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2300 Zulu (1800 Local)
Camp Liberty Bell
South Korea

The room was simple, unadorned save for the faded maps that hung on one wall. Bathed in the artificial rays of recessed fluorescent lights, an ancient wooden desk struggled for dignity, losing the battle to the sleekly modern flat screen computer monitor that stood proudly on one corner. Next to the monitor, a middle aged brunette and two teenagers smiled out of a simple wooden frame. The only other items on the desk were a worn blotter, a single thick folder unopened on its top, and an old soup can filled with mismatched pens and pint sized pencils. Behind the desk, an elderly chair creaked a protest as the man sitting in it leaned forward, his attention focused on the images and text displayed on his screen. A knock on the door distracted him, and he looked up impatiently.

"Enter!" The door opened, and an officer entered, coming to attention in front of the massive desk.

"Lieutenant Colonel Sarah Mackenzie reporting for duty as ordered, Sir."

"Welcome to Camp Liberty Bell, Colonel. Have a seat." Brigadier General Singleton opened the file on his desk and glanced through Mac's service record.

"This your first visit to the DMZ, Colonel?" he asked, his green eyes sharp and inquisitive.

"Yes, Sir."

"I hope your stay with us will be a pleasant one." He closed the folder and set it aside. "As you are no doubt aware, you've been assigned to this base TAD while our permanent JAG officer is away on temporary leave."

"Yes, Sir. Admiral Chegwidden informed me of the circumstances of the assignment."

"Good. Now, I know you've only just arrived on base, and ordinarily I'd give you some time to settle in, but as it happens, we've had a situation arise today that requires your immediate attention." He sat back in his chair. "It's about a tree, actually."

"A tree, Sir?" Mac's clearly puzzled expression seemed to amuse the general for a moment, and then he turned serious again.

"You'll find that nothing that happens here is insignificant, Colonel." He stood up, moving to the map on the wall. "This particular tree stands near the Bridge of No Return. Are you familiar with the history?"

"Yes, Sir. At the end of the Korean conflict, prisoners of war were given a choice – return to North Korea and their homeland, or stay in the south forever. Many chose to stay, but those who wanted to return were repatriated across the bridge."

General Singleton nodded. "I'm sure you're aware, then, that there's a North Korean observation post located just on the other side of the bridge?" He pointed at the map. "Here?"

"Yes, Sir."

"We have two observation posts on our side. Here." He pointed again. "And here. It just so happens that this tree blocks the line of sight between them. We need to prune it for security reasons."

"And the problem, Sir?"

"Well, apparently, the North Koreans don't approve of our landscaping plans. We sent a civilian work crew out there this afternoon, and things got a little heated. The KPA soldiers made some threats. The crew was small, so they decided to come back to base and await further instructions. That's where you come in."

"Sir?"

"I need you to find out what our legal standing is here. That tree has to be trimmed. It can't be allowed to continue to block our line of sight. Unfortunately, it stands in a bit of a no man's land, and the North Koreans seem rather fond of it. What do you suggest?"

"I'll need time to do some research, Sir."

"You've got two hours." He picked up the phone and spoke a few words, then looked back up at her. "Captain Belzer will show you the layout and fill you in on the details." There was a knock, and at Singleton's brusque command, the door opened. A slightly built man in BDU's stepped inside and closed the door before coming to attention.

"Belzer. This is Lieutenant Colonel Mackenzie. She's replacing Major Nilsson for a while."

The dark haired captain nodded politely at Mac, and Singleton went on.

"Normally, I'd have the First Sergeant give you the grand tour, Colonel, but Captain Belzer was there this morning. He can answer whatever questions you have about what happened." He looked at the captain. "Belzer, show her around, bring her up to speed. But make it snappy."

"Yes, Sir."

Mac stood and came to attention.

"Dismissed."

The junior officers left Singletons' office, and Belzer led her to a nearby jeep. A quick drive around the small base was followed by a trip out to the Joint Security Area (JSA). Mac paid close attention to the two observation towers and the beautiful but problematic Poplar tree that separated them. She noted the tree's proximity to the Bridge of No Return and the simple white building on the other side of the worn crossing. There were no traffic sounds here. No rush and hurry. No sounds of marching feet or voices raised in military cadence. Birdsong floated on the soft evening breeze, cooling the summer-hot air as the sun drifted closer to the horizon.

The scene should have been idyllic, but Mac knew that behind those small windows were heavily armed North Korean soldiers scrutinizing her every move. The thought made her skin crawl, and she completed her notes quickly while she listened to Captain Belzer. He told her how the small group of five, three workmen and two guards, had approached the tree for what should have been a routine assignment. They had set up a ladder, and one of the workmen climbed up with a small saw and began to work. They had cut down the first branch when a number of KPA guards began yelling at them from the bridge. The soldiers waved their weapons threateningly, their voices loud with anger.

"I wasn't sure how far they would go, so I called off the men and we packed up our gear." Belzer glared across the bridge at the small hut before turning back to Mac. "Those guards acted like they were ready to fire on us, Ma'am. They were across the bridge, technically outside the JSA, so those weapons were totally legal. But because the Armistice Agreement dictates that nobody inside the Joint Security Area can be armed, we didn't have anything but a couple of hand saws and a hatchet to defend ourselves with. We wouldn't have had a chance against them, Colonel."

"I understand, Captain. Under the circumstances, you did the right thing."

When they had finished, Captain Belzer dropped her off at the VOQ, and Mac grabbed her computer, a legal pad, and some pens before heading for the small base library. As she walked, she flipped open her cell phone and quickly punched in a series of numbers.

"Bud? This is Mac."

"Colonel! How's life in the DMZ?"

"Hot. Listen. I need you to do something for me."

"Just a sec, let me grab a pen." There was a startling crash, and Mac reflexively pulled the phone away from her ear. She heard a muffled curse, and then Bud's voice came back on the line. "Sorry, Ma'am. Dropped a book."

"You ok?"

"Yes. Missed my foot by a hair, but I'm fine. What did you need me to look up?"

Mac explained the situation and asked Bud to get back to her within the next half hour. He said he'd do his best, and they hung up just as she arrived at the library. Seating herself at an empty table, she set up her laptop and plugged it into the Internet access outlet at her feet. Within moments, she was making notes on her legal pad. Her concentration on her work was so intense that she jumped when her cell phone rang. She answered it quickly, ignoring the glares sent her way by other library patrons.

"Bud?"

"No. Harm."

"Oh. Hi."

"Sorry to disappoint you." He said it with a smile in his voice, and Mac knew he wasn't offended. The corners of her mouth turned up and she relaxed back into her chair. It was good to hear a friendly voice.

"I'm sorry. Guess I'm a little distracted. I got dropped in the middle of a minor crisis and I'm kind of in a time crunch. I was expecting Bud to call with some answers to a couple of questions."

"Anything I can help with?"

"Not unless you know something about horticulture."

"Horticulture?"

"Never mind. I'll tell you later. What did you need?"

"I was looking for a deposition on the Klisky case. From the seaman who stood watch that night. Harris. Have you seen it?"

"Yes. I gave it to you before I left. Should be in the file. If you can't find it, I think I still have it on my hard drive."

"Hang on a second. Let me check again. I just went through this, but you never know…" Mac waited while papers rustled in the background. She scanned her computer screen and jotted another note.

"Oh. Wait a minute. Here it is. It got mixed in with the autopsy report. Must have missed it my first time through. Sorry about that."

"No problem. I'd better run. I'm expecting Bud's call."

"Sure thing. Take care, Marine."

"You, too."

They hung up, and Mac considerately switched her phone over to silent mode before putting it away and getting back to work. She was becoming increasingly frustrated. She knew Singleton wanted cold hard facts, but there just wasn't a lot of international law that covered tree trimming. She glared at her computer screen, willing it to cooperate, and reached out to type in a new search string, hitting the enter key just as her phone signaled another incoming call.

"Mackenzie."

"It's Bud, Ma'am."

"Bud. Any luck?"

"Not much. Just a couple of items."

"I was afraid of that." Mac sighed. "Give me whatever you've got, Bud. I'm ready."

Mac wrote quickly while Bud talked, then she thanked him and hung up. A few minutes later, she was ushered back into Singleton's small office, and found herself once again standing at attention. She wondered irrelevantly if her entire stay here was going to be this high paced.

"Well?" Singleton was obviously impatient to hear her findings.

"Well, Sir, I'm afraid there's not much case law directly on point here."

"Colonel, I don't want to hear what you don't know."

"Yes, Sir. As I said, I have been unable to locate any information directly on point. However, you do have the legal right to take whatever actions are necessary to protect your citizens. That tree prevents you from adequately insuring the safety of your men during their ordinary course of duty. Therefore, it is my opinion that you do have the right to trim it."

"Thank you, Colonel. That will be all."

"Yes, Sir."

Mac left the office, but before the door closed, Singleton called her back.

"Colonel?"

"Yes, Sir?"

"I'm sending out another work crew tomorrow morning. I want you out there with them. If there are any difficulties, you need to be on site to provide legal advice."

"Yes, Sir."

"Report at ten hundred hours. We'll get this over with. You're dismissed."

Mac returned to her room and collapsed on the bed. Barely here for half a day, and already in the thick of things. It was going to be a long month.

0130 Zulu (1030 Local)
Camp Liberty Bell
South Korea

Mac looked around. There were fifteen of them all together. Five formed the civilian work crew that would do the actual trimming. The other ten, Mac included, were going along to provide security. She shook her head. Even with her knowledge of military history, and even understanding the shaky situation on the DMZ, she found it somewhat unbelievable that it took a force of fifteen to trim a single tree. She returned Captain Belzer's salute and smiled as he approached her. Like her, he was dressed in BDU's, but neither carried a weapon. They were entering neutral territory, and weapons were not allowed.

"You ready?" he asked.

"Sure am."

"We'll be moving out in just a minute." He gestured toward a nearby officer who was talking to a nervous looking private. "Lieutenant Harrison over there is my second in command. I'd appreciate it if you'd stay close to one of us during this little outing. That way, if there's a problem, I won't have to hunt you down to hear your thoughts."

"No problem," answered Mac.

"Hopefully, this will go off without a hitch," he said. "But if there's one thing I've learned during my time here, it's that anything can happen. Be on your guard, and expect the unexpected."

"Will do," Mac answered, confident that her combat training would keep her safe.

Captain Belzer turned around and surveyed the rest of their group.

"Move out!" he ordered, and everybody piled into the vehicle for the short trip to the Bridge of No Return.

0530 ZULU (0030 Local)
2812 M Street, Apartment 4
Washington, D.C.

Harm's telephone rang, waking him out of a deep sleep. He flipped on the light and reached for the handset, instantly alert. Good news never came at this hour of the night. He was right.

"Rabb."

"Commander Harmon Rabb, Junior?"

"Yes."

"I'm calling from the 121st Military Hospital in Seoul, South Korea. Our documentation indicates that you hold the medical power of attorney for …" There was a pause and a rustle of paper. "Lieutenant Colonel Sarah Mackenzie. Is this accurate?"

Harm's blood ran cold. There could only be one reason for this call, and he really didn't want to hear it. With an effort, he forced his voice past the sudden constriction in his throat.

"That's correct."

"Sir, I'm sorry to have to tell you this. The colonel was seriously injured this morning in an incident in the DMZ. She was flown here by medevac and arrived about ninety minutes ago. The colonel's paperwork includes a DNR order. Since she lists you as having her medical power of attorney, we need to confirm her wishes with you."

"Wait! What happened? How seriously is she hurt?" Harm's mind was racing with questions as he stepped into his pants, quickly pulling them up and zipping while he held the phone against his shoulder.

"Sir, I understand your concern, but time is critical here. The colonel received multiple blunt force injuries that nearly killed her in the field. We've had to scramble just to keep her alive. She's stable for the moment, but should her condition deteriorate, we need to know her wishes."

Harm's training finally kicked in, and he forced himself to slow his breathing. He'd be no good to Mac if he lost control of the situation now. When he spoke again, his voice was calm and firm.

"Do whatever's necessary to keep her alive until I can get there. I'll talk with the doctors and make any necessary decisions at that time."

"Yes, Sir. Do you have any idea when that will be?"

"Just as quickly as I can make the arrangements. Who's taking care of her?"

"Her attending physician is Dr. Lee. He's with her right now. If you would like, I can have him contact you when he is available."

"Thank you. Let me give you my cell phone number." Harm reeled off the numbers and then jotted down the hospital's number before hanging up.

He quickly finished dressing, dialing the admiral's number from memory as he pulled on shoes and socks.

"Chegwidden." The admiral's voice, rough with sleep and irritation, let Harm know that their commanding officer was unaware of what had happened.

"Sir, it's Commander Rabb."

"Rabb! You'd better have a damned good reason for waking me up from the first decent night's sleep I've had all week."

"I apologize, Sir, but something's happened."

"Well spit it out."

"I just got a call from a hospital in Seoul. Apparently Mac's been hurt in some sort of incident with the North Koreans."

"Are you sure about that?" The admiral suddenly sounded wide awake, and Harm suspected he was on his feet.

"Yes, Sir. Apparently her injuries are serious. They called to confirm the DNR request in her medical records."

"Damn."

"Sir, I need to get over there."

"Not just yet you don't. Meet me at headquarters in thirty minutes. Let's find out what the hell happened before you go chasing off into the sunset again."

"Yes, Sir."

They ended the call, and Harm grabbed a light jacket before turning off the lights and locking the door behind him. In a few strides, he reached the next apartment, where he pounded insistently on the door until a sleepy Jennifer Coates finally called out from inside.

"Who is it?"

"Jen, it's Commander Rabb. I need to talk to you and Mattie for a minute."

"Just a second." Coates had sounded drowsy when he first heard her voice, but by the time she opened the door, tugging a pale blue bathrobe close about her waist, she was wide awake. Mattie, her hair tousled and rubbing the sleep out of her eyes, was just coming out of the bedroom.

"What's going on?"

"Mattie, something's come up," said Harm. "You and Jennifer had better sit down." The girls looked alarmed, but did as he asked. "I just got a telephone call from a hospital in Seoul. Mac's been hurt."

"What happened?" asked Jennifer, immediately concerned.

"I'm not sure yet. All I know is that somehow the North Koreans were involved. Her condition is critical. I'm going over to headquarters now to meet with the admiral and try to find out what's going on." He stopped, hesitant to ask his next question. Jennifer beat him to it.

"You'll probably need to go over there. I'll look after Mattie for you."

"Are you sure? I don't want to impose. I might be able to ask Bud and Harriet …"

"I'm sure. You do what you need to do. Mattie and I will be fine."

"Thanks," said Harm gratefully. "Listen, I hate to drop this on you and run, but I need to get over to headquarters. I'll keep you posted." He stood and gathered Mattie for a quick hug before turning to go.

"I'm sure the colonel will be fine. She's a fighter," said Jen, offering what small bit of comfort she could.

"I hope you're right," he answered, then turned and left, closing the door quietly behind him.

Harm made it to JAG headquarters in record time, but the admiral was there ahead of him. He motioned Harm into his office without pausing his telephone conversation. A.J.'s side consisted mostly of "Yes, Sir" and "No, Sir," and Harm grew increasingly frustrated as he paced the floor. Finally, the call ended, and the admiral hung up.

"Sit down before you wear a hole in my carpet," he said, but his voice held little of its usual gruff command. Harm sat on the edge of a chair, ready to spring into action the moment he figured out what that action should be.

"O.K., here's what I know. A few days ago, General Singleton detailed a crew to trim a poplar tree that was obstructing the line of sight between Observation Posts 3 and 5 near the Bridge of No Return. No big deal. Work details of this type are pretty common. The crew went out and began their work, only to be ordered to stop by the North Korean guards. Not sure what to do, they returned to base for instructions." A.J. paused to pick up his remote control and turn on the TV, tuning it to a news channel and lowering the sound before he went on.

"When Mac arrived, base command requested her legal opinion. Mac told them there was no legal reason why they could not trim the tree as a means of insuring the continued safety of the men. This morning, at approximately 10:30 local time, a crew that consisted of five civilian workers and a security force of ten, including Mac, made another attempt to trim the tree. The details on what happened next are a little vague, but it appears that they were attacked by a group of about thirty KPA soldiers with axe handles, clubs and knives."

Harm tensed, imagining the gruesome scene and the desperate fight that must have ensued. The admiral watched him, hating what came next, but aware that Harm needed to know all of it.

"Two members of the group, including the captain and lieutenant in command of the operation, died before they could get medical attention. Eight others, including Mac, were transported by medevac to the hospital in Seoul. Their conditions range from serious to critical." He watched Harm, well aware of the turmoil raging inside the younger man. However confused and bizarre the relationship was between his two top attorneys, A.J. knew that Harm cared deeply for Mac. Hell, they all did. The colonel had been a part of all of their lives for almost eight years.

A.J. considered his options. He knew Harm would want to go to Seoul to be with Mac, but with Sturgis on board a carrier somewhere in the Adriatic Sea, that would leave him short three officers. And, just to complicate things even further, he still needed somebody at Camp Liberty Bell to provide on-site legal guidance during the rapidly escalating crisis. He could go himself, but that would leave him out of communication with the SecNav for the duration of his travel, and under the circumstances, that was a really bad idea. There was really only one solution to this dilemma, but he sincerely hoped his next words wouldn't come back to haunt him in the days to come.

"Rabb, I'm going to send you over there. I'm assigning you to Camp Liberty Bell. I expect you to provide legal counsel as required in resolving this conflict. I figure it'll take you about twenty four hours to get on base. I'll handle things from here until then. If you're lucky, you can squeeze in an hour or two in Seoul on the way. That will allow you to take care of any medical arrangements Mac needs. Do not, I repeat, do not allow yourself to be controlled by your emotions on this."

"Yes, Sir. Thank you, Sir." Harm's cell phone rang just then, and at the admiral's nod he flipped it open.

"Rabb."

"Commander Harmon Rabb?"

"Yes."

"This is Dr. Lee…Colonel Mackenzie's physician." The doctor spoke flawless English in a deeply cultured voice whose calm resonance probably did wonders to soothe the nerves of worried family members. It wasn't working on Harm, though. He was tense and edgy, completely unable to restrain himself from jumping up and pacing the floor while he talked.

"How is she?"

"I'll be honest Commander, she's in bad shape. Looks like she fought hard, but she definitely got the worst end of the deal. She's got three broken ribs, a punctured lung, and a dislocated shoulder, but I'm most concerned about the head injury."

Harm stiffened and froze in his tracks. He didn't need medical training to know that head injuries were potentially deadly. Unaware of the effect his words were having on Harm, the doctor went on.

"Luckily, her face is fine. Whoever hit her got her in the back of the head. Pretty cowardly, that. Excuse me for a moment." The doctor paused to speak to somebody in the background, and then came back on the line. "As I was saying, the colonel received a heavy blow to the back of the head. Her x-rays indicate a severe fracture of the skull with significant resultant intracranial swelling. We need your permission to perform surgery. Our aim is twofold. First, we have to remove bone fragments from the wound and implant a metal plate that we will connect to healthy skull bone. Secondly, we need to install a shunt that will allow excess fluids to drain, thereby reducing the pressure. I think she has a better than even chance of pulling through this, but if we're going to do it, we need to get started as soon as possible."

"What are the risks?"

"I won't lie to you. She could die on the table. But her chance of survival with the surgery is significantly higher than it is if we do nothing."

"Then do the surgery. Do whatever it takes. Just don't let her die." Harm gave the doctor the fax number at JAG headquarters. "Fax me whatever you need me to sign. I'll get it back to you right away."

"It's on its way now. And Commander?"

"Yes?"

"I promise you, we'll do everything we can to get her through this."

"Thank you."

They hung up, and Harm briefly explained what he'd learned. The admiral nodded grimly and picked up the phone to make another call. Harm went into the bullpen to pick up the fax, which he quickly scanned, signed, and sent back to the hospital. When he returned to the admiral's office, A.J. was just hanging up the phone.

"O.K., you've got a flight out of Norfolk in just under four hours. You'd better get moving."

"Yes, Sir." Harm's hand was already on the doorknob when the admiral spoke again.

"Rabb?"

"Sir?"

"Bring her home."

"I intend to, Sir."

Harm made a quick stop at his apartment to pack a bag before heading for Norfolk. He functioned largely on autopilot, his thoughts consumed with worry for Mac. Snippets of conversation and fragments of shared experiences flashed through his mind. Their first meeting in the presidential rose garden. That fateful night in Sydney. Their conversation on the admiral's porch. All the times they had served together – on carriers, in foreign countries, as opposing counsel in court. Russia. Paraguay. South America. Italy. So many places. So much that they had shared. And yet … their relationship was still uneven at the best of times.

Harm had never put a name to what he felt for Mac. He wasn't sure why. Maybe subconsciously he was afraid that naming it would somehow jinx it. Instead, he'd spent years living in relationship limbo, never taking the risk, never pushing beyond his comfort zone. It dawned on him now what an awful fool he'd been. He'd always assumed that their chance would come 'some day.' But the elusive 'some day' had never happened, and now a cruel twist of fate was poised to take her away from him forever. His insides twisted and curled in upon themselves at the thought, causing a sudden brief bout of nausea to climb his throat. He fought it down, and sped on toward Norfolk, sending prayer after prayer heavenward. He would do anything, absolutely anything, if only God would spare her.

He arrived in Norfolk almost without being aware of having made the trip. He was thankful the hour was late and traffic light. Otherwise, his inattention could have proven fatal. As it was, he arrived safely and was soon on board his flight to Seoul. He tried to make himself comfortable, fully aware that he had nearly eighteen hours of travel time ahead of him. He knew he should sleep, but rest eluded him. Every moment that passed brought him closer to Mac, but it was also another moment of not knowing what was going on. It was possible that he had already lost her, but his mind froze at the mere suggestion. No. She would make it through this. She had to. There was still too much unsaid between them. Finally, exhaustion and worry caught up with him, and he dozed.

0515 Zulu (1415 Local)
121st General Hospital
Seoul, South Korea

Bleary eyed and badly wrinkled, Harm stopped at the information desk and requested directions to the Critical Care Unit. He'd finally made it to Seoul, but he wouldn't relax until he could actually see Mac. There was a crowd around the desk, and Harm was forced to wait for several minutes before finally asking his question. A harried receptionist said something about the fourth floor and pointed vaguely toward a bank of elevators and Harm sprinted to catch one before the doors closed. Inside, he jabbed the appropriate button with one long finger before moving to the back of the car, oblivious to the stares of his companions. He was out of patience. Nearly twenty four hours had passed since he'd last talked to Dr. Lee – twenty four hours during which he'd heard absolutely nothing about Mac's condition. He tapped his foot and forced himself to slow his breathing while he waited for other passengers to enter and exit the car. Finally, the elevator doors opened on his floor, and he walked quickly to the duty station. An elderly nurse looked up from her work.

"Can I help you, Sir?"

"Yes. I'm Commander Harmon Rabb. I'm here to see Sarah Mackenzie."

The nurse pulled out a chart and scanned it quickly before picking up a phone.

"Dr. Lee? Commander Rabb is here."

She hung up and smiled at Harm.

"The doctor wants to talk with you before you see her. If you'll just wait in there …" She indicated a door across the hall. "He'll be with you shortly."

"Thank you."

The room Harm found himself in was filled with stiff backed furniture and outdated magazines. In one corner, a box of tissues shared space with a scraggly ivy plant on a tile topped table. An ancient vending machine stood against the far wall next to an overflowing wastebasket, the only sign that the room had ever been inhabited. Unable to relax enough to sit down, Harm paced the length of the room. Four long strides took him to the opposite wall. Four more brought him back. He turned, repeating the pattern several times before the door finally opened to admit a middle aged man in the long white coat common to doctors everywhere. He was shorter than Harm, and rounder, but his dark eyes were kind. The name embroidered on the coat pocket told Harm that this was the doctor he had spoken to on the phone so many hours before. Harm stopped pacing and returned the older man's firm handshake.

"Commander Rabb, I assume?"

"That's me. How is she?"

"Well, she's still with us. We had a few scary minutes on the operating table when we almost lost her, but she pulled through." Harm breathed a sigh of relief, but stiffened again as Dr. Lee continued. "We're not out of the woods yet, though. Even with the shunt, her intracranial pressure is still dangerously high, which means she could drop into a fatal seizure in an instant. She's young, though, and strong and healthy, so I'd say she has about a fifty-fifty chance of survival." He stopped for a moment, gauging Harm's reaction to his words before he went on. "We're doing everything we can for her, Commander, but I'm not going to make any promises. She's in rough shape. Things could go either way."

"Is there anything I can do?"

"Just be there for her. Talk to her. It doesn't matter what you say, as long as she hears your voice. Don't expect her to respond to you, though. She hasn't yet come all the way out of the anesthesia from her surgery, and even when she does we expect her to be in a coma for at least a few days. But research tells us that caring support from family and friends can make the difference."

Harm's mind had caught on the word 'coma' and he didn't hear the rest of what Dr. Lee said.

"She's in a coma?"

"Yes, but that's ok. As I said, it's normal for this type of injury. Her body has shut down all but the most vital systems in order to devote itself to her recovery. If she doesn't come out of it within a week or so, we'll start to worry. For now, though, it may be the best thing for her."

"Can I see her?"

"Yes, but you might be shocked by her appearance. We've got her hooked up to a lot of equipment that monitors any change in her condition. She's on a respirator and a heart monitor, and she's got IV drips in both arms delivering fluids and medication. Her head is heavily bandaged, and we're giving her oxygen. It'll be a lot to take in, but I assure you, it's all in her best interest." He put a hand on Harm's arm. "I suspect that this is going to be hard for you, and you're not going to want to leave her, but I ask that you keep your visit short - ten minutes at the most." A nurse put her head in the door.

"Dr. Lee? You have a phone call on line three."

"Thank you. I'll be right there." He turned back to Harm. "Will you be staying nearby?"

Harm sighed in frustration. He'd like nothing better than to stay by Mac's side until he knew she was ok, but it just wasn't possible.

"I'm afraid not. I'm under orders to report to Camp Liberty Bell today. I had time for a brief stop here to check on Mac, and then I have to head north. I'll be checking in whenever possible, though, and I can assure you that I'll be here anytime I can squeeze in the time and the transport."

"I understand. I have your number. I'll contact you if there are any changes in her condition." Doctor Lee opened the door and led Harm over to the nurses' station.

"Please see that Commander Rabb is attired in sterile clothing and allowed in to visit Colonel Mackenzie."

"Right away, Doctor."

The nurse stood and moved over to a supply cabinet, where she selected a set of scrubs and a surgical mask. The doctor turned back to Harm.

"We'll do the best we can for her."

"Thank you."

The nurse handed the pile of clothes to Harm and directed him to a place to change. He did so quickly, and she showed him to Mac's room, leaving him with a slight nod at the door.

He stood in the doorway for a minute, taking in the scene before him. The hiss of the respirator. The steady beep of the heart monitor. Point. Counterpoint. Endless, rhythmic, and somehow reassuring. His eyes traced the tubes and wires that crisscrossed Mac's body like so many strands of overcooked spaghetti. He breathed in the sharp smell of disinfectant and the slightly stale odor of recycled air from the hospital's ventilation system. In one long stride he reached her side and gently lifted the paper white hand that rested on the crisp cotton sheet. He looked at her, desperately hoping to find her looking back. But her eyes were closed, her face so pale as to almost blend in with the bandages that covered her head. Ordinarily self-contained to a point that most people found annoying, Harm felt tears form in the corners of his eyes. He brushed them away impatiently. This was no time to lose control. He had to be strong. Had to convince her to keep fighting.

"Mac? It's Harm." He waited, hoping against hope for some response. There was none.

"I'm here, Mac. I got here just as soon as I could. Everybody back at JAG sends their love. They're all praying for you." He tightened his hold on her hand. "I don't have to pray, though. I know you'll be ok. The kick-ass marine we all know and love wouldn't let an ambush keep her down for long." Harm's voice trembled, and he paused to bring it back under control.

"The admiral told me what happened. At least, he told me as much as he could find out. That must have been some battle." He watched her for a moment, the steady rise and fall of her chest under the blankets giving the illusion that she was just sleeping.

Harm sat with Mac for as long as he could. He talked nonstop, telling her anything and everything that came into his mind. He hoped that she could hear him. Hoped that she would know that somebody was close by watching over her and praying for her safe recovery. All too soon he felt a nurse's light touch on his shoulder.

"I'm sorry. I'm afraid you'll have to leave now."

"Could I have just a couple of minutes? I … don't know when I'll be able to get back, and there's something I still have to say."

The nurse considered his request, and then nodded.

"Two minutes. That's it."

"Thank you."

She left, and Harm turned back to Mac.

"Mac … Sarah … I have to go. I've been assigned to replace you at Camp Liberty Bell. This whole thing is blowing up in our faces, and we're scrambling to avoid a war. But before I leave, there's something I have to say. Something that should have been said a long time ago. I only hope I haven't waited too long."

He paused to gather his thoughts, and then plunged in.

"Mac, I …you have to come back to me. You have so much to give to the world, so much to give to JAG, so much to give to …" He stopped, trying to sort out the tumble of thoughts and feelings flying around on the inside of his head like so many caged parakeets. "You know I've never been much good at 'letting go,' as you put it, but I'm ready now. I think I've been ready for a long time. I just …didn't know what to say. I couldn't find the words to tell you how much you mean to me. I know I've been a jerk at times. Hell, I've been a jerk a lot of the time lately. But that's just because I've realized how much I need you in my life, and that scares me. Needing people is dangerous business, and I just couldn't handle it if I lost you. Please, Mac. Get well. Come back to me and I promise you I will do whatever it takes to make things right between us."

With a final squeeze, he gently laid her hand back on the bedcovers. He turned to leave, but paused, turned back, and leaned down to place a soft kiss on her forehead.

"I love you, Mac. Get well for me. Get well for us."

He forced himself to leave then, refusing to look back, certain that if he did, he wouldn't be able to leave her. Quickly locating the room where he had changed earlier, he put his uniform back on and tossed the scrubs into a nearby hamper. Then he hurried out of the hospital, not stopping again until the front doors whispered closed behind him. Seating himself on a nearby bench, he dropped his head into his hands and finally allowed his feelings to rush through him in a tidal wave. That couldn't have been "his" Mac up there. The Mac he knew was vibrant and full of life. Even sitting still, she always gave the impression of barely controlled energy. The woman in that hospital bed had been pale and motionless. The steady beep of the heart monitor and the hiss of the respirator had been the only proof that she was even alive. He'd hated having to leave her, afraid that he would never see her alive again, but he knew that she would have wanted him to do his duty to his country. She wouldn't want him sitting by her side, worrying, when there was something he could do someplace else that might actually be useful.

His cell phone rang, startling him out of his thoughts. He flipped it open.

"Rabb."

"Rabb? Chegwidden. Where are you?"

"I'm in Seoul, Sir. Just came out from seeing Mac."

"How is she?"

"Not good. She survived the surgery, but Dr. Lee says her pressure is still dangerously high and it could go either way."

"Is there anything you can do for her?"

"Not really, no."

"I thought not. Listen. You need to pull yourself together. Get yourself out to Camp Liberty Bell ASAP. We're putting together a plan to resolve this mess. How soon can you get there?"

Harm glanced at his watch, glad that he had already reset it to local time. It was almost fourteen hundred hours. He quickly calculated the time difference and realized it must be just about midnight back home. By the time this was over with, his body clock was going to be so screwed up, he wouldn't know whether he was coming or going.

"I can be there in about forty-five minutes."

"Better get going, then. This thing is coming together in a hurry, and your presence is required."

"Yes, Sir. On my way."

They hung up, and Harm walked to the jeep he had parked in the visitor lot less than an hour ago, grateful that General Singleton had made it available to him. He was also glad that Camp Liberty Bell was so close to Seoul. He doubted if he would have made it had the trip been longer than thirty miles. As it was, he pulled into camp at nearly fifteen hundred hours. Heavily armed security guards searched both him and the jeep before he was allowed on base. Once there, he reported directly to General Singleton's office. He suspected the general would be waiting for him. He was right.

"Enter." The voice was brusque.

"Commander Harmon Rabb Junior, reporting as ordered, Sir."

"It's about time you got here! All hell's breaking loose and my new JAG has to make a pit stop in Seoul!"

"Yes, Sir. Sorry, Sir." Harm realized he was going to be doing a lot of tongue biting with this officer. If he didn't, he'd likely say something that would get him in a world of trouble – not that that would be so unusual.

"Well, you're here now, at least. We have a briefing with the SecNav, the Joint Chiefs, and the Military Armistice Committee in thirty minutes. Best grab a bite to eat before it starts. You won't be any good to me half starved."

"Yes, Sir." Harm turned and left the room, his back ramrod straight, shoulders tense. He didn't glance back as he closed the door, so he missed the thoughtful expression on Singleton's face.

On his way to the mess, Harm flipped open his cell phone and punched the auto dial he had programmed for the critical care unit at the 121st.

"Critical Care."

"This is Commander Harmon Rabb. I'm calling to check on Colonel Mackenzie's condition."

"One moment, please." Harm waited impatiently. The soothing music from the hospital's call waiting system grated on his nerves. Time dragged by for what seemed like hours, but was probably only seconds. Just as he felt ready to throw the cell phone at a wall in frustration, a voice came back on the line.

"Commander Rabb?" The doctor sounded rushed. Tense.

"Yes."

"Dr. Lee. I apologize for making you wait. We're in a bit of a crisis here. The colonel started running a fever shortly after you left, and we're having some trouble bringing it down. We're administering intravenous medications and we have her packed in ice. There's not much more we can do except wait and hope for the best."

"Can I talk to her?"

"Excuse me?" The doctor sounded puzzled.

"I'd like to talk to her. I …" Harm had never been so frustrated with "duty" as he was at this moment. "I can't be there. There's no way I can get away right now. But I need to talk to her. She needs to know she's not alone in this."

There was a long pause. Harm knew his request was highly unorthodox, but every fiber of his being vibrated with the need to do this.

"I don't see how it could hurt. Hang up and call back on this number," said Dr. Lee. Harm retrieved a pen from his pocket and wrote the number in the only place available at the moment, his hand.

"That's my cell number," said Dr. Lee. "I'll make sure she can hear you."

"Thank you," said Harm, and immediately disconnected and punched in the new number.

"Commander?"

"Yes."

"Here she is." Harm heard a soft rustle as Dr. Lee placed the phone on the pillow by Mac's head. In the background, he could faintly hear the familiar sounds of the monitors and the respirator.

"Mac? It's Harm. Your doctor tells me you're not doing too great. We're all helping you in every way we know how, but you need to step up to the plate now. You have to decide not to let this keep you down. You can do it. I know you can. Remember, marines are supposed to be tough. Show the world just how tough you are. Don't let the corps down by …." There was a sudden change in the background noises. It took Harm a moment to realize that some type of alarm was sounding. Words filtered through the connection, and he tensed as he realized what was going on.

"Get that … IV … STAT!"

". . . seizing!"

"Watch . . . shunt!"

". . . Crash Cart . . .!"

"Mac?!" he yelled. "Mac!" Two passing soldiers, heavily armed and edgy, snapped startled looks and loaded weapons in his direction, but Harm didn't even notice. Every ounce of his being focused on his best friend. He knew she couldn't hear him. Knew there was no way to reach her right now. Knew that she was more alone now than she ever had been before. He wanted to scream his frustration. Wanted to commandeer a helicopter and get to her as fast as he could. Damn the North Koreans. To hell with JAG. Mac needed him, and he was an hour away. She was alone, and so was he… The very air he breathed was choking him, and his heart contracted painfully with every fragment of sound that filtered through the tiny earpiece. But there was nothing – not one damn thing he could do.

"Get that . . .!"

There was a clatter, and the line went dead. Harm fought the impulse to immediately redial the number. A ringing cell phone would only distract the medical team, and that was the last thing he wanted to do right now. He flipped it closed and slipped it into his pocket, struggling to bring himself under control. He wanted to slam his fist into a wall, but he knew that would only hurt him without doing a damned thing to fix the situation. He broke into a jog. Maybe if he worked up a sweat on the way to the mess, it would help release some tension.

The sandwich and coffee Harm choked down at the officer's mess had all the flavor of damp newspaper. The last thing he wanted to do right now was to eat, but he knew Singleton was right. He'd be of no use to anybody on an empty stomach. Harm couldn't even remember his last meal, and he was self-aware enough to know that he would crash soon if he didn't get some food and caffeine into his body. Twenty minutes later, he reluctantly turned off his cell phone and reported back at base HQ. A sergeant showed him into the conference room, where base command was assembled and waiting for him.

"It's about time," snapped Singleton. "I told you to grab a bite to eat, not to order a full course meal!"

"Yes, Sir. Sorry, Sir," Harm knew he wasn't late for this meeting, but it seemed best not to antagonize the general.

"Well, have a seat then. Let's get this show on the road."

Harm sat and took a moment to look around, familiarizing himself with the setup while he waited for the conference to begin. The small windowless room was equipped with an impressive array of technology. A large, semi-circular table surrounded by comfortable swivel chairs dominated the space. Slim notebook computers waited at each place, fresh legal pads and pens beside them. One side of the room boasted a row of fax machines, laser printers, and a multifunction copy machine. Along the back, a narrow table held a large coffee urn, mugs, several pitchers of ice water, and assorted snacks.

Huge plasma screens filled most of the wall space. The center one currently displayed a United Nations logo, and Harm knew this was the screen that would soon host the living images of the other members of the crisis team. Maps filled the remaining two screens. On the left, Harm recognized detailed drawings of Camp Liberty Bell, the DMZ, North and South Korea, and hundreds of miles of surrounding ocean. The screen on the right displayed current satellite data clearly labeled to indicate military installations and troop movements. However remote this outpost might be, this room kept it intimately connected with the rest of the military community twenty-four hours a day, seven days a week. Harm pulled over a legal pad, picked up a pen, and leaned back in his chair, waiting for the meeting to begin.

0630 Zulu (0130 Local)
The Pentagon
Washington, D.C.

A.J. looked around. Despite the late hour, the men around him were alert and focused – the nation's top military minds coming together to solve a problem that could change the course of history. On arriving for the meeting, he had somberly greeted all of the Joint Chiefs and the Secretary of the Navy before seating himself at the large table, impatient for the conference to begin. This would be the first time he'd see Rabb since the younger man had left the office two days ago, and he was more than a little concerned about how well the officer was handling this crisis.

The screen came to life, and A.J. got his first disturbing look at his lead attorney. Deep shadows ringed Harm's eyes, and he was long overdue for a shave. His hair, though military short, was unkempt and spiky, his uniform badly wrinkled. As the conference progressed, Harm fidgeted restlessly, and though his advice was sound, it was obvious that he was distracted. A.J.'s concern grew, but there was little he could do except wait for the meeting to finish.

The group worked steadily for three hours, going over troop and fleet deployment and readiness, discussing the pros and cons of various responses to what was already being referred to as "the ax murder incident," a term that made Harm visibly cringe. The Seventh Fleet had been moved into Korean waters and placed on high alert, the crews ready for battle at a moment's notice. Two battalions that had been dispersed throughout South Korea on various assignments had been brought in and repositioned along the DMZ. Guard details had been doubled and were heavily armed. All preventive measures had been taken, but final decisions had yet to be made on an appropriate response to the killings. The group debated for several minutes before Harm interrupted.

"Why don't we just take out the damn tree?"

He immediately had the attention of the entire team, his disheveled appearance and disrespectful language shocking them into silence. A.J. finally broke the ominous quiet, hoping that the force and timbre of his tone would clearly communicate to Rabb that he was skating on whisper thin ice.

"Excuse me?"

Harm apparently detected the edge of steel in his commanding officer's voice, and sat up straighter in his chair.

"Sir. It seems to me that if we just go in there and cut the tree down, they're going to realize that they can't behave like savages and get away with it." Harm looked around at the other members of the team. "Look, I know the temptation is to do something big and impressive, but if we push too hard, we're the ones who are going to get blamed for starting a war. The one thing that started all this still exists. It's a tree. And it blocks the line of sight between two vital observation posts. I suggest we get a superior force in there and cut it down." He held his temper and language in check this time, but A.J. knew that Harm was barely in control of himself. He'd been afraid of this, but there'd been nothing he could do. The fact of the matter was that Harm was his best attorney, and this situation called for the best. He sighed.

"That might be a viable option, and it's certainly a legal one. But is such a step sufficient to make our point?"

Harm didn't answer, apparently deciding it was for others to resolve that issue. He'd had his say, and for now, he was going to sit back and let his superiors hash things out.

Another hour later, the group had finally settled on Harm's suggestion. The tree would come down. They weren't taking any chances, though. Camp Liberty Bell was to be cleared of sensitive equipment and prepared for destruction in the event Operation George Washington should result in further action on the part of the North Koreans. Then, a force of sixty would be detailed to cut down the tree, at which point Liberty Bell was to be locked down and moved to Threat Condition Charlie.

The meeting finally wound to a close, and people started to stand and stretch. A.J. spoke up when he saw Rabb stand and move to leave, obviously in a hurry.

"Rabb. Wait just a moment. There's some JAG business I need to discuss with you."

He saw Harm stop and turn. A look of irritation crossed the younger man's face, but was quickly banished, one more indicator of how close Harm was to losing his grip.

"Sir?"

"Won't take long, Rabb. Have a seat." He watched as Harm slumped back into a chair, military bearing temporarily abandoned. A.J. said his goodbyes to the SecNav and the Joint Chiefs, and waited for the conference room on the other end to empty before speaking again.

"How're you doing, son?"

Rabb looked up from where he'd been resting his head in his hands, obviously surprised. A.J. had never called him "son" before. It was a little unnerving.

"Holding my own, Sir."

"Are you?" A.J. asked gently, "holding your own?" Harm stared at him, and A.J. suspected he was trying to figure out why he was being nice. The admiral watched carefully until he saw Harm's shoulders rise and fall in a long sigh.

"I …" Harm stopped talking for a minute. "I'm trying to, but …" He stopped and took a deep breath. "She's … not doing well. I tried to call right before this meeting. I was talking to her and … something happened. I don't know what, really, but I heard somebody call for a …" His voice had become uneven, and he stopped, trying to get it back under control.

A.J. spoke up. "You were talking to her? I thought she was in a coma …"

"She is, Sir. I . . . called on Dr. Lee's cell phone. He agreed to put the phone on her pillow."

"Ahhh … I see. And then what happened?"

"I'm still not sure. I heard them call for a crash cart, and then I got disconnected." He looked up at A.J., his gaze agonized. "Sir, I … I don't know what I'll do if …" He dropped his head, and his shoulders shook. A.J. knew that Harm was making a last ditch effort to keep his emotions in check, but it appeared to be a losing battle. He could think of only one thing that might help.

"Rabb," he said commandingly, determined to regain the younger man's attention. Harm's head jerked up, his eyes bright, but his features composed.

"Call the hospital. I'd like an update on what's going on."

"Sir?"

"Now, Rabb."

"Yes, Sir." Harm pulled out his cell phone and flipped it open. He punched in the long series of numbers automatically. A.J. watched, waited, and listened, hoping desperately for good news.

"Yes, this is Commander Rabb calling for a status on Colonel Mackenzie?"

"Yes, I'll hold." Rabb paced the length of the room and back, tension evident in everything about him.

"Dr. Lee? How is she?"

The conversation became very one-sided for a while, and A.J. grew impatient. He cared about Mac too, and this wait was intolerable. He continued to watch Rabb, only relaxing when he saw Harm's shoulders drop.

"Thank you, Doctor. Yes, I understand. I'll check back in a few hours." He flipped the phone closed and looked at A.J.

"Well?" The admiral was impatient, and Rabb was quick to reassure him.

"She's resting. She had a seizure because of the fever. Somehow she managed to dislodge the shunt, and they had to rush her back up to surgery to repair it. She still has a fever, but they've brought it down out of the danger zone. Her intracranial pressure has stabilized. It's not coming down yet, but Dr. Lee sounded optimistic." Suddenly, Harm looked absolutely exhausted, and it occurred to A.J. that the man's internal clock must be hopelessly screwed up by now.

"Rabb. Get some sleep. There's nothing more you can do today."

Harm grinned weakly. "You mean tonight, Sir? We've been here so long the sun's gone down."

"Whatever. Go."

"Yes, Sir." Harm left the room, and A.J. disconnected the video phone. He sat there for several minutes, feeling the weight of his responsibilities and, suddenly, of his age. With a heavy sigh, he gathered his notes, and slowly left the room.

1212 Zulu (2112 Local)
Camp Liberty Bell
Seoul, South Korea

Harm left the conference room and walked slowly toward the VOQ. Every muscle in his body ached with exhaustion, and although he was still desperately worried about Mac, he knew he had to get some sleep. He was so preoccupied with the simple task of putting one foot in front of the other that he almost bumped into General Singleton. With a monumental effort, he pulled himself to attention. The general scrutinized him carefully for a minute.

"North Koreans want to meet with us in the morning. You've got about eight hours. Put it to good use."

"I will, Sir." Harm hesitated for an instant. "Sir, may I requisition a jeep for a couple of hours? I'd like to make a quick trip down to Seoul."

General Singleton stared at him. By rights, the younger officer should have been about ready to fall over. Indeed, when he'd first spotted him walking away from the conference room, he'd looked like he was barely able to stay on his feet. Now, though, the prospect of a trip to Seoul seemed to give him new energy.

"Just be sure you're on time for the meeting in the morning. Report to my office at oh eight hundred."

"Yes, Sir. Thank you, Sir." Harm saluted, and when Singleton left him, he sprinted for his room at the VOQ where he changed into a fresh uniform before making the trip back to Seoul.

1330 Zulu (2230 Local)
121st General Military Hospital
Seoul, South Korea

Harm pulled up a chair beside Mac's bed. The room was familiar to him now, and he found the array of machinery less daunting somehow. He picked up Mac's small hand in his own larger one, noting that her skin felt hot and dry. He felt her forehead. She was still feverish. The doctor had told him they were treating the fever, but Harm wished there was something more he could do for her. He sat down, continuing to hold her hand gently while he talked.

"Hi, Mac. I'm back. I'll bet you thought you'd gotten rid of me, huh?" He gently rubbed his thumb across the back of her hand. "No such luck. I just had some things I had to take care of.

"It took the Joint Chiefs a long time to make up their minds, but we're going to cut down the tree, Mac. It wasn't an easy decision. I think some of them were mad enough to go in there with guns blazing and take out everything in a fifty mile radius." He paused, content just to look at her face for a moment.

"There's a meeting with the North Koreans in the morning. I can't imagine what they have to say, but it'd better include an apology. They were completely out of line. They're not even supposed to cross the bridge, much less attack a work crew." His hand tightened on hers as he thought about what had happened. Most people would have been terrified, but he'd bet Mac had been spitting mad.

"That must have been some fight, Mac. I'd bet you were furious when they came after you." Sudden tears sprang to his eyes then. He pictured Mac fighting for her life and the lives of the soldiers around her. Imagined her pulling a PKA soldier off of one of her companions and delivering one of her deadly double punches. When he thought about the man who had snuck up behind her and clubbed her, his free hand balled into a fist, while the other tightened its grip on Mac's. So help him, he'd better never find the man who did this to her. He felt his blood pressure rising, and decided a change of subject was in order.

"You know, I haven't even gotten around to calling Mattie since I've been here. Guess that makes me a pretty terrible father. I'll check in with her when I leave here, but I'm sure she's fine. You know, Jen offered to look after her while I'm over here. Now don't glare at me. I didn't ask. Jen offered. She wouldn't even consider my asking Bud and Harriet or calling my mother to come for a week or two. She's a good kid, Jen is - a little irreverent at times, but a good kid at heart." He chuckled softly. "She's still trying to convince me that boxer shorts are not underwear when a girl wears them. It's not working. Boxer shorts are underwear, no matter what gender has them on." He grinned at Mac. "I know. You think I'm a prude." He glanced at his watch.

"I have to go soon. I still have the drive back to base, and there's that meeting first thing in the morning. Thanks for letting me vent, but I sure wish you'd wake up so that you could give me a hard time like you usually do. I miss my best friend and sounding board." He stood up and eased her hand back onto the sheet. He stayed beside her for a moment, staring down at this woman who had come to mean so much to him. He'd always avoided getting close to people, not wanting to expose himself again to the agonizing pain that moved in when the person you loved was lost to you forever, but somehow Mac had snuck past his defenses, and he knew that if by some awful twist of fate she didn't pull through this, he'd never fully recover from the loss. He placed a gentle goodbye kiss on the tip of her nose, and turned to go, glancing back for one last look as he went through the door. He had no idea what tomorrow would bring, but for her sake, he'd do whatever he could to right the wrong that had been done.

Harm made the trip back to the base without incident, despite the crushing exhaustion that threatened to overwhelm him and the terrible condition of the road. For the first time, he noticed the number of driving ranges that lined the road on both sides, surprised that the South Koreans seemed to enjoy golf almost as much as he did.

After he finally got back to the base and cleared security, Harm staggered to his room, barely remembering to take off his shoes before collapsing on the cot. Somehow, he found the presence of mind to put in a quick call to Mattie, but he got the answering machine at their apartment. Mattie was probably at school, Jen, at JAG. He left a brief message that he was fine and that Mac was holding her own. Then, unable to stave off his fatigue for another moment, he closed his eyes.

Harm slept the dreamless sleep of the truly exhausted, dragging himself back to the world of the living only with extreme effort, roused by the nagging voice of an army private buzzing in his ear.

"Sir? General Singleton says I'm to make sure you're awake." Harm looked blearily at the young soldier. He swung his legs to the floor and stood up, swaying slightly before catching himself with one hand against the wall.

"I'm up, Private."

"Yes, Sir. I'll inform the general, Sir."

"You do that." Harm knew he sounded ungrateful, but for God sake, he'd had less then six hours sleep in the past thirty-six. He had a right to be cranky. He sent the private out of the room and picked up his cell phone to call the hospital. Dr. Lee was on morning rounds, so he wasn't able to speak to Mac, but the duty nurse assured him that there had been no change in her condition since Harm's visit the night before. Mac still had a fever, but it was under control. The best news was that her intracranial pressure was finally starting to drop. If this kept up, Doctor Lee felt optimistic about her chances of survival. Harm thanked the nurse for the update and disconnected.

Thirty minutes later, showered, shaved, and having gulped down a mug of steaming coffee, Harm presented himself at General Singleton's office. He was still tired and worried about Mac, but a few hours sleep had made a world of difference in his outlook, and he faced the general now with a glint of determination in his blue eyes.

"Glad you could make it," Singleton said, though less sharply than he'd spoken yesterday. "Let's get going."

The two men left the office and climbed into the waiting jeep for the short ride to the JSA. Rather than taking a direct route to the MAC conference room, Singleton detoured to point out the Bridge of No Return, the problematic Poplar tree, and the two observation posts whose line of sight was obscured by the tree's leafy branches. They stopped for a moment and sat in silence near the tree. They were not alone. Heavily armed security patrols - both North and South Korean - patrolled up and down the boundary line of the JSA, eyeing each other across the river. The air itself felt heavy and tight, and Harm found it surprisingly difficult to take a deep breath.

Harm stared at the tree and listened while Singleton explained how an enterprising young soldier had finally ended the battle by driving a 2 ½ ton truck over Lieutenant Belzer's battered body, protecting it from the North Koreans. The PKA soldiers had retreated across the Bridge of No Return, and calls for help and medical assistance poured into Camp Liberty Bell. The scene that awaited rescuers had been gruesome. Injured soldiers lay battered and bleeding. Those who were able were working desperately to help the more seriously wounded. Every face expressed shock, pain, and anger. How was it possible that a simple mission to prune a tree could spark such violence from the North Koreans? General Singleton shook his head. He'd been stationed here for nearly a year, and he knew the North Koreans were an unpredictable bunch, but even he had never guessed things could turn this ugly, this fast. He glanced at his watch, and put the jeep in gear. It was time to face the enemy across a conference table.

They pulled up in front of a simple building that gave no indication of the critical nature of the proceedings about to occur inside. Long and low, it was identical to the buildings on either side. On one end, American soldiers stood guard, glaring at their North Korean counterparts who faced them across the scant two feet of concrete that divided North and South Korea in this portion of the Joint Security Area. Harm and General Singleton entered the building from the South Korean side to find the meeting ready to start. South Korean and American officers glared at their counterparts across a plain wooden table with the United Nations flag in the center. U.N. Command staff glanced uneasily around, and began the meeting. Harm listened and jotted notes, but since most of the meeting consisted of each side politely insulting the other, he allowed his mind to drift.

The door at the Northern end of the conference room suddenly opened, drawing the attention of everybody in the room, including Harm. A young Korean soldier entered, flanked by two grim looking guards. One of the guards uttered a sharp command, and the soldier quickly removed his cover, coming to attention, but glaring daggers at the assembled group. A North Korean officer stood from his place at the table and turned toward the soldier, saying a quick sentence to him in Korean. Harm didn't understand what was said, but evidently it was important because the tension in the room escalated measurably. He felt the small hairs at the back of his neck stand up. What was going on here? Finally, the soldier spoke in surprisingly flawless English.

"I am Lieutenant Kim. I desire to speak my regret for the incident in which some of your soldiers were injured." He said the words with a subtle but noticeably insolent sneer, and Harm fought a sudden urge to slam the man against a wall. Lieutenant Kim glanced toward his commanding officers and apparently decided to throw caution to the wind. "On the morning of eighteen August we requested an unauthorized work detail to cease cutting a rare shade tree. We were ignored. We approached them to ask why they did not honor our request." The lieutenant paused for a moment, considering the wisdom of his next words, but apparently not considering it very carefully.

"The Americans had a woman with them." The way Kim said 'woman' made Harm's skin crawl, even though he knew that Korean culture still had women walking two steps behind the men. "The woman instructed them to continue cutting the tree." He shrugged as if to say there was nothing he could do. "They did not honor our request. We were forced to act."

Lieutenant Kim exchanged glances with his fellow North Koreans. "A man officer would perhaps have made a wiser choice." Only General Singleton's instant fierce grip on Harm's forearm prevented him from jumping to his feet in anger. Evidently aware that the tension in the room was about to spiral out of control, the two guards hustled Lieutenant Kim out the door, and Harm relaxed, but only slightly. He fixed an image of the young soldier firmly in his mind, silently vowing that if he should ever meet the man again, he would express his own "forced action." The meeting ended shortly afterward, and Harm was still fuming when he left the conference room. General Singleton met him at the jeep.

"What was THAT about?" He got right in Harm's face as he yelled. "You almost lost it in there, Commander! That would have cost you your career AND landed you in the brig! And we won't even TALK about the international incident you would have created!" He glared at Harm, fully aware that the younger officer was on the brink of doing something that would land him in a world of trouble. "Get out of here! I don't want to see your face again before oh eight hundred tomorrow morning! Do I make myself clear?"

Singleton's last words were loud enough that Harm was pretty sure everybody in the country had heard them. He wanted to retaliate. Wanted to haul off and send the man spinning. But he had just enough self-control left to keep himself out of the brig. He spun away, but before he could take two steps the general stopped him.

"Commander!" Harm turned back.

"Don't get any ideas about going to Seoul, either. We're locked down until this is over with."

"I thought we weren't locking down until tomorrow morning."

"Changed my mind."

Harm glared at Singleton. Just what he'd needed. Forced captivity. He understood the need to prepare the base for whatever the next few days might bring, but he'd go crazy not being able to visit Mac. He suspected Singleton knew it, too.

"Yes, Sir." With a great effort, he kept his tone respectful. Then he turned and stalked off, his long, angry strides carrying him quickly back to camp.

Harm went directly to his room in the VOQ. He stripped off his sweat dampened shirt and tossed it over a chair before grabbing his cell phone and flipping it open. He'd finally gotten around to programming the hospital's number on his speed dial, and within moments he heard the familiar voice of the duty nurse.

"Critical Care Unit."

"This is Commander Rabb, calling to check on Colonel Mackenzie."

"One moment please. I'll pull her chart." He heard a clatter, and then the rustle of paper.

"There's been no change in her condition since your last call, Commander. Would you like me to see if Dr. Lee is available?"

"Yes. Please."

"One moment, please." While he waited, Harm pulled out a change of clothes. After he checked on Mac he was going to grab some lunch and then see what kind of hard manual labor he could find to do. Anything to keep his mind off of Mac and make the time pass faster.

"Dr. Lee here."

"Dr. Lee. This is Commander Rabb. How's Mac doing?"

"The colonel is stable for the moment. Her pressure has dropped enough that we hope to be able to remove the shunt within the next twenty four hours. We're a little concerned about her fever, though. It had come down some, but it's been inching its way back up today. We're administering antibiotics. About all we can do now is wait and hope that she's got what it takes to fight her way back."

"She does, Doctor. I'm sure of it. Can I talk to her?"

"Um … sure. Call me back on my cell."

"Thanks."

Harm disconnected and dialed Dr. Lee's cell phone number, grateful that the doctor was willing to help him make contact with Mac.

"Commander?"

"It's me."

"O.K., here she is." Harm waited for the rustle and then the distant sounds of the monitors before he began to speak again.

"Mac? It's Harm again. How're you holding up?" Harm settled himself on his bed and leaned back against the pillows as he talked. He was exhausted, and he knew it was evident in his voice, but he just couldn't bring himself to be peppy and supportive this time. He needed to vent, and Mac had always been there for him in the past. He could only assume that, if she really could hear him, she'd understand.

"We met with the North Koreans today. Near as I can tell, the main point of the meeting was to allow the PKA officer in charge of the attack on your squad an opportunity to apologize." Harm snorted derisively. "Instead, he managed to insinuate that the entire incident was our fault for putting an unpredictable, emotional woman in charge. I wish you would have been there." Then he chuckled. "Well, maybe not. As it was, Singleton had to restrain me from going after the officious jerk. It probably would have taken an entire battalion to keep you from going after him."

Harm shifted the phone to his other ear and stretched his free arm out. "Speaking of Singleton... Did you tell him something about me? He sure doesn't seem to like me much, and I'm a pretty likeable guy." He paused and smiled. "C'mon, Marine, that's your cue to rip on me a little. Who else can keep my ego in check?" He shifted one of the pillows behind him to ease the ache in his back. "Anyway, I'm trying not to take Singleton's behavior personally, but my patience is fairly limited right now. You probably need to wake up soon. I might end up needing a good lawyer."

His smile faded, and he sighed. "You need to wake up soon, anyway, because I miss you. I miss hearing your voice. I miss the way you tease me when I'm late for work. Heck, I even miss the smell of greasy hamburgers. If that doesn't prove how much I love you, I don't know what will."

"Commander Rabb?"

"Yes?"

"Sorry to interrupt. We're taking the colonel for some tests. She should be back here in a few hours if you would like to call back."

"I would. Doctor?"

"Yes?"

"Listen. I don't know when I'll be able to get back down there. The base is locked down for at least the next day or two. If there's any change in Mac's condition, please call me right away."

"I'll do that."

"Thanks."

1800 Zulu (0600 Local)
Camp Liberty Bell
Seoul, South Korea

A faint glimmer of light through his window roused Harm from a light sleep. He'd worked hard the day before, but still hadn't slept well. Just before falling asleep, he'd found time to call the hospital. He hadn't been able to talk to Mac, but they'd told him her fever was down and that they planned to remove the shunt this morning. Hearing that she was showing signs of improvement had made it easier for Harm to fall asleep, but his rest had been plagued by dreams and flashbacks. Now, his muscles were cramped from a restless night on a bed that was far too short and much too hard to be comfortable. He pulled on his BDU's, grabbed a hot mug of coffee from the officer's mess, and reported to base command.

An impressive group was assembling for Operation George Washington. The actual work crew consisted of sixteen engineers from Second Battalion whose job it was to make sure the tree came down as quickly as possible. Accompanying them was a force of sixty, Harm included, armed with ax handles. It seemed odd to be heading into a potential battle with only an ax handle, but such is the weirdness of agreements written by politicians instead of generals. The security group would form a ring around the tree, insuring that the engineers were not prevented from finishing their work. This forward operational detail was heavily supported behind the scenes by infantry and artillery units, while two flights of F-16's patrolled the length of the Military Demarcation Line, and half a dozen Apache helicopters stood ready to take to the air. If all went according to plan, the tree would be down within the hour and everybody would pull back to the JSA and Camp Liberty Bell.

Then the waiting game would begin. Nobody ventured a guess as to how the North Koreans were going to respond to today's actions. The PKA was just too unpredictable. Knowing this, many soldiers, Harm included, had taken time to write final letters to friends and loved ones, preparing for the worst. Within the hour, they could be at war, and although nobody questioned the necessity of what they were about to do, all were tense and edgy.

At oh six forty five, General Singleton approached the assembled group. Silence descended as everybody stopped what they were doing and came to attention. The general addressed Lieutenant Mathers, who was in charge of the operation, but he spoke loudly enough for everyone to hear.

"I've just handed a note to the Joint Duty Officer. He will pass it on to my North Korean counterpart. In it, we have informed the North Koreans that at oh seven hundred hours, we will be entering the Joint Security Area to commence pruning the tree in the vicinity of Observation Post three. Should there be no interference, we will depart the JSA compound immediately upon the completion of our mission." He looked around, making absolutely certain he had the attention of every individual in the group. "You are authorized to take any action Lieutenant Mathers deems necessary in making sure that tree comes down. Am I understood?"

"Yes, Sir!" Seventy-six voices answered at once, their tones firm and confident.

"Move out!"

The men piled into the trucks, and they rumbled off. The short trip passed in silence, each man's thoughts focused on the task ahead and its possible repercussions. Harm had been mildly disappointed to note that there were no women in the group today. There would have been poetic justice in their presence. In the end, though, he just wanted this to be over so he could get back to Mac. He had written a letter to her, and to his mother and brother, and they were safely packed away in his sea bag. He hoped the letters would never be delivered, but he felt better for having written them. If something did go wrong today, at least he would have a chance to say goodbye.

Within moments, the trucks rumbled to a stop, and soldiers piled out. Few words were spoken as they formed a tight double ring around the tree, under which the engineers were already setting up their ladders. The sun, still low in the early morning sky, cast a pale golden glow on what should have been a peaceful scene. The Poplar tree was both taller and fuller than any of its neighbors, its thick branches filled with birds calling out to each other as they began the day in piping voices that carried clearly on the light breeze. Not a single man spoke, and in the quiet, the Sachon River could be heard as it tumbled under the Bridge of No Return.

Harm looked across to where a small group of heavily armed North Korean soldiers was gathering on the other side of the river. They looked puzzled at first, and then their faces darkened with anger as they realized what was happening. Harm recognized Lieutenant Kim in the group. He was heavily armed, like his peers, and he scowled darkly at the American soldiers who insisted upon challenging his authority.

The loud buzz of chainsaws coming to life blared a sudden challenge, and dozens of small birds flew up in a noisily startled mass. The jarring mechanical sound brought an abrupt end to the tense standoff as Kim stepped threateningly onto the Bridge, followed by a handful of his men. On the other side, twenty grim and angry American soldiers stepped forward, their makeshift weapons raised in silent warning. Evidently recognizing the folly of provoking a fight, Kim stepped back, lowering his weapon only slightly, and turned back to watch the work crew.

A loud crack split the air as one huge branch was severed from its trunk and fell to the ground. The first crash was soon followed by two more, and soon a nine foot tall stump was all that remained of the stately old tree. Homeless birds circled overhead for a few moments before perching in other trees along the river, their voices providing background music as the work crew packed up their gear and the trucks rumbled back to life. Harm settled himself in the back of a truck and watched the helpless frustration of the North Koreans as they pulled away, a small smile of satisfaction on his face.

Back at the base, jubilant soldiers piled out of the trucks, slapping each other on the back and celebrating their success. Harm's satisfaction was more subdued. The tree was down, and the North Koreans had been sent a message, but in a hospital room thirty miles away, Mac still lay in a coma. This thought hovered in the back of his mind throughout the debriefing and after action reports. When he'd finished the tedious work, Harm went back to his room at the VOQ. He had some telephone calls to make, and he wanted to be alone when he did it. The base was still locked down, and would likely stay that way for at least forty eight hours, so he couldn't visit Mac, but he could at least call her and tell her what had happened.

"Critical Care Unit."

"Hello. This is Commander Rabb. I'm calling to check on Colonel Mackenzie."

"One moment, please." Harm expected to hear the same clatter and rustle that he usually did as Mac's file was pulled out, so he was surprised when the hospital's on-hold music began playing in his ear. He barely had time to become concerned when Dr. Lee's voice came over the line.

"Commander Rabb?"

"Yes. Is everything all right?"

"Actually, she's doing much better today. Her fever has broken and we were able to remove the shunt this morning without complications. We still have her on the respirator, but if her condition continues to improve we'd like to try turning it off later this afternoon. Can you be here for that?"

Harm sighed his frustration. There was nothing he wanted more, but he knew it was impossible.

"I'm sorry, doctor, we're locked down here. It'll probably be another couple of days before I can get off base."

"I understand." The doctor's voice gentled. He knew his next words would probably frighten the commander, but Harm was the only one qualified to make the decision that had to be made now.

"Commander, I don't expect any problems this afternoon, but I need to ask you this. What would you like us to do if the colonel fails to begin breathing on her own?"

Harm's heart slammed in his chest. First the doctor had told him that Mac was improving. Now he wanted to know what to do if she didn't start breathing on her own?

"I thought you said she was doing better," he finally said.

"She is. But there's really no way to be certain how much brain damage she's suffered as a result of her injury. Best case scenario, she'll fully recover, but there's just no way to know for sure until she wakes up."

Harm was faced with an agonizing decision. He knew Mac wouldn't want to spend the rest of her life hooked up to machines, but he didn't know if he had the strength to say the words she would want him to say right now. He stalled for time.

"When will you do it?"

"Well, if her vital signs look good and her fever stays down, I'm aiming for sometime around seventeen hundred hours this afternoon."

Harm looked at his watch. It was early yet, not quite noon. He took a deep breath, and gave an order he hoped would never be carried out.

"If she doesn't respond . . . let her go." The words, spoken slowly and softly, clearly communicated the agonizing pain Harm felt at the mere thought of losing Mac. Having said them, he sat down heavily on the bed, the weight of his decision dragging his shoulders down as he dropped his head into his free hand.

"I'll note your orders in her chart," said Dr. Lee. "Commander?"

"Yes?"

"The colonel's a strong, healthy woman. It is my professional opinion that she's going to come out of this."

"Thank you, Doctor," said Harm, knowing the words to be completely inadequate to what he felt right now. "I appreciate all you're doing for her."

"You're welcome. Would you like to speak to her for a few minutes?"

"Yes, I would."

As had become their custom, Harm disconnected the call, immediately hitting the speed dial for Dr. Lee's cell phone.

"Commander?"

"Yes."

"Just a moment." There was the usual faint rustle as the doctor put the telephone near Mac's ear, and then Harm began to speak, longing desperately to be by her side, but forced to settle for talking to her.

"Mac? It's me again. How are you doing today?" He paused, wishing for all the world that she could answer him - tell him she was fine and that she was ready to start breathing on her own again. "It's gone, you know, Mac. The tree, I mean. We cut it down this morning. Our friend Lieutenant Kim looked pretty mad about it. He and some of his men took a couple of steps across the bridge toward us, but they were outnumbered almost ten to one. Luckily for him, he changed his mind and settled for glaring at us across the river while we finished the job your group started." He shook his head. "I wish you could have been there, Mac. There was something so satisfying in hearing that last branch crash to the ground. I think our message got across loud and clear. You don't mess with Americans and get away with it."

Harm stood and began slowly pacing the room as he told Mac all about the morning's activities. He knew that when she woke up he'd probably have to go through it all again, but he needed to let her know now that nobody had let the North Koreans get away with what they had done to Mac and the others a few short days ago. He even told her about the birds, describing their frantic whirling flight and the startled cries that had somehow sounded so plaintive in the early morning air. He finished the story and sat down on the edge of his bed again, thinking carefully about what he would say next. He didn't know if he'd get another chance to talk with her before they turned off the respirator, didn't know if he'd ever have another chance to tell her how he felt. He took a deep breath and plunged in.

"Sarah, the doctor tells me that you're doing better, and I'm thrilled to hear that. But he also tells me that he's going to turn off your respirator this afternoon and see how you do. He says…never mind what he says. You don't need to know that. But you do need to know that I love you. You need to understand that no matter how randomly dense I may be at times, you've become the most important person in my life, and I don't think I can go on without you. I know, stupid of me, huh? To wait until you're in a coma to finally work up the courage to tell you how I feel?"

He shrugged his shoulders, even though he knew there was nobody around to see him.

"You accused me once before of only showing interest in you when you have one foot out the door, and I guess this is one more example of that. I promise you this, though, Sarah. Come back to me this time, and you'll never doubt my feelings again." He paused, hearing her voice in his mind. "I know, I should never make a promise I can't keep." He smiled slightly as he remembered when she had said those words to him before. "I can keep this one, Mac, and believe me, I will. Just…work for this, Mac. Fight. I'm here, rooting for you, begging you to come back to me, but I can't do this for you. God knows, I would if I could. But I can't. All I can do is tell you how much I love you, and pray. I'm doing my part, Mac. The rest is up to you."

"Commander?" Doctor Lee's voice.

"Yes."

"I'm sorry, but I need to disconnect the line now. I have a meeting upstairs in two minutes. Would you like us to call this afternoon?"

"Yes. Please. And doctor?"

"Yes?"

"Thanks again for all you're doing."

"You're welcome."

There was a click, and the line went dead. Harm sat for a minute, holding the silent phone in his hand and sending yet another fervent prayer heavenward. Please, God. Please let her come back to me. He sighed and glanced at his watch again, mentally calculating the time difference back home. It was late in the states, after twenty three hundred hours, but he hadn't talked to Mattie in days, and he needed to see how she was doing. He punched in the number and leaned back against the pillows.

"Jen and Mattie's place." Harm grinned at that.

"Mattie, it's Harm."

"Harm! I've been worried about you. You haven't called in days!"

"I know. I'm sorry. Forgive me?"

"I'll think about it," she teased, and then sobered. "How's Mac?"

"How much has Jen told you?"

"Not much. Just that she was pretty banged up and nobody knew if she was going to make it. I think that's all they told her at work. Everybody's really worried."

"I am too, Mattie. She's had a tough time of it. She's doing better now, but they're taking her off the respirator this afternoon, and her doctor won't predict whether or not Mac will be able to breathe on her own."

"Wow. Harm, I'm really sorry. She's a great lady."

"Yes. She is." He decided to change the subject before they got maudlin.

"How's school going?"

"Fine." Harm narrowed his eyes suspiciously. He hadn't been a dad for long, but it hadn't taken him long to learn how to tell when Mattie was hiding something.

"Fine?"

"Yup."

"Uh huh. Why don't I believe you?"

"Gee . . . I don't know." Her voice was too innocent. Too bright.

"What's going on, Mattie?"

"It's nothing, really. I can handle it."

"Tell me. It'll give me something to think about besides Mac." Harm had discovered that if Mattie was convinced she was helping him, she'd usually be cooperative. She hated it when she thought he was trying to coddle her. Mattie was kind of like Mac that way. Independent and headstrong. He grinned involuntarily. He sure knew how to pick 'em.

Mattie considered his request, and then gave in.

"There's this jerk in my class . . ."

"Jerk?"

"Yeah. You know the type. Tall. Kind of good looking. Thinks he owns the world." Harm cringed. He'd been described that way himself occasionally. Hearing the description tied to the word 'jerk' was a little disconcerting.

"And?"

"Well, last week he stole my math homework and wouldn't give it back to me until I called him 'your highness.' That was pretty annoying."

Harm fought a grin. "I imagine it was."

"Then today in the lunch room, he walked behind me and 'accidentally' tripped. Dumped his entire tray down my back. I wanted to kill him!"

"Wow. I'll bet that made you mad."

"Mad?!? I was furious! I got even, though."

"Oh? How'd you do that?"

"It was easy. Just hooked my leg under my chair and tripped him. Down he went. Right in the middle of the mess he'd made when he dumped his tray." She giggled.

"Ouch. I hope you didn't hurt him."

"Nah. He's too thick skinned. I doubt he even felt it." Her tone changed then, irritation creeping back in.

"You know the worst part, though?"

"What?"

"I'm the one who got in trouble! He gets to go home and change, and I get detention! How fair is that?"

"Well, you did trip him, you know. He could have been hurt."

Mattie made an exasperated sound under her breath.

"I knew you'd see it their way. You know, you're taking this fatherhood thing a little too much to heart."

"I don't think so. If anything, I'm not taking it enough to heart. I still haven't found us a house, you know."

"No rush. I kind of like things the way they are." Harm chuckled at that. Somehow he wasn't surprised.

"He likes you, you know," he said, a smile in his voice.

"Ewwww . . . No way!" She was quick to retort, but Harm detected a definite note of hope in her young voice.

"Yup. Sure does. I'll bet he asks you to the next school dance."

"You think so?"

"I'd bet on it."

"I wonder what I'd wear . . ."

Harm laughed. He might be getting older, but he wasn't too old to remember what teenagers were like.

"Listen, Mattie, I need to get going. I'll try to call back soon, ok?"

"Yeah, ok. Take care of yourself, ok?"

"You bet. Listen, before I go, can I talk to Jen for a minute?"

He could almost hear Mattie rolling her eyes at that.

"Yeah, I guess. Just a sec."

"Jennifer!"

Harm cringed and pulled the phone away from his ear, shaking his head ruefully. That girl had quite a set of lungs.

"Commander?"

"Hi, Jen."

"How's Colonel Mackenzie?"

"Not out of the woods yet, I'm afraid. I haven't been able to spend much time with her. Things have been a little crazy. When this is all over and we're safely back home I'll tell you all about it."

"I'm counting on it, Sir."

"Listen, I know I've not been checking in very often. How's Mattie been doing?"

"She's fine, Sir." Her voice dropped to a near whisper. "She's having some trouble with a kid at school. Between you and me, Sir, I think she likes him."

"I sort of got that impression myself," Harm answered with a grin. "I understand they had a bit of a problem in the cafeteria?"

Jen laughed. "Yes, Sir. I think she lost her temper. Ended up with detention."

"So I hear."

"She's ok, Sir. Just typical teenage stuff. You don't need to worry."

"I know. She's in good hands." He paused. "Listen, Jen, I want to thank you again for stepping up to help out like this. I feel like I took advantage of you, and . . . well, I'm sorry."

"No need to worry, Sir. Mattie's a good kid. We get along great."

"Well, I'll be home just as soon as I can. In the meantime, try to keep her out of trouble, would you?"

"I'll do my best, Sir."

"Thanks"

"Commander?" Jen's voice had turned serious.

"Yes?"

"Tell the colonel we're all rooting for her."

"I will, Jen. Thanks."

"Take care."

"You too."

Harm ended the call and stood up. He should probably check in with the admiral, but his ear ached from being on the phone for so long already. Besides, the admiral probably already knew all about this morning's events from General Singleton. Right now, he needed to get some food in his stomach. This morning's coffee had given him the caffeine jolt he'd needed to stay alert, but that had long since worn off.

Ten minutes later he sat by himself at a small table, lunch tray in front of him. Food still held no appeal, but he hadn't eaten anything since that sandwich his first day on base, and he knew that he needed to get something solid into his stomach. He toyed with the flavorless stew and listened idly to the conversations flowing around him.

The men were jubilant, more drunk on the success of their morning endeavors than on the cold bottles of beer they held in their hands. Harm understood their need to unwind and de-stress after the mission. After all, this one had been one for the record books. How many men would be able to some day tell their grandchildren that they had nearly witnessed the beginning of World War III – and all over a tree? Toast after toast was offered up in celebration as the men attempted to outdo each other's creative insults against the PKA.

Eventually, the general air of celebration began to grate on his nerves, and he considered taking his tray back to his quarters. Before he could do that, though, a conversation at a nearby table caught his attention.

" . . . Mackenzie?"

"Yeah, that was her name."

"Why do you suppose they sent a woman out here, anyway?"

"No idea. Pretty stupid if you ask me. Women don't belong here."

Harm felt his blood pressure begin to rise, but held his temper. His better judgment seemed to have taken a hike without him, though, because rather then leaving the mess hall, he stayed to listen.

". . . hear that she's the one who told them to keep going, even though we were outnumbered. Maybe if she hadn't been there, none of this would have happened." Oblivious to Harm's rapid and menacing approach, he went on. "I mean, just look at the mess we're in now. Two of our men are dead, and eight more are laid up in Seoul . . . Hey!"

His cry of surprise ended on a gurgle as he found himself up against a wall, a tall angry looking man holding him suspended in midair, his feet flailing uselessly while he gasped for breath. Evidently, Harm had had enough.

"Do you have any idea who you're talking about?" Harm asked, his voice low and dangerous. At the private's helpless shake of the head, he went on.

"Colonel Mackenzie eats toads like you for breakfast. She served in the Gulf War, in Bosnia, in Okinawa and in Indonesia, where she earned the Meritorious Service Medal. She speaks four languages, three of them fluently, and could kick box you into an early grave. Right now she's lying in a hospital in Seoul because she didn't back down from the North Koreans. She almost died serving her country, and when she finally went down, it was because some cowardly jackass hit her from behind." His voice notched down even further, anger dripping from the edges of each carefully spoken word. "Now, I'd suggest that in the future you refrain from placing blame unless you know what the hell you're talking about."

Before the soldier could do more than shake his head, a booming voice sliced through the air.

"Rabb! Put him down!" General Singleton cut his way through the suddenly silent crowd as Harm slowly and reluctantly lowered his victim back to his feet. The young private groped blindly for a chair and collapsed into it, quickly scooting himself out of Harm's reach. Harm turned to face the general, no trace of remorse in his steely expression.

"This 'gentleman' seems to think Colonel Mackenzie got what she deserved. I was merely . . ." He paused for a minute, consciously slowing his breathing, the adrenalin seeping from him like rapidly melting ice. ". . . setting the record straight."

General Singleton rounded on the two privates.

"You idiots! The colonel is a decorated Marine and a highly regarded JAG officer, not to mention this man's partner." He jabbed a meaty finger toward Harm and shook his head. "Her service file is thicker than your arm and fairly drips with stories about her honor and courage under fire. If you ask me, and you didn't, I'd rather have one Colonel Mackenzie on my team then a dozen of you! Now, I don't care what the hell your personal opinions are, but for your sake, you'd better keep them to yourselves from now on, because the next time, I might not be around to save your sorry asses."

He turned toward Harm, his expression dark and angry.

"You! Come with me." He left the mess, not even bothering to see if Harm followed him. Harm hadn't completely lost it, though. With one final withering glance toward the stunned soldiers, he turned on his heel and followed the general out the door.

Neither of the men spoke until Singleton's office door slammed shut behind them. Singleton was shorter than Harm, and wider, but he was solid muscle, and Harm was smart enough to be wary of challenging him. Once inside the relative safety of the office, Singleton rounded on him and Harm braced himself for another attack. Still angry from the incident at the mess hall, he was not surprised to feel another rush of adrenalin. Singleton had been after him since he'd gotten here, and he'd just about reached his limit.

"Who the hell do you think you are?" asked the general in the same dangerous tone of voice Harm had once heard from the admiral.

"Sir?"

"You've been nothing but trouble since you got here. You run off to Seoul every chance you get, you're on the phone at all hours…Hell, you can't even be bothered to shave! You were an embarrassment to me at the Joint Chiefs meeting, almost managed to single-handedly start World War III, and now you're picking fights with my men! I've had it, mister. I'm not throwing you in the brig, but you damn well better believe I'll be talking to your commanding officer. As soon as this thing is over, I want you off my base!"

Harm stood stonily silent, forcing himself not to react to the general's scathing tones. The effort took every ounce of his concentration, but he knew that if he gave in to temptation now, it would cost him his career.

"Sit your ass down in that chair. I want you to hear this." Singleton indicated a single folding metal chair in front of his desk, and Harm sat, his body rigid, nerves on edge. He felt like a school boy called to the principal's office for discipline, and he hated every heartbeat of it.

General Singleton sat down and opened Harm's service file. He picked up the phone and dialed a number.

"This is General Singleton at Camp Liberty Bell. I need a number, please.

"Yes, that's right.

"Admiral A.J. Chegwidden, Judge Advocate General.

"Yes, I'm aware of the time difference, that's why I need his home number."

Harm cringed inwardly. A.J. did not handle late night calls very well. He knew that the chewing out he was about to get would be particularly ugly.

"Got it. Thanks."

Singleton disconnected and dialed the series of numbers he had jotted down on a legal pad. There was a pause while he waited for the admiral to pick up. Then...

"Hello, Admiral Chegwidden? This is General Singleton at Camp Liberty Bell.

"What? No. Nothing like that. Operation George Washington went off without a hitch a few hours ago. Now we're all just waiting to see what the North Koreans will do next."

Harm only heard one side of the conversation, but he imagined the admiral had been afraid Singleton's call meant bad news. It did, but the news was of a different nature than Chegwidden expected.

"Actually, I'm calling about Commander Rabb."

A short pause, and then . . .

"Yes, there've been some difficulties. He's here now. May I put you on speaker?"

Evidently, the admiral agreed, because Singleton reached across his desk and punched a button on his telephone. Immediately, A.J.'s voice boomed into the small space.

"Rabb! What've you done now?"

"Sir?"

"Never mind. Singleton? What's the story?"

Harm listened while the general outlined his more heinous crimes, seething at the unfair slant Singleton gave the story as he told it. All of it – the trips to Seoul, the Joint Chiefs meeting, his preoccupation – everything right up through the incident in the mess hall, was listed in such a way as to make it sound as though Harm was a completely incompetent officer. When he finally finished, there was a silence.

"Well, Rabb? What've you got to say for yourself?"

Harm's pride would not allow him to beg forgiveness nor even to attempt to set the story straight. Standing up for himself right now would only make him look worse.

"Nothing, Sir. The facts are correct as stated by the general." He said it stiffly, and with dignity, and was rewarded with a momentary look of surprise on Singleton's face that was quickly masked by impassivity. Harm wondered briefly what had caused the look, but was brought back to the present by A.J.'s angry voice.

"Commander, you'd better get your act together or so help me God I'll come over there and kick your ass the length of the DMZ and back. Do I make myself clear?"

"Yes, Sir."

"Good. Now get the hell out of there. I want to speak to the general alone."

"Yes, Sir." Harm didn't need any encouragement. He was out of his chair and closing the door gently behind him before the general could have time to consider the legality of the admiral's order. He went directly back to his room at the VOQ, collapsing on the bed with a long frustrated sigh. He had never served under such difficult conditions before. If he had, he might have gotten out of the Navy before this. Singleton was an insufferable buffoon, and Harm disliked him more every time he came into contact with him. He was still seething with anger when his cell phone rang. He glanced at his watch, surprised to see how late it had gotten.

"Rabb"

"Commander Rabb. This is Doctor Lee. I'm glad I caught you."

Momentary fear rushed through Harm, and he sat up.

"Mac?"

"She's ok. In fact, that's why I'm calling. I know we said we weren't going to do this until seventeen hundred hours, but her vital signs have been steadily improving all day. I think she'll be ok if we do it now."

"Are you sure Doctor? I don't want to push this too hard and . . ." He couldn't finish, but Dr. Lee guessed his thoughts.

"I don't think we're pushing. I honestly think she's ready. You'll have to trust me on this one."

Trusting people was not something that came easily to Harmon Rabb Junior, but without medical training, it seemed he didn't have a choice.

"O.K., Doctor. Let's do it."

Harm stood, nervously pacing back and forth across the small room. He was terrified of what was about to happen, but he knew they had to take a chance. Mac couldn't stay on the respirator forever. She had to take this step. God, how he wished he could be there to hold her hand and cheer her on.

"Come on, Mac, you can do this. Breathe." He said the words softly, fully aware that Mac couldn't hear them, and yet hoping that somehow, through whatever connection bound them together, she would know.

"Commander?"

"Yes?"

"Are you ready?"

"Ready as I'll ever be."

"Would you like me to put the phone on the pillow?"

"Yes, please."

There were muffled sounds and then momentary silence. Distantly, he heard the doctor tell somebody to turn off the respirator. This was it. The moment of truth. The moment when he'd know once and for all whether or not she would come back to him.

"Please, Mac. Please." He begged.

"Breathe, Mac. Come on. You can do this." His voice was low, intense.

More distant sounds. Then Doctor Lee's voice.

"She's not breathing, Commander. If she doesn't start soon, we may be in trouble."

Harm almost panicked then. She couldn't give up now. Not when they'd been through so much together. Not when he was finally ready to commit to her – to a relationship and a future together. Oh God.

Without realizing it, he began yelling at her - desperate to evoke a response.

"Mac! Is that it? You're just going to quit? Give up? You'd let the North Koreans gloat that they took down another American? Is that what you want?"

An alarm sounded. High pitched. Constant. Terrifying. Harm began to cry with frustration and fear. His voice became cajoling. He knew his desperation was obvious to anybody within earshot, but he didn't care. As long as Mac responded, nothing else mattered.

"Mac. Please. I love you. Please come back to me. Give me a chance to hold you in my arms and swear to you that I'll never let you go again. You've got so much to live for. Don't let go now. Come on, Mac. One breath. Please? For me?"

Silence. Somebody had turned off the shrieking alarm. Everybody waited. And prayed. And then . . .

"There she goes." Doctor Lee's voice, jubilant with relief. Evidently, he picked up the phone, because his voice was suddenly much closer.

"She's breathing, Commander. That was a close call. She had me worried. But I think she's going to make it now. We just need to give her a few more days to come out of this coma, and then she'll need somebody by her side to help her start the long road back to recovery.

"Thank God." Harm didn't attempt to disguise the tears in his voice. He suspected the doctor had heard that sound before and understood what it meant.

"Can I talk to her for a few more minutes?"

"Sure. I need to make some notes on her chart. I'll be back in about ten minutes."

"Thank you. And Doctor Lee?"

"Yes?"

"Thanks."

"You're welcome. Colonel Mackenzie's lucky to have a man who loves her as much as you do."

"Thanks."

He waited until he was certain he was alone with her before he began talking again.

"Mac … Sarah … I don't know when I've ever been so scared. Me. Mr. Ice-blood fighter pilot. I was so terrified I couldn't see straight. When that alarm went off, I thought I'd lost you." He paused, drying his eyes on his sleeve before going on.

"Don't you ever scare me like that again, do you hear me?" He chuckled softly, relief evident in his voice. "For once, Mac, you weren't the only one crying. But if you ever tell anybody that you finally made me crack, I swear, I'll deny it."

Crisis past, Harm settled down to tell Mac what had happened during the long hours of the afternoon. He left out a few of the more colorful details, figuring there'd be time enough to tell her those when she was up and about. For now, He just wanted her to hear his voice. Needed her to know that he was as close to her as he was able to get right now and that he was praying for her swift recovery. All too soon, he heard Doctor Lee come back on the line.

"Commander Rabb?"

"Yes?"

"Colonel Mackenzie needs to rest now." Harm almost laughed outright at the seeming absurdity of that. Mac had been "resting" for almost a week. He didn't comment, though. It didn't seem right to tease the doctor who had just given him back the one person who was more important to him than life itself.

"I understand," he said instead, though he'd have continued to talk to her for hours if he'd been allowed.

"It's just about seventeen hundred hours now. I doubt there'll be much change in the colonel's condition during the night. If you'd like to call back in the morning . . .?"

"Absolutely."

"All right. I'll talk to you then."

"Goodbye, Doctor."

Harm hung up. It had been another unbelievably draining day, and even though it was only early evening, he felt like he was moving through quicksand. Deciding that a good workout might clear his mind, he changed his clothes and headed for the base fitness center.

0847 Zulu (1747 Local)
121st Military Hospital
Seoul, South Korea

Beep Beep Beep Beep The repetitive sound puzzled Mac. Where was it coming from? What did it mean? Her body felt stiff and sluggish, refusing to move when she asked it to. She struggled to open her eyes, becoming increasingly frustrated when the stubborn lids refused to move. She fought to understand where she was and what was happening to her, but her mind was blank. She'd been sent somewhere. That much she remembered. But she didn't know who had sent her or where she'd gone. Gradually, it dawned on her that she was lying in a bed, and she tried to stretch out her hand, hoping to gain information by touch since her eyelids wouldn't cooperate. Concentrating all of her energy on her hand, she commanded it to move. Beside her, there was a sudden rustle of fabric and then the soft pad of rubber soled footsteps. She heard a door open and a voice call out.

"Doctor Lee? I think Colonel Mackenzie is waking up."

'Doctor? What doctor? And why would anybody get excited about me waking up?' Mac was puzzled. None of this made sense. She decided that gaining control of her body was more important than solving a mystery, and redirected her attention to her eyelids. Come on. This was ridiculous. She was a highly trained combat marine. Her finely toned muscles had seen her through all kind of scrapes. So why couldn't she get one tiny little eyelid to function? Before she could panic, a calm, reassuring voice sounded close beside her.

"Glad you decided to join us, Colonel."

She wanted to tell the voice it was crazy, that she didn't want to join anybody. And she wanted to get her damned eyes open. She struggled, forcing every bit of energy she could muster into this one simple task.

Open. But her eyelids stubbornly resisted the silent order. Mac's entire being existed only in her mind right now. Somehow, she had to teach her body how to function again.

"Colonel, don't panic. What you're feeling right now is normal."

THIS was normal? For who? A slug? Mac was feeling a lot of things right now, but "normal" was definitely not one of them.

Mac had momentarily stopped listening to the voice while she struggled, but its deep resonance was soothing somehow, and despite her frustration, she began to listen more carefully to what it was saying.

"Colonel, you've been pretty sick. Had us all worried there for a while."

Us who?

"You're probably going to find that it's really hard to make your body cooperate with you for a while."

Impossible was more like it. Did this guy have any clue what he was talking about?

"I think you're going to be ok, Colonel."

He thinks? What the hell does he mean by that?

"You've been asleep for almost a week, and some of your muscles have taken a bit of a vacation. It'll take some work, but we'll have you back on your feet again in no time."

Mac sincerely hoped this man knew what he was talking about, but right now, all she wanted to do was sleep. The simple task of moving a single finger had completely worn her out.

"I imagine you're pretty tired. Sleep now, and we'll talk again when you wake up."

Mac allowed herself to drift back into oblivion, completely unaware of Dr. Lee rearranging her pillows and checking her vital signs, a pleased look on his face.

When next she woke up, Mac had no idea how much time had passed, but the steady beeping sound had stopped, replaced by some type of soothing music. Classical, she thought. Beethoven, maybe? She didn't take time to puzzle over it. She had more important things to do – starting with getting her eyes open.

Mac focused all of her energy and concentration on her eyes, grimly determined to finally see where she was. She felt somebody take her hand. By the feel, it was a man, and she wondered if it was Harm. Then she heard the voice again and knew that it wasn't. Disappointed, she went back to working on her stubborn eyelids. Finally, she felt them respond to her command.

Mac found herself in a dimly lit room, which turned out to be a good thing, since she had a splitting headache. Gradually, her eyes picked out the form of a kind looking older man sitting beside her bed. She didn't recognize him, and wondered fleetingly who he was. That question was quickly abandoned for more urgent concerns. Where was she? Why was she here? Why were there no familiar faces?

"Hi there," he said, seeing her watching him. "Did you have a good nap?"

Didn't he say something before about me being asleep for a week?

"You look like you're feeling a little better. I'm glad to see you've gotten your eyes to open. That's a good sign. If you'll bear with me, I'll try to set your mind at ease about a few things, ok?"

Mac slowly blinked her eyes at him, hoping he would know that she meant that as a 'yes.' Her mouth felt like it'd just done a short ration tour in Iraq without her, and she was desperate for some moisture. Evidently, the doctor was aware of her discomfort, because he offered her some ice chips before he went on.

"You're in the 121st Military General Hospital in Seoul, South Korea. You've been with us for just about a week, now." Mac blinked at him again, noticed it had gotten significantly easier, and went back to trying to make her hands move while she listened, grateful for the cool drip of water down the back of her parched throat.

"My name is Doctor Lee. I lead the medical team that has been looking after you."

I needed a team?

"You were pretty badly injured when you came in here. You had three broken ribs, a punctured lung, and a dislocated shoulder."

How did that happen?

"The worst of it, though," Doctor Lee went on, "was the head injury."

That would explain the headache.

"We had to do an operation to repair the damage to your skull. I expect you to make a full recovery, but it's not going to happen overnight." He picked up her hand to check her pulse, apparently not willing to completely trust her well being to the complicated machinery that surrounded the bed. Satisfied, he gently laid her hand back on the bed before going on. "You've probably noticed some memory loss, but rest assured that this is normal for an injury of this type and severity. With time and luck, it'll all come back to you."

While the doctor had been talking, Mac had been struggling to make her hand move. Finally, she felt a definite twitch, and she looked up to see Doctor Lee smiling at her.

"Very good, Colonel. Keep that up and we'll have you back on your feet in no time."

Mac closed her eyes, worn out with the effort to make her muscles comply with her wishes. As she drifted off, she wondered why she hadn't seen or heard from Harm yet. She remembered how frantic she had been with worry when his plane had crashed in the Atlantic a few years ago and was disappointed that he apparently didn't feel the same level of care and concern for her. Realizing that once again she was going to have to make it through a difficult experience on her own, she allowed the darkness to take her and dropped into a deep sleep.

Mac was momentarily disoriented when she woke up and found herself in a new room. This one was brighter, flooded with warm sunlight. Most of the machines were gone, left behind in a fuzzy no-man's land she could barely even remember. She knew that her condition was continuing to improve when her internal clock kicked in, telling her that it was early morning. She gave herself some leeway for inaccuracy. After all, anybody who'd spent a week in a coma deserved a little room for error.

Mac decided it was time for a little self evaluation. She felt stiff and achy, like she did when she awoke from an unusually deep and dreamless sleep, and she still had a splitting headache, though it had eased slightly since her last awakening. . She desperately wanted to roll on her side and get a better look around her, but her muscles, normally strong and flexible, refused to comply with her orders. She settled for an experimental finger flex and swore to herself that by the end of the day she would regain control of her arms. There was no way she was going to spend one more minute in this bed than she absolutely had to.

She turned her head, pleased when her neck did as it was told. Her initial scan of the room told her that she was alone, the only other bed unoccupied and neatly made up. A small television hung from a wall bracket, and a disturbingly cheerful painting adorned the wall opposite her head. The walls, painted a pale yellow and bordered with a bold geometric pattern, were probably meant to look cheerful, but they only annoyed Mac, whose sense of style was offended by anything overstated. She preferred a subtle, classic look, and this room was anything but subtle.

Mac realized she was thirsty, and searched for a way to get a drink, eventually managing to get her hand up high enough to activate the nurse's call button on the rail of her bed. Moments later, a cheerful young nurse bustled in, her shoes squeaking annoyingly against the polished linoleum floor.

"You're awake! That's good news. I'm Mitsie. I can't tell you how excited I am to have you on my ward. You're a hero, you know. I heard how you fought all those awful Koreans. I am so honored to be your nurse."

Mac rolled her eyes, but Mitsie didn't see it. She was too busy adjusting Mac's covers and checking her vital signs. Just what she needed. A cheerleader for a nurse. She cleared her throat, relieved to find that the soreness had abated some and that her saliva glands were functioning somewhat better than they had earlier.

"Excuse me," she said, but her voice, ragged and weak, hardly sounded like her own. "Please. May I have some water?"

Mitsie straightened, surprise and pleasure lighting her face.

"You're talking! Oh! That's just wonderful! Wait until I tell Dr. Lee!" Mitsie bustled from the room, leaving Mac puzzled, thirsty, and wondering just what type of hoops she would have to jump through in order to earn a simple glass of water or a few ice chips.

A few minutes later, Dr. Lee entered the room, a smile lighting his face when he saw that Mac was still awake.

"Hi there," he said. "Starting to feel a little better?"

"Not really," Mac whispered hoarsely. "Thirsty …"

"I imagine you are! I wonder that Mitsie didn't get you some water …" He sounded annoyed as he reached for a pitcher on the table beside the bed and filled what looked like a sports bottle. The cap he screwed on the top had a long tube attached. He fixed the bottle to a bracket on Mac's bedrail, and directed the end of the tube into her mouth. Mac sucked in a draft of cool water, her eyes full of gratitude. While she drank, Dr. Lee talked.

"I'm sure you've noticed your new accommodations. We thought it time for you to graduate out of the Critical Care Unit. You probably feel like you've been mowed down by a gorilla, but rest assured that you will recover in time. Now. I know you're anxious to get on your feet, but I'll tell you right off that it's not going to happen overnight. Your brain forgot a few things while it slept, and we'll have to teach it all over again. I fully expect you to make a complete recovery, though, and you should be back on your feet in a few weeks." He smiled at Mac and reached for her hand, checking her pulse almost without awareness of what he was doing.

"I contacted Commander Rabb at Camp Liberty Bell. He said to tell you he's happy you're awake and that he'll try to get down to see you in a few days." He laid her hand back down on the covers, patting it in a fatherly way while he smiled at her.

"Harm? Here?" Mac croaked out in surprise. She hadn't expected that.

"Yes. He's here. Well, up at Camp Liberty Bell, actually. Been there all week. I understand he took over for you when you were hurt."

Mac's mind stumbled over this new information. Harm was here. In South Korea. And yet she was alone? He hadn't even bothered to come visit her after the doctor had told him she was awake. Her mind grappled with the news. Despite the roller coaster ups and downs of their relationship, Mac had thought she and Harm meant something to each other. The dawning realization that she'd been wrong devastated her, and she turned her head away to look out the window, not wanting Doctor Lee to see the pain in her eyes. Apparently, he didn't notice anything wrong, because his voice was upbeat and cheerful when he went on.

"Looks like you're doing just fine. In fact, I'm so pleased with your status that I'm going to go ahead and make arrangements for you to meet with a physical therapist. How does that sound?"

"Great," Mac said, but her voice sounded flat, even to her own ears.

The doctor left soon after, and Mitsie bustled back into the room, her cheerful voice making Mac want to scream with frustration.

"I'll bet you'd like a nice warm sponge bath," she crooned as she fluttered about the bed in a manner that reminded Mac of a trapped sparrow she'd once rescued from a hardware store.

"I'm ok. Really. You don't need to worry about it."

"Nonsense. You'll feel so much better when you're all clean."

Mac sighed and gave in, reluctantly acknowledging that she was in no condition to take on even this wisp of a nurse. She endured the humiliating experience in silence, grateful when it finally ended so that she could drift into another nap. Who would have guessed that sleeping for a week would be so exhausting?

1015 Zulu (1915 Local)
Camp Liberty Bell
Seoul, South Korea

It had been two days since Mac had been removed from the respirator, and though Harm called the hospital every time he got a chance, there had been no change in her condition. Camp Liberty Bell was still locked down while the bureaucrats traded insults. Harm was reminded of a couple of kids on a playground, arguing over a toy truck until they finally broke it. He shook his head. He just wished they'd settle it so that he could go to Mac. It was killing him to be away from her for this long, and telephone calls just weren't the same as being there to see her in person.

He'd worked hard, trying to keep busy and distracted so that he wouldn't go completely crazy over his forced confinement, but he hadn't been entirely successful. His mind insisted on entertaining itself with thoughts of Mac at every opportunity. As a result, he wasn't sleeping well, which made him tired, cranky, and less than willing to make allowances for any kind of stupidity. He wasn't alone in his sour mood. Everybody on base was grumpy and short tempered, itching for freedom and a change of scenery. Harm just hoped the North Koreans wouldn't do anything stupid. The men wouldn't need much of an excuse to pick a fight, and once started, they'd be difficult to stop.

This particular evening, the third since the tree had come down, Harm had finally run out of work to do. Determined to keep himself busy rather than go stir crazy, he had spent two hours at the fitness center in a fruitless attempt to work off his frustrations. The effort had been a complete failure, and Harm was still restless. Deciding to take a walk, he slipped on a clean shirt and stepped out of his room.

He walked aimlessly for several minutes, finally ending up near a newly renovated barracks. He stopped there, looking north toward the uninhabited no man's land that was probably the most dangerous place on the planet. In a rare moment of introspection, he considered the sheer insanity of man's imaginary lines in the sand. No other species in the world behaved quite so strangely. Most creatures were able to work out their differences in a mutually agreeable manner, but humans were different. Humans were stubborn and proud, and incredibly stupid at times. They considered themselves to be the most intelligent beings on the planet, and yet Harm strongly suspected that if things kept going the way they were, they would eventually be the cause of their own extinction.

He shook his head ruefully, realizing how ridiculous his thoughts had become. It wasn't like him to wallow in philosophical conjecture. He was, and always had been, a man of action more than one of thought, so where that last bit had come from was beyond him. Abruptly, Harm realized that it was getting late. To his left, the sun was setting in a glorious display of color, turning the undersides of the few wispy clouds delicate shades of pink and purple. Harm shrugged off his thoughts and turned to go back to the VOQ, thinking he should probably grab some dinner before the Mess closed for the night.

Before he could take more than two steps, the door of the barracks slammed open, and men started pouring out. Harm, startled, caught one soldier by the arm as he ran past.

"What's going on?"

"There's been an alarm. In the JSA. Something about the bridge."

"Mind if I tag along?"

"Nope. We can use all the help we can get. Load up."

Harm swung himself into the truck, grateful that he was already in his BDU's. Within moments, the truck pulled up in the Joint Security Area and parked behind the press building, not wanting to broadcast their presence to whoever was on the bridge. Lieutenant Mathers split the group in half, signaling them to approach the bridge silently from opposite directions. Nobody knew what was going on out there, and they weren't taking any chances. There were sixteen men altogether, and eight circled south, creeping up on the Bridge from below Observation Post Three. The other eight, Harm included, moved stealthily to the north, keeping themselves as low to the ground as possible, grateful for the fading light of evening. There wasn't much cover, and the men were forced to move slowly so as not to draw the attention of their North Korean counterparts. The PKA men were heavily armed. Harm, and the other soldiers in his group, had only their brains and their bare hands for weapons. Harm prayed it would be enough.

Soon, they circled back to the west, creeping ever closer to the bridge. There was no sign of the N. Korean guards, or of the other eight men who had come along on this mission. The evening was quiet, with only the ever present sounds of native wildlife to break the stillness. Harm had begun to wonder what had caused the alarm when he noticed a small movement near the Bridge of No Return. He twisted his head sharply in that direction. At first, nothing moved, and he thought maybe a small bird had distracted him. His instincts screamed otherwise, though, and he silently signaled the soldier next to him, requesting a set of binoculars.

Harm brought the instrument to his eyes and peered carefully at the place where he had seen movement, stiffening when he recognized Lieutenant Kim. The officer was busy with something Harm could only guess at. Needing a closer look, Harm signaled to the other men to cover him, and carefully inched his way forward.

Ten agonizingly slow feet later, he paused for another look, and felt his anger rise as he realized what was going on. Lieutenant Kim was wiring the bridge with some type of explosive charge. Harm was puzzled at first as to why Kim would do this. Then he realized that, for Kim, it was all about salvaging his dented pride. In Kim's mind, blowing up the bridge would prove to the Americans once and for all who was the better soldier. Harm wasn't about to let that happen. He inched steadily closer, deliberately not looking back at the men behind him, aware that they would frantically signal him to back off. His concentration on his goal was so intense, that he started when he felt a light touch on his shoulder. Mathers was beside him.

The two men watched Kim for a minute, each considering the options. They couldn't allow him to blow up the bridge, but it was impossible to tell how close he was to doing just that. Kim's continued slow movements beneath the structure seemed to indicate that he was still setting the explosives in place, and Harm didn't see any type of detonator, but that didn't necessarily mean anything. Detonators could be tiny. Easy to hide. And equally easy to discharge. Harm knew that getting too close to the bridge right now could be a death sentence, but he had a bone to pick with the other officer, and he was damned if he was going to allow caution to cause him to miss a chance to even the score. The man had been the cause of two deaths. He'd almost killed Mac. And now he was trying to humiliate the South Koreans, the Americans, and the United Nations. Harm wasn't about to let that happen.

Harm tapped Lieutenant Mathers on the shoulder to get his attention. Silently, he indicated that he should work his way off to the south of the wiry Korean and cause some type of distraction. Meanwhile, Harm would attempt to work his way around behind Kim and take him by surprise. Mathers seemed tempted to argue, but the look of steel in Harm's eye apparently convinced him otherwise, and he began to slither slowly away in the direction Harm had indicated. Harm waited a few minutes to give the other man a head start, and then began to ease forward.

Long minutes passed, the peaceful nighttime landscape undisturbed by any hint of the drama that was about to unfold. Harm had started to wonder if Mathers was going to act when he heard the distinct cry of a hoot owl from several yards downstream. He saw Kim stop what he was doing, the unusual sound distracting his attention from his work. The owl cried again, closer this time, and Harm took advantage of Kim's temporary loss of focus to inch the final short distance toward the young soldier's position underneath the bridge.

A twig broke beneath Harm's foot, and before he had time to curse his clumsiness, Kim had spun around, whipping a short knife from a sheath belted at his waist. The two men stared at each other for several seconds, anger bubbling between them like molten lava. They sized each other up. Kim was shorter than Harm, and wiry. Harm was taller and in top physical condition. But Kim's biggest advantage was the deadly weapon that gleamed in his hand. The lieutenant grinned, his white teeth reflecting the newly risen moon, his eyes narrowed in anger.

"So . . . We meet again, Commander." Kim's voice was low, smooth, and confident. Harm was pleased. If Kim felt that sure of his abilities, Harm had a pretty good chance of winning this fight. Overconfidence could be a deadly enemy.

"Apparently so," he said calmly.

"You are a foolish man. You cannot win this fight."

"Maybe not," Harm answered noncommittally. "But you hurt somebody who means the world to me, and I'm not going to just let that go."

Kim snickered crudely. "That woman soldier belongs to you?" he laughed. "It's a cowardly man who allows his woman to fight his battles for him."

"Ahh, see. That's where you're wrong, Kim." Harm's voice was low and dangerous now. He fought to maintain control, his eyes never leaving his opponent's face. "The colonel is a better soldier than you can ever hope to be. I suspect that's why you attacked her from behind that day. You knew you couldn't beat her in face to face combat."

The lieutenant's face darkened in anger. He was a proud man. Nobody called him a coward and lived to tell about it. With a sudden silent lunge, he attacked, attempting to use the element of surprise to overcome his opponent. Harm was ready, though, and he dodged just in time, watching as Kim's momentum took him past Harm and almost tumbled him into the river.

Kim recovered quickly and turned, readying himself for another lunge, but more careful this time. He and Harm faced off, staring at each other across the short space that separated them. The hoot owl cried out three times in quick succession, letting Harm know that help was nearby if he needed it. Harm knew he needed to handle this on his own, though. If it began to look like a gang of Americans beating up on a lone North Korean, the international fallout would be ugly indeed.

"That's one of yours, isn't it?" Kim said. "Were you afraid, Commander? Smart enough to know you would need help to take me down?"

"Not at all," said Harm, refusing to be baited. "They're just along to enjoy the show and to pick up the little pieces of you that I'm going to scatter from here to Seoul."

Kim laughed and lunged toward Harm again. This time, Harm grabbed his arm, and the two men went down in a desperate fight for control of the weapon. Kim twisted like an eel and Harm felt a stinging sensation along his side. He didn't take time to evaluate it, though. Kim had attacked him. Mathers had seen it happen. He was well within his rights to defend himself. Harm grabbed Kim's wrist, forcing the smaller man to release the weapon. With one hand, Harm threw it toward into the swiftly flowing current of the Sachon river, thus evening the match.

The two men struggled, and Kim squirmed free, leaping to his feet and launching a series of karate moves that spiraled Harm back toward the bridge. Kim came after him relentlessly, never allowing Harm a moment to catch his breath. Battered and bleeding, he backed away from the younger man, waiting for a chance to turn the tables. Then, unbelievably, Kim slipped on a loose rock and went down. Harm wasted no time moving in and taking back the advantage. He pinned Kim to the ground, pushing his head under the water until the man fought for air. Finally, the younger man stopped fighting, and Harm slowly relaxed his grip, planning to subdue him and turn him over to the authorities. Despite his anger, Harm knew that he had to do the right thing or live with the consequences forever. He began to stand up, dragging Kim to his feet.

Kim suddenly came to life, swinging his leg back and around in a kick that would have brought Harm to his knees had not the fates interceded on his behalf. Once again, he slipped. His left leg collapsed under him, and he lost his balance, toppling backwards into the water where he lay still and unmoving, a dark red streak joining the waters of the Sachon river and flowing downstream. Harm regained his balance and looked over at Kim. He had hit a rock when he fell, the angle and shape of it cracking his skull like an overripe coconut. The man was dead – no longer a threat to anybody. Wearily, Harm dragged himself up the riverbank and away from the bridge, leery of any retaliatory action on the part of the soldiers who now stood along the river, staring wordlessly down at their fallen comrade.

Harm was startled when Lieutenant Mathers approached the bridge and began calmly disconnecting the explosive charges Kim had set. The lieutenant's courage was impressive considering the size of the group of North Koreans who stood watching his every move. But the real shock came when one of them detached himself from his peers and moved underneath the bridge, silently working with Mathers to free the structure of the dangerous packages positioned at precise intervals along its underside.

A few short minutes later, it was over. Two PKA soldiers had slid down the banks of the river, and dragged Kim's body back up, disappearing into the small white guard house with their burden. Several American soldiers dashed up to Harm to help him to his feet. Only then did he acknowledge the searing pain on his left side and the too familiar liquid warmth that signaled potentially dangerous blood loss. He smiled weakly at the men who surrounded him and attempted to stand, immediately realizing that it was a really bad idea. The edges of his vision blurred and he swayed unsteadily. Two of the men caught him before he could fall, keeping him on his feet for what felt like a ten mile trip back to the truck. Once there, he collapsed gratefully and allowed the darkness to take him, finally succumbing to the pain and weakness that had steadily intensified during the long hike back to the transport vehicle.

2226 Zulu (0726 Local)
121st Military General Hospital
Seoul, South Korea

Harm awoke, stiff and sore, in a hospital room. The events of the night before flooded back, and he cautiously felt his side, noting the bandages that covered it from just above his hip to just under his arm. Evidently, he'd taken a pretty deep gash. Harm silently cursed the trick of twilight that had made him miscalculate the lieutenant's lunge. Struggling to sit up, he swung his legs over the side of the bed. The wave of dizziness that washed over him would have made him fall to the floor but for the sudden grasp of strong arms beneath his own, easing him back against the bed.

"Easy there, Commander. You're in no shape to be going anywhere." Harm recognized Doctor Lee's deep voice and smiled up at him ruefully.

"Thought I'd check in for a bit, doctor – see why Mac seems so comfortable here."

Dr. Lee chuckled. "Well, I'd have been just as content not to see you in one of my beds, but since you're here, feel free to make yourself at home." He sobered. "That was quite a gash you took. For a while there, we thought we were going to save the colonel but lose you."

Harm grinned. "I'm not that easy to get rid of, Doctor."

"Glad to hear it," Doctor Lee smiled. "I take it you didn't get my message last night?"

"Message?"

"Yes. There's some news about Colonel Mackenzie." He paused, deliberately waiting for Harm's impatient response.

"Well?"

"She's awake."

Harm's heart soared in relief, and he tried once more to get out of bed, frustrated with his body's apparent determination to keep him away from Mac. Doctor Lee pushed him firmly but gently back against the pillows.

"Sorry, Commander. I can't let you go to her just yet. You lost too much blood for my peace of mind last night. You need to stay here for at least a few hours until I'm satisfied that you're not going to damage yourself any further by moving about too soon."

"I need to see her."

"And you will. Tonight." Doctor Lee's voice held a note of steely determination, and Harm sensed that resistance was futile. "For now, I want you to rest. It's the best thing you can do for yourself." He took pity on Harm then. "I'll tell her you're here and that you'll see her tonight. Would that help?"

"Maybe a little," Harm said, his voice still tinged with frustration.

"I'll let her know. Now, I imagine you'd like to call her, but I'm going to ask you to wait. You really do need to rest now." He smiled when Harm glared at him, but his eyes were serious. "We can do this my way, or I can have you put in restraints. Your call."

Harm had to admit that he was suddenly completely exhausted, and though he desperately wanted to see Mac, a nap sounded pretty damned good right now. He leaned back and closed his eyes, deciding that voluntary rest would be far preferable to being chained to his bed indefinitely. He was incredibly frustrated at once more being kept from seeing Mac, but wasn't quite desperate enough to risk being strapped to his bed, a step he was certain Dr. Lee would take if he felt it necessary. Reluctantly, he closed his eyes, and within minutes, he was asleep.

Several hours later, Harm awoke to the sensation that he was being watched. He turned his head toward the door, surprised when he saw Admiral Chegwidden sitting casually in a chair near the bed, looking back at him. The admiral looked exhausted, a feeling Harm well remembered from his own lengthy trip across the Pacific.

"Welcome to Korea, Sir."

"Hmm… Not much of a welcome, if you ask me. I hear you pulled another one of your crazy stunts."

"Not crazy, Sir. Lieutenant Kim couldn't be allowed to blow up that bridge. I just did what I had to do."

"And coincidentally evened the score on Mac's behalf. All nice and tidy, huh?"

"Sir, that wasn't my motivation."

"Rabb, I've known you for a long time now, and I'd be willing to bet my next paycheck you didn't really think about your motivation. You charged into the situation like you always do, convinced you were the only one who could make things come out right." A.J. looked annoyed. "You got lucky, Rabb. That's all there is to it. Kim could just as easily have killed you last night. You know it. And I know it. The fates must have been smiling on you again."

"Maybe not so much, Sir. I feel like hell."

A.J. nodded. "That's not so surprising, seeing as how you look like hell, too."

"Gee, thanks."

"No problem. Now I suggest you tell me what happened. Start to finish."

"Yes, Sir. It happened like this . . ." Harm talked for forty-five minutes, recounting everything that had happened since his arrival in South Korea except for the details of his visits with Mac. A.J. listened carefully, only rarely interrupting to pose a question or gain clarification. When Harm finally finished, A.J. simply nodded and stood up.

"O.K., then. Is there anything else I need to know before I walk into the lion's den?"

"Just that General Singleton can be a bit testy at times, Sir."

"I doubt he'll pull that stunt with me, Commander. Have you been to see Mac yet?"

"Not yet. Doctor Lee was pretty determined that I not get out of bed until he o.k.'s it. I suspect he's left orders with the nurses to chain me to the bed if I so much as twitch."

A.J. grinned at that. "I like the good doctor already." He turned, one hand on the doorknob. "You can rest easy, Commander. She's doing much better. I visited her a little while ago. She's alert and talking, and seems to be regaining some muscle control. I'm sure she's going to be fine."

"I sure would like to see that for myself, Sir."

"In time, Rabb. In time."

A.J. turned and left, closing the door quietly behind him. Harm sat up and stretched gingerly. His muscles were still a bit stiff, and his side throbbed with a dull ache, but overall, he felt almost human again. He swung his legs over the side of the bed, relieved that he no longer felt dizzy. Carefully, he retrieved his clothes from the small cabinet across from the bed. Enough was enough. It was time to visit Mac. When the door to his room opened a few minutes later, and Doctor Lee entered, Harm was pulling on his shoes.

"I kind of thought you'd be up and about," he said. "I don't suppose anything I can do would convince you to rest for a while longer?"

"I'm afraid not. I need to see her, Doctor."

"I understand. Please. Sit down for a moment. I need to speak with you."

Harm sat, wondering what the doctor could possibly have to say that would cause him to have such a serious look on his face.

"I've just visited with Colonel Mackenzie."

Harm stifled a groan.

"I thought she was recovering …"

"She is. Physically, she's coming along better than we could have expected."

"I don't understand."

"It's her emotional state I'm concerned about. She's depressed. Unresponsive. Sometimes patients get that way, but it doesn't usually happen when they expect to make a full recovery. I wanted to warn you before you go down there."

"I appreciate that, Doctor, but it's been days since I've seen or talked to Mac. Short of fulfilling your earlier threat to cuff me to my bed, nothing's going to keep me from going to her now."

"No, I don't expect so. She's on the first floor. Room 169."

Harm was on his way out the door, his long strides barely slowed by what must have been fairly intense pain in his left side. Doctor Lee smiled. The colonel was a lucky woman.

Harm halted in Mac's doorway, suddenly feeling fifteen again, tongue tied and anxious that the girl he liked might not like him in return. Mac was propped up against her pillows, the bed raised slightly to allow her to sit comfortably. Encased in a dark blue sling, her left arm rested against her stomach, and her head was still heavily bandaged. Harm assumed it would be several days before the wrappings came off. Her face, still pale, no longer had the pinched, slack look of somebody on the brink of death. She was looking out the window, though Harm had no idea what she might be looking at.

He stood in the doorway for several long moments, unable to take his eyes off of her. His relief at finally seeing her upright and awake was so intense that he found himself temporarily unable to move forward. Some small sound from him must have alerted her, because she slowly turned her head in his direction.

"Hi, Ninja Girl," he said softly.

"Hi." Her voice was flat. Unemotional. She turned back toward the window, effectively shutting him out. Doctor Lee had warned him that she was depressed, but her reaction just now stunned him. He had seen a lot of moods from her over the years, but this was a new one. What could possibly be wrong?

"Mind if I come in for a few minutes?"

"Suit yourself."

Same flat voice. She hadn't even turned to look at him this time. Whatever was bothering her was serious. He pulled up a chair, sitting beside her but resisting the temptation to take her hand, a move that had been automatic to him when she'd been unconscious. He searched his mind for something to say that might pull her out of her mood. Finally, he decided to start with small talk and see where it led.

"Mac?"

"Hmmm?"

"How much do you know about what's been going on?"

"Not much." Her tone indicated that she didn't care to hear it now, either. Harm sighed.

"Do you want to talk?"

"Not really."

"Fine. Then I'll just sit here for a while if you don't mind. It's a long walk back upstairs and I don't think my ribs are quite ready for it yet."

That got her attention and she turned back to look at him.

"Your ribs?"

"Yeah. Managed to get myself cut up a bit last night. It's no big deal. I'll be fine in a few days."

"Oh."

She turned away again, her temporary interest waning the instant she assured herself that he was ok. Harm sat with her for a long time, but Mac kept her silence, continuing to stare out the window. Finally, he cleared his throat.

"Well, I'd better get going. Doctor Lee's probably going to send out a search party for me pretty soon. I'll be back to see you first thing in the morning, ok?"

"Fine." She finally turned to look at him, her expression blank. "I'll see you then."

"Goodnight, then."

"G'night."

Harm left the room, and Mac turned back to the window, her thoughts far away. It had been difficult sitting with Harm just now. She'd wanted to scream at him. Beg him to tell her when he'd stopped caring enough to check on her when he was just a short drive away. She'd thought they meant more to each other than that. Thought that maybe, if she got really lucky, she might one day be able to share so much more with him than simple friendship. Evidently, she'd been deluding herself, and the realization was heartbreaking. She felt tears well up in her eyes and brushed them away impatiently. This was not time to start wallowing in self-pity. It was obvious she was alone in the world and probably always would be. She'd just have to make her own way.

Mac turned from the window with a silent groan when Mitsie bustled in again.

"Hi, there! How are you feeling this evening?" The nurse's bright smile and bubbly voice grated on Mac's frayed nerves.

"Fine."

"Glad to hear it." Mitsie bustled about the room, tidying the already spotless area and straightening an imaginary wrinkle in the bed sheets before reaching for Mac's wrist to check her vital signs.

"Was that your Commander I saw leaving? He sure is handsome. You know …" She leaned closer to Mac as if to share a secret. "The nurses are all talking about how lucky you are. I hear he was frantic with worry about you when you were in that coma."

Mac looked at Mitsie in surprise, but the nurse went on, apparently unaware of her patient's stunned expression. "I hear that Doctor Lee even gave the commander his personal cell phone number. He never does that. Apparently, the commander would call on the doctor's cell phone and Doctor Lee would put the phone on the pillow by your ear." She wrapped a blood pressure cuff around Mac's arm and inflated it, totally oblivious to Mac's reaction to her words. "I just thought that was the most romantic thing I'd ever heard. Is it true, Colonel? Is that really what happened?"

Mac, scrambling to arrange her thoughts, replied in a faint voice.

"I have no idea."

"No, I imagine you wouldn't. You were in a coma after all. And then when you finally came out of it he couldn't get to you because they locked down his base. That must have made him crazy." Mitsie placed a dinner tray on the small table next to Mac's bed and opened a carton of milk, peeling open a straw while she talked. "Then he shows up here last night near death himself from a knife fight with some North Korean soldier. I don't really know what happened, but I heard a rumor that your commander killed the man with his bare hands."

Her eyes wide, Mitsie looked down at Mac. "I don't think I could ever do that, could you, Ma'am?" She waited a moment, but seeing that Mac wasn't about to answer, decided a change of subject might be in order. "Is there anything else you need, Ma'am? I can help you with your food if you like."

"No. You've done quite enough. Thank you."

"You're very welcome, Ma'am. I swear, you're just about the nicest patient I've ever had."

With a bright smile and a little wave, Mitsie left the room, and Mac stared at the closed door in consternation. She'd treated Harm horribly. She'd assumed that he hadn't cared enough to check on her, when in reality he'd done everything he could to be with her. She sighed. She'd really screwed this one up. Tomorrow, she'd have to see what she could do about setting things right.

2230 Zulu (0730 Local)
121st Military General Hospital
Seoul, South Korea

"I'd like you to move me down there. There's an empty bed in her room, and you've already said you're not going to discharge me today anyway." Harm paused in his argument, feeling like this just might be the most important case he'd ever have to fight. "Look, Doctor, I'm worried about her. If you'll just move me downstairs, I promise to rest. Keep me here, and I'll be up and down all day to check on her."

Harm sat on the side of his bed glaring at Doctor Lee. The two of them had been discussing this for the past half hour. Doctor Lee could be remarkably stubborn, and he wasn't sure it would be a good idea to put Harm and Mac together, not to even mention the fact that it was against hospital policy to put male and female patients in the same room. But Harm was convinced it was the best solution to everybody's dilemma, and he stubbornly refused to consider any other option. He'd be resting, which would make the doctor happy, and he'd be able to keep an eye on Mac, which would make him happy. He wasn't sure what Mac would think of his idea, but for the moment, he shoved the small warning voice aside. She needed someone to keep an eye on her, and whether she liked it or not, Harm was going to take the job.

Doctor Lee sighed.

"O.K., we'll give it a try. But if this doesn't work I'm moving you right back out."

"Agreed."

Harm smiled crookedly at the doctor. "It'll work. I'm sure of it."

"I hope you're right." Doctor Lee grinned back. "You're a difficult man to deny, you know that?"

"So I've been told."

The issue resolved, Harm consented to a wheelchair ride down to his new quarters, hoping his meek behavior would help to ease Doctor Lee's mind about the wisdom of this decision. A few moments later, he was settled in the bed next to Mac's, pointedly ignoring her questioning stare until after they were alone.

"Hi," he said then. "How are you feeling?"

"Better today. What are you doing here?"

"The doctor wasn't ready to release me yet, so I convinced him to move me down here so that I wouldn't have to manage the stairs or the elevator every time I want to take a walk outside."

Mac's look turned suspicious and Harm knew she'd seen through his flimsy explanation. It didn't matter, though. He was here now, and she wasn't going to get rid of him by glaring at him. He leaned back against his pillows and looked pleasantly across at her. He'd been through too much during the past week to turn back now. He was tired of the games between them - tired of hiding his feelings behind playful banter or biting sarcasm.

One way or another, they needed to hash things out, and he guessed this might be the only way to force that to happen. He'd finally gotten something important through his thick skull - finally realized that nothing lasts forever. He'd been given a second chance here, and he was determined not to screw it up this time. He wouldn't push, though. He'd wait and see what Mac did. He finally knew what he wanted, and he was willing to do whatever it would take to get it.

Mac turned back to the window, silent for a long time. Finally, she turned back to him.

"I don't …" She paused, gathering her thoughts. "I don't remember much about what happened."

Harm wondered if she even knew that two men had died that day, but waited to see where she was going with her line of thought. He wouldn't give her that bit of information until she asked for it.

"Do you want to talk about what you do remember?"

She was quiet again for a long time, and Harm began to think she wasn't going to answer him. Finally, she spoke.

"It was a beautiful morning. I remember thinking about how blue the sky was." She looked at him. "How is it possible that something so awful can happen on such a beautiful day?"

Harm didn't answer her, aware that the question was a rhetorical one.

"We drove up to the tree and climbed out of the truck. Those of us on guard detail formed a sort of loose half circle around the tree. I remember I was between Captain Belzer and Lieutenant Harrison. I watched the workmen set up their ladder and climb up. Everything seemed fine. Then I looked across the bridge and saw a group of North Koreans coming towards us. They didn't seem hostile, and I didn't see any weapons . . ."

Mac paused, thinking again. Then, "They must have had them hidden somehow." She seemed a little puzzled for a minute, and then she went on.

"Anyway, the soldiers didn't act threatening, so I thought maybe they just wanted to make sure we weren't going to cut down the whole tree. I turned to watch the workmen, but when one of them started to saw on the first branch, the leader of the North Korean group got angry. He ordered us to stop what we were doing."

Mac stopped talking again, and turned to stare back out the window. Harm swung his legs over the side of his bed and stood up, crossing to Mac's side. Gently, he turned her face back towards him, forcing her to meet his eyes.

"It wasn't your fault, Mac."

She dropped her eyes and pulled away from him.

"Captain Belzer asked my opinion. I … told him he was within his legal rights to continue the work." Absently, she plucked at a corner of her sheet, folding and unfolding it again and again. Gently, Harm captured her hand and stilled it, waiting patiently for her to continue.

"He ordered the men to keep working. Didn't even look at the PKA lieutenant. I was watching, though. I saw the man take off his watch and wrap it in a handkerchief. By the time it dawned on me what was happening, it was too late. He yelled something in Korean, and all hell broke loose."

She turned her eyes up to Harm, her own full of unshed tears. "I didn't know, Harm. I didn't see the knives and ax handles they had hidden up their sleeves and inside the waist bands of their pants - never guessed that they would go completely crazy like that."

"There's no way you could have known, Mac. Don't beat yourself up over this."

"After that," she said, "things got desperate. There were so many of them – thirty maybe? Anyway, at least twice as many as we had, and they'd made an end run around the no-weapons rule. I couldn't believe it, but I didn't have time to even think about it then. I just reacted. They went after Captain Belzer, first. Guess they thought they'd make a point by taking out our command officer." She turned back to the window.

"He didn't make it, did he?" she asked.

"No, Mac. I'm afraid not."

"I tried to help him. I remember they dragged Belzer down to the ground and five or six of them ganged up on him. I took two of them down before somebody grabbed my arm and spun me around. That must be when this happened." She indicated her arm. "It was the man who had ordered the attack. He laughed. I was so dumbfounded, I didn't even see the ax handle until it was too late to avoid it." She shook her head angrily, "I don't know what got into me. I know better than to allow myself to be distracted like that." Harm winced on her behalf, his anger mounting all over again. He knew Mac would resent his protective response, though, and he fought it down, waiting patiently for her to go on.

"I remember a blast of agonizing pain. I've never felt anything like it in my life. I vaguely remember feeling grass against my cheek, and then … nothing." She finally looked back at Harm. "Nothing until I woke up here two days ago."

Harm sat down on the edge of her bed to tell her what had happened since she'd been injured. Her hand still rested in his, and he lightly rubbed his thumb across it while he talked, pleased when she didn't pull away. He started with the phone call in the middle of the night when he'd first heard the news, and continued through his flight to Korea, his first visit to the hospital, and the awful fear that she wouldn't make it.

He told her about the meeting with the Joint Chiefs and the ultimate decision to cut down the tree during Operation George Washington. He concluded with his encounter with Lieutenant Kim two nights ago.

Mac shook her head at his description of the dismantling of the explosives.

"I guess they don't want a war any more than we do," she said.

"Apparently not," Harm answered. "Or at least, not this week."

"I'm sorry that you had to deal with Lieutenant Kim. That should have been my job."

"In case you didn't notice, Mac, you weren't exactly up to defending your honor."

Mac glared at him, and Harm grinned, glad to see her fighting spirit reasserting itself.

"Any idea how long it'll take you to get up and about?"

"Not really," she answered. "The therapist is being remarkably evasive. She says it could take anywhere from a few weeks to a few months."

"Well, I'll be with you every step of the way. We'll get through this, Mac. You won't have to do it alone."

Mac looked at him curiously.

"Why not?"

"Why not what?"

"Why won't I have to do it alone? It's not as though you're under any obligation here."

Harm looked at her, stalling for time. Was he ready for this?

"You know the reason."

Mac glared at him and turned back to the window. He'd chickened out again, and she was furious. He could see it in the set of her shoulders and in the stubborn angle of her jaw. He considered his options. He could leave it at that, and wait for a better time to have this conversation, thereby risking losing her forever. Or he could jump off the cliff and tell her he loved her, also risking losing her forever. Either way, he was quite possibly doomed. He decided that inaction might be slightly more dangerous than action, took a deep breath, and leaped into freefall.

"Mac, I've never been as scared as I was when I got the call that you'd been hurt. My world came crashing down around me. When Doctor Lee asked my permission to perform your surgery, he told me you might not survive it, and I swore that if you made it through this, I'd do whatever it took to make things right between us."

"Right?" she questioned, not quite meeting his eyes. "Right how?"

"Right as in I'd finally work up the courage to tell you how much you mean to me. Mac, I lost count of the number of times I thought you were lost to me over the past week. Fear and worry had me so tied up in knots that I was barely able to function. It got so bad at one point that the admiral took drastic action. He called me 'son' and asked how I was holding up!"

Mac snickered. "You're joking, right?"

"I wish I was!" he smiled back. "And to add insult to injury, General Singleton went out of his way to make my life a living hell - no doubt thinking that if he could make me mad enough he'd be able to single-handedly keep me sane. Luckily, it worked. But it was a close call."

He sobered, and his grip tightened on her hand, causing her to look up at him curiously.

"Mac, I lived through the longest and most terrifying five minutes of my life when they took you off that respirator and you didn't start to breathe right away. In fact, you took a damnably long time about it. I'd already told Doctor Lee that if you didn't breathe on your own, he should let you go, because I knew you wouldn't want to spend your life in some hospital ward, chained to a bunch of machinery. But Mac, if you hadn't finally inhaled, I don't know if I could have let you go." He paused and took a breath. "The worst part, the thing that made me absolutely crazy, was the fact that I couldn't even be here with you when they did it. I was stuck up at Liberty Bell under lockdown conditions because we didn't know what the North Koreans would do next!"

The look in her eyes as she continued to stare at him was one that he didn't dare try to define. Instead, he kept going, needing to say all of it before his courage ran out.

"You made it through, though. Somehow you pulled it together and came back to me. I don't know how you did it, and frankly I don't care. I'm just unbelievably glad that you did." He stopped, finally running out of steam, but Mac's next words let him know that she still didn't get it. Still didn't understand what he was trying to communicate to her in his typically clumsy way.

"Harm. You have other friends. There's Sturgis, and Bud and Harriet. You've got Mattie now, too. Surely you would have survived."

"Mac … Sarah … you're not hearing what I'm trying to say to you. I can't decide if it's because I'm saying it badly, or because you're deliberately goading me, but it doesn't really matter. There's a reason why these past ten days have been so hellish for me. A reason why I've been out of my mind with worry. You can't guess what it is?"

"No." She pinned him with her eyes, silently demanding the answers that had waited too long to be spoken. "I can't guess, Harm. And I won't try. You're going to have to explain it to me."

Harm stared at her. Could he do this? Could he reach down deep inside himself and pull out the words that would give her power over his very soul? He'd never done it before. Never told a woman other than his mother that he loved her. To do so would be to set that woman up for the same kind of pain and loss that his mother had suffered, and every fiber of his being fought against that.

Then, somewhere in the back of his mind, a tiny light bulb flickered to life. It dawned on him that the act of saying the words wouldn't really change anything. Putting a name to his feelings was only the clasp on a golden chain. You had to have it in order to complete the circle, but it didn't inherently change the chain itself. He and Mac were already too closely connected to avoid emotional pain if something should go horribly wrong. When he'd heard about her injuries, he hadn't stopped to think about whether or not she'd ever said she'd loved him. He'd reacted out of his own love for her. The words themselves were only the label, an acknowledgement of what his heart had known for years. His belief that refusing to speak them would somehow protect her from pain was like thinking a sheet of paper would hold back a tidal wave.

He took a deep breath and plunged ahead, hoping that the words he was about to say would not cause his precipitous leap off the cliff to result in emotional splatters on the canyon floor.

"Sarah, these have been the worst ten days of my life. I didn't know from one moment to the next whether or not you would make it, and I spent the entire time kicking myself for the fact that I'd never found the courage to tell you I love you. Instead, I fought it. I kept you at arm's length, determined not to let you get too close."

"Why?" Mac asked softly.

"Why what?"

"Why fight it?"

"Because when you love somebody, you hurt them, and sometimes they hurt you. Love is a dangerous thing. It ties you to a person in ways nothing else does. Look at my mother. She loved my dad, and she never recovered from losing him. I wouldn't do that to you if I could help it."

Harm was startled at Mac's reaction to his words.

"You big lug!" she said, somehow finding the strength to clobber him with her pillow.

"Ow! What was that for?"

"You still don't get it, do you."

"Apparently not."

Mac looked at him in disbelief. "We have got to work on our communication skills, you know that?" She sighed. "May I have my pillow back?"

Harm picked up the errant pillow and helped Mac lean forward so that he could place it comfortably behind her head. She smiled gratefully and relaxed into it, looking at him for a long time before speaking again.

"Do you remember when Dalton was murdered?"

"Of course."

"I turned to you that night. I could have called the admiral, or dealt with it alone. But I didn't. I called you." She adjusted her blanket, grimacing when her ribs complained, and then went on. "Do you remember when Chris died?"

"Yes."

"I called you then, too. What about when Mic called off our engagement?" This time she didn't wait for his answer. "I called you from the airport. I didn't even wait to get back home."

"I don't understand what you're getting at, Mac. We're friends. Of course you called me."

"Harm … I have other friends. I could have called Bud, or Harriet, or any of half a dozen other people. But I didn't. I called you. Now why do you suppose that is?"

"I'd like to think it's because you trust me."

"That's just it. I do. I trust you with my life. Surely you know by now how difficult that is for me?"

"I don't know, Mac. How difficult is it?" It was Harm's turn to push.

She looked at him solemnly for a moment, her eyes conveying a message he couldn't quite interpret. "Sometimes I feel like everybody I've ever cared about has let me down. Chris only loved me for what he could get from me. Dalton only loved me because I looked good on his arm. And Mic …Well, Mic was a good man. He tried to love me for who I was but he kept stumbling over you along the way."

"What do you mean?"

"I think he knew, or at least sensed, that I couldn't help comparing him to you."

"Why?" He fought down the twinge of hope from somewhere in the vicinity of his heart, and pushed a little harder. "Why did you compare him to me, Mac?"

Instead of answering him directly, she changed tactics, and it took him a moment to catch up.

"Do you remember what I said to the judge at Mattie's custody hearing?"

"About me being the kind of man you'd like to have as a father to your children?"

"Yes."

"What about it? That only spoke to my potential as a parent. Nothing more."

Mac sighed again. "I'm having trouble with this."

Harm treated her to one of his trademark grins, one eyebrow raised. "I know how you feel."

She glared at him halfheartedly. He really was cute when he did that, but the bugger of it was, he knew it. "What I'm trying to get to, in a hopelessly fragmented way, is the fact that I don't trust people easily. I've spent a lifetime perfecting my armour, link by careful link. And yet somehow you keep slipping past it. Once, I dared hope that we could be more than friends. I opened a window and invited you in, but for whatever reason, you backed away."

"Mac, we've been over that. I never meant to push you away. I only meant to ask you for more time."

"Time. That's what it always comes back to, doesn't it?"

Harm didn't answer, sensing that she was on her own emotional cliff right now, and that rescuing her would be the worst thing he could do … for both of them.

"You know, Harm, when I woke up alone, I was hurt. I thought you didn't care enough to visit me even though you were up at Liberty Bell. I couldn't understand it because I thought we had come to mean something to each other." She raised a hand, stopping his instant response. "No. Let me finish." She took a sip of water before continuing.

"Then Mitsie told me how you had visited and called all the time, and how Doctor Lee let you use his cell phone. I realized then that although you'd never been able to put it into words, you really do care for me."

"I think I just said that, Mac. The question is, how do you feel about me?"

"Ask Sturgis."

"What?" His total puzzlement would have made her laugh if there weren't so much at stake right now.

"Two years ago, I told him exactly how I felt about you."

"Wait. You told him, but not me?"

"I couldn't tell you, Harm. I was pretty certain you didn't want me as anything more than a friend."

"You were wrong."

"I know that now, but back then … well, things just weren't so clear."

Harm sighed. That was an understatement, and he knew it. And their relationship hadn't exactly been turbulence free since then, either.

"So tell me, Mac. What does Sturgis know that I don't?" He held his breath, almost afraid to hope.

"Two years ago, he and I worked the Aiken case together. Do you remember it?

"I remember Sturgis being rather … frustrated by your psychic abilities."

"That's right. Anyway, at one point, we were talking in my office and he mentioned that there seemed to be some tension between you and me. I took it to mean that he thought we were sleeping together. Needless to say, I set him straight in a hurry." She glanced at Harm and then away. "He said that maybe the fact that we hadn't slept together was our problem."

"You're joking, right?"

"No."

"I'm going to kill him."

"No need." A smile teased the corners of her mouth. "I set him straight."

"Oh? How did you do that?"

"I told him I was in love with you."

Silence. Harm could have sworn he heard the thud of his jaw hitting the floor, and he rubbed it automatically, making sure it was still firmly attached to his skull.

"Mac … Two years? Why didn't you ever tell me?"

"It was just … never the right time." She shrugged self consciously, the movement jostling her shoulder and causing her to catch her breath.

"I fought it. I didn't think you wanted me, but it didn't seem to matter what I did. The feelings were there, and there wasn't a damn thing I could do about it."

She stopped, and when she looked up at him, there were tears in her eyes. He ached with the knowledge that he had put them there, and reached gently to wipe them away. She caught his hand, and brought it to her lips, kissing it lightly before tucking it under her chin. When she spoke again, it was with a self deprecating smile. "Don't you see? It doesn't matter what you say or do. You can't control how I'm going to feel about anything. You can't make me stop loving you just by refusing to tell me that you love me, too. It doesn't work that way, Harm. Never has. Never will."

Harm looked at her, a grin spreading across his face.

"It doesn't, does it."

"No. It doesn't."

"So … can I ask you a question?"

"Sure."

"Can I kiss you?"

"I think you'd better."

Harm smiled and gently brushed away the tears that had reappeared at the corners of Mac's eyes.

"I do love you, you know."

"I do now," she said, her words trailing off into silence as he gently covered her lips with his own, showing her with his touch what he had finally found the courage to put into words. The kiss was tender, sweet, and so gentle that it brought tears to Mac's eyes all over again. When it ended, and Harm pulled back, it was only far enough to look into her dark eyes.

"How do you feel about teenagers?" he asked, teasingly. "I've got one I'd love to share with you."

Mac laughed, then cringed when her ribs and shoulder complained. She waited for the pain to subside before speaking again. "Well, I was one, once, so I think I can manage as long as you're along to keep me on the straight and narrow."

"You couldn't lose me if you tried." They smiled at one another, and as Harm looked at her he was reminded all over again of how precious she was to him and how incredibly relieved he was to have been given this chance to make things right. He sent a silent prayer of thanks winging to the heavens and carefully gathered her in for a gentle hug, mindful of her injuries.

They sat that way for a few moments, neither willing to put distance between them, and when they heard the door open, Harm took his time sitting up. He didn't let go of Mac's hand, though. He didn't care if the President himself walked into the room right now. He was hers, and she was his, and the rest of the world had better damned well get used to the idea. When he did turn, it was to see Admiral A.J. Chegwidden leaning against the door jamb, a rare grin on his face.

"Looks like you two are feeling better …" he said sardonically, moving to stand at the foot of Mac's bed. "Anything I need to know about?"

Harm and Mac looked at each other and smiled, but it was Harm who answered. "Well, Sir, there may be soon, but at the moment, everything's just fine."

A.J. snorted uncharacteristically. "Somehow I suspect life at JAG is about to get even more interesting than it already is, and I'm not sure that's a good thing."

"Sir, we'll keep it out of the office," Mac said. Harm nodded.

"You'd better believe you will." The admiral changed the subject then. He looked at Rabb, an unreadable expression on his face. "Well, Rabb, it looks like you saved the day again."

"Sir?"

"The North Koreans have suddenly become remarkably quiet people. There've been no threats, no protestations of innocence, just silence. The Joint Duty Officer delivered a short message yesterday apologizing for what they referred to as the 'misguided though well-intentioned actions of a single officer acting without orders from his superiors.' Since then, things have settled down admirably. Camp Liberty Bell is no longer locked down, and our troops are returning to their regular duties. You'll have some reports to file, as will you, Mac, as soon as you're able, and then it should be about time to come back to the states. I imagine that's ok with you two?"

"Yes, Sir," Harm and Mac answered, almost simultaneously. They smiled and A.J. shook his head.

"You two are entirely too cheerful for my peace of mind. I'm going to get out of here and head back to the base to tie up a few loose ends. Then I'll be heading back to Falls Church. Harm, I expect you back in the office as soon as you wrap things up here. I imagine that'll take you a week or two, by which time Major Nillson should be back from leave." He looked across at Mac.

"I spoke with your doctor a few minutes ago. He tells me he thinks you'll make a complete recovery."

"I hope so, Sir."

"So do I, Mac. Take your time, but hurry up. We need you back at JAG."

Mac laughed. "Yes, Sir."

The admiral sobered.

"There's a memorial service for the two men who were killed the day you were injured, Mac. I imagine you'd like to be there?"

"Yes, Sir. I would."

"I thought so. I'll speak with your doctors and see if we can't get you an afternoon's freedom. I won't be able to be there. Rabb, you'll provide transportation, I imagine?"

"Yes, Sir. Absolutely," said Harm.

"I'll make sure General Singleton is aware of that. I imagine he'll wait to schedule the service until Mac and the others who were injured are cleared to attend."

"Thank you, Sir," said Mac, and the admiral nodded.

"Right, then. I'm off. Harm, step into the hall with me for a moment."

"Yes, Sir." Harm exchanged puzzled looks with Mac before following A.J. out of the room. After the door closed, A.J. looked at Harm.

"They're probably going to spring you tomorrow. You need to get back to Camp Liberty Bell when they do."

"Sir, Mac's having some problems with what happened …"

"I imagine she is. There's nothing I can do, though. They need legal counsel out there, and you're all I've got to offer at the moment."

"Is that an order, Sir?"

"Do I need to make it one?"

Harm sighed. Much as he wanted to be with Mac, he knew his duty had to come first. "No, Sir."

"Good."

Harm wondered for a moment why the admiral had needed to have this discussion outside of Mac's hearing. A.J. didn't waste any more time enlightening him.

"Rabb."

"Sir?"

"You'd better not screw this up. Mac's a good woman. She deserves a man who appreciates that."

"I know that, Sir." Harm felt slightly defensive, but was aware that the admiral's warning was not wholly undeserved.

"You mess with her – let your insecurities or your Peter Pan syndrome or whatever the hell you want to call it – cause you to do something stupid, and you'll not only have her mad at you, I'll be on your case faster than a stealth bomber. Do you understand me?"

Harm, slightly taken aback, nevertheless nodded. "Yes, Sir."

"You'd better." He paused for a moment, then smiled. "And this conversation never happened. If Mac found out…" He left the thought unfinished. They both knew what Mac would do, and it wouldn't be pretty. "Now get back in there. Right now, you're probably the best medicine there is for what ails her."

"Yes, Sir. I'll see you in a couple of weeks."

"You'd better."

A.J. turned and left, and Harm returned to Mac.

"What was that all about?" she asked curiously.

"Not much. He just wanted to let me know they're going to release me tomorrow and to tell me I needed to get back to Camp Liberty Bell."

"Hmm …" She looked skeptical, but she didn't press the issue, changing the subject, instead. "He said something about the memorial service being in honor of two soldiers, Harm. Why didn't you tell me?"

"I figured you'd ask when you were ready."

"Who was the other one?"

"Lieutenant Harrison."

Mac's face paled, and Harm automatically reached toward her, but she waved him off.

"No. I can handle this, Harm. Don't start assuming that I'm going to fall apart at the drop of a hat just because you told me you love me."

"I wouldn't dare."

"Good. Now if you don't mind, I'd like a few minutes alone."

"Sure. I'll take a walk or something."

"You do that."

Harm left her and took a long walk around the hospital, glad he had had the foresight to change out of his hospital gown. The gowns here were just like gowns everywhere - open at the back, and made of cotton that had worn so thin as to be almost transparent.
Twenty minutes later, he returned to the room to find Mac composed and dry eyed.

"How're you doing?" he asked.

"I'm fine, Harm."

"You sure?"

He received a glare for his concern, and decided it might be wise to settle quietly into his own bed for a while. Besides, it'd win him brownie points with Doctor Lee, and somehow he thought maybe he could use a few extras. He looked over at Mac, but she had turned to stare out the window again. He decided he'd have to take a look himself, soon.

Despite his intention to entertain himself with a book until Mac decided she was ready to talk, he found he couldn't keep his eyes open. He must have slept, because when next he looked up it was to see Mac smiling indulgently at him.

"What's so funny?"

"You."

"What'd I do?"

"Do you know you snore?"

"I do not!" He was indignant.

"Yes. You do." Her grin was impish and unrepentant.

Luckily, Dr. Lee walked in just then, and Harm was saved from having to defend his honor in a more physical manner which, though he was certain it would have been immensely enjoyable, probably would have been frowned upon by the good doctor. He settled for a warning glare instead, frustrated when she laughed at him instead of looking properly chastised.

Doctor Lee closed the curtain between the beds and spent several minutes with each of his patients. He checked Harm's dressing, pleased that there appeared to have been no further bleeding.

"I think we'll let you out of here tomorrow, Commander. You'll be free to return to the base on restricted duty until those stitches come out."

"Thanks."

"No problem. Any questions for me? Have you had any problems … concerns?"

"No, Sir."

"Glad to hear it. If you need anything else today, just press the call button. Otherwise, I don't expect to see you again until just before we release you tomorrow morning."

"Sounds good."

"All right, then. Time to check on my other patient."

"Take good care of her, Doc."

"Haven't I always?" Doctor Lee smiled.

"Yes. You have. And for that you have my deepest gratitude." Harm was serious, and Doctor Lee bowed his head once in acceptance before moving to the other side of the curtain.

Harm lay in his bed listening to the quiet murmurs, startled when he heard Mac's soft cry of pain. He stiffened in alarm.

"Mac?"

There was a brief silence, and then, "Power down, Flyboy. I'm fine."

"You sure?"

"Will you stop Mother Henning me? You're making me crazy!"

"Yes, Ma'am!" He subsided against the pillows, frustrated. Sharing a room with her was proving to be harder than he'd thought it would be.

It was several long minutes later when Doctor Lee finally pulled the curtain back. Harm was relieved to see that Mac really was fine, though she looked extremely annoyed. Harm decided maybe it would be a good thing to stall the doctor for a few minutes until the steam stopped coming out of her ears. Evidently, the doctor was on to his tricks though, because he didn't cooperate. He strode briskly out of the room, and Mac barely waited until the door closed before letting him know just how irritated she was.

"You've got to stop doing that, or this is never going to work."

"What?" He tried to look innocent. Unfortunately, Mac wasn't buying it.

"Stop hovering over me like I'm some kind of … I don't know ancient Japanese pottery or something."

"Japanese pottery?" Harm stifled a grin.

Mac sighed. "You know what I mean. I'm no more likely to break now than I was two weeks ago, so you can stop treating me like I am."

Harm's mood abruptly turned serious, and he swung his legs out of the bed again, moving over to her and waiting for her to meet his eyes before he spoke.

"Things have changed, Mac."

She sighed. "Admitting that we love each other doesn't change things that much, Harm. I'm still perfectly capable of taking care of myself."

"That's not what I was referring to."

"What then?" She looked puzzled.

"I've been made intimately aware of how quickly things can go wrong – how easy it would be to lose you. I'm sorry, but you're going to have to give me some time to work through that, and until I do, you'll probably have to deal with me being a bit overprotective."

Mac reached up to him, and Harm caught her hand, holding it protectively against his chest. He decided he liked having the right to do this. Her hand, so much smaller and more delicate than his, felt wonderful in his own larger one.

"Harm," she said, drawing his attention from her hand back to her face. "I'm ok."

"I know that," he answered. "At least, my head does. My heart still has its doubts."

"Well, I guess we'll just have to convince it, then, won't we."

He smiled gently down at her. "I guess we will."

"I can handle that."

"Good thing."

"Why's that?"

"Because I don't think my mind can convince it all by itself. It needs some help."

"Ahh. Well, as long as I'm needed . . ."

"You're needed, Mac. You're definitely needed."

She smiled at him, and Harm found himself hating hospital beds. He wanted nothing more than to squeeze in beside her and hold her all night long, but there was no way both of them were going to fit. He glared at the offending furniture, and Mac laughed.

"Problem, Harm?"

He sighed. "Yeah."

She ran her hand down the length of his arm and took his hand in her own. Tugging him closer, she spoke in a low voice guaranteed to notch his frustration to a fever pitch.

"I won't be stuck here forever, Harm, and I fully intend to make up for lost time just as soon as possible."

Harm was startled at her seductive tone, but more than willing to take up its challenge.

"I'm looking forward to that," he smiled.

"You should be." Her eyes sparkled up at him impishly, and he leaned closer, his face just inches away from hers, his voice low and full of promise.

"You should be, too …" He needed to touch her. Needed to feel her smooth skin against his own. Gliding his fingertips across the softness of her face, he reached to cradle her neck with his right hand, his thumb gently caressing a spot just below her ear. Her eyes darkened and then drifted closed as he eased forward, taking her mouth in a sensual kiss that spoke of love, passion, and a hint of erotic delights waiting to be discovered.

He took his time, dancing his tongue lightly around the outer edges of her lips until she opened to him. Then, without breaking the kiss, he eased her into his arms, careful not to jostle her ribs or shoulder, pleased when she responded by wrapping her hand around his neck and burying her fingers in the short thick hair at the back of his head.

Only then, with Mac's delightfully feminine form snuggled close against him, did Harm slide into her welcoming warmth, pleased when she met him, her tongue teasing his in a playful dance that had the effect of a lit match on gasoline. He deepened the kiss, exploring the secret corners of her mouth at a leisurely pace that nevertheless had her heartbeat leaping like a delicate bird against his palm.

For a few brief moments, Harm controlled the kiss completely, but Mac wasn't about to let him off unscathed. She took over, slipping her tongue past his to run lightly across the edges of his teeth, testing the slippery smooth feel of them in a move that summoned a low groan from somewhere deep in Harm's chest, which she answered with a murmur of satisfaction.

She moved her hand from its position at the back of his head, evidently satisfied that he wasn't going anyplace, and smoothed it down his arm before settling it lightly against his chest. Harm knew his racing heartbeat told her just how dangerously close to losing control he was, but he didn't care. At the moment, all he cared about was Mac.

A gasp of surprise and a crash of cutlery from the direction of the doorway brought an abrupt end to the kiss, the noise startling them apart. They looked toward the source of the sound in time to see a furiously blushing Mitsie scrambling to retrieve the scattered remnants of their dinner trays from the floor.

"Oh. I'm so sorry," she said, her voice high pitched and breathless. "If I'd known…Well, I wouldn't have just barged on in like that." She haphazardly stacked the dishes back on her tray, and stood, the awkward pile teetering dangerously. "I'll just go get you some fresh meal trays." She backed out of the door and was gone.

Harm looked at Mac, his expression only mildly contrite.

"I guess we gave her something to think about, huh?"

"Sailor, you gave ME something to think about," Mac smiled.

"Trust me," he answered. "You gave as good as you got."

Mac tried to look innocent, and failed miserably, causing Harm to grin.

"Did you see the look on her face?" Mac asked, unrepentant.

"Yes. The poor girl's probably not going to be quite right for the rest of her shift."

"Serves her right. I've never liked her anyway."

"Mac . . ."

"Well . . . It's true."

They exchanged smiles, and Harm settled into a chair beside her bed, curious to see how long it would take Mitsie to return with their dinners. Mac turned the television on and navigated to a game show, evidently deciding a distraction of the non-physical kind was in order. Meanwhile, Harm waited for his heartbeat to slow and his body to return to normal, grateful that he'd had his back to Mitsie when she had so abruptly ended their kiss.

It was several minutes before the young nurse returned, her face still faintly tinged with pink. She served them quickly and silently, her eyes refusing to meet theirs as she put the trays on their bedside tables and departed, closing the door silently behind her. Harm and Mac looked at each other, identical guilty grins on their faces.

"We're probably the talk of the floor by now, you know," Harm said.

"I know. Doctor Lee will be glad to see the last of you tomorrow morning." Mac's lips twitched.

"Me! As I recall, you weren't exactly an innocent bystander!"

"Maybe," she smiled. "But I have an excuse. I'm an invalid, remember?"

Harm snorted. "Invalid my …"

"Harm …"

"Hmmm?"

"Kiss me."

"Gladly."

This time he kept the kiss light and teasing, not ready to tempt the fates by allowing it to get away from him again. That done, he settled himself in the chair beside her bed, and began poking through his dinner tray, searching for something edible. He decided to try his luck with a roll, and settled in to eat, enjoying Mac's company and only occasionally yelling an answer at the TV.

********
Epilogue
********

0447 Zulu (1347 Local)
Camp Liberty Bell
Seoul, South Korea

Harm wheeled Mac slowly toward the location where the Poplar tree had once stood. He took his time. It had been two weeks since he'd checked out of the hospital, and he and Mac had come a long way. It had been hard spending so much time away from her, but both knew it couldn't be helped. He'd buried himself in work, hoping to make the clock hands turn faster. Mac, he knew, had devoted herself with equal enthusiasm to her physical therapy. She could take a few steps now, and both Doctor Lee and her physical therapist were confident that she would be able complete her recovery at Bethesda. Today, General Singleton had informed Harm that he and Mac were scheduled for a flight home tomorrow afternoon.

But while Harm felt confident that Mac would recover fully from this incident in the physical sense, he was still concerned about her emotional state. She hadn't mentioned the events of that day since that one time in the hospital, and he sensed that returning to this scene was going to be difficult for her. He knew that she felt responsible for what had happened, and nothing he could ever say would change that. Hoping to give her time to deal with whatever feelings might overtake her today, he took his time getting to the tree, following the large crowd of military and civilian personnel, all of whom were silent.

The group formed a large uneven semicircle around the podium that had been erected next to the stump of the huge Poplar tree. A wreath of flowers had been laid at its base, small American and South Korean flags planted on either side. Behind them, larger versions of the same flags still flew at half staff. They would remain that way throughout the day. Tomorrow, they would be run back to full staff and business at the base would return to normal. Nobody present would ever forget what had happened, though, and many a baleful glare was directed toward the small hut on the other side of the river.

The survivors of the incident took up positions in the front row of the crowd, Harm standing protectively behind Mac's wheelchair. Two others were also in wheelchairs, and one man balanced himself on a pair of crutches. All eight were battered and bruised, their facial expressions simultaneously sad and angry. Wisely, the base chaplain kept the service brief, speaking only of the bravery of the fallen officers and the sadness of those left behind. He refrained from mentioning the North Koreans at all, a move Harm approved of. It was time to try to put the incident in the past. Failure to do so would only embitter the lives of those left behind.

A scant half hour after the service had begun, it was over, and people started to drift away. Harm reached to release the brake on Mac's wheelchair, but she stayed him with a look and he stepped back, giving her time to make peace with what had happened at this site less than a month ago. He watched as she turned her attention from the remains of the tree to the Bridge of no Return. Suddenly, she stiffened, and he turned to see what had captured her attention.

At the far end of the bridge stood a single North Korean soldier. He wore a military dress uniform, but was unarmed, his hands in plain view at his sides. He stared across at them and the tree in silence. For several long moments, nobody moved, each side wondering what the other would do. Then, in a gesture that Harm never would have believed if he hadn't seen it himself, the man raised his hand to a stiff and precise salute, his hand frozen in the position of respect, apparently waiting for some signal or response from Mac.

Harm saw her eyes fill with tears as she released her brake and started to turn away. He moved to help her, but she stopped him and sat up, aiming a silent question at him with her eyes. He knew what she was asking, but he didn't respond. Only Mac could decide what came next. In his heart, he prayed that her choice would be a healing one.

Seconds became minutes while she sat there, unmoving, staring at the soldier who stared back at her from the far side of the river. The three of them were the only ones left at the memorial site, the others having wandered back to the JSA for a small reception. The very air was still, without the faintest hint of a breeze to stir the rushes that lined the narrow but rapidly flowing river. The birds, lulled by the afternoon heat, made their presence known only by rare calls to each other through the nearby brush.

Mac made a decision. Holding her hand up to Harm to indicate that he should wait for her, she slowly rolled her chair toward the bridge, her every movement tracked by the single guard, who continued to hold his salute even as his head swiveled to mark her progress. In moments, she reached her destination - her wheels having just barely crossed onto the ancient structure. There she stopped again…waited for a few long moments. Then she brought her head up proudly, pulled her shoulders back, and returned the lone soldier's salute, holding it for several long moments. Only after she snapped her hand down and began to back away did he respond, abruptly bringing his own hand out and down before spinning on his heel in a single precise motion and disappearing inside the small guard house.

Mac turned her wheelchair around and wheeled her way slowly back to Harm, tears streaming down her face. She looked up at him with a watery smile, and, relieved, he noted a newfound peace in her eyes.

"Let's go home."