A JAG Fan-fiction Story © 2002 Sheri Mitchell
	Harm learns a whole new meaning to the word "trial".
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Harm woke up screaming – again.

The nightmares were back, and now, he always recalled every horrific, grisly detail. Sometimes, the dreams were fairly accurate accounts of what he’d been through in the prison: the interrogations, the agony of hanging by his wrists for hours in the brutal heat, the weeks on end with nothing but filthy scraps to eat and a few drops of brown, foul smelling water to drink. Other times, his mind served up a twisted, macabre version in which Mac was there with him. Sometimes, she was just there, lying motionless on the floor of the pit, but worst of all were the dreams where Mac was screaming.

She cried out his name, over and over, the agony in her voice ripping his soul to shreds, but he couldn’t get to her. He was hanging over the pit and couldn’t move, even though nothing visible restrained him. Those were the times when his screams mingled with hers.

Bathed in sweat, Harm laid in bed, trying to get his breathing under control. It had been a week and a half since their return from Afghanistan and every day that went by brought closer the moment when he would learn if the men who had done these things to him were actually US Marines. The very thought of it still made him sick to his stomach.

Mac was still on Chegwidden’s shit-list for telling Harm about their suspicions, but given the circumstances, the admiral had agreed not to charge her with disobeying an order. Things were as normal as they could be around the office, but that old feeling was back. Everyone was walking on eggshells around him, and if he thought about it, Harm really couldn’t blame them. He’d been a total bear lately.

Knowing he would never get back to sleep, he threw aside the covers and rolled out of bed. It was only a couple of hours till he had to get up anyway. A quick shower got rid of the sweat, but nothing would chase the images from his mind except time. Toweling his hair dry, Harm let out a snort at that one. Just about the time this morning’s dream faded, he’d be in the middle of a new nightmare tonight.

JAG HQ – 07:45

On his way into the bullpen, Harm nearly collided with Mac as she breezed through the big double doors. "Oops! Morning, Mac. Where’s the fire?"

"In the conference room. The admiral has called a briefing." She paused, taking a deep breath. "Harm, I think the DNA results are back."

Not even bothering to drop off his briefcase, Harm turned and followed her to the conference room.

The admiral and Sturgis Turner were waiting for them. No one said a word as they entered and took their seats, but the tension was thick enough to taste. In his usual unflappable way, the admiral waited till everyone was settled before looking around the room at each of his officers in turn. His gaze landed on Harm and stuck.

"The results of the DNA samples collected at the Afghan prison are in. Two of the men tested are US Marines."

The air rushed from Harm’s lungs as the world tilted slightly to the left. As though somehow detached from his body, Harm observed the others. Mac’s hands, folded in front of her on the table, clenched tightly. Across the table, Sturgis sat rigidly, his lips tightening and his brow dropping. The admiral didn’t move, didn’t say a word.

"How are we going to proceed, Admiral?"

Mac’s question yanked Harm back inside himself. Taking a deep, steadying breath, he worked at focusing on the admiral’s words.

"They will be tried for desertion, of course, which means we have a very difficult time ahead of us, especially you, Colonel."

Mac stared at the admiral as her gut clenched into a painful fist. Surely he wasn’t going to ask her to defend these monsters! She couldn’t do it. She didn’t have an ounce of objectivity where this was concerned and she didn’t particularly care to find any. "Admiral, if you’re going to ask me to—"

"Prosecute, Colonel," the admiral cut in. "You will be prosecuting."

Mac let out a breath she didn’t know she’d been holding.

"And Cdr. Turner will sit second chair," the admiral went on. He turned and looked very pointedly at Harm. "You, Commander, are completely, totally and utterly uninvolved in this investigation. Do I make myself clear?"

Harm sat up very straight, very fast. "Admiral, with all due respect, I—"

"Commander, may I remind you that you are the victim here? You’re likely to be the prosecution’s main witness. I will not have the integrity of this proceeding compromised by any appearance of impropriety. Is that understood?"

"Yes, sir, but—"

"Harm," Mac said quickly, "the admiral’s right. If you’re going to be a witness, you can’t be involved in the investigation. The defense will tear the case to pieces." She turned to the admiral, hoping to deflect Harm, at least for a few minutes. "Speaking of defense, sir. Who will be defending the accused?"

"It seems we’ve been handled something of a golden horseshoe there. Considering the commander’s current duty assignment, the accused have expressed concern that they will not receive fair representation from anyone in JAG, so they’ve hired civilian attorneys."

Sturgis let out a breath. "They’re probably right, sir. I can’t imagine anyone in this office who would want to defend these particular people."

"I realize the difficulty with objectivity," the admiral agreed. His gaze strayed to Harm and Mac was certain she saw it soften slightly. "One of our own is involved..." Abruptly, he snapped to, suddenly all business again. "And that’s why we need to be especially diligent, people. We cannot afford to let our personal feelings affect the way this case is presented."

Deep inside, Mac knew the admiral was right, but he was dead wrong, too. Her feelings were very much a part of this case and she’d use every single one of them to ensure a conviction against the animals who came so close to destroying the man she loved.

The moment the conference broke up, Mac and Sturgis went to her office to begin planning strategy. Harm was right on their heels. "Mac I want to throw everything in the book at them, from disrespect to desertion."

Mac stopped so abruptly he almost ran into her. "Harm, didn’t you hear the admiral? You are not a member of the team this time. You’re the victim."

"And I’ll be damned if I’m going to act like one," he growled.

Sturgis, ever the mediator, stepped between them, facing Harm. "Then act like what you are, a naval officer. Buddy, you’ve got to let us do this our way. Come on, we’re all sickened and disgusted by what they did. We will nail them, but it’s not going to be easy, so don’t make our lives anymore difficult, all right?"

Harm blew out a frustrated breath and took a step back. Mac sent up a silent prayer of thanks that Sturgis was on the team. There were times he could get through to Harm when no one else could.

"All right, all right," Harm acquiesced, "but I meant what I said. Throw the book at them!"

Sturgis gently guided him back a few steps and closed the door, almost in Harm’s face, then turned to her. "If I had my way, I’d throw a nuke at them, but since the law is all we have to work with, I’m inclined to agree with him."

"So am I," she told him as they took their seats. "We’ve got desertion, of course, but let’s add aiding the enemy, disrespect of a superior and striking a superior."

"Don’t forget conspiracy," Sturgis added.

Mac made a few notes, then glanced up. She and Sturgis looked at each other for a moment. "Doesn’t seem like enough, does it?"

Sturgis’s deep, resonant voice took on a hard edge. "No, it doesn’t, but then, I don’t think they have a classification for that kind of barbarism."

Mac sighed. "Still, it’s enough to put them away for life."

"If we can prove it. What do you think their defense strategy will be?"

Mac hesitated. She’d been giving that a lot of thought, and wasn’t sure she liked what she came up with. "In a nutshell, it’ll most likely be mistaken identity. They’ll claim they were, in fact, prisoners and Harm is wrong."

"Then why not come forward when we took over the camp?" he asked.

"Good question, but I can’t see another strategy, can you?"

"No, I can’t," he admitted.

They got the answer to their question of defense strategy a few hours later when the first documents were delivered from the defense attorneys. Sturgis came into Mac’s office carrying the papers. "You were right on the money. They’re claiming they weren’t guards, merely prisoners."

"And the reason they didn’t identify themselves when we took the camp?" Mac asked quickly.

"You’re not going to believe this. They’re claiming they heard some important information from one of the other prisoners and decided," his tone turned caustic, "at great personal risk, to keep their identities a secret in hopes of learning more."

"What a load of bull!" Mac snorted. "Do they say what this ‘important information’ was?"

"Not here, they don’t, but if they can come up with something compelling, I’m sorry to say it just might be an effective smokescreen."

"Not when faced with Harm’s testimony," she replied.

His expression clouding, Sturgis slipped into a chair. He hesitated a moment. "Mac, you’ve got to know they’re going to try and impeach him."

Mac’s chin dropped slightly. "I know."

It was the one thing bothering her most about this whole business. Harm would have to get on the witness stand and tell his story, in detail. As far as she knew, she was the only one he’d shared any details with at all, and the little he’d told her was sketchy. Assuming he could bring himself to tell everyone of the humiliation and torture, the defense would then try to tear him down.

"Sturgis, if there were any other way, I wouldn’t put him on the stand at all, but he’s the key to this whole thing."

"I know," he replied, "but don’t worry. Harm’s a good officer and a damned good lawyer. He knows how the game is played."

Mac nodded. That didn’t mean he had to like them playing the game with him as the ball.

Mac spent the rest of the morning holed up with Sturgis. When they finally emerged for lunch, she went straight to Harm’s office, but the door was closed and the lights were out. A slight feeling of panic grabbed at her. Spinning on her heel, she spotted Lt. Simms nearby. "Harriet, have you seen Cdr. Rabb?"

"No, ma’am, not since first thing this morning. After he left your office, he went in to see the admiral. He left shortly after that and I haven’t seen him since."

Now Mac was really worried. She hurried to the admiral’s office. Tiner admitted her right away. "Admiral, Lt. Simms says she saw Cdr. Rabb leave the building after talking to you this morning. Did he...is everything all right, sir?"

"As far as I know," the admiral responded. "I gave the commander the day off. Thought it would be a good idea to get him out of your hair for awhile."

Mac smiled. "I appreciate that, sir."

"I know it’s early, but how is the case shaping up?" he asked.

"It’s going to be...interesting," she admitted. "They’re claiming they were prisoners and that they didn’t come forward right away because of an intelligence gathering opportunity among the prisoners."

The admiral leaned back in his chair. "Novel approach."

"Yes sir, and possibly a damaging one," Mac replied, her anger already starting to simmer again. "If they can convince the members, they’ll come off looking like valiant heroes while Harm looks like some confused, shell-shocked sailor."

"The strength is going to be in Cdr. Rabb’s testimony. Are we really certain about his identification?"

Mac knew why he asked the question, but she couldn’t help the defensiveness in her response. "Sir, you weren’t there when he faced those men. I was. Harm is sure. That’s good enough for me."

The admiral nodded. "It’s good enough for me too."

"The trick," Mac conceded, "is going to be making sure it’s good enough for the jury. Admiral, a big stumbling block is motive. Neither of the accused is even Muslim, so we’re going to have a hard time convincing the members why they would want to go over to the other side. Is there any way we can get a look at that CIA dossier you mentioned? There has to be a bigger picture here that we aren’t seeing."

"I’ll talk to Webb," the admiral offered immediately, "but you know what working with him is like."

"Unfortunately, sir, I do."

As soon as the admiral dismissed her, Mac went to her office and phoned Harm’s apartment. His voicemail kicked in on the fourth ring. "Harm, are you there? Please pick up."

She waited, but there was no response. Hanging up, she dialed his cell. It rang three times before he finally answered. The connection was crackly and he sounded like he was in a wind tunnel. "Where are you?" she shouted.

"On my way to see the other Sarah in my life," he quipped, "but if you need something, I can turn around..."

"Don’t you dare!" she ordered. "Go and enjoy yourself. I was just wondering if you’re okay, but I see you’re seeking therapy."

He laughed. "You know me too well, Mac."

"Does that bother you?" she teased.

"If it was anyone else, I’d be super worried," he replied, "but since it’s you..."

He left the thought hanging and Mac had half a mind to call him on it, but decided to let it ride for now. "Have fun, Harm."

"I will."

Still smiling, Harm punched the disconnect button on the phone’s hands-free unit. Mac did know him too well. Flying had always been like therapy to him and he was truly looking forward to spending an afternoon diving, rolling and punching through the clouds. That, for him, was the true meaning of getting away from it all. There was only one thing he could think of that would have made it better, but Mac was...occupied.

The bright yellow biplane was waiting for him, gassed up and ready to go. He’d called the airfield the moment the admiral relieved him for the day. Taking ‘Sarah’ up was the only thing he could think of to take his mind off things. If he didn’t, he’d have been all over Sturgis and Mac, orders to the contrary be damned.

Climbing into the plane, he spun his cap around, put on his headset and fired up the engine. The moment the wheels left the ground, Harm felt as though a huge weight had been lifted from his shoulders. Up here, he was in control. There was no one to give him orders, call the shots or tell him what to think, what to feel.

Climbing as steeply as he dared, he punched through a small cloud, leveled off and immediately executed a barrel roll. Grinning widely, he completed a three-sixty loop and, on a whim, added another barrel roll at the bottom.

Harm had executed similar moves at nearly supersonic speeds in a Tomcat, and that took every ounce of concentration he had, but at these speeds, the moves felt almost lazy, as if he was drifting in the sky, not flying through it.

He needed this. Soon enough, reality would set in again, calling on him to face demons that were becoming all too familiar companions, but for now, for a few blessed hours, nothing existed except Harm, the plane, and the fluffy white clouds that were his playground.

By the time Mac got home that night, her head was spinning. She and Sturgis had gone over the case what felt like a hundred times, trading off the role of devil’s advocate, trying to anticipate every angle the defense attorneys might try.

The two Marines had retained one of the most powerful law firms in Washington, and that in itself was suspicious. Where were they getting the money to afford lawyers the caliber of C.L. Lund and Associates? She’d never personally gone up against Lund, but she knew his reputation. If he thought it would help him win a case, he’d put his own mother on the stand and tear her to shreds.

Sitting down on the corner of the sofa, Mac curled her legs under her and picked up one of the three large references she’d brought home with her. She needed to review every case that was even remotely similar, looking for any precedent or ruling the defense might use to their advantage.

Ten minutes later, she put the big book aside. She’d just read the same paragraph for the third time and still didn’t know what it said. Her concentration was shot. Knowing she needed a break, she took a few moments to make a cup of tea, then picked up the phone. She needed to talk to Harm, just to hear his voice, to make sure he was all right.

He answered on the second ring. "Hello?"

"Hey there, flyboy. Enjoy your day?"

He chuckled. "Believe it or not, I did. It was a perfect day for flying. If I hadn’t run low on fuel and daylight, I’d probably still be up there."

He sounded genuinely happy and somehow, that surprised her. Harm wasn’t known for doing emotional one-eighties like this. "Well, I’m glad you had a good day. You deserve it," she said honestly. "Are you...okay otherwise? How are you feeling about—"

"I’d rather not talk about that right now, Mac," he said quickly. "There will be plenty of time to talk about it. This isn’t going to be a quick case."

"No," she agreed. "It’s not. I just wanted to be sure you were all right. I know how hard it is for you."

"That’s the way it goes sometimes. Don’t make a big deal out of this, Mac. I’ll be okay. Listen, I’ve got to go. I’ve got a stir fry on the stove. Talk to you tomorrow." He hung up before she even had a chance to say goodbye.

Very slowly, Mac hung up the phone. That was not what she’d been expecting. It was like talking to a stranger. The only time she’d heard any animation in his voice was when he talked about flying. The rest had been delivered in a flat monotone that just wasn’t Harm. Now she was really worried.

Mac was still concerned about him when she crawled into bed a few hours later. She couldn’t do any more tonight, but she would talk to him tomorrow. Maybe then she’d get a better feel for what was going on with him.

The incessant chirping of the beside phone dragged Mac out of a sound sleep a few hours later. Glancing at the clock, she fumbled for the phone.

"Col. MacKenzie, it’s Admiral Chegwidden. I’m sorry to disturb you, but—"

Mac sat bolt upright. Harm! Was he hurt? Was he— She clamped down on the wild thought shooting through her brain. "No sir, it’s all right. What’s wrong?"

"You’re needed down here at the morgue. There’s been an...accident."

Mac flew through the front door of the morgue a short time later. She hadn’t bothered with a uniform, just a pair of jeans and a sweater. The admiral was waiting for her inside the door. He was even more casually dressed, in a pair of USN sweats.

"Sir, I got here as quickly as I could. What happened? What’s...who...?"

She realized then that she was babbling frantically and the admiral must have realized it too. He put a steadying hand on her arm. "Colonel, it’s one of the prisoners. Who did you think—" His eyes suddenly got big and round. "Oh, my God! You thought.... Colonel, I’m sorry. I should have been more specific on the phone."

Mac’s equilibrium was returning. "That’s all right, sir. I shouldn’t have jumped to conclusions. One of the prisoners is dead?"

"Yes. Lt. Haines. He was killed by another prisoner, supposedly in a scuffle over a magazine."

"Supposedly?"

"Supposedly." The voice came from behind her. Mac turned as Clayton Webb strode up. "We think he was murdered."

Without another word, Webb led the way to an empty conference room. "Colonel, Admiral, what I’m about to say cannot leave this room."

It was the kind of theatrics Webb was famous for, and the very thing Mac had little patience for – especially tonight. "Just spit it out."

"All right, you want the bare-bones version, here it is. We believe the two men you were holding were Al Qaeda agents who infiltrated the US Marine Corps, possibly as much as eight or nine years ago."

"What do you mean ‘infiltrated’?" the admiral asked, beating Mac to it.

"I mean they were planted as covert operatives. Their entire career in the Marine Corps was one long intelligence gathering mission."
Mac stared at Webb, the enormity of what he was saying settling heavily in her mind. A second thought followed almost immediately, smacking her from the other side. "This is exactly what we need to prove motive!"

Webb’s brow wrinkled. "Didn’t you hear me? This is highly classified. None of this can come out in your case against the remaining man."

"But—"

The admiral interrupted. "Then you want us to proceed against the other one."

"You’ll have to. It would look too suspicious if you just suddenly dropped the case. To be honest, we would have preferred if you’d kept the hell out of it, but I knew that wasn’t going to happen."

"No kidding," Mac spat.

"Look, Colonel, I’m as bothered by what happened to Rabb as you are, but there’s a larger issue here."

"There’s always a larger issue for you," she retorted sharply.

He fired a pleading look at the admiral, who very quietly folded his arms across his chest. "Hear him out, Colonel, then we’ll decide what to do."

"You two just don’t get it, do you?" Webb cried. "The decision has been made. You will build the best case you can against Lt. Potter with the evidence you’ve got, not including anything you learn here tonight."

"But we need this!" Mac insisted.

"You can’t have it!"

The admiral interceded, physically placing himself between Mac and Web. It was a good thing too, because Mac was getting ready to deck the little weasel.

"Mr. Webb," the admiral said calmly. "What is it you’re not telling us?"

Webb paused, his gaze darting from one to the other, then he let out a sigh. "There are more of them."

"More?" the admiral repeated, incredulous. "More Al Qaeda in the Marine Corps?"
"That’s right. We think there were ten in total. Four were identified when they were killed, we think by their own people. You had two more. That leaves four."

"If you know about them," Mac said carefully, "what are they still doing in the Corps? Why haven’t you apprehended them?"

"We’re getting ready to. Once we have, I might, and I say might be able to release certain details for your case."

"When are you planning the apprehensions?" Chegwidden asked.

"In nine days. We might have to move that schedule up a bit. We think Lt. Haines was killed because he knew too much about the operation. We don’t know how much Potter knows, so he’s been transferred to an ultra-secure facility."

Mac shook her head. "It’s not good enough. The trial starts in two days. I need that information to build my case against Potter."

"It has to be this way. I’m sorry, Colonel."

Mac almost believed him. She knew Webb had been there when Harm was extracted from the prison. He’d hinted earlier that he’d seen the condition Harm was in when they pulled him out of that hole in the ground. Maybe he truly was sorry, but he was also a pompous little prick with an inflated sense of his own importance. It wouldn’t be the first time he’d put his own interests ahead of theirs.

She strode to the door, but stopped, her hand on the knob. "I’ll see if I can get a continuance, Webb, but you’d better get on with it. Do what you need to do so I can do the same!"

JAG HQ – 08:05

Mac hurried into the building, intent on finding Harm before someone blurted out the news about Haines. She was too late.

The minute she stepped into the bullpen, she heard the buzz of conversation. Everyone was talking about it and Harm’s office door was very conspicuously closed.

Dropping her stuff on her desk, she hurried next door. She knocked, but it was a long time before he finally called out for her to enter. She slipped in and closed the door behind her. "I assume you’ve heard."

He glanced up from the file he was working on, and a momentary look of confusion crossed his face. "What, about Haines? Yeah, I heard." With a slight shrug, he returned his attention to the papers in front of him.

Mac didn’t quite know how to respond to his complete indifference. "Uh, we’re proceeding as scheduled with Potter. The trial starts tomorrow."

He didn’t even look up. "I know when it starts."

Mac waited, but he didn’t say any more, didn’t even act like she was there. "Harm?"

He glanced up. "Yeah, Mac? Is there something you need?"

"Uh, no, I just thought you might want to talk."

"Well, I don’t. There’s nothing to talk about. As far as I’m concerned, Haines is right where he belongs: in hell. Now, I’ve got work to do, so if there’s nothing else...."

Mac stared at him, apprehension skittering up and down her spine. This just wasn’t like Harm. He should be jumping for joy, or mad as hell at being denied retribution, or glad there would only be one trial instead of two – something! Instead, he sat there working away like there was nothing out of the ordinary going on.

A firm resolve settling inside her, Mac turned and closed the window blinds. That got his attention. He looked up, licking his lips as if his mouth had gone dry. She went around the desk, stopping beside him. "We need to talk."

He rose to his feet, slipping past her to stop in the middle of the office. "Maybe you need to talk. I don’t."

"Now why don’t I really believe that?" she asked softly, moving closer to him.

"I don’t know," he responded sharply, "because it’s the truth."

Without even thinking about it, Mac reached to brush an errant lock of hair off his forehead, but he jerked away almost violently. "Mac, don’t."

She swallowed against the sudden lump in her throat. "Harm, please don’t do this. Don’t shut me out."

"I have to!" he cried, literally backing away from her.

"Why?" she demanded.

"Because if I have to get up on that witness stand and tell the whole damned world what happened to me, I need some distance from it, some separation. I need to be able to pretend it happened to someone else!"

"But does that mean you have to shut me out of your life like this?"

"For now, yes it does." He sounded saddened by his admission, and that only made it all the more confusing.

He paced a few steps away then turned to face her. "Mac, I know you don’t understand. I’m not sure I do either. I only know that you make me feel things and right now, that’s a luxury I can’t afford, because when I start to feel anything at all, I can’t stop. I get the good, the bad and the ugly all at once. It’s all or nothing."

"I...I didn’t know," she whispered. "I didn’t realize I reminded you of all the horrible things that happened to you."

"No! That’s not what I mean! You don’t remind me of those things, you remind me of all the reasons I wanted to live through them. Damn it, Mac, I can’t explain it any better. I just need to keep a grip on all my emotions right now, but every time I look at you, all I want to do is lose control. I want that, but I don’t dare!"

Her heart in shreds, Mac felt as though she had just caved in on herself. There was nothing she wanted more than to take a few steps, closing the gap between them, and tell him it was okay to feel, but she couldn’t, because she understood now that it wasn’t the truth. Harm needed the numbness, the emotional barriers he’d erected around himself, even if it meant shutting out the people who cared about him. Even if it meant shutting her out.

Taking a deep, shuddering breath, Mac turned and silently left the room.

The moment the door closed, Harm dropped into his chair, rubbing his fingers against his palm in a futile attempt to wipe away the sweat. Why did she insist on pushing all the time? He was dealing with things the only way he could.

The next few days were going to be one long, continuous nightmare, and he had a lot of experience with nightmares now. He knew how to handle one. Live through it while it was happening, then try to forget.

That night, Harm didn’t get a wink of sleep. He didn’t even try. Filled with a restlessness he couldn’t control, he prowled the apartment until he was ready to tear with walls down with his bare hands.

From the time he was five years old, he’d taken everything life had thrown at him and somehow, he’d always managed to bounce back, but he wasn’t sure just how much bounce he had left in him.

The loss of his father had eaten at him for years, and still did every now and then. The ramp strike that killed his RIO and the subsequent loss of his flight status damn near crushed him, but he’d found a way back from it and discovered a new sense of purpose as a lawyer. He’d lived through dumping the Tomcat and survived the loss of more than one close friend.

And now this.

Every time he thought it was over, that he could begin looking for a way to put it behind him, it leapt back into his life with more force than a carrier catapult. The horrors he suffered in that Afghan prison happened months ago, but they still ruled his life. Virtually everything he said and did, thought and felt, was somehow connected with that damned prison.

No matter how hard he tried, Harm couldn’t think of a single thing in his life that hadn’t been affected by it, but what hurt the most was what it had done to his relationship with Mac.

He’d hurt her this morning, and several other times in the past few months. He’d pushed her away when she tried to comfort him, then clung to her when she wasn’t expecting it. He had confused her, alienated her, upset her, and probably even frightened her. Hell, he’d frightened himself a few times lately.

Angry and beyond caring, Harm spun around, taking a swipe at the kitchen counter. Two plastic bowls and a glass went flying. The glass hit the floor and shattered. Harm stood there looking at it, disgusted with himself. So much for controlling his emotions!

JAG HQ – 08:45

Mac handed the last few files to Sturgis, who slipped them into his briefcase and snapped it closed. He lifted it off the desk. "That’s it, we’re set. Are you going to the courtroom now?"

"No," she said quickly. "You go ahead. I’ll be there in a few minutes."

Sturgis gave her one of those long, penetrating looks of his. "Okay," he said finally. "Tell him I’m thinking about him."

Feeling as transparent as glass, Mac shook her head as Sturgis left the office. She went out right behind him, but turned toward Harm’s office. For a change, the door was open.

He was working at the desk, intent on a file in front of him. She knocked softly and his head popped up. Mac took a few steps into the room. "I’m on my way to the courtroom. I just wanted to...stop by before I go in."

"Thanks."

"I...I wish you could be there, but until you give your testimony...."

"I know how it all works, Mac, and to be honest, I don’t think I want to be there anyway." He shoved back from the desk, looking up at her for a long moment, his blue-gray eyes searching her face. Abruptly, he broke the connection, reaching to gather and shuffle the papers on his desk. "Good luck with your motion for a continuance, even if you won’t tell me why you need it."

"Harm, I can’t tell you, or believe me, I would," she said emphatically.

"I know. Like I said, I know how it all works." He put a very neat stack of papers on the corner of his desk before finally looking up at her. His voice dropped to a low, much more personal tone. "I’ll be fine, Mac. Now go. You don’t want to be late."

Somewhere, she found a tiny smile for him before hurrying out of the office.

Sturgis was waiting for her in the courtroom and the minute she saw him, she realized she hadn’t given Harm his message. She needed to get her mind focused, and quickly. That sort of lapse could be serious in here.

Mac wasn’t sure who was more surprised when she asked for the continuance, the judge or the defense counsel. Charles Lund was on his feet in an instant, arguing that his client deserved due process.

"Your honor," Mac countered. "Our first responsibility is to the truth, and the Government cannot adequately present the truth without more time to prepare."

The judge looked from her to Lund and back. "All right, Colonel. I’m granting you one week, but not a moment longer. I will hear opening arguments exactly five days from today." She banged her gavel to emphasize her point.

Mac slowly sank into her chair. One week. That was one day too short. Webb’s operation to apprehend the other suspected infiltrators wouldn’t take place for six days. Leaving Sturgis to gather their files, she went straight to her office, swinging the door shut behind her.

Harm saw Mac come barreling in from the courtroom, headed for her office, and rose to meet her. She breezed through and slammed the door, right in his face.

Stopping abruptly, he stared at the closed door. Was she upset? Angry? Did they get the continuance? Frustration boiled up inside him. He couldn’t stand being in the dark like this! The whole trial revolved around possibly the most turbulent event in his life and he was being forced to watch from the sidelines. It was driving him nuts!

A firm hand came down on his shoulder. He turned to find Sturgis beside him. Damn! He really was losing it, letting someone slip up beside him like that without him even knowing about it. "How did it go?" he asked quietly.

"We got five days," Sturgis replied.

"So why was Mac is such an all-fired hurry when she came through here?"

"I think," Sturgis said with a mysterious half-smile, "she’s working on pulling off a miracle."

Fingers drumming on the desk, Mac waited for Webb to answer his phone. When he finally did, she didn’t waste any time telling him what was happening. "I have five days, Clay. You’ve got to have your operation finished by then." She took a deep breath, ready to argue him into the ground when he refused.

"You just may be in luck, Colonel."

His words brought her up short. "Really?"

"Yes, really. For reasons of our own, we’ve had to move our timetable up. We will likely be wrapping up the night before you go back to court."

"Then I’ll be able to use evidence from your operation?"

"Probably not as much as you’d like," he told her. "I’ll have a file on your desk by 06:00 the morning after we finish up. Anything in there, you can use. In the meantime, and naturally this didn’t come from me, of course, you might want to have a closer look at the good Lt. Potter’s medical records, especially from when he was a child."

Mac sat up very straight. "Childhood medical records? What are you getting at?"

"Come on, Mac. You’re a bright lady. I’ll let you figure it out." Webb hung up before she could say another word.

Mac immediately began the process to subpoena Potter’s Marine Corps medical records and after a bit of digging through his service record, located his home town and the hospital he was born in. They agreed to initiate a search for the records, but couldn’t promise speedy delivery.

Wanting to tell Sturgis about the latest development, Mac headed for his office.

He was as enthusiastic as she was, but he couldn’t figure out what Webb had been hinting at either. "I guess we’ll just have to wait for the records."

"I know," she groaned, "but patience isn’t really my strong suit. I hate waiting!"

"That makes two of you," Sturgis commented.

Mac frowned at him. He gave a small chuckle. "Harm’s trying hard to hide it, but he’s chomping at the bit out there."

"I know he is, but there’s nothing we can do. He won’t even be allowed into the courtroom until he gives his testimony. God, this must be hard for him. I wish he’d talk to someone about it."

"Someone," Sturgis echoed, "or you?"

Mac couldn’t help the sadness that slipped into her voice. "Talking to me is the last thing he needs."

Part 2