Title: Doing Better
Author: Anne Taul, anne_taul@gowebway.com

Summary:

Disclaimer: Jag, the characters, the premise, etc, etc. belong exclusively to Bellasarius, Paramount CBS, et al. This is a recreational endeavor. No profit is being solicited. We're just having fun.

 

Doing Better

Harmon Rabb, Jr. stood up, stretching his legs from their place trapped in the cramped position between airline seats. He opened the overhead bin to remove the carry-on luggage with one hand, while extending the other to help his traveling companion to her feet. "You know, Mac, this is one assignment that I'm sure glad to see end."

"You and me both, Harm. I don't know what else could have possibly gone wrong on this trip."

He grinned. "Shh, don't say that too loud, or we might just get to find out."

She laughed, taking their brief cases from him, "Let's just get out of here, okay? I'll even be glad to get back to the office."

Harm stepped aside, allowing her to pass in front of him to exit the plane.

Walking through the terminal, they talked very little. It had been a hectic week at Camp Pendleton, and they were too weary to carry on in their usually jovial manner.

They passed a billboard advertising the upcoming Lichtenstein Foundation ball. Mac stopped, reading the sign carefully. She asked her partner if he'd heard about it. Drawing a blank look from him, she started a detailed explanation about how it was a major fundraising event to benefit children's hospitals in the D.C. area. There would be a gala ball and a charity casino.

Rabb listened intently, unable to miss her obvious enthusiasm.

"Sounds like a good cause," he commented.

"Yeah, she replied, "It's a good cause, and it will be the social event of the season."

"So, are you going?"

"Me? No, of course not. The dance is in two weeks, and the tickets have been sold out for months."

"Well, do you want to go?"

"I told you..."

"If I could get tickets, would you go with me?"

"Harm, you can't get tickets."

"....but if I...."

"Okay, sure. If you can get tickets, of course I'll go.. But I'm not blocking it off on my calendar yet."

"Oh, ye of little faith."

"Oh, I have faith in you, but you're just not being realistic."

The next morning, they delivered their report to Admiral Chegwidden, then Harm retired to his office. It was two hours before he reappeared. This entire time had been spent on the telephone. He had called in every favor he could remember. Something inside of him, pushed him in his task. He just couldn't let her down. So seldom had he ever heard Sarah MacKenzie say that she really wanted something. He had finally heard her express a desire for this, and he was going to make sure she got it. After all she was his partner and...friend, he told himself. He would make sure that she went to the Lichtenstein Foundation's fundraiser, and that she had a good time. He smiled as he remembered the last time he had escorted her to a formal dance, the NATO ball. They had been working that evening, but he'd had a really good time with her.

He rose from his desk with a smug look on his face. He walked to her office and knocked. Being invited in, he told her to start preparing because he had two tickets to the event. She squealed a little delighted sound, then began quizzing him about how he had managed that. He made a flippant comment about being able to do anything, to which she only rolled her eyes. Then he said, "Well, you've been working too hard lately, and you really deserve a night out. So, I did whatever I could, for you." In his mind he heard a little voice that told him that he'd do anything for her, but he ignored this.

"However you did it, it's wonderful. Thank you, Harm."

He loved seeing her this excited. "You're welcome. Two weeks from tomorrow ­it's a date. Write it on your calendar now."

"I will."

At this point she decided she was hungry and asked if she could buy him lunch. When they exited the building, they both felt great.

Returning, a bit later than they had planned, they were ushered toward the conference room by P.O. Tiner. Apparently the admiral had called a meeting of all the staff. They apologized to him as they entered the room. He made an annoyed remark about finally being able to get started. The entire Jag staff was surprised by the news that he delivered.

A Hollywood television crew wanted to come to their office to film a movie about military lawyers. Apparently they believed this kind of work was somehow...glamorous.

Mac scoffed, holding back an amused laugh.

"Is something funny, Major? I'm sure we could all use a good joke about now."

"No, Sir." She came to attention. "Sir, it's just that if these people could have been with Commander Rabb and myself on the case we just completed, they would see that this job can often be anything but...glamorous."

"I think we can all relate to that, but the government protocol office wants to build good will with the media and the entertainment industry. The military doesn't always get a positive slant on television, so we're to help them, let them observe what we do and then they can draw their own conclusions. Is that understood, people?"

A chorus of "Yes, Sir" rose from the assembly.

The admiral continued by informing them that the full crew wouldn't come for about ten more days. However, the producer of this upcoming movie would arrive tomorrow to begin looking around and getting a feel for what should be done. Chegwidden was specific to the Jag staff that while they were to offer full cooperation, that this should in no way interfere with their regular duties.

The next morning, Mac got out of her Jeep just in time to fall into an easy cadence along side her partner. They made small talk as they walked into the building.

"I just don't think that we're really TV material, that's all.." He concluded.

"Well, speak for yourself Flyboy. I think I might look pretty good on TV."

In response, he mustered up his patented grin ( the one that always got to her), but said nothing. The little voice in his head went wild, telling him that she'd definitely look good on television, or anywhere, for that matter. Again, he ignored the voice.

At 1030 hours, the admiral called them both into his office to introduce them to Aaron Kennesohn, the network producer who was in charge of the film project. He said that he'd like to spend a few days just following them around, observing what they did. This should give him a good idea of how to work his tentative script and shooting schedule out before the crew arrived. When they left the office, he followed closely behind Mac, whispering to Harm, "No wonder you enjoy your work so much." Harm felt a seething heat rise in him, as his protective instincts kicked in. This guy was here to leer at his partner; he, probably already harbored less than honorable intentions toward her.

Later, Harm laid some folders on the corner of Mac's desk and asked, "Where's Mr. Hollywood?"

"He's making some phone calls. You don't like him much, do you?"

"Not particularly. Why? Do you?"

"Yeah, I guess, He's nice."

"Mac, don't be fooled by that suave performance. He's an entertainer, remember?"

"You're jealous!"

"No, it's not that. I just don't trust him. How about having dinner with me tonight?"

"Thanks, but I'm having dinner with Aaron tonight."

"Mac..."

"Harm, don't start. What's wrong with him?"

"I just think you can do better, that's all."

"I've heard you say that before."

He picked up carry-out Chinese on the way home. He sat alone eating it. He kept thinking about Mac....his Mac....out with Kennesohn. He wasn't entirely sure why the thought disturbed him so much.

The next day, Aaron Kennesohn spent the whole day with him. He observed the proceedings in court, watched Harm write briefs and interview a witness. He became a little upset when Rabb dismissed him from a meeting with a client. Mac took the producer aside and tied to explain attorney-client privilege. This television man made Harm nervous, but he couldn't quite finger what the exact problem was.

That evening, as he sat in his own living room, reading a copy of Aviation Weekly magazine, Mac knocked on his door. He got up and let her in. She carried a bottle of sparkling cider and a couple of wine glasses. He smiled, and asked, "So, you're not out with the producer tonight?"

"No, tonight I'm here with you."

His little voice congratulated him. He felt a surge of triumph.

They shared the cider and talked in the easy, comfortable manner that was so familiar to them both. He felt fulfilled to just have her near, but he dismissed this sensation.

The next day, Aaron Kennesohn said his goodbyes, promising to return in about a week with his crew to start filming. He shook Harm's hand and kissed Mac's cheek. Harm wasn't sorry to see him go, but he was relieved that Mac didn't seem too concerned about his departure, either.

The day before his anticipated return, the office was filled with an air of, almost....excitement. Bud was running around in a star-struck haze. He had told everyone in the building, at least twice that he had heard that the actor who would play the lead in the movie was going to be Hollywood heartthrob Gregory Bentley . Harriet was also impressed, having said to Mac, more than once, "He's so cute!"

When the crew finally arrived, Roberts and his wife weren't disappointed. Gregory Bentley was tall, blond and very tanned. His blue eyes were obviously augmented by colored contact lenses, as that shade of blue wasn't at all natural. Harm wasn't impressed, especially when Mac seemed drawn to him, for some reason. He looked her over pretty thoroughly, too. Rabb couldn't help but notice that with an element of immediate distaste.

Bud and Harriet fawned over Greg Bentley. To most of the office staff, it was as if he were something other than just a man. Mac didn't seem to be immune to this, either. She moved rapidly around the bullpen area, ready to cater to his every whim. Commander Rabb disliked this man, intensely. He wasn't sure exactly why. He didn't like the way Mac reacted to him; what could she possibly see in a guy like this ­he's rich, famous, handsome, powerful ­no, what could attract her to him? Harm couldn't quite put his finger on it, but he was sure that this guy was going to hurt Mac in some way. His little voice kept telling him that he had to do anything to keep her from being hurt. Again, he shrugged off the little voice.

On his way out that afternoon, he poked his head into her office.

She sat alone going through a stack of files. "How's it going? Are you about through?"

"Yeah. I've just got a couple more things to look at, then I'm on my way out. How about you?"

"I'm leaving now."

"Great! Have a good weekend."

"Thanks, you too. Say, Mac, do you want to get together for a while this weekend?"

"I'd love to, Harm, but I promised to show Greg around town this weekend. He's never been to Washington before. You can come along, if you like."

"No, I don't think so. I'm probably not what Mr. Bentley has in mind."

"You make it sound like...It's not like that, really."

"Oh, yeah?"

"You're jealous‹again. Well, don't be. I'll make it up to you at the Lichtenstein ball next Friday. I bought a new dress."

"Whoa! Then, I'll really look forward to seeing it. Mac, be careful with this guy. He's from Hollywood. You know, folks out there aren't well known for their moral values."

She tossed a paper wad at him as he beat a hasty retreat.

Harm turned off the lights and sat in the dark of his apartment.. He thought about going out for a while. He could see a movie, or go to the gym. But nothing seemed appealing. He got up once with the thought that he'd go over to Mac's, then he remembered that she was with "the movie star." He almost hated that guy! It occurred to him that he knew other women; he could just give one of them a call. For some reason, though, he couldn't think about one of them. All he could think about was Mac. His little voice was telling him all kinds of things, so he just quit hearing it at all.

Monday and Tuesday passed uneventfully at Jag. Harm had his nose buried in work, so that he hardly saw Mac at all. When he did see her walk past his office, she didn't stop. Bentley was always so close behind her that it looked like he might be trying to crawl inside her skin with her, Harm observed , in passing, just to himself.

On Wednesday, she came into his office unbidden, and alone. She left the door open, but sat down in front of his desk. After an initial complaint about how hectic her workload was right now, she starting questioning him about what he'd been up to. She seemed genuinely interested, and he wanted to talk with her, but he couldn't tell her that he hadn't done much of anything except think about her. Instead, he turned the conversation to their upcoming date. He asked where she'd like to go to dinner, what time, etc.

She had just begun to talk about it when Greg Bentley excused himself stepping in, "Sarah, my studio has sent me tickets to some fundraising dance on Friday, the Lichten­something or the other­foundation. Would you like to go?"

Harm's jaw fell, but he didn't say anything.

Mac immediately spoke up, "Oh, Greg, I'm sorry, but I already have a date. It's supposed to be a really nice event, though. Maybe I'll see you there."

Harm felt a little sense of pride. He sincerely hoped, though, that she would not see him there. He wondered if he should feel guilty about that.

On Thursday, she reminded him to pick up his dress whites from the cleaner's. He told her that he had already done that, and that he really was looking forward to their evening.

Friday morning, he looked up from his paper work and smiled as he saw the florist's delivery boy walk in front of his office, carrying roses. Moments later, Mac burst in, unannounced, and threw her arms around his neck. She softly kissed his cheek and thanked him. "I'm looking forward to tonight, too." she said, "That was so sweet."

He was glad that he'd thought to order those flowers on his way to work. She loved roses, he knew. And, if it would always get that reaction, maybe he should consider sending flowers every day. It pleased him to see her so happy, and it was hard to forget the way her arms felt around his neck.

He knocked on her door, full of anticipation. She let him in, then stepped back to show off her new dress. A feather could have knocked him over. He felt his heart flutter and rise in the back of his throat. It occurred to him that, like most potentially dangerous weapons, she might need a license to look that good. What he said was, "Looking good, Major."

She replied, "Do you like it? You're not looking too shabby yourself, Commander."

Dinner was perfect. The food was good and the conversation was comfortable and easy, as it usually was between the two of them. His little voice told him that this was how it should always be between them. He did listen this time, and reflected on how good this seemed.

The hotel ballroom was beautiful. The orchestra played melodic strains that filled the air. He swept her into his arms, and out onto the dance floor, immediately. She moved gracefully along with him. It certainly wasn't lost on him, how good it felt to hold her in his arms and close to his body as they moved around the room.

She whispered a "thank you" into his ear. He responded by tightening his hold around her waist.

When they paused, she mentioned that she hadn't seen Greg yet.

Harm winced, "Mac, why are you so taken with that guy?"

"What's wrong with him?"

"I just think that you can do better, that's all."

"Harm, I've heard you say that before. Why do you say that about every single man I go out with?"

"I don't. It's just that I want you to find somebody that can make you happy."

"Yes, you do. You say that about every man I ever go out with. Let's see, you said that about Dalton, about Mark Falcon, about Aaron, and now about Greg Bentley."

"Well, look at your track record."

"Not funny, so I've made a few bad choices. But why do you always think there's something wrong with the men I see?"

"Mac, I just think that you can do better."

"Tell me what that means."

"No, it's not important." He enclosed her in his embrace and whisked her back out onto the dance floor.

She danced with him until they neared the french doors leading out onto the small terrace connected to the hotel's formal gardens. She quickly exited through the doors, pulling him outside with her.

"Mac, where are you going?"

"We need some fresh air."

"We do?"

"Yeah, we do. Now, Harm, I want you to tell me what all that "you can do better" stuff is about."

"But there's nothing to tell."

"Sure there is. If you really think that, then you must have something in mind. Do you? Do you have some kind of idea about what you think that I need?"

"Mac, you don't want to get into this here."

"Yeah, I do. Spill it. Tell me what you think I need. What do you mean when you say that I can do better?"

"Are you sure that you really want to know?"

She nodded.

His heart was pounding and his little voice was babbling a mile a minute. This was probably the biggest mistake of his life, but he really couldn't help it. What he did, he did with the full knowledge that he might very well be ruining both of their lives.

He moved to stand in front of her, so that she was backed up against the stone railing. He grabbed hold of the short wall with both his hands, pinning her between them. Then he leaned in very close and kissed her gently on the lips. He braced himself, automatically to feel the sting of her slapping his face. What happened really surprised him. Not only did she not slap him, but she actually leaned in to the kiss. She draped her arms around his neck, and her lips parted. She responded in every way, sending chills racing down his spine.

When they finally parted, she asked, breathlessly, "If that's what you meant. Why did it take you so long to say it?"

"You mean, you're not mad?"

The fingers of their hands became intertwined. She answered, "No, I'm not mad, but I think we need to talk."

They eventually noticed that it was a beautiful, star-filled night, as they strolled out into the garden. A full moon shone brightly, illuminating their path in the garden.

Sitting on a bench near the rose bushes, she pulled him toward her for another deep, passionate kiss. His arms wrapped themselves around her, not able to believe that this was really happening. He just knew that he would wake from this dream soon.

When he answered her questions, he learned more about his feelings than he had known before. For instance, he told her, without giving it much thought, that he had wanted to do that for a long, long time. He told her that sometimes he couldn't stop thinking about her. He told her that his feelings for her had him confused (a monumental understatement). They sat there for a while, holding hands and talking. Then they got up and continued their stroll through the garden. This time his arm was around her waist, pulling her close to him. Somewhere from deep inside of him, something escaped that he hadn't meant to tell her. She squeezed his hand, and he just blurted it out, "I love you, Sarah!"

Her expression was disbelieving. "Harm, do you know what you're saying?"

"Yeah, I do. I didn't mean to say that, not now, but it's true."

She held his face between her hands, and looked into his eyes. "I don't know what to say."

"You don't have to say anything."

She kissed him, softly and gently.

Back inside, the music was sweet and soft. They danced close together. They both knew that something between them had changed. His mouth was close to her ear, and he sang softly with the music, brushing his lips against her cheek.

After a little while, Greg Bentley tapped Harm's shoulder to ask if he could cut in. Harm stepped reluctantly aside. Mac never let go of his hand, as she told Bentley that she was sorry, but her dance card was full.

Harm smiled broadly, sweeping her back into his arms.

The gala lasted well into the wee hours of the morning. They must've danced every dance, reveling in the opportunity to hold each other close. When it finally did break up, Harm decided that he should walk Mac home to take advantage of the moonlight. He could always come back for the car later.

They walked hand in hand in and out of the shadows created by the streetlights. The conversation was soft, and unfocused. But Mac definitely had something on her mind.

She knew she had to tell him, had to figure it out, but she didn't know how. She had feelings for him ­real feelings, but what were they? He had said that he loved her, and she believed that he meant it, but she couldn't say it back, not yet. When you say that, it's a commitment. The few serious romantic relationship she'd had, had all turned out badly.. She couldn't risk that with Harm. No, she knew that with Harm it would have to be different. If she ever gave her heart to him, it would have to be completely. With Harm, it couldn't just be a romance. If it were with Harm, it would have to be forever. It was a scary thought. What was she going to tell him?

The thoughts crowded through her head.

She stopped under a lamp post, and turned him to face her. Looking deep into his beautiful blue eyes, she said, "Harm, I'm sorry."

His look was alarmed, "Sorry for what, Sweetheart?"

"I'm sorry, but I just can't do this. I just can't make a commitment right now."

"Sshh. You don't have to." His hand found the small of her back and pulled her closer.

"I have feeling for you, really I do. I have real feelings, but they confuse me. I'm not sure exactly how I feel."

"That's okay."

"No, it's not. I can't really start something with you until I'm sure how I feel."

"Of course you can't. I understand that. I don't want pressure you. Take your time, figure it out. I'll be here. I'm sure not going anywhere.""

"But Harm, I may never be able to say that I love you."

"I'm betting that someday, you will. But if you never can, that's okay. You'll at least know how I feel."

Her head was spinning. They continued their walk. At her apartment, she invited him in for coffee. However, the coffee got cold before they ever drank it, because they were locked in a mutual embrace. Both were reluctant to give it up. It ended with a deep, passionate kiss, then he excused himself and left.

Monday, at the office, they heard about their new assignment. A warehouse full of assault training weapons had been stolen from the armory at Camp Lejune. Captain Todd Boyland, the base officer in charge of requisitions and deliveries is being charged in relation to this matter. Harm and Mac learn that they will investigate this incident, then defend Captain Boyland. They have this afternoon to review records and prepare. Their flight leaves at 0800 in the morning.

THAT NIGHT
Major MacKenzie's apartment


"It's late, Mac." Harm said as he dropped a file folder onto the table beside the couch where he sat. "Our flight's early tomorrow. I better get going."

She was sitting next to him, but leaned even closer to lay her head on his shoulder. "This is going to be a tough case. The more prep work we get done now, the less hectic it'll be in North Carolina."

He draped an arm around her waist. "But, we've been at it all day. We can go over the rest of this stuff on the plane. Good night." As he said it, he lightly kissed her forehead, and rose to go.

She pulled him back down for a more passionate kiss.

He wrapped his arms around her, lowering her to a supine position on the couch. He breathed her name, breathlessly. His hands found their way beneath the oversize sweatshirt she wore. They wandered, caressing her smooth skin.

Her kisses were more intense, until she suddenly pulled away. "No, I can't. I'm sorry, Harm. I just can't make an intimate commitment until I'm sure where this is leading. This isn't casual, so I can't start something with you that I can't finish. I've got to figure out exactly how I feel."

He kissed her once more, saying, "Don't apologize. I understand. Really, I'm trying not to pressure you. Take all the time you need."

Mac walked him to the door, amazed at how easily he seemed to be taking this. She yearned to have him touch her and....more, but until she was sure what she felt, and what would become of this, she couldn't risk it. She took a cold shower and went straight to bed, but she could still feel his arms around her and the gentleness of his hands against her skin.

Harm knocked on the door of Mac's room at the BOQ in Jacksonville, North Carolina. She admitted him, then returned to her unpacking. She asked, "Did you find out when we can talk to Capt. Boyland?"

"Not until morning, so we might as well go out and see the sights."

"What sights?"

"I don't know, but there must be something fun to do around here.."

"Okay, let's go." She literally dropped everything to follow him out.

The bar was smoky and loud, but they found a table and ordered some food. As they ate, they could hear a lot of talk going on about the recent weapons theft. Mac lingered at the jukebox trying to engage an off-duty marine in conversation about this. Finally, he just looked at her, saying, "Ma'am, I can't discuss that with a civilian." Mac raised her eyebrows as the man sat down.

Harm came up behind her and whispered, "Good man. We don't need any extra publicity."

Arriving back at Harm's quarters, they found a package left outside the door. He picked it up, and opened the door to let her into the room.

"What is it, Harm?"

"I asked Colonel Christiansen to get me copies of the duty rosters for that day ­everybody who was assigned near that warehouse. I also requested personnel files for those marines. This is pretty good service, now I'll have to spend the whole night going through these."

"I'll help you." She offered.

"Thanks, but you get some rest."

Before he had gotten that out, she had sat down on the floor to go to work.

He sat beside her, dividing the folders into piles. They each picked one up, and began flipping through it.

She reached for the last folder in her stack and sighed heavily as she leaned back against his chest. He enfolded her in his arms, pulling her closer. She opened the file so they could both see the contents.

"What do you think?" she asked with a yawn.

"We better add this name to the list of people we want to talk to in the morning."

"Harm, it is in the morning."

He looked at his watch. "Oh, yeah. Mac, you better go get some sleep."

But before he finished speaking, he noticed that she had fallen asleep. He repositioned himself a little so that she looked more comfortable, then kissed the top of her head. Soon, sleep overtook him, as well.

Mac woke to feel Harm's strong arms holding her, while he slept. She smiled. Then, she frowned. It occurred to her that maybe she was using him. She enjoyed being with him. She liked the way she felt in his arms and the sweetness of his kisses. It reassured her to hear him say that he loved her. For much of her life she had craved love and affection, which she didn't get. She did care for him, so why wasn't she able to decide about the depth of her feelings. Why was she keeping him hanging on this way?

Her thoughts were interrupted by his waking. He smiled at her, with, "Good morning."

After three days of interviewing and researching, they met in her room to review and organize their notes. They needed to prepare a strategy and advise the court about their client's position.

Captain Boyland had not been, personally, on duty when the incident must have occurred. However he refused to let someone else take responsibility (it was his job). The facts went something like this: On the day when the weapons were discovered to be missing, a film crew had come on to the base to film a documentary. Colonel Christiansen explained that it was part of the Pentagon's new plan to promote the positive image of the military (of course, the Jag officers knew about that only too well). Several truckloads of camera and lighting equipment had overrun the base for two days. It created much confusion.

After they had gone, and operations returned to normal, the theft was discovered. The colonel dismissed the idea that the film trucks might have been used to remove the weapons, saying that they had been searched thoroughly.

Unfortunately, Boyland had personally signed the papers for the delivery of the weapons, and had signed the inventory sheets for a period of time just two hours before they went missing. This really made it look like he was going to be guilty.

The lawyers strategized, but short of finding out what had actually happened, they weren't sure how successful they would be in the courtroom.

Due to the publicity the event was getting in North Carolina, the venue was changed to Washington. So, Harm and Mac headed home.

Several days later, she sat on her couch sipping a cup of herbal tea when the doorbell rang. Looking through the peephole, she identified Harm, so she opened the door to let him in.

He asked if there was anymore of that tea. Since there wasn't, she handed her cup to him. He drank from it, handing it back to her. She carefully turned the steaming mug to place her lips exactly where his had been before she took her next sip.

Harm watched her and sighed. He thought that might well be the most erotic gesture he'd ever witnessed. She was so beautiful, and she moved so gracefully. He never tired of watching her.

When they sat down, he asked her, "What did you think about the admiral's announcement that the film people will be back tomorrow?"

"Well, I thought that it made you look like a jealous sailor."

"That may be true, but I asked what did you think?"

"Maybe they'll take some of the attention away from the Boyland case."

"Yeah, maybe. But, are you going to be glad to see them come back?"

"It doesn't really matter to me. There was a message on my machine this afternoon from Aaron Kennesohn, asking if I would have dinner with him while they were here."

"Oh, no! You're not seriously considering it, are you?"

"Sure, why not?"

"Mac, the guy's a creep."

"You are jealous."

"No. I just think you can do better."

She stood. As she walked past him, she stroked one of his cheeks with her hand, bending to kiss the other. She whispered, "Yeah.. I know I can."

His strong arm moved swiftly around her, sweeping her into his lap. He embraced her and moved close for a kiss. She responded by circling her arms around his neck and leaning in. They just sat like that for several minutes. She knew this was dangerous. If she continued staring into his eyes, she might completely lose herself.

The mood was broken when the telephone rang. She moved toward it, then decided to let the machine answer it. He showed his approval by kissing the palm of her hand, and holding it against his chest.

Her smile was a suitable reward.

Her voice announced that she wasn't able to come to the phone, but made the usual request for a message.

The voice on the other end belonged to Aaron Kennesohn.

"Sarah, there's been a change in plans. You can disregard my earlier message. We won't be back in D.C. until day after tomorrow. I'd still like to take you to dinner. Please give me a call. You have the number."

Harm's eyebrows raised, "You have the number?"

"I have the number."

"So, call him."

"I might, later."

"Mac, do whatever you want to. You don't owe me anything."

She pressed her mouth against his until she felt his lips part. Then, she kissed him deeply and passionately.

The kiss lingered, but when they came up for air, he asked, "What was that for?"

"You said to do whatever I wanted to."

He nuzzled her neck and kissed the base of her throat.

His voice was firm, "At least I have one more day before Mr. Hollywood gets back. Will you have dinner with me tomorrow? I'll take you someplace nice."

She grinned and tossled his hair.

He tickled her. Once again, she was aware of the sensation of his hands on her skin. Her giggles egged him on.

Admiral Cheggwiden called them into his office at mid morning to report another munitions theft. This one had taken place at Camp Pendleton. A corporal was being held in the matter. They would leave for California at once to investigate the incident and defend the marine. Their C.O. made it very clear that if there was any connection between this and the theft at Lejune, he wanted to be informed immediately.

After a long day, they walked back toward their temporary housing. He reminded her of their dinner date.

"Aww, Harm, I'm really tired. Could we do it another time?"

"Sure. But, Mac, you've got to eat. I need you to keep up your strength. Listen, I checked around, and there are a couple of really nice places we could go to nearby." By this time, he was leaning against the door frame of her room.

"Give me 45 minutes to get showered and dressed."

"Great. You won't regret this."

"I already do."

The restaurant was filled with atmosphere. The soft lighting created a romantic mood. The food was good, too. They both tried to make the conversation light and enjoyable. Eventually, though, the case intruded into the discussion. They had more questions than answers, at this point.

They both sat on the bed, back at his quarters, going through all the data they had collected on this investigation. "So," she asked, "do you think this is connected to the other incident?"

"It should be. They were the same type thefts, but there aren't many common links. I just don't know, Mac. What do you think?"

"I think that it must be more than coincidence that film crews were on both bases when these robberies occurred. We can check that out in the morning."

"Okay. First thing in the morning, you find out what you can about who was here and what they were filming, or doing. I'll make some calls to get the same information from North Carolina. It may be our best link." He yawned, then stretched.

She moved behind him, and began massaging his shoulders.

"Harm, you're so tense."

"Nothing that couldn't be cured by a little attention from the woman I love." He turned, slipping his arms around her waist.

She pulled back and pushed him away. "Harm, don't!"

"What did I do?" he asked.

"I just think that maybe we've let this go a bit too far."

"What?"

"All the touching and kissing. You don't mean to pressure me, but I'm reacting so that you are. I think maybe we should try a different tactic. From now on, a strictly "hands off" policy."

"Mac, no. I don't think I can do that. I'm used to holding you and kissing you now. I can't just give that up, cold turkey."

"Let's try it."

He reached for her, but she pushed him away again. "I'm just not ready for this, Harm. I warned you."

"Whatever you say, but I still love you."

In the morning they were extremely interested to compare the fruits of their separate labors. The film crews doing documentaries, at both bases, had been led by renowned producer/ director Aaron Kennesohn.

Harm winced at the mere mention of the name. His little voice, silent for some time, reminded him that he had always had a feeling that this guy was up to no good.

He told her that while they were here in California, they should interview him. His knowledge of what was going on while he visited military bases might be enlightening.

Mac remembered, though, that Kennesohn and his crew were in Washington.

So, they called the admiral to report they'd be back that night.

When Mac got off the elevator at Jag the next morning, Aaron Kennesohn rushed to greet her. He was followed closely by a small, dark,handsome young man. Harm approached and stood nearby, protectively.

The producer made introductions: "Major Sarah MacKenzie, this is Rico Cannatori, our new star."

Mac shook hands with the handsome young man, then questioned, "What about Greg?"

Kennesohn threw up his hands. "He had, what do you call, artist differences. Bentley's out, Rico's in."

Harm rolled his eyes and shot his partner an exasperated glance, as he noticed that both men couldn't take their eyes off her. Moments later, she followed him into his office and shut the door. "Stop that!" she ordered.

"Stop what?"

"Just because I cut you off, is no reason to hate the whole world."

"Mac, I miss being close to you, really I do, but I didn't like guys like them, even before."

She gave him an annoyed look, then turned and shot a positively seductive smile over her shoulder, as she left the room.

The next time he looked out the door of his office, she was in the middle of the movie crowd, talking to Rico Cannatori. He was annoyed. As he watched, a large lighting pole teetered, and collapsed, falling toward her. His throat tightened as he tried to call her name..

Nothing came out, but a squeak. He was already running toward her when the large equipment hit her across the back of the head. She crumbled into a heap on the floor.

The men closer to her, bent down to try to help, but he rudely pushed them out of the way. He lifted her head into his lap and gently stroked her hair.

Bud Roberts announced that he had called for an ambulance. Harm knew that if anything happened, if she wasn't okay, that life would be over. Where was that ambulance? Why was it taking so long? He moved her head from his lap, cradling it against his chest. His lips brushed against her forehead, and he whispered that everything would be all right. He wished he were sure.

Mac slowly came to. Her head hurt and everything was spinning. She felt a gentle pressure on her right hand. As her eyelids fluttered, a familiar voice spoke in soothing tones. Harm, her mind focused. It was Harm. She opened her eyes and smiled at him. He leaned from the chair where he sat beside her hospital bed to kiss her cheek. He backed away, saying, "Oh, sorry, I forgot. We have a strictly hands ­and lips‹off policy, now."

"Okay," she muttered.

"Well, if it's okay. I can do better." He brushed his lips against hers. It made her feel better. She asked what had happened, before the nurse came in to tend to her.

After the nurse left, he reclaimed her hand. He recounted all the details of the accident, including the fact that she had a scalp laceration, a nasty concussion and a couple of broken ribs. He teased her, "I guess you're going to tell me that's some kind of Marine Corp foreplay."

She smiled again.

During the afternoon, various members of the Jag staff wandered in to check on her. The doctor said that she'd need to stay in the hospital for about a week, but she thought that was a long time. Harm told her that she would stay for as long as the doctor thought she should, and that he would stay with her.

It had already begun to be dark outside when Clayton Webb came in. After initial inquiries as to how she was feeling, he indicated that he had information that they needed. Harm corrected him, saying that he couldn't possibly have anything that they needed right now.

Webb asked them if they'd ever heard of the Cannatori crime family.

"Like Rico Cannatori?" Mac asked. She was sitting up in the bed now.

"Exactly." Clay confirmed "Rico's the youngest son. He's the pretty boy. He wants to be an actor, so his Uncle Guido has gotten him into some Hollywood circles. We're not really sure how much he has to do with the family business, anymore."

"What is the family business?" Harm asked.

"The usual, gambling, drugs, dirty politics, extortion, weapons brokering."

"Weapons like that might have been stolen from military bases?" Mac was beginning to see the picture.

"Probably. We know they were involved. What we don't know, yet. Is who else is involved. Who's working for them on the inside, who's setting up the sales or where the merchandise is going. We're not sure if Rico's involved, but Aaron Kennesohn may be."

"But you know enough to get both of our clients off the hook." Harm stated.

"It's not that easy." Clay corrected. "We have to wait until we catch the deal going down, so we can bust up the whole ring."

"That doesn't help a couple of marines." Mac observed.

"Sorry. But I can tell you the information we've got on this operation, and where it's coming from."

"Go ahead." Harm invited.

"If I tell you, you'll have to make sure it never leaves this room. You can never tell another soul."

"We're trustworthy." Mac volunteered.

The tone of the conversation was lowered as two Jag officers became privvy to deep, dark secrets of the CIA.

Webb ended with, "You see why I thought you needed to know that?"

They both nodded. Things were beginning to make more sense.

Webb went on to remind them that having this information might be dangerous. If the mobsters ever got hold of this intelligence, it would be a serious threat to national security. It's best not to play games with these people.

The next morning, the admiral came in. He ordered Harm to go home, shower, shave and change clothes. He said he would sit with the major, himself, while this assignment was being carried out. Harm argued, but saw that he couldn't win. He told Mac to get some rest while he was gone, promising to return as soon as possible.

Harm reached for the door handle of his car, in the parking lot. He heard something behind him. As he turned, something heavy hit him from behind. Everything went dark.

It was two days before Mac was able to drag the truth about Harm's disappearance out of the colleagues and friends that were taking turns sitting vigil at her bedside. She, immediately got up, ignoring the pleas of the medical staff. Her phone call was to Clayton Webb. She demanded that he present himself at once.

As Admiral Chegwidden entered the hospital room, to relieve Bud Roberts of his watch, he was met by the sight of Sarah MacKenzie in ready-for-action mode. He chastised Bud for revealing the sad circumstances of Harm's disappearance. The younger officer tried to explain, but nothing quite came out right.

The admiral advised Mac to return to her sickbed. It was a little more than a mere suggestion, but she would hear none of it.

When Webb arrived, she inquired as to what they knew about Harm's whereabouts. He reminded her that he had warned them that it was not wise to be too quick to investigate, or get curious about, the Cannatori crime family.

Her eyes blazed fire, "So, you're telling me that he's been kidnapped by the mafia?"

"So it would appear, Major." Clay confirmed. "There haven't been any acknowledgements or demands from them yet, but we're pretty sure that's what happened."

Mac almost ordered, "We've got to get out of here and find him!"

She had Webb drive her back to Jag, after convincing the admiral to let her set up a command post in his office. The admiral had never seen her like this. He didn't think he had much choice. Besides, which, he was getting worried about Harm, too.

The concrete floor was cold under Harm's back. Blood had congealed around his head and mouth ­ his blood. His chest ached from having been kicked repeatedly. He was sore, and cold and tired. They'd asked him many questions, mostly about government knowledge of the Cannatori family. Remembering Clayton Webb's words, and his warning, he had been careful to divulge nothing. But now the pain was really getting bad. He had lost consciousness after the last round of interrogation. There was only one thing that was keeping him holding on....

His thoughts were of Mac. She is so beautiful, and smart, and funny and sexy. Her face was etched onto his brain and the warmth of her penetrating brown eyes was burned into his memory. He'd left her in the hospital ­ he hoped she was okay. The doctor had said that she would make a full recovery, but he knew that she wouldn't like him not being there.. He loved her so much. He remembered, fondly, the night he had first told her that he loved her. It was at that foundation charity dance. She had looked so lovely. He hadn't meant to tell her, but it just slipped out. He shouldn't have said anything, he should have let her find out for herself, later. Telling her had only put unfair pressure on her, he never meant to do that. Somehow, though, he was glad he had told her. They had shared some wonderful, intimate moments. He thought about how good it felt to hold her in his arms and how sweet her kisses were It occurred to him that he might not survive his present predicament. If he didn't, he was really glad that she knew how he felt about her. Thinking of her eased his pain a bit, and gave him new-found resolve to keep going.

Mac wanted to personally follow up every single lead that the CIA turned up. The admiral tried to protect her from too much fatigue and overexertion. A team of Recon Marines was called in to assist the intelligence agents with the search.

Clayton Webb, along with Mac, didn't leave the command center.. He was coordinating all the evidence dealing with the search. He held Mac in check whenever she wanted to run off on some unlikely rescue lead. "Major, if we don't handle this carefully, they'll kill him."

They waited for a call from Harm's captures, but the call never came.

The film crew had left Jag headquarters. Most of them had gone back to Hollywood, but Aaron Kennesohn had disappeared, along with Rico.

An unexpected yawn escaped from Mac. She shrugged it off, then realized that she hadn't actually slept in about four days. Her mind raced.

The thoughts were all about Harm. Where was he? She could close her eyes and see that silly grin on his face. She could feel his strong arms around her, he never seemed to think she was quite close enough. The taste that his mouth elicited was a sweet memory. The thought that she might not ever have the chance to experience these things again terrified her. His words echoed in her head, "..you can do better" But she knew that she could never do any better than this. The realization that he was everything that did, or ever would, matter to her, descended on her quickly and unmistakably. She wouldn't even entertain the possibility that she might never have a chance to tell him how she felt. Why had it taken her so long to be sure? She whispered aloud, "I'm going to find you, Harm. I have to, I love you."

Finally a lead came in that was a bit more promising. Webb told her, "This might be it."

Mac was ready instantly. Chegwidden wasn't far behind her.

They arrived in a warehouse district, near downtown. The admiral appealed to Mac to let the CIA agents and the Recon team handle it, but she insisted that she was going in to find Harm. "Sir, he's my partner, and marines never leave their man."

Mac entered a small room of the building they were canvassing. Her weapon was drawn, and she turned aiming it at the sound she heard. It was a muffled noise.

As she looked, she saw Harm, bound and gagged. He looked as though he'd been beaten half to death. She gasped in horror as she beheld the sight. She moved toward him.

Something grabbed her from behind. She placed an elbow hard into a man's midsection, then turned to land a sharp kick at his jaw. He dropped. Another man entered charging at her. The butt of her gun found the back of his skull, and he lay beside the first attacker.

Her attention turned to Harm. Dropping to her knees beside him, she cradled his head against her chest, loosening the ropes and removing his gag.. His blood soaked through her light colored turtleneck, but she didn't notice. "Harm, are you okay? Thank God I found you."

He looked up into those eyes that he knew so well, "Mac, I didn't tell them anything, I swear. Should you be out of the hospital yet?"

"I know you didn't tell them anything. I had to leave. I had to find you."

Weakly, he muttered. "Thank you." Then, he collapsed in her arms.

A gunshot reminded her that she needed to get him out of here. She began dragging him. Soon, the admiral showed up to help. He picked Harm's lifeless body up, throwing it around his shoulders. They exited the warehouse together.

He commented, "Nice work, Major."

She smiled, "I found my man, Sir."

Two weeks later, Harm and Mac stood at attention in front of AJ Chegwidden's desk.

"We need to finish up Corporal Lansing's case out at Camp Pendleton. Now that Webb and his people have Kennesohn and his cronies in custody, they'll drop all the charges, but we still have to get out there to process the paper work. Are you two sure that you're up to the trip? I could send somebody else."

They looked at each other and smiled. They knew they were both lucky that they healed so quickly. "We're ready, Sir."

"One of you review the file, while the other one makes the travel and hotel reservations. You won't be able to stay on base, because, apparently, they're remodeling their guest quarters. But there are some good hotels in the area."

"Sir," Harm began, "shouldn't Bud make our travel arrangements."

"Normally, yes. But Lt. Roberts and Ensign Sims are on emergency leave. They left this morning."

"Sir, is anything wrong?" Mac was concerned.

AJ crossed his arms over his broad chest. "Ensign Sims' mother was involved in an automobile accident, and they had to go check on her."

"Is it serious, Sir?" Harm asked.

"I don't know, Commander. They promised to call with a report as soon as they knew something."

"And you'll let us know something, Sir?"

"Of course, Major. Now, can the two of you take care of your own arrangements?"

"Aye, Sir." They chorused in unison.

They turned to leave, and she said, "Harm, you get the files. I'll make airline and hotel reservations."

He nodded.

It was early evening when they entered a hotel room, in California, together. He sat down the luggage, and stretched his arms..

"Hey, Mac, if you give me the key, I'll take my bag to my room."

She grinned. "This is your room."

He sat down one bag, picking up the other. "Okay, then I'll carry your bag to your room."

She squatted, then stretched her legs back out. "This is my room."

"What? Didn't they have enough vacancies?"

"They had plenty of vacancies. I only reserved one room."

"What?"

By this time, she was kneeling on the bed, behind his back.

"You don't get it, do you, Flyboy?"

She draped her arms around his neck from behind to begin unbuttoning his shirt. She leaned close to his ear, whispering, "I love you, Harm."

A broad smile broke out across his face, as it began to dawn on him. He turned to wrap his arms around her waist. "Are you sure?"

"I'm sure. You always said I could do better, so I'm 'doing better'" She pulled him down onto the bed with her, kissing him deeply.

For a moment, he just gazed into her eyes. Then said, "I love you, Sarah."

The kiss was very meaningful, then they became lost in each other, and their mutual passion.