Harm paced the floor of his small furnished flat, oblivious to the room around him, his mind wrestling with the problem of Mac's strange silence. She wasn't answering her email, and she wasn't returning his calls. When he called her work number, he either got voice mail or Jen's excuses about Mac being in meetings or out of the office. He felt like he was hitting brick walls everywhere he turned, and it was driving him crazy.

He grabbed the telephone, quickly dialing the familiar number and then drumming his fingers on the scarred end table while he waited for somebody to pick up the line on the other end.

"Hello?"

"Bud! It's Harm."

"Captain! How are you, sir?" Bud sounded genuinely pleased to hear from him, and Harm smiled.

"I'm doing fine, Bud. How are Harriet and the kids?"

"They're doing great, sir. The twins are crawling now - getting into everything, and AJ and Jimmy are about as typical as any two brothers ever are."

"In other words, they fight," Harm smiled.

"All the time," Bud laughed. "Harriet's about ready to lock them both in their rooms and throw away the keys."

In some ways, Harm envied Bud. The other man had a beautiful wife, a gorgeous home, and four healthy children. On the other hand, Harm didn't yet have a wife, was living in a furnished flat, and his one child was facing years of painful rehab.

"How's Mattie?" Bud asked, almost as if reading his mind.

"She's doing well, actually. She seems to get along great with her therapists, and her mobility's improving every day."

"How's her mood?" Bud well knew the emotional challenges of recovering from traumatic injuries.

"She has her moments," was all Harm said, preserving Mattie's privacy. There was no need to share her moments of frustration and depression with the world. She wouldn't appreciate it.

Bud laughed. "I'm sure she does, sir."

"Bud, I hate to ask you this, but have you heard from Mac lately?"

"I haven't sir, but I think she usually talks to Harriet during the day. All that wedding talk makes my eyes glaze over." There was a brief silence, and then, in a puzzled voice. "Is there a problem, sir?"

"No. I'm sure it's nothing. I just haven't heard from her in a few days and I was starting to get a little concerned."

"I'm sure she's just busy, sir."

Bud. Ever the diplomat. He'd make a good ambassador someday. Still, it was probably best not to pursue this conversation any further. Whatever was going on with Mac, it didn't sound like she'd shared it with the Roberts clan.

"I'm sure you're right, Bud. Listen. I need to get going. Give Harriet my love…"

"I'll do that, Captain. You take care of yourself, and we'll see you for the wedding."

"Looking forward to it."

Harm ended the call and sat back. Now what?

**********

Saturday, August 27, 2005
2055 Zulu, (1255 Local)
U.S. Disciplinary Barracks
Leavenworth, Kansas

Mac locked the door of her rental car and started toward the monolithic concrete structure. She'd come to talk to the one person she knew she could trust with her secret agony, the one person who wouldn't be shocked by her confusion, whom she could trust implicitly to help her clarify the shifting kaleidoscope of thoughts that had disturbed her sleep and derailed her appetite for nearly three weeks.

She took a deep breath and pulled open the heavy door that separated 'inside' from the rest of the world. She'd been here before, though not as often as she would have liked. It wasn't easy getting away from her job to travel all the way to Kansas, but even when she hadn’t been able to visit, they'd kept in touch through letters and phone calls.

She approached the registration window, signing her name on the visitors log and then doing her best to make herself comfortable in the hard plastic chairs, along with the handful of other visitors who had arrived for morning visitation. The prison housed close to five hundred military prisoners from all branches of the armed services, but there were fewer than twenty people in the waiting room.

A guard called for attention, and Mac stood up, comfortable in simple tennis shoes, jeans, and a t-shirt. Prison rules were strict, and Mac knew better than to wear anything that might set off the metal detectors or raise eyebrows. Both mistakes were surefire ways to have visitation denied. At the guard's instruction, she placed her personal belongings and car keys into a locker, slipping in a quarter to lock it shut. She kept a Ziploc baggy of spare change and dollar bills in her hand. The guards would inspect it before they'd let her through to the visitation room. Those things done, she waited while the rest of the group finished locking up their things and lined up to go through the metal detectors.

Mac watched the other visitors, intrigued by the mixed group of humanity that had come together this day for a common purpose – to spend a few precious hours with an incarcerated loved one. One young woman cried openly. An older lady twisted and untwisted a rather bedraggled handkerchief. Two kids, obviously siblings, pulled each other's hair every time their mother turned her back, and above them all towered a balding gentleman who held himself stiffly aloof, looking down his hawkish nose at the odd collection of people as though observing a colony of ants.

Finally, they were shepherded through the metal detectors and into the main visitation room where they scattered, each family group silently marking out the territory they thought would provide them and their loved one with the most privacy. Once everybody was inside, a door on the other end of the large room was opened, and Mac saw her Uncle Matt for the first time in nearly a year.

She moved across the room, aware of the guards' watchful eyes, but fighting the urge to break into a run. He opened his arms, and she burrowed into them, feeling for that brief instant like she was home, and nothing and no one could ever hurt her.

It ended all too soon, as a nearby guard cleared his throat meaningfully. Mac dropped her arms back to her sides, painfully aware that it was the only hug they'd be allowed until visiting hours ended. She backed away, but continued to hold his hands, savoring the feel of his strong grip.

"Hi, Uncle Matt."

"Hello, Sarah." He smiled gently at her, and then led her over to a chair. "It's good to see you."

They sat down across from each other, with a small table between them. Mac knew she couldn't do more than hold his hand, but she accepted that restriction gratefully in exchange for the opportunity to be near his calm strength.

"I'm sorry it's been so long since I've visited," she said.

"It's tough to get out here, I know. They plopped me down right in the middle of nowhere."

She smiled. "We used to say that Red Rock Mesa was the middle of nowhere."

"Maybe, but at least I liked it there."

"Are you doing okay, Uncle Matt?"

"Well, it's definitely nicer here than it ever was in the castle," he said, referring to the old disciplinary barracks. "I'm an old soldier. I rather like my creature comforts these days."

"I know. You used to complain bitterly about the summer heat in the old building."

He nodded. "And the winter cold. Frostbite is not your friend."

Mac cringed. "Ouch."

"Yeah." He nodded, and then changed the subject. "You look tired, Sarah."

"I am, a little."

"You're getting married next week, aren't you?"

She nodded. "September third. I wish you could be there."

He shrugged. "But I can't, so you'll just have to write me a long letter and tell me all about it."

"I will."

Something about her voice must have alerted him to trouble, because he stared hard at her for a few seconds.

"What's going on, Sarah?"

"What do you mean?"

"I've known you for too long for you to be able to bluff me, young lady. There's more to those circles under your eyes than pre-wedding mayhem, isn't there?"

Mac hesitated, and then nodded.

"Talk to me."

She smiled a little. "You sound just like Harm when you say that."

He grinned. "I'd say that's a good thing, since you're marrying him."

Mac stood abruptly and moved a few steps away, coming to a stop in front of a motivational poster.

She sensed him standing behind her, but didn't turn around. His voice, when he spoke, was gruff with concern. "Sarah?"

"I don't think I can do it, Uncle Matt."

"The wedding?"

She turned around to look at him, tears pooling in her eyes. "I don't think I can give up the Corps."

He studied her for a few moments, and Mac swiped angrily at her tears, scrubbing away the signs of weakness and frustration. Matt led her back over to the chairs and they sat down, but he didn't say anything right away, choosing instead to study his fingernails while he waited for her to pull herself back together. Finally, she took a deep steadying breath, and he looked back up.

"Okay?"

She nodded. "Yeah."

"Good. Now. Explain yourself."

Mac smiled at the gruff words. Warm and fuzzy, he wasn't - never had been, really. But she'd give her life for him in a heartbeat, and suspected he'd do the same for her. She struggled to put her jumbled thoughts into something vaguely resembling logical order, finally settling for a helpless shrug.

He wasn't impressed. "Come on, Sarah. You can do better than that."

She sighed. "I love Harm, Uncle Matt."

"Did I say you didn't?"

"No…"

"Then I find it interesting that you jump right to that point, all defensive-like."

"It's just… " She blew out a breath. "I don't know if loving him is enough."

"Enough for what?" He looked honestly puzzled.

"Enough to take the place of what I'm giving up."

"Which is what, exactly?"

She shrugged, mildly irritated. "My career, the Marines, command… "

"Uh huh." He didn't sound impressed.

"I love my work, Uncle Matt."

"I know you do, Sarah. I also know how much you love Rabb. I think I knew it before you did."

That surprised her. "How…?"

"Your letters."

"My…"

He waved an arm, taking in the entire room. "I don't get a lot of excitement in here, Sarah. I think I've read each of your letters at least a hundred times. Would you like a quote?"

Mac lifted a hand. "Umm… No. I'll pass."

He smiled. "That's what I thought. So what are you afraid of?"

"Afraid?" Mac bristled.

"That's what I said."

"I'm not afraid, Uncle Matt."

"If you weren't afraid, you wouldn't be so torn up over this. You'd be moving on to the next phase of your life without a second thought."

"Wait a minute. Are you saying I should just walk away from everything that's given my life meaning for fifteen years?"

"It isn't for me to tell you what to do, Sarah. Only you can know that."

"But you think the reason I can't make up my mind is because I'm afraid."

"Change is hard, Sarah. Change is letting go, moving on, taking risks." He shrugged.

"Wait a minute. Now you're saying I'm not strong enough? That I don't have enough courage?"

"I'm not saying that at all. You are."

Mac sighed in frustration. "You aren't exactly helping, Uncle Matt."

He leaned forward, his expression earnest. "I can't really help you with this one, sweetheart. You're the only one who can make this decision. I just want to make sure that whatever you do decide, you do it for the right reasons."

"And what should those reasons be?"

"You tell me."

Mac thought about that for a few moments, and then nodded. "Okay, then. The way I see it, as long as I stay in the Marines, I know what my days are going to be like. I know what's expected of me, and how to do my job, and I know I do my job well." She shrugged again. "I'm good at being a Marine, Uncle Matt."

"And?" He encouraged.

"And nothing, really. It's the devil I know."

He laughed. "You're saying Rabb is the devil you don't?"

Mac grinned. "Well, he can be difficult at times, but that's not what I was saying, really."

"Then what were you saying?"

"I know how to be a Marine and a lawyer. I don't have a clue how to be a wife and a mother."

"And so we come full circle."

"I don't understand."

"You said it yourself, Sarah. It's the devil you know versus the devil you don't." He watched the two kids as they wrestled over a candy bar on the other side of the room. "I can't do this for you. You're the one who has to decide if you love Rabb enough to take on the challenge of the unknown, to redefine who you are in terms that don't rely on your identity as a Marine."

"And if I don't?"

He brought his eyes back to hers, his expression serious. "If you don't, then I guess it's better if you figure it out now."

Mac stared at him, her eyes wide. "What are you saying, exactly?"

"That if you decide not to leave the Marine Corps, you owe it to Rabb to let him know now – not on your wedding day. You have to let something go, Sarah. This is one of those times when you truly can't have it both ways."

The guard announced the end of visiting hours, and Uncle Matt stood up. "I'll support you, no matter what you decide, Sarah. But I won't support your not being honest with him. He deserves that much from you."

He wrapped her in another tight hug, whispering against the silk of her hair. "I love you, Sarah. Always know that. No matter what."

"I love you too, Uncle Matt." She choked out the words on a sudden flood of tears. "And I miss you."

"I miss you too. Be well."

He let her go and moved to join the line of prisoners getting ready to return to their cells. Around her, several people were already crying.

As the line started to move forward, Matt turned to her one last time. "You know," he said, "Patton once said that there's a time to take counsel of your fears, and a time not to listen to any fear. Which is this for you?"

"I wish I knew, Uncle Matt."

"You do know, Sarah. You just have to trust yourself."

And with that, he stepped through the door, and was gone.

**********

Saturday, August 27, 2005
0447 Zulu (2047 Local)
Mac's Apartment Building
San Diego, California

Mac trudged wearily up the single flight of stairs to her apartment. It was near dark, and all she wanted was a hot shower, some decent food, and her bed – in that order. She'd thought about her uncle's words all the way home, deciding finally that he'd been right. She was scared. Scared she wouldn't be a good wife, scared she wouldn't be up to handling Mattie's needs, scared, most of all, that her identity would be swallowed up by theirs. She sighed. So much for her brave words to Harriet all those weeks ago. Apparently, her bravado only extended to her professional life.

Then, on the plane, she'd watched a couple with two young children. The family had been so happy, laughing and talking together, and when the little ones fell asleep, one in her mother's arms, and the other curled up in the window seat, Mac had suddenly understood.

Identity wasn't external. It didn't come from a thing you did, or a place you lived. It didn't reside in husbands, or children, or even careers. Identity was deeply personal and intrinsically individual. Creating it was like making something out of clay. The shape could be changed by the spinning wheel of life, but the end result, be it a thing of beauty or a shapeless lump – was entirely up to her. Giving up the Marine Corps didn't have to mean giving up who she was. It only meant changing the shape a little, pinching off a bit of clay in one place, and adding it someplace else, until she came up with something entirely new, but no less pleasing than the original.

She realized that her thoughts had carried her almost all the way down the hall, and she shifted her keys in her hand, preparing to slip them into the lock. A small sound nearby startled her from her introspection, and she jerked her head up, instantly alert.

A tall, familiar form moved out of the shadows toward her.

"I was wondering when you'd get back," he said quietly.

Saturday, August 27, 2005
0450 Zulu (2050 Local)
Mac's Apartment Building
San Diego, California

She stared at him with wide eyes, half convinced he was an apparition. The corners of his lips twitched, and he reached out to take her keys from her unresisting grasp. Unlocking the door, he opened it, and then pulled her inside, closing it securely behind them. He dropped the keys on a nearby table, and turned back to face her, hands on hips.

"Now. Do you want to tell me what's going on?"

Mac blinked and shook her head sharply, struggling to clear the cobwebs.

"How… When…?"

"The normal way, and a few hours ago. I think your neighbors are starting to think I'm a stalker."

"Where's Mattie?"

"Still in London. She sends her love, by the way." He folded his arms across his chest, waiting for her next question.

"But what about… "

"Work?"

She nodded weakly, still not quite believing he was here.

"I told them I'd be back on Monday," he said. "And I don't care if they try to court martial me for going AWOL. This is more important."

She did a quick mental calculation. "You must've left London… "

"About 1100. Time's a funny thing, isn't it?"

She dropped her duffle bag and moved to turn on a lamp, flooding the room in warm yellow light. Then she opened the small fridge and pulled out two bottles of water, stalling for time, aware of his increasing impatience, but not sure how to explain it all to him.

He shook his head when she offered him the water, but didn't say anything, knowing that she'd talk when she was ready.

"I went to see Uncle Matt today," she said finally.

"I'm glad. It'll be hard get back to visit him once we're in London."

She nodded, but her mind raced ahead.

"How is he?" Harm asked.

"He's good."

"Glad to hear it."

"Yeah."

The silence settled in again, rapidly approaching the awkward stage. She twisted her engagement ring nervously.

"Talk to me, Mac. Let me help."

She sighed. "I'm not sure you'd understand."

"You haven't given me a chance." His voice was mildly accusatory, and she winced. He was absolutely right.

"I thought I was okay with all of this," she said quietly. "I thought I could just resign my commission, marry you, and live happily ever after."

"But?"

She shrugged, moving across to the couch where she sat down, placing her bottle of water on the table in front of her.

"When the papers came in, and the reality of it all hit…" She trailed off, unsure how to put it into words.

He watched her for a few moments, and when she didn't immediately continue, he sat down beside her.

"Mac. I told you I'd help you through this."

She shook her head. "But that's just it. You can't. It isn't your problem. It isn't happening to you!"

"Is that it, then? You think it's unfair that you have to give up your career and I don't?"

She heard the anger and frustration building in his voice, and shook her head. "No! I know we agreed to this. I know we both said we'd let fate decide."

"Then I don't understand."

She turned toward him, taking his hand in hers. "It isn't you, Harm. It never was. When Jennifer handed me the papers, and I saw the end of my career in black and white, it suddenly occurred to me that I had no idea how to do this." She paused, and took a deep breath. "I know how to be a Marine, Harm. And I know how to be a lawyer. I have no clue how to go about being a wife and mother." She dropped her head, gazing at his thumb as it smoothed its way back and forth across the back of her hand.

"And this is why you suddenly stopped returning my phone calls? Why you didn't respond to my emails?"

She nodded. "I didn't know what to say. Somehow, 'I don't know' didn't seem to quite cover it."

"No, but 'I'm having a hard time' would have."

She shrugged. "I didn't want to worry you."

He laughed at that. "And you didn't think your sudden silence would worry me?"

"I knew that if I talked to you it would all come out, and I wasn't ready for that."

"So you disappeared, instead."

"I didn't disappear… exactly."

He raised an eyebrow at her, and she sighed. "Okay. I guess I did."

"Yeah. You did."

"So you went to see your uncle because...? Did you think he'd tell you what to do?"

She laughed. "Well, if I went there thinking that, he set me straight pretty fast. I got the impression he didn't want to be held responsible for my choices."

"So what did he say?"

"He told me that I had to decide whether to listen to my fears or ignore them, that I was the only one who would ever know for sure whether the decision I made was the right one."

"Your uncle's a wise man."

She smiled at that. "Yes. He is."

"So?"

"So… what?"

"Did you decide to listen to your fears? Or to ignore them?"

She looked over at him, seeing the fear in his eyes and the tension in the way he held his body. He looked exhausted, as though he hadn't been sleeping any better than she had, and she realized with a start that he probably hadn't.

She wanted to kick herself for doing this to him, for putting him through the worry and the anxiety, pushing him to the point where he'd gotten on a plane to come here and see for himself what was going on. Still, she couldn't change the way she'd felt, couldn't deny the terrible ache that had plagued her days since her separation papers had arrived. The ache was easing now, as she became more certain that the decision she'd reached on the flight home was the right one.

"On the flight home, there was a young family sitting across the aisle from me. Two kids, and their mother and father. I watched them for a long time, and I talked to them a little. They were very nice people."

Harm nodded, but she could tell he was wondering where she was going with this.

"I was struck by how utterly comfortable they all were with each other. Each member of the family was a unique individual, and yet they formed this beautiful family group that was somehow more than the sum of its parts." She squeezed his hand. "I want that for us, Harm. I want to know what that feels like. And if my career is the price I have to pay for the experience, I'm okay with it."

She heard his sigh of relief as he pulled her roughly into his arms. "Thank God," he said against her hair.

She tilted her head to look up at him, and found his lips waiting for her. The kiss started out as a simple affirmation of their feelings, but the weeks of separation and her absolute belief in the rightness of her decision touched off an explosion that rapidly flamed out of control.

Hands and lips roamed eagerly over heated skin. Buttons, zippers, and fabric either surrendered gracefully or were destroyed without compunction. A firestorm swept through the room, and when it was over, Mac found herself held close in Harm's arms, surrounded by a scattering of throw pillows, an overturned coffee table, and random pieces of clothing.

Silence reigned supreme for the several minutes it took them to gain control of their breathing, and then Harm propped himself on an elbow and looked down at her, grinning ruefully as he traced her bruised lips with a gentle finger.

"You know," he said, "I think I'm looking forward to fighting with my wife."

"Why?" she asked, smiling back.

"If this was any indicator…" He waved a hand at the war torn room. "The making up is going to be incredible.”

She laughed and pulled his head back down to hers. "Shut up and kiss me, Sailor."

**********

Monday, August 30, 2005
2124 Zulu (1324 Local)
Joint Legal Services, Southwest
San Diego, California

"You'll want to keep an eye on Davis and Gomez," Mac said. "They've been at each other's throats almost since they got here."

"Oh?" Sturgis raised an eyebrow at her.

She nodded. "They work well together when they put their heads to it. Both of them are brilliant attorneys, but they're also both stubborn, strong willed, and hopelessly independent. You'll have to be a master strategist to keep things on an even keel."

Sturgis grinned. "Sounds like somebody else I know."

Mac resisted the urge to stick her tongue out at him. "By the way," she said. "How's Varese?"

He grinned and tipped his head to her in silent acknowledgement of her tactics. "She's doing great. She was thrilled when I got transferred out here. Apparently there's a record deal in the works and it'll be easier if she lives here."

"So when will we be going to your wedding?"

Sturgis laughed. "Let's not jump the gun, Colonel." He pointed at the files. "Tell me about Rankin."

Mac smiled and conceded, returning her attention to the work at hand. "Rankin's my best attorney, but he's being reassigned to Pearl Harbor. He'll be gone by the middle of September. He's been working on an assault case that you might want to get Vukovic involved with. He'd be a good one to take it over if the case isn't concluded before Rankin leaves."

"Anything I should know about Vukovic? You've worked with him more than I have."

Mac considered that for a few moments, choosing her words carefully. "Vukovic is young and inexperienced, and he has a 'win at all costs' attitude that could be dangerous if left unchecked. He's also a bit of a womanizer, so I'd suggest you keep an eye on him. He has potential, but he walks a very fine line between appropriate behavior and an ethics charge." She smiled. "If anybody can keep him in line, Sturgis, I think it'd be you."

He tilted his head, giving her an odd look. "What do you mean by that?"

"Just that I think you'll lead this office with the firm hand he needs."

"Uh huh."

"You're okay with it if Jennifer comes to London? She was only TAD here…"

"I'm fine with it, Mac. I don't think she's exactly the right person to act as my petty officer anyway."

Mac resisted the urge to grin. The idea of Sturgis trying to work with Jennifer Coates on a daily basis was nothing short of hilarious. A scene from an old Three Stooges movie formed in her mind, and she choked back a laugh.

"Right," she said. "Well, Harm tells me his petty officer has been reassigned, and I'm sure Jen would like the chance to see Mattie again, so that should work out fine. I'll double check it with the general myself."

"Right. Now. What about the rest of these files?" Sturgis waved his hand at the rather imposing stack that sat on the table between them.

"Well," Mac said. "These are the active cases. Suppose we just take them from the top." She reached for the first file, flipped it open, and took a sip of water.

**********

Tuesday, August 30, 2005
0730 Zulu (0730 Local)
King's College Rehab Facility
University of London
London, England

"You look exhausted, Harm. What did you do all weekend?"

Harm grinned and took refuge in time zones. "Well, let's see. I flew to San Diego on Saturday, stayed there for a day, and flew back here yesterday. I think I'm allowed a little jet lag."

"You're getting old."

"Hey… watch yourself, young lady."

Mattie laughed. "So when do we leave?"

"Tomorrow morning. Are you ready?"

"Yep. Got my racing wheels all polished up and ready to go." She waved a hand at the wheelchair beside the bed.

"Are you and Nurse Bridgette getting along all right?"

Bridgette was the young nurse recommended to him by Mattie's physical therapist. She'd be going along for the trip, at Harm's expense, to help see to Mattie's needs and to continue her therapy as well as she was able while Mattie stayed at the Roberts’s.

"She's a brute when it comes to my exercises, but other than that, she's cool." Mattie grinned suddenly. "Do you know she has a tat?"

"Umm… A tat?" Harm was often bewildered by the intricacies of teen speak.

True to form, Mattie rolled her eyes. "A tattoo, Harm."

"Ahh… Well, then no. I didn't know."

"It's a phoenix."

"You mean bird rising from the ashes sort of phoenix?"

"Yep! You should see it. It's gorgeous."

"Ahh… And where exactly is this tribute to artistic greatness?"

"On her right shoulder blade. She says you can see it when she wears her swimsuit."

"Uh huh. I'll look forward to it." Harm's tone was sardonic, and Mattie stuck her tongue out at him.

"Right. And on that note, I need to get to the office for a while to finish up a few things before we leave. Is there anything you need before I go?"

"Nope."

"All right then." He bent and kissed her forehead. "I'll see you later."

He waved as he went out the door, and she grinned and waved back. She really was going to be okay.

**********

Wednesday, August 31, 2005
0030 Zulu (1630 Local)
Joint Legal Services, Southwest
San Diego, California

Mac slid into an empty seat in the back of the courtroom. She'd watched Davis give her impassioned sentencing recommendation yesterday afternoon, and was back now to hear the judge's decision, curious to see how it would all turn out.

Davis and Gomez whispered together at the front of the room, apparently getting along for a change, and Mac breathed a sigh of relief. She was pretty sure those two were going to turn into a good team if they could only get past their stubborn pride and remember to focus on the good of their client.

The judge banged her gavel once, and all chatter in the room ceased abruptly. Davis and Gomez sat up straight in their seats, eyes forward.

"The defendant will please rise."

Dorland stood up, Davis and Gomez on either side of him.

"I've reviewed this case carefully," the judge said, glancing down at the contents of the folder in front of her. "It hasn't been an easy one to decide. On the one hand, you have the right of the individual to make a valid decision of conscience."

Davis must've started to say something, because Mac saw the judge raise a warning hand. "Let me finish, Lieutenant." Judge Marin waited a moment, and then went on. "On the other hand, you have duty to your shipmates, to the UCMJ, and to the requirements of your enlistment." She looked at Dorland. "While I do not condone your actions, I understand the difficulty posed when you are ordered to fight a war you do not believe in."

Mac was stunned by the judge's dispassion. Dorland had missed movement. It was as simple as that. When he joined the Navy, he should've understood that he was choosing to give up some of his individual rights in favor of duty, honor, and service to one's country. The judge went on, and Mac listened carefully.

"I hereby order you to be reduced in rank to the level of seaman recruit, two months confinement at the 32nd Street Naval Station, and three months hard labor."

Mac watched Dorland shake hands with the two attorneys before being escorted away by the guards. Well, she thought, so Dorland wasn't being kicked out of the Navy. Maybe, in the end, he'd get the punishment by peer Gomez had been hoping for all along. She shook her head. The judges here in San Diego seemed significantly more lenient than those she'd been used to in Falls Church. Sturgis definitely had challenges in store.

Mac stayed long enough to watch Davis and Gomez gather their things, her sharp eyes catching the nuances of emotion that seemed to flow between the two younger officers. She smiled to herself. Another challenge for Commander Turner. She wished she felt close enough to Sturgis to keep in touch with him and find out how all of this turned out. She didn't, though, and Sturgis was anything but the gossipy type, so she doubted she'd ever hear another word about Doom and Gloom. Too bad. Somehow she suspected their story was going to be an interesting one.

Standing, she slipped out of the courtroom as quietly as she'd come. She'd already said her goodbyes to the staff. It was time to move on.

**********

Saturday, September 3, 2005
1445 Zulu (0945 Local)
The Roberts Residence
Falls Church, Virginia

"Are you ready, ma'am? It's time."

Mac turned to Harriet, suddenly nervous. "I think so."

"You look gorgeous, Colonel."

Mac turned to check the mirror one last time, pleased with the way the simple ivory gown draped across her shoulders and breasts before falling in a smooth flow of satin to the tops of her slippered feet. She hadn’t wanted fussy lace or girlish ruffles, preferring elegance over tradition. She'd even opted against the traditional wedding veil, settling instead for a single white orchid nestled behind her left ear.

"You look beautiful, Mac."

Mac smiled at Mattie. "So do you."

Mattie blushed. "Thanks."

Mac squatted down next to the young girl who'd done so much to help bring her and Harm together. Without Mattie, Harm might never have learned how to say the three most important words he'd ever said to her. It was Mattie who'd taught Harm that not only was it okay to love somebody, but it was also okay to let them know.

"You really do look lovely, Mattie. Someday, there's going to be a young man out there who's going to see that as clearly as Harm and I do."

Mattie snorted. "Not if I don't get myself out of this chair."

"You will. And Harm and I will be there every step of the way." Mac took Mattie's hand in hers. "You'll never be alone again, Mattie. I promise you that."

"Neither will you."

Mac felt tears well in her eyes, and brushed them away. Mattie might still be a teenager, but sometimes the young woman stunned her with her maturity. "Thanks."

She stood up and moved behind Mattie's wheelchair. "You ready?"

"Yep." Mattie turned around and grinned up at Mac. "Let's get married."

Mac and Harriet laughed, and Harriet held open the door.

Mac stopped the wheelchair halfway through the door, and turned to hug Harriet.

"Thanks," she whispered.

Harriet gave her a quick squeeze, and then pulled back and smiled. "Anytime."

She held the door for Mac and Mattie, and then followed them outside. Mac watched as first Harriet and then Mattie started down the makeshift aisle, a simple strip of deep red carpet spread over the grass between double rows of white chairs.

Later, she wouldn't remember the brilliant white of his uniform, or the glint of sunshine on his gold wings. All she'd remember was the intensity of emotion that shone from his eyes and drew her toward him with magnetic force. She locked her gaze on his and started down the aisle.

**** The End ****