away from their guards and make a trip to this small village that housed the "final station", before heading back to Moscow. They selected just the right documentation to take with them to prove what had happened to Harmon Rabb, Sr. and show how he had served his country up until the very end.

By the time all of this had been done, the night was almost finished. The long hours had taken a toll on Harm. He had become very weak. Mac was worried about him as she helped him to the bed.

"If we're going to do this, we'll have to make our move when the guard brings in the food ­real soon." He told her.

"I don't think you're in any position to do anything real soon, Love." She answered him.

"Maybe you're right. Wait a minute, what did you call me?"

"I called you Love. It took me long enough. But I finally got it all sorted out about how I feel.. I love you, Harm, so much. Probably I always have. Definitely, I always will." She ended her confession with a deep, passionate kiss. When it ended they spent several minutes staring into each other's eyes.

"Sarah, darling, if I can't go to this grave to check out whether it's really my dad, you'll have to go for me. You're the only person in the world that I could trust to do this for me. You're the only one who knows how important it is to me."

"Of course, I'll go. Then I'll be back for you, and we'll both get out of here."

"It may be dangerous. Promise me that you won't take any unnecessary risks."

"Commander, I'm a big girl. I'm a marine. I can take care of myself."

He looked at her and grinned, "Yeah, I know, but I want you to be safe."

"I'll be careful. Promise me that while I'm gone you'll rest and get better."

"It's a deal."

"Harm, I love you."

"Sarah, me too."

They embraced and shared a quick but tender kiss, then she was gone..

Harm lay still on his cot, lost in thought. He really hated to admit it, but being still was about the only way he could alleviate the ever increasing pain in his left side. His thoughts were of her. Her dark hair and big brown, liquid eyes haunted him. He remembered the firmness of her fit body next to his, and the smoothness of her skin. A sigh escaped from his throat at the thought of how her lips had felt against his and the sweet taste of her mouth. He believed that he was completed just by knowing that she was near. These thoughts so filled his senses that he didn't even notice that someone had entered his little cell. The voice from across the tiny room startled him. It was Sokhol. "Where is Sarah?" he demanded.

"She's gone." Harm answered nonchalantly.

"Where is she?" Sokhol persisted.

"She escaped. You drove her away. She's probably hundreds of miles from here by now."

Sokhol groaned with impatience. "Commander Rabb, don't toy with me.. You can't expect me to believe that a beautiful woman is out there in this wilderness all alone."

"Comrade," Harm smirked, "you're forgetting, she's not just a beautiful woman, she's a United States Marine. This whole place will be surrounded by marines any minute."

"For your sake, I hope you're wrong, Commander." He pulled Harm up by the collar and slapped him hard, letting him fall back to the bed. Then he walked away.

It took a couple of minutes to recover from the blow. He rubbed his jaw where the sting of it was still fresh. Harm knew that Mac could take care of herself, but even the thought that she might be in danger troubled him. After all with the likes of Sokhol and Parlovsky out there, she might not be safe. This line of thinking wasn't going to help him, so he decided to abandon it. Instead he would think about her in another situation. He could see her now. She was in her full dress uniform. Normally, he didn't care much for the color of the Marine Corp dress uniform, but he had to admit that she made it look good. She was wearing this uniform in the courtroom. He could see her questioning witnesses, stating her points, and arguing her case. "She's so good at this," he thought to himself, " and she loves it so much." It was comforting to him to visualize her in this nice safe environment. This image of her dominated his consciousness and he began to relax.

The journey to the cemetery village had been a harder and longer one than Mac had anticipated. She had been gone for two full days when she sneaked back into the cell she shared with Harm. She suspected that he was seriously injured, and couldn't keep from worrying about him. Hopefully he had gotten some real rest while she'd been away.

As she came in she heard him say, "Mac, I'm so glad to see you. Sokhol was here. He knew you were gone. I was afraid he might increase the guards and make it hard for you to get back in."

"He did."

"Then how'd you get past?"

"Well, let's just say that there are 3 fellows outside who are going to have some wicked headaches. And darn it, wouldn't you know, I broke a nail on a rock."

"On a rock?"

"I guess you had to be there."

He was sitting up to greet her when she came into the main room. She chastised him briefly for it, but was glad to see that he had the energy to be up. " The other room in there has an outside entrance." She began.. "It's been boarded up from out there, so you can't see it from in here. I guess they didn't expect that we'd be out where we could see it. We'll have to pry off the lumber, but I think we can get out that way."

"Good." He acknowledged. "I'm getting a little tired of this place."

Mac sat down on the edge of the bed and avoided looking at him. Finally, he inquired, "What's wrong? What did you find ?"

Sarah turned toward him, burying her face in his good shoulder. "I'm sorry, Harm." She said.

"Sorry for what? Did you not get there?"

"I got there."

"But you didn't find out anything?"

"Actually, I think I did." She took a deep breath before she continued," Harm, your father's dead."

He didn't really look surprised by this revelation. "How do you know? Are you sure?"

She slowly and methodically recounted details of her trip to him: "A woman named Olga takes care of the burial sites. She has the personal effects off all the bodies that have been brought there. That's the only records there are to identify the bodies buried in the village. She was helpful. She showed me everything she has."

"Did she have dog tags? What made you so sure that it was my father's grave?"

"This." As she said it, Mac reached into a pocket and took out an old, tattered photograph.

Harm glanced at it and tears rolled down his face. In the photo he, at age four, was sitting in the cockpit of an airplane with his father standing next to him. It was a copy of the one Harm had carried in his wallet most of his life.

"I am sorry," Mac insisted as she wiped the teardrops off his face.

"I think I must have known deep inside that he was dead," Harm sobbed as he fought to hold back a torrent of emotions. He put his arms around her shoulders and pulled her close as he let go a few more tears. "Thank you for going, for finding out."

"Of course," she said. She cradled the back of his neck in the palm of her hand, pulling his face in against her neck. Suddenly, she pulled his head back, allowed her mouth to find his, and kissed him, long and hard. His hands gripped her shoulders, and pushed her back onto the bed. He gazed down into her eyes and lost himself. Soon they were completely lost in each other and their passion swept them away.

Sarah MacKenzie awoke with a smile on her face. She could feel the man she loved in her arms and felt his strong arms around her. The passion of the night before was still so clear and real that it was almost palpable in the air.

It was 0535. If they were going to make their escape, they would have to do it soon, before the light of day could work against them. Wondering if he was awake, she whispered his name. There was no response. She nudged him a little to try to rouse him. Still, there was no response. With an urge to be as close to him as possible, she lay her head more squarely on his chest. She didn't hear the beating of his heart that she longed for, nor did she feel the rhythm of his breathing. She shook him, but he didn't wake up.

She called his name. Her cheek positioned over his mouth and nose to feel for air movement, she felt for a pulse in his neck. Nothing. An uncharacteristic shriek rose up from someplace deep within her. No, this was not possible. Harm was dead.

Mac cradled his lifeless body in her arms as if she might will him back to life. She shed more tears than she ever had. Her body sobbed and shuddered uncontrollably. How could this happen? She remembered the pain in his left side, and the activity of the previous night. "It's my fault," she thought. She knew, though, that it had been the most magical night of all time. It was very hard to believe that something that perfect had produced such results.

She gathered up all the documents that would prove the truth about Harmon Rabb, Sr. He wanted the world to know what had happened to his dad, so she considered leaving with these. But somehow, she just couldn't bring herself to leave him, not yet. Without realizing it, she moved into a corner where she sat with her head between her knees. For the first time in her life, she completely lost track of time. How would she go on without him? Was there anything to go on with, without Harm?

Mac was brought back to herself by the two men breaking into her cell. They went to Harm first, but ascertaining his condition, then came toward her. They each took one of her arms. Ignoring her protests, they removed her from the small room and loaded her into the back of a truck and drove away. Neither of them said anything, and Sarah could only imagine what their intention might be.

The ride continued for hours, until they were in a city. When the vehicle stopped, the goons escorted, or rather, drug her toward a building. She recognized it as the U.S. Embassy in Moscow. What were they doing here? Outside an office door on the second floor, one of the men said, "He's in there waiting." They opened the door and pushed her inside.

She caught herself on the back of a chair to prevent falling. Looking around, she spotted a man sitting behind the desk with his back to her. As he spun around, she identified ....Clayton Webb.

"Clay, what are you doing here?" she queried.

"Saving your butt, Major." He hesitated before continuing, "Oh, I'm really sorry about Harm, really, I am. Did he ever get around to telling you how he felt about you before he, ..uh... you know."

"We were very close at the end. Clay, if you knew where we were all this time, why didn't you come sooner? If Harm had gotten some medical attention, he might still be alive."

"Mac, I didn't know where you were, for sure, until last night. I started looking as soon as you didn't report in and the Admiral suspected that something was wrong. It took a little time to find you. Honestly, I came as soon as I could."

"Oh," she suddenly remembered the papers in her pocket, "I have information on Harm's father. I know where he's buried and everything. You have to get his body moved back to the States, and Harm's too. Please, Clay. It's really important!"

"I'll do what I can, Mac, but no promises."

Mac knew that she should have been glad to see Webb, but she didn't really feel glad. Actually, she didn't really feel much at all. She was almost totally numb.

Several hours later on the plane back to Washington, she regained some of her composure. She took the hand of the friend sitting beside her, "Thanks, Clay," was about all she knew to say, though it could hardly express her gratitude.

"My pleasure." He said.

She continued, " What happened to Sokhol and Parlovsky? Who are they anyway?"

He removed a folder from his briefcase and handed it to her. "It's all in there. Basically they were a couple of renegade KGB agents. The goal they tried to sell was restoring Mother Russia to her rightful place as a major world power, but actually they were attempting to reestablish the cold war. It was the business they knew. At any rate they're both dead now."

"Did you kill them?"

"No. I would have, but they ended up killing each other."

Mac swallowed hard, then told him, "I guess I'm going to need to talk to Harm's mother right away. Can you make arrangements to get me to California before the media gets hold of this and everything gets too crazy."

"Actually, I talked to Chegwidden before we left Moscow, Mrs. Burnett will be waiting to see you in Washington. A lot of people are going to want to talk to you, especially about these documents you gave me concerning the political prisoners held by the Soviet government. Do you think you're up to it?"

"Yeah, I'll have to be. I owe it to Harm to clear up the questions about what happened to his father."

When they deplaned at Dullus International airport, AJ Chegwidden was waiting to meet them. He put a protective arm around Mac's shoulders and led her away. Webb followed for a while, but soon realized he wasn't needed for what seemed to be a family moment.

Trish was in a special airport hospitality room. Mac saw her, and immediately melted into her outstretched arms. As they embraced, Mac knew that they shared their grief as the only two women who had ever truly loved Harm. She experienced this kinship keenly.

Trish let her cry for a few minutes, then sat down with her on a loveseat against the wall. "How did he die? Was it painful or peaceful? Was it in a confrontation? I hate for you to have to relive it all, but I have to know. I never knew how his father died. I have to know what my son's last moments were like."

"No, ma'am, there wasn't any confrontation. He was injured in the crash of our plane. He fought 'em, but those injuries finally got the best of him. He went very peacefully, in his sleep. Ma'am, he died in my arms."

A look of contentment came over Trish Burnett's face. " Then, was he finally able to tell you how he felt about you, before it was too late?"

Mac blushed, and said, "We were very close at the end." It was surprising that everyone had seemed to know about his feelings except her.

Trish hugged her. AJ Chegwidden tried to hide a surprised smirk.

Over the next several days, Sarah MacKenzie and Trish Burnett were together constantly. They made arrangements for a memorial service. Clayton Webb had managed to get approval for a hero's burial in Arlington National Cemetery, even though they had no remains to inter. They sorted through things at Harm's apartment (not a pleasant task for either). Frank wanted to help, but he stayed back and let the two women take care of everything, sensing that they needed this special bonding time.

Mac felt lost again when the time came for Trish and Frank to return to California.

She tried to lose herself in her work at Jag, but nothing was the same there, either. Bud, Harriet and the others were great, but Harm's absence and the thoughts of what might have been permeated the whole atmosphere.

It was six weeks after her return from Russia that she stood in front of Admiral Chegwidden's desk making her request. "Sir, I just need a couple days leave, maybe a long weekend."

"Major, is anything wrong?"

"No Sir, nothing is wrong, exactly. I just need to go to San Diego. I've got to talk to Harm's mother."

"Anything you'd like to tell me about, Mac?"

"Well, yes sir, I do want to tell you about it, and I will as soon as I get back. I really have to talk to Trish first."

"Okay, Major. Brief Bud on the things you're working on in case something comes up while you're away. This is Wednesday morning, we'll expect you back in the office on Monday."

"Thank you, Sir."

"Oh, and .. give my best to Mrs. Burnett."

"I'll do that, Sir."

ONE YEAR LATER


Frank and Trish walk through the front yard of a house in Alexandria, Virginia.

"I won't be gone too long." Trish tells her husband.

"You're not even going to tell Sarah about this?" he asks.

"No. I'm not going to tell her anything yet. Frank, it might turn out to be nothing. I don't want to put her through that. She's suffered so much already. If this is anything, she'll know soon enough."

"Whatever you think, Darling." He responds, then kisses her goodbye.

Three days later, as Frank and Trish sit alone together in the living room of the same house, AJ Chegwidden enters with a younger, haggard appearing man. Trish immediately recognizes the man as her lost son.

"AJ, it's so soon. After our talk the other day, I didn't know it could happen so quickly." She moved to embrace Harm.

"Webb was able to move things along faster than I expected, too." The admiral commented.

Harmon Rabb, Jr. returned his mother's embrace, but asked quickly, "Where's Mac?"

When he didn't receive an immediate answer, he ask it again, more urgently, "Where's Mac?"

His mom said, "Honey, she's been awfully tired lately."

"Is anything wrong?" he sounded concerned.

"No. She's fine." This time it was Frank who answered. "She went upstairs to lie down with the..."

His wife cut him off. "She's taking a nap, Dear."

"Where?" the tone in his voice made it clear that Harm was getting excited.

Frank pointed toward the stairs. "Top of the stairs, second door on the right, son"

"Thanks" Harm acknowledged as he bounded up the steps three at a time.

Frank Burnett turned to his wife, "You don't think we should have told him about the other man in her life?"

"No. No. Mac'll tell him everything he needs to know."

Admiral Chegwidden smiled and made a retreat.

When Harm arrived at the room, the door was pulled to, but not closed completely. By touching it lightly, he was able to cause it to open enough that he could get a peek inside. She was there, lying on the bed, with her back turned to him. His heart pounded.

He entered the room and moved silently to stand beside the bed. He looked down at her longingly. No doubt that she was the most beautiful thing he had ever seen. A part of him wanted to shout and grab her, but she looked so peaceful lying there like that. He crouched down beside the bed, then slipped noiselessly onto the space beside her. Then he encircled her with his arm and nuzzled her neck. It slowly occurred to him that waking a marine from a dead sleep might be dangerous.

She didn't react violently, though,, instead she turned to look at him and said, "Oh, Harm, it's you."

"Yeah, Honey, it's me." He was surprised by her lack of reaction. He bent over her shoulder and kissed her inviting mouth.

"Hmm. This is the best dream yet." Came her drowsy response.

"Darling, I'm not a dream. I'm really here." As she turned back onto her side there was a whimpering sound.

"What's that?" he asked.

"It's Trey."

"Trey?"

"My son."

"Oh, Mac. It never occurred to me that maybe you'd met somebody else and started a life. But I have been gone a year. I'm sorry. I'll get right out of here."

She turned over again, wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed him deeply and passionately. She pulled back a little, startled. "Harm, my god. It really is you." Her scream brought Frank running to the door.

"Yes, Sarah, it's me."

"But you're dead"

Frank stuck his head in to ask if everything was okay, but Harm dismissed himv "They made you believe that I was dead, but I was only drugged. I'm still alive. I spent the last year trying to find a way back to you, but I guess I'm way too late."

"What do you mean?" As she said it, she kept touching him, as though she wasn't sure he was really real.

"Well, Trey, you've got a whole new life."

The baby whimpered again as she pulled back the blanket he lay under and picked him up. "It's probably time the two of you met."

She looked from one of them to the other, then said, "Harmon Rabb, Jr., this is Harmon Rabb III. We call him Trey for his numeral."

"What? You mean this is my son? How did that happen?"

"Harm, you mean you don't remember? You were there."

"Sarah, I knew it was a magical night, but I had no idea."

Harm looked lovingly from her to his son, then kissed them both.

Mac sat up on the side of the bed next to him still holding the infant. He smiled at her a little uncertainly and asked, "Can I hold him?" She handed the baby to him, helping to position his hands and offering instructions about how to support the head. She knew he'd never really been around a baby before, but still she had to fight to hold back the laughter at how nervous he was. But when he held the child up against his chest, she could see the immediate bond between father and son.

"What happened to you in Russia?" she felt like she needed to know, even though it didn't occur to her that he had purposely abandoned her.

"I want to tell you, and I want to hear everything that's happened to you, too, but not right now, okay?"

"Sure, we'll have time. Does your mom know you're here?"

"I saw her when I came in down stairs."

"We should go down so you can spend some time with her, too. Are you hungry? I can fix you something to eat and you can have a nice visit with her and Frank." Mac rose, took his hand and pulled him up. "Come on, I show you around the house."

"Okay."

They headed downstairs hand in hand. He was still carrying the baby. At the bottom of the steps, Trish kissed each of them, Frank took Trey and they all began a guided tour of the house and yard.

After a large meal and a little "family time" (which Harm was told was an every night event), Harm and Mac headed back up stairs to put their son to bed.

They stood over the crib together watching him for a while until she pushed him down across the bed and lay down very close beside him. "Now, tell me, Sailor, why did you leave me in Russia, where did you go?"

He put an arm around her waist to pull her close. He ran the fingers of his other hand through her beautiful, dark hair. Those hypnotic eyes captured him in their gaze, and he melted.

He told her about waking from a deep sleep all alone in a strange place. Terror had gripped him. The fear that something had happened to her was almost unbearable. "You know, I would have killed everybody in Russia to have found you?"

"Harm, don't get delusional on me." She chided.

He told her about how this new camp was filled with supporters of the old Soviet regime, led by some disgruntled KGB hangers on, like Parlovsky and Sokhol. They wanted to discredit the new government. In their minds, the people of Russia could be swayed into another Bolshevik revolution.

"Scary thought," Sarah commented.

"Yeah," Harm agreed. " I couldn't get anybody to tell me what had happened to you or what they had planned for me. Then one day, I overheard some of them talking. They were going to offer me up to "the people" to pay for my father's crimes as a spy against "Mother Russia." I guess by this they hoped to gain support for their anti ­ government activities. I still didn't know what they had done to you, but you can imagine how I felt knowing that whatever had happened to you, it was because of me."

She circled her arms around his neck and held him tight, whispering, "I'm sorry."

He told her about escaping from his new prison to find her. The guards were after him instantly, so he didn't get far. He passed out in the woods. A young woman found him, cared for him and took him back to the small village where she lived. Her family protected him when the guards came to get him. This farming village was pleasant, so he stayed there for several months while he made plans about how to find her and how to get back to Moscow.

He told her about tending sheep on a hillside with his new friend, Anya.

She stopped him with, "Were you in love with her?"

He drew a deep breath and said, "I could have been, if I had been able to think of anything else except you."

"Good."

"Sarah, don't tell me you're jealous."

"Are you kidding? Of course not!"

He told her about the other citizens of the village who had given him directions and provisions and gotten him started on his journey toward Moscow. They had been worried about him. The trip was going to take a long, long time on foot, but they had nothing else to give him.

He told her about the first night alone in the forest. It had been cold and lonely, but he warmed and comforted himself with memories of how she felt in his arms.

He told her about stowing away on a train to cut his journey shorter. Unfortunately. every time the train stopped, they opened up his car, so he feared getting caught.

He told her about finally reaching Moscow, but not knowing where to turn. He couldn't go to the U.S. embassy since he had no identification. They'd have just laughed at him. He thought about finding Alexei, but wasn't sure that would be wise.

She laughed, "Who knows who he's working for this week?"

"For sure it wouldn't be me," Harm replied, "I didn't have a dime to bid with."

He told her about spending time on the streets of Moscow homeless, penniless, cold, tired and unable to speak the language. He longed for her at night and fought to try to find her during the day. "I wished more than once that I knew where the village was that you had visited, the one where my dad's buried. I might have tried to go there."

"Harm, he's not...." She began, but he cut off her statement with a kiss before she could finish.

He told her about coming to the end of his rope, about wishing he could just die and be through with it all.

He told her about the day when he finally figured out what to do. He told her about tracking down Hugh Blackadder and sneaking onto his estate after dark. Mr. Blackadder had been annoyed about being awakened from sleep at such a late hour by an intruder, but he took Harm in for the night and arranged for him to be taken to the U.S. embassy the following morning with a letter explaining who he was and his circumstances. The ambassador had been understanding.

He told her about contacting Clayton Webb so the state department could make arrangements for him to come home. Webb had been very tight lipped when he'd asked about her, worrying him.

He told her about the trip home on a state department plane, assuming that she was probably dead. He wasn't really sure that he wanted to come home anymore.

He told her about being debriefed, last week by officials from State, the CIA, NCIS and, of course, by Chegwidden himself.

She stopped him, "Last week? You mean the admiral had seen you last week and didn't tell me? I worked every day last week, he could have given me some clue."

"Honey, it was top secret. National security, you know. Mom didn't tell you either, and she knew last week."

"Wait a minute! Trish knew? I can't believe that! Why wouldn't she tell me?"

"She had to be sure first. They wouldn't let her see me yet, so she couldn't get your hopes up."

"Anyway, that's my story. Here I am, now."

"It's been pretty rough for you." She commented.

"Well, this makes it worth it." He said, kissing her and tightening the embrace he had her locked in.

"Don't think that just because it's been a long cruise that I'm going to make it easy on you, Sailor. I suppose you have a girl in every port now."

"Sure do. In every port I dock in, at least."

She looked a little shocked.

So, he quickly added, "Of course, this is the only place we stop now."

They lay still holding each other for a few minutes, until he said, "It probably hasn't been any cakewalk around here either. Tell me what happened to you after that night."

She propped herself up on one elbow and used one finger to trace around his facial features as she began.

She told him about waking up to find him dead in her arms ­ and how terrifying it was. He kissed her forehead and brushed back her hair.

She told him about being broken out of her prison by unknown men and taken away.

She told him about escaping from the country with Clay.

"Remind me to thank him." Harm interjected.

She told him about spending time with his mother and Frank, becoming close to them and mourning him.

She told him about finding out that she was pregnant. "I was very shocked. At first I didn't believe it. It didn't fit into my plans and I didn't know if I could even be a mother. But then I realized that this was the piece of you that I could always keep, the part that wasn't stolen from me. And I knew that this was the only child of yours that would ever be born, so I was determined to be the best mother I could be."

"The kid is lucky to have a mom as wonderful as you." He complimented.

"No, I'm lucky. He's a great baby."

She told him about her trip to California to tell Trish and Frank about her pregnancy. This was important to her because it was the only grandchild they were ever going to have.

She told him about her surprise when Trish and Frank sold out everything in California and moved suddenly to D.C. to be with her during the pregnancy and help her with the baby.

"You mean they moved here just like that?"

"Yep, just showed up one day."

She told him about how they had taken care of her all through the pregnancy and how the three of them had bought this house together to live in and raise Trey.

She told him about how Trish and Frank both held her hands while her baby was being born. Clay Webb, AJ Chewidden and Bud Roberts all paced in the hall outside the room.

She told him about how Harriet Roberts had fixed up everything in the house so it would be ready for her to bring the baby home. She did this while 8 * months pregnant herself.

"You mean Bud and Harriet have a baby too?" he asked.

"Yes. Their baby was born just two weeks after Trey."

"Amazing!" he remarked.

She told him about how Webb had been able to use the documents she had given him to prove that his father had been a hero. His body had been exhumed in Russia and brought back for a special burial at Arlington. She had taken a new­born Trey, as the last of the Rabbs, to the ceremony to receive the medal awarded to Harm, Sr.

She told him about how Clay had also tried to have his body found and shipped home, but had never been able to accomplish this.

She told him about how important it was to her that their son know his father, and about how she feared that she might not be able to tell him everything he ought to know. She let him know how relieved she was that Trey would now know his father first hand.

As they held each other and continued to talk quietly, their passions once again consumed them, and they gave in to desire.

They awoke the next morning to the crying of an infant impatient for his breakfast. After the feeding, Sarah MacKenzie got ready to go to work.

To her surprise, she found that Harm was waiting to go with her when she left.

"About time you started earning your keep, Flyboy!" she teased.

They went in to the office, where he received a very warm reception from his old colleagues. The admiral suggested that he review the current cases to stay in the loop, but take some more time off. "Son, you've been through hell. Give yourself some recovery time."

Mac told him, "Money's not really a serious issue. Why don't you take some time to get acclimated and get to know your son."

"Well," he gave in, "I'm not going to stay gone forever, but I would like to spend some time with Trey."

Chegwidden smiled. "We'll all work double time to see that the major, here, has time off to spend with you, too."

"Thank you, sir." They both said.

The next two weeks were glorious. Harm and Mac never were apart. They took long walks together and they played with their son. It felt like a real family. Since that was something that neither of them had ever really had, it was important to them that Trey experience it fully.

The staff at Jag worked diligently to make sure that they had this family time. Double shifts were not uncommon. Harriet Roberts worked all day, then dropped off Emily, her 3 * month old daughter to Sarah and Harm so that she and Bud could continue working late into the night.

AJ Chegwidden was a frequent visitor to the house in Alexandria..

Harm thought maybe the admiral was checking up on him, but was assured that he was only exercising his visitation rights as Trey's godfather.

Trish was thrilled to have her son with her daily, for the first time in many years. Harm and Frank finally forged that bond that they had never had before.

Everything was perfect until one night when Mac awoke from a peaceful slumber and reached out for Harm to find he wasn't there. She panicked.

"Oh, no, he's gone again. I knew it was too good to last." She thought to herself.

She looked over into the baby's crib, only to find him missing as well. She heard voices downstairs, but knew that it was long past the hour when Trish and Frank would have gone to bed. She crept down the landing on the stairs and stopped to smile at what she saw.

Harm was sitting in a chair with his back to her. Trey lay on a blanket on the floor in front of him. The naval officer was talking to the small baby. She strained to hear what he was saying, "You know, buddy, I really do love your mom. I need you to help me. Tell me what you think, if I asked her, do you think there's a chance that she'd marry me?"

Mac smiled and moved silently up behind the chair. She leaned over its back and said, "I can't speak for him, but I think maybe she would."

Harm bent his neck back and looked up at her. He raised himself up in the chair and kissed her lightly on the lips. Then, he took her hand and escorted her around the chair and pulled her down to sit in his lap. He wrapped his arms around her, held her close and kissed her with intensity and passion. She responded fully. They were so absorbed in each other that they weren't aware when other people entered the room.

Frank and Trish stood on the landing of the stairway watching..

Trish held her finger up to her lips, cautioning her husband to be quiet.

After a few minutes, Frank descended the remaining steps noiselessly, walked around the chair and bent to pick up the baby. As he walked back past the couple he softly said, "Excuse me."

The sound of his voice penetrated the oblivion of the chair, and Mac and Harm disengaged long enough to see him walk back up the steps with their son. "Thanks," they murmured.

Frank reached the landing and looked back at them. He said, "Commander Rabb, as you were."

Harm smiled and replied, "Aye, aye, sir." As he pulled her back to him.