Title: "The Sweetness and the Sorrow"

Author: Sooz

E-mail: sooz9009@aol.com

Rating: PG-13 for language, adult situations

Classification: Romance, angst (H/M)

Spoilers: Anything up through "Hail and Farewell"

Disclaimer: Not mine, non-profit.

Summary: Harm helps Mac cope with a devastating illness. In the process, they find themselves bridging the divide.

Author's Notes: This tale is based on my own experiences with loved ones, and on the best research I could manage without getting paid for it. Everyone's experience with these issues is different, and I certainly am not an expert on either medical or military matters. Please forgive me if anything here is upsetting to you, and read no further. It is meant to be a hopeful story, for the shipper soul and for the human spirit.

The Sweetness and the Sorrow

Friday, 2200 Hours EDT

Officers Club, United States Naval Academy

Annapolis, Maryland

Between one breath and the next, your life changes forever.

It's never a big event -- a wedding, a funeral, a retirement party. Ceremonies that mark the passages may linger in the memory, but the real changes happen silently, in the flick of an eye. A smile catches your heart; someone says yes instead of no. Or the glass shatters, the aneurysm bursts, the car skids out of control on a patch of ice -- and just like that, everything is different.

For Harm, it was one word. Cancer.

In that one instant, everything froze. Time, heartbeat, sound. In that moment, there was only Mac. Her eyes, huge and black and fathomless.

Then her fingers tightened around his, and he started breathing again. He laid his right hand over hers and swallowed the icy ball of panic rising in his throat. "They're sure?"

She nodded slowly. "It wasn't my back at all." She tried a smile. "Thanks to you, they caught it very early. Most of the time, ovarian cancer has almost no early symptoms. It's really very lucky."

He felt a bright burst of anger and instantly got a leash on it. "My God, Mac," he breathed.

In his eagerness to comfort her, to offer hope, to waste no more time claiming the future, he had blundered into it, hurt her even more. He looked away and tightened his grip on her hand. "What will they do?" he asked after a moment.

"They said I need a hysterectomy. Then they'll decide about chemotherapy or radiation." Her matter of fact tone didn't deceive him.

Sounds from the party slowly began filtering back into his awareness. Music, laughter, the tinkle of crystal and silver, the chuckling sounds of the Severn River lapping at the pier where they sat. He watched her pale face as she turned and stared out at the lights sparkling on the water. Saw her give a tiny sigh, saw how tired she was. A million questions clamored at the back of his throat, but all that could wait. For now, he wanted only to shield her from any more, just for tonight. For now, he was certain of only one thing -- that he would give anything to spare her pain.

And that from this moment, nothing would ever be the same.

They sat quietly for a few more minutes, until the bagpipes started up again inside. With a brief smile, Harm stood and held out his hand. "Ready?"

Mac rose and slipped her arm through his, and he drew her close to his side. She was relieved that he didn't commiserate. Harm would always be more comfortable taking action than discussing feelings, and she was surprised and grateful for his steady control, for the warmth of his big hand wrapped around hers.

She felt his solid strength beside her, felt the warmth of hard muscle and bone beneath the fine fabric of his sleeve, and drew comfort from it. In a whirlwind of emotion, she found one thought that gave her a solid place to plant her feet. He would always be there. She knew it as she knew her own name.

The bright lights and noise of the party engulfed them as they stepped through the doors, and Harm blinked, feeling as if he had returned from another galaxy. Unconsciously he tucked Mac a little closer against his side.

Harriet was clinking on a glass, and gradually the room quieted. "Ladies, officers, and gentlemen," she called out. "The guest of honor sends his sincere thanks and regards. The mess is dismissed." The music started up again as the guests turned to each other in a polite clamor of surprise.

"You guys staying?" Sturgis inquired.

Harm looked at Mac and saw her quick nod. "No, I think we'll call it a night," he answered. "You?"

"Nah, I'm here stag. I'm a little surprised that the Admiral sneaked out like that, aren't you?" He fell into step with them as they moved toward the entrance.

"He didn't sneak out, Sturg. He just hates sentimental goodbyes."

"I guess. At least I had a chance to thank him when he signed my last fit rep. You?"

Harm nodded. "Yeah." He stuck out his hand. "Well, good night."

Sturgis looked keenly at them both, taking in the way they stood arm in arm, and nodded. "You too. Goodnight, Mac."

"Sturgis," she nodded, and waited while Harm gave his ticket to the midshipman on parking duty. "I can take a cab home," she said.

"You're kidding, right?"

She returned his smile. "Okay. Thank you."

The Corvette pulled up sharply, and the midshipman jumped out and snapped to attention. "Good evening, sir, ma'am. Nice ride, sir," the boy grinned.

Harm lifted his eyebrow as he held the door for Mac. "Next time you peel rubber in my car will be your last, midshipman."

"Aye, aye *sir*!"

Mac was actually grinning when he got in and gunned the engine. "Did you peel a strip off that poor kid, too?" she asked. Harm merely snorted.

They were cruising down Route 50 toward D.C. when he glanced over. "Mac. Is there going to be a service for Webb?"

She looked at him in surprise. "Tomorrow, 11 a.m., in Great Falls."

"You're going?"

"Of course."

"Want to go together?"

She turned to look at him. "Harm, I'll be okay."

"It's not that. I want to pay my respects. I owed him a lot."

She bit her lip. "I'd like to go with you, thanks."

When they got to Georgetown, he double parked and walked her to the door, leaving the Corvette's flashers on. "I'll pick you up at 0930, okay?" he said as she unlocked the door to the lobby.

"I'll be ready." She paused and looked up at him, taking in the veiled pain in his stern expression. "Harm. About what you said tonight -- about our deal." He winced, and she laid light fingers on his chest, above the rows of medals, above the gold wings. "You couldn't have known. And it meant a lot to me. Thank you."

He wondered which was worse -- her assumption that he was merely trying to be kind, or the realization that she was being kind in return. He brushed a quick kiss across her cheekbone, light as air. "Get some rest, okay?"

She gave him a tired smile and turned to go in, suddenly needing to be alone.

* * *

Part Two

Saturday, 1320 EDT

Great Falls, Virginia

The house was enormous.

Mac leaned back, running her eyes over the beautiful half-timbered edifice that slumbered among the huge old trees and manicured grounds. "Wow," she said.

Harm took her hand as she stepped from the Corvette. The bright red sports car stood out like a flag among all the sedate SUVs and sedans parked along the shady, private street. "You've never been here?" he asked.

She shook her head, awash in the weird feeling of unreality that had floated around her all morning. The Anglican service at the quiet old church; the elegant men who spoke of Clayton at prep school, at Harvard, on the Olympic Team; the tent in the cemetery, surrounded by a well-bred throng of polite mourners. The mahogany casket with its brass handles, topped by a simple spray of orchids.

She saw no one from the Agency, at least no one she recognized, and nothing seemed to have anything to do with the Clay she knew.

And all the while, Harm had been beside her, steady as a rock, saying little. Now she took his arm and paced beside him along the mossy brick walk to the door. "When were you here?" she asked. Then she remembered. "Oh. That time."

He nodded and reached for the heavy paneled door, only to have it swing open. A butler bowed them inside, looking distant and correct. It wasn't the same Agency guy as five years ago, Harm noted.

Mac breathed in the smell of old polished wood in the lofty entrance hall. "Mrs. Webb is receiving in the drawing room, madam," the butler said, and she followed Harm, glad that he seemed to know the way.

She nearly sank up to her ankles in a vast Aubusson carpet. Groups of elegant people were gathered here and there, chatting quietly, clutching drinks in crystal glasses. Harm led her to the line of visitors waiting to speak to the slim figure clad in black, who stood alone at the fireplace. An oil painting of the house hung over the mantel, and a concert Steinway stood to one side, covered with family photographs in silver frames. Mac felt a lump in her throat at a portrait of Clay wearing hunting pinks, caught at the apex of a jump on a big chestnut horse.

Porter Webb, regally composed, nodded to Mac with a gracious inclination of her head, but when she saw Harm, her eyes brightened. "Commander Rabb," she smiled, taking his hand. "It's good to see you again. Thank you for coming."

"I wish it could be under different circumstances, ma'am. This is Sarah Mackenzie."

Webb's mother had skin like delicate porcelain, cracked with a million tiny wrinkles where it stretched across her elegant bones. In the fiery intelligence of her deep set eyes, Mac recognized a glimmer of Clay.

"Ah. I see you found her, Commander," Porter said, extending her slender hand to Mac. There was no trace of recognition in her polite smile.

"How do you do, Mrs. Webb," Mac said, returning the delicate handshake.

Porter put her head on one side. "I believe you worked with Clayton a year ago, didn't you?"

Mac felt her lips go numb with shock, and she had to moisten them before she replied, "Yes, I did. Clay was a very special man, Mrs. Webb. I will always be glad I knew him."

"He was fortunate to have friends and colleagues like you and Commander Rabb," Porter said with a brittle smile, and turned to the next person in line.

The light touch of Harm's hand at her back steered Mac toward the dining room, where an imposing mahogany table was set with Spode and silver. Caterers were setting out platters of sliced beef tenderloin, chilled asparagus, and beaten biscuits. A silver coffee service gleamed on the massive sideboard.

"Hungry?" Harm asked.

"No," Mac said faintly. "You go ahead."

A uniformed maid with a crisp white apron stopped before them, offering a tray of Bloody Marys and Screwdrivers. Harm asked for ginger ale, and after a few minutes, another servant brought two glasses on a silver salver.

Ignoring the buffet, Harm gestured to the French doors and followed Mac outside to the terrace. It was cool and shady and surrounded by late-blooming azaleas in banks of magenta, salmon and white.

She sat on the low stone wall, grateful for the shade. Harm twitched the seam of his trousers and lowered himself beside her, taking her hand with a gesture that had already become automatic. She stared down at their entwined fingers, thinking that 24 hours ago this would have been awkward between them.

"You okay?" he asked again.

"I guess so," she replied, feeling hollow. "What did she mean, 'you found her?' "

He squinted, looking away. "I called her when you went to Paraguay. I thought she might be able to put me in touch with you."

They sat quietly for awhile, not talking. Mac watched the patterns of shade shifting across the flagstones and smoothed her skirt where it lay against the balustrade. Finally she said, "Webb and I dated for almost a year, and he never even mentioned it to her." She inclined her head toward the house.

Harm was silent.

After a moment she went on, speaking almost to herself. "We really cared for each other, you know. And a part of him wanted to come in from the cold. I think he thought I could help him with that." She swallowed the lump in her throat. "But Clay kept his life in little compartments. He couldn't bear to let anyone really know him."

"I'd say you had him pegged pretty well, Mac."

She looked around, taking in the elegant surroundings. "Well, I certainly would never fit into this compartment," she said. The familiar sense of not measuring up, of not being good enough, tugged at her, a hollow echo.

Harm frowned and said curtly, "You'd fit in anywhere, Mac." He hesitated before asking quietly, "Did you want to?"

She sighed, and felt some of the sadness go with it. "No," she said, relieved to know it was true.

His clear, expressive eyes studied her, whole and complete. Then he nodded once, decisively, and squeezed her hand.

She waited, then brushed a light fingertip across his cheekbone, noting with concern the blue shadows beneath his eyes, the faint lines of fatigue radiating from the corners. "Did you get any sleep at *all*?" she whispered.

"Not really. You didn't, either." It wasn't a question. His hand tightened on hers. "Mac, there's something I want to talk to you about."

"Okay," she said with caution, recognizing his tone. This was the Rabb full court press.

"I spent the night reading on the Internet," he began. "There are two NIH comprehensive cancer centers in the area, the Kimmel Center at Johns Hopkins and the Lombardi Center at Georgetown, right around the corner from your place. Mac, they're the best in the country. Navy doctors are good, but the equipment and procedures aren't state of the art. The doctor you saw was what, an internist? Georgetown has people who specialize in gynecological oncology." He frowned at her. "I want you to get a second opinion. It's only prudent."

"Now there's a word I never thought I'd hear coming from you," she stalled.

"Mac" –

"As a matter of fact, the doctor agrees with you. She consulted with the oncology people at Bethesda, and they arranged a referral to Georgetown."

"When?"

"I have an appointment on Monday at 1330."

"May I come with you?"

"Harm, you have to prepare to transition the new Admiral on Tuesday, and I won't be able to help. You won't have time" –

"I'll make time."

"I can take care of myself. I don't want you getting in any more hot water because of me!"

"I know you can cope, Mac. But nobody should have to go through what you're facing alone. *I* don't want to face it alone, and I'll be going through it too, every step of the way, whether you like it or not."

Her anger welled up, a familiar refuge. "Why? Nobody's asking you to be Superman this time, Harm!"

"Because you matter to me, God damn it!" His eyes flashed.

She opened her mouth to speak, and nothing came out. Somewhere a door opened and shut, and she realized more people were drifting onto the terrace, carrying plates and glasses and chatting quietly, sending a few incurious glances their way.

A firestorm of emotions had swept over them and departed, leaving them shaken and silent in the aftermath. Mac let out a tense breath.

"Okay," she whispered.

"Okay," he said, not making a big deal out of it. "So -- ready to go?" She nodded, and he hurried on, "Look, how about coming over for dinner tonight? I'll warn you, Mattie's cooking. I've been giving her lessons, but this is her first solo effort."

"Oh Harm. Don't you want to have some time with her, just the two of you?"

"Nah, she told me to ask you. Besides, I told her you'd eat anything."

She gave him a look as he offered her a hand and pulled her up. "Anything, huh? Just for that, I won't bring dessert."

"That's okay, I think she's baking a cake. The apartment may have burned down by the time we get back."

Together they went inside to make their farewells to Clay's mother.

End Part Two

* * *

Part Three

That night, 1800 Hours EDT

North of Union Station

With her hand raised to knock, Mac paused and listened to the upbeat blues coming through the door. The lonesome sound of Harm's guitar was the only sound she had heard on this threshold for a long time – Eric Clapton made a nice change. The music was so loud it rattled the hinges. Things sure had gotten livelier around here.

How many times have I knocked on this door, she wondered. Every time trouble hits, this is where I turn, like a compass pointing north. And no matter how things have stood between us, Harm has been there for me. She wondered now, with a faint sense of unease, how often she been there for him.

She squared her shoulders and rapped smartly on the scarred metal, hoping they could hear it. Harm's voice called out, and a moment later the decibel level went down and he threw open the door. "Hey, Mac," he grinned. "Come on in."

"I brought ice cream," she said, holding up a brown paper sack.

"Excellent idea," Harm said sotto voce as he closed the door.

"Hey, Mac!" Mattie waved from behind the island.

"Hi, Mattie," Mac smiled. "Wow, looks like you've been working all day." Every pot and pan in the kitchen appeared to be stacked around the sink.

Mattie blew a curl out of her eyes and grinned. "Nope, just this afternoon. But everything's almost ready."

"So what are we having?" Mac asked with interest as she slipped onto one of the stools and leaned on her elbows. "It smells great." Harm pulled a bottle of tonic water from the fridge, filled a glass with ice, and added a slice of lemon, and she looked up with a quick smile of thanks as he handed it to her.

"Vegetarian lasagna," Mattie announced proudly. "It's Harm's favorite, but don't worry, there's meat sauce for us. And I made salad and garlic bread. And lemon meringue pie."

"Wow," Mac said, eyeing the splattered mess on the stove top. "I'm impressed. My idea of cooking is opening a can. Or for special occasions, I call Chez Louis."

"I know, I totally lived on pizza for about six months last year," Mattie confided. "Harm was really grossed out."

"So are you mostly a vegetarian, too?" Mac asked, catching Harm's raised eyebrow.

"Not really, I mean, not *all* the time. I like to eat healthy, but let's get real," Mattie grinned. "Kinda like with this music," she tossed over her shoulder as she edged her way toward the CD player. Mac laughed.

"Hey, Slowhand is the master," Harm said indignantly.

"Harm, he's like a hundred and ten," Mattie said disdainfully, popping out the tray and inserting another disc. "Now this" -- music pounded from the speakers, accompanied by a singer wailing -- "*this* is great. Come on, Mac, you think this is hot, don't you?" Mattie began dancing around the living room until Harm turned down the volume. "Oh, come on!" she teased, grabbing his arm. He held her away with one hand and she wrestled playfully for the CD he held up. "Not that old stuff, no way!" she giggled.

Soft jazz piano filled the loft with a cascade of silvery notes. "Not a chance, Mats," Harm grinned. "Marcus Roberts is *not* old, he's great."

"Ugh," Mattie announced with a theatrical sigh. "You are so hopelessly square."

"Hey, someone has to expose you to the finer things in life."

With a sly grin, Mattie tossed her head and gave him a hip check as she brushed by. Harm laughed, bumping back, and Mattie giggled and hugged him. "Okay, okay," Harm said, "we'd better get the table set or we'll have to eat with our fingers."

"Talk about your finer things in life," Mattie grinned, gathering up silverware and napkins. Carefully she straightened the vase of daisies in the center of the table and lighted the candles while Harm filled glasses with water and ice.

"May I help?" Mac asked, watching Harm and Mattie with a funny little pang. Somewhere along the line, these two had become a family.

"Nope, thanks, got it covered," Mattie said briskly. "Harm, would you get the salt and pepper shakers?” Mac watched in fascination as Mattie tossed greens in a large bowl and filled three salad plates. They even had a routine down.

Harm held Mac's chair, and Mattie pulled a baking dish from the oven and set it on a brass trivet on the table with a flourish.

"Don't forget the bread," Harm reminded her, and Mattie grabbed the potholders and pulled out a loaf wrapped in foil. "Ta da!" she announced as she slid it onto a plate and carried it to the table. Harm held her chair, then seated himself.

"Would the chef like to serve?" he asked.

Mattie waited tensely as they took the first taste. "This is wonderful, Mattie," Mac gave her a warm smile.

Mattie relaxed. "Thanks," she said shyly. "Harm helped me. I mean, he sort of coached."

"You did great," Harm smiled.

While they ate, Mac let her encompassing anxiety retreat as she watched the ebb and flow of quiet affection between Harm and Mattie, feeling herself enveloped in the quiet warmth around the candlelit table. He looks happy, she realized in wonder. Who would have thought? Then she remembered how soon this too would be taken from him, and felt her heart twist.

"So Mac, Harm says a Russian gypsy told his whole future," Mattie said, raising a skeptical eyebrow. "Is that really true?"

"Have you ever known Harm to lie?" Mac asked with a smile, but she was curious.

"No. Never," Mattie said staunchly, as if she thought Mac might be suggesting such a thing.

"Me neither. And I was there. Except it wasn't the future, it was the past."

Mattie looked skeptical. "Where were you guys, at a carnival or something?"

"Siberia," Mac began, watching Harm squirm. "The gypsies gave us a ride."

"Why?" Mattie asked warily, sure she was being set up.

"We were on leave," Harm said with a warning glare at Mac, whose eyes were sparkling with mischief, and he gave her a grin, glad to see her smile.

"But what *happened*?" Mattie demanded, looking from one to the other.

"That's classified," Mac laughed.

"Kind of like your tattoo," Harm teased.

"*You* have a tattoo?" Mattie turned to Mac, astonished.

"Don't let it give you any ideas," Harm said quickly.

"But" --

"Um, Mattie, is there something else in the oven?" Mac interrupted with an anxious glance at the stove.

"Oh, no!" Mattie cried, leaping up. When she opened the oven door, smoke poured into the kitchen and the alarm went off. "Harm!" she called.

He grabbed two oven mitts, pulled a dish from the oven, and set it on the stove. "Open the door to the fire escape, Mattie," he said in a calm voice, and she hurried to obey. Harm lifted the blackened pie and set it outside, and Mac hurried to open the door to the hall. Finally, Harm reached up and switched off the buzzer.

"Okay, no damage done," he said, waving a dish towel to help the smoke clear.

"Shit," Mattie muttered. "It's ruined. I'm sorry." She turned toward the door, obviously mortified, but Harm took two quick strides and caught her by the shoulders.

"Mattie, it's no big deal," he said.

"I fucked up," Mattie whispered furiously.

"Hey, hey."

"Sorry," she apologized, her face bright red.

Harm drew her aside, his arm around her shoulders, and Mac heard him say softly, "It's okay, honey."

"I'm so embarrassed."

"That oven always overheats, remember? And besides, what's the deal about mistakes?"

Mattie heaved a sigh. "They're the only way you learn anything." After a moment she gave Harm a tiny smile and turned to face Mac. "Guess it's a good thing you brought ice cream, huh?"

"Rum Raisin."

"Awesome," Mattie gave a grudging smile, and Harm closed the door.

Mac turned on the hot water in the sink. "I'm so full I couldn't eat dessert yet, anyway," she said. "How about if we clean up first?"

"Aw Mac, you don't have to wash the dishes," Harm began, reaching for a towel.

"Nope, no men allowed," she elbowed him aside. "Come on, Mattie, let's show him how it's done."

Mattie began rinsing plates, and Mac stacked them in the dishwasher. Harm cleared the table, and beneath the sound of the faucet Mattie asked, "Do you really have a tattoo?"

"Yes, I do. A souvenir of a seriously misspent youth. I'd get rid of it, but it's tiny."

"And well hidden?" Mattie said with a tiny smile.

Mac laughed. "Very."

Mattie began scraping gunk out of a pan. "A lot of kids are getting them now. But it's hard to picture you with one."

"I ran with a pretty rough crowd when I was your age," Mac said. "I was completely irresponsible."

"*You*?"

"Yes, me. It took both my uncle and the Marine Corps to straighten me out, and that didn't happen until I was out of high school." Mac said.

"I'm so lucky Harm came along," Mattie said. Mac nodded, listening. "I mean, it was great to have somebody help with money and school and stuff, but that's not what I mean. He was cool about it, you know? I love him a lot," she whispered fiercely.

"He loves you, too," Mac said.

"I know. That's why I'm so worried about him when I leave."

"Is that going to happen?" Mac asked cautiously.

Mattie sighed. "I don't know. My dad wants me to move back with him, and he needs me." She rinsed a dish and handed it to Mac to dry. "Harm says we can ask the judge to wait and decide about custody before school starts again. That way I can spend some time this summer with my dad, and see how it works out before I have to tell the judge what I want to do."

"That sounds like a good idea."

"I guess," Mattie said, sounding uncertain. "But Harm needs me, too."

"Harm wants what's best for you, Mattie," Mac said. "So does your dad. That's how you know if someone really loves you -- they put you first. And they tell you the truth." That stung. She thought of Webb, and abruptly she wondered if she had done any better herself.

"But I really love both of them," Mattie muttered.

"You can love more than one person, Mattie. You might love them in different ways, but there's plenty to go around." Mac began wiping down the counter.

"That's what Harm says, too," Mattie said. "You guys didn't talk about me, did you?"

"No, we didn't. He told me you and your dad are working it out, that's all."

Mattie rinsed the sink, glancing at Mac from the corner of her eye. "Harm's going to be pretty lonely when I leave," she said casually. "Maybe you could sort of, you know, keep him company sometimes."

"He's my best friend, Mattie. We'll keep each other company."

"Oh. Okay, then." Mattie shrugged, clearly at a loss, and made rather a business of hanging up the damp dishtowels.

"Anybody ready for ice cream?" Harm asked. He leaned against the island, his eyes warm on the two of them.

Mac smiled, "Okay, and how about some coffee?"

"Sounds good," Harm said, and switched on the coffee grinder. Mattie gave Mac a faint smile and reached for cups and spoons.

Mattie was oddly quiet while she ate her ice cream, and she excused herself as soon as she was finished. Mac settled back into the sofa cushions with her feet curled beneath her and sipped her coffee, and Harm dropped into the chair and leaned back with a sigh, legs stretched out.

"She's so special. I can see why you fell for her," Mac said. Harm was silent, staring at the fireplace, and she said softly, "And you're wonderful with her. She's a very lucky girl."

Harm shook his head. "I'm the lucky one, Mac."

"I'd forgotten how melodramatic teenage girls can be."

"Yeah, she has her moments. She hates to get anything wrong, and she's so driven to be super-responsible. I keep telling her it's okay to enjoy being a kid once in awhile."

"She's very bright. And mature for her age."

"She's something, isn't she?" he shook his head. "She really likes you."

Mac nodded. "She loves you, you know."

"And I love her."

"I never thought I'd hear you say that," she said without thinking, and looked up, stricken. "Harm, I'm sorry. I didn't mean that the way it sounded."

"I know," he said quietly, his eyes somber. "I didn't think I'd ever say it, either. Then Mattie came along, and she was in the same boat. I thought I was helping her, but she helped me instead. Before I knew it, she was inside." He looked away with a wry smile.

"I don't think it was an accident, Harm. You let her in."

His eyes snapped up to meet hers. After a moment he said, "Look, Mattie and I are going out to Blacksburg tomorrow. I'd ask you to come along, but we're going to take Sarah up and then go see her father."

"I'll be fine. But thanks," she said.

He glanced away. "I didn't tell her about -- you know."

"I know. Thanks." She smiled and set down her cup. "I'm going to take off."

He started to argue and stopped, seeing how tired she was. He rose and walked her to the door.

She paused with a hand on the knob. "I had a good time tonight," she said, meeting his eyes. "It really helped take my mind off -- everything. Thank you."

"Hey, *you* brought the ice cream," he smiled. "Thank *you.*"

She rose on tiptoe and brushed a quick kiss on the side of his jaw. "Good night."

Harm stood in the lighted doorway looking after her.

* * *

Sunday, 2100 Hours EDT

Mac's apartment, Georgetown

She answered the phone on the first ring. "Hi," she grinned.

"When did you get caller ID?" Harm teased.

"I knew it would be you. How did it go today?" She snuggled deeper under the covers, listening to his voice.

"Pretty well, considering. Mattie's a natural in a plane, Mac, she's amazing. Must be in her genes or something. You should see her, she loves it."

"So you had a good time?"

"Yeah, we did. The new owner of the airstrip seems to be keeping Sarah in shape."

"Well, that's good." She hesitated. "How was Tom?"

Harm sighed. "Okay. Tense, but not as bad as the last time I saw him. He and Mattie seem to share a lot of stuff about AA and Alateen that I don't know anything about." He sighed. "She's moving out there on Saturday."

"Do you think he can handle it?"

"Hard to tell. But he's trying hard."

"Is the house all right?"

"He's been keeping up the payments, if that's what you mean. It needs a lot of work." She could almost see him run his hand through his hair. "I don't know whether this is good for Mattie or not, Mac. There doesn't seem to be much going on in that town in the summer." Now she could hear the worry in his voice. "She says there's a softball league, and a friend got her a job as a counselor at the church day camp. I told her she can come into DC to visit."

"That's all you can do."

"I know." He sighed, and she waited. "So what did you do today?" he asked.

"I went for a long run in Rock Creek Park," she said. "I figured it might be my last chance for awhile." He was silent, and she hurried on, "It was good. I needed some time to try to get my head around everything."

"Did it help?"

"Yeah. Yeah, it did. It's funny, I go along and everything seems just as usual, and then all of a sudden I remember, and it feels like a trapdoor falls open under me."

"I know what you mean. But we'll get through it, Mac."

"Not too many other options." Another long pause.

"Will you sleep tonight?"

"I'm sure going to try. You?"

"Planning on it. Well, look, sleep tight, okay? And Mac" –

"What, Harm?" she asked when he stopped.

"Thanks for listening," he said.

* * *

Monday, 1145 Hours EDT

JAG Headquarters, Falls Church, Virginia

Throughout the morning, time had expanded and contracted like taffy, the minutes dragging and the hours flying by. Short on sleep, strung up tight as a drum, Mac managed to keep her weird sense of unreality at bay by focusing on tasks at hand. She organized her current cases and reassigned them, cleaned up her files, and completed every scrap of paperwork. Now she sat staring at her strangely neat office, her sense of disconnection stronger than ever.

"Is that the top of your desk?" Harm asked from the doorway.

"Apparently," she looked up with a smile, glad to see him leaning against the doorjamb.

"Wow. I've never seen it before," he teased.

"Go ahead, laugh it up. I wanted to be organized in case I have to be out for a few days."

He nodded with a quick frown. "We have time for lunch before we have to be at your appointment."

"Harm, you don't have to keep trying to cheer me up" --

"I'm not trying to cheer you up," he snapped, and stopped. "Sorry. But let's leave now and get something to eat."

"Can we stop at Beltway Burgers?" She laughed at the expression on his face. "Wow, you must be desperate. Relax, I'm too nervous to eat, so let's stop at that sushi place you like."

End Part Three

* * *

Part Four

That afternoon, 1330 Hours EDT

Lombardi Cancer Center, Georgetown University Hospital

Mac's fingers twisted in her lap. When he laid his hand over hers to still the fidgeting, they were ice cold.

"It's going to be okay, Mac," he told her firmly.

"For some reason, I feel like I have to take a final and I haven't studied," she said, looking jumpy as a cat. They had arrived 15 minute early, and she had already handed in the clipboard with her forms to the nurse behind the sliding glass panel.

"It'll be okay," he repeated, not knowing what else to say. "We'll find out what we have to deal with, and that will help."

She started to speak when the door opened abruptly, and she flinched and tightened her grip on his hand. "Mackenzie?" a nurse called out.

"Yes. Here," she gulped, and stood up, clutching her purse. Harm stood too, and the nurse raised an authoritarian hand. "Doctor will see Ms. Mackenzie first," she said. "Then he'll talk with both of you in his office. We'll call you," she said to Harm.

Harm bit back his impatience and gave Mac what he hoped was a reassuring smile. She tossed him a quick, meaningless nod and followed the nurse. The door shut with a click.

Doctor? Harm muttered to himself. Why do nurses always call them 'Doctor,' instead of 'the doctor'? As if it were an office instead of a noun?

He threw himself back into his seat in the row of uncomfortable chairs. They were covered in ugly brown fabric and bolted together, as if it were an airline terminal, for Chrissake. Now he remembered why he hated hospitals, hated doctors, and hated all the bullshit that accompanied them. Harm flung his arms across the seats on either side and crossed his legs restlessly. Take it easy, Hammer. You know how much you hate feeling out of control.

Thirty minutes later, he flung down a month-old issue of Sports Illustrated and glared at the nurse's window. The hell with patience, he thought. I'm gonna kill someone.

"Commander Rabb?" a shrill voice called out. A different nurse stuck her head around the door.

He jumped to his feet and followed her down a hallway carpeted in industrial beige. She gestured to an open door, and he entered to find Mac seated in front of a utilitarian desk in a small office. A window filled one wall, and the others were crowded with diplomas and books.

"Hey," he smiled, and sat beside her in the other guest chair. "Doing okay?"

"Okay," she nodded. Every line of her body was tense.

He started to say something when the door boomed open and a figure in a white coat burst in. "Hi, I'm Dr. Levine," the man announced, pumping Harm's hand before he could get up and bustling swiftly behind the desk, where he dropped into the chair and opened the folder he carried. With his short, crisply curling light grey hair and beard, the doctor resembled a lean, fit, kosher Santa Claus.

Levine looked up, and Harm felt a shock as the man's intelligent, ice blue gaze focused first on Mac, then on himself, then back to Mac. "Colonel Mackenzie, from my preliminary examination and review of your records, there is no doubt that we are dealing with an early-stage ovarian cancer. I know that's frightening to hear, so I want to stress one thing, first and foremost." He gazed at her intently. "We have caught it early. The long-term prognosis for patients like you is excellent, and it's getting better all the time."

Mac nodded once. "What happens now?"

Levine stared at her. "May I ask, do you plan to have children?"

Mac cleared her throat. "They told me that was no longer a possibility."

"Until fairly recently, total hysterectomy was always performed in these cases. But the most current research indicates there's no benefit when the tumor hasn't spread beyond one ovary. In younger women, we make every effort to preserve childbearing capacity. For one thing, it's an advantage not to add early menopause to all the other things we'll be dealing with."

Harm felt Mac's slim fingers slip into his, and he gripped them firmly.

Levine folded his hands on the desk. "The crucial thing is determining the precise stage of the cancer. Visual examination is just the first step, and it's imprecise. I'll want to see for myself that your tumor hasn't spread to the surface of your ovary or to any surrounding organs, or to the pelvic wall. There are additional tests and biopsies we'll want to perform, to catch any tumors too small to see with the scope, and we'll want to inject fluid into the pelvic cavity and examine it for any stray cancer cells. If your tumor is Stage One, which I think it is, we'll remove only the affected ovary and fallopian tube, leaving your uterus and other ovary intact. Following chemotherapy, if all goes well, you would certainly have a chance for a normal pregnancy in the future."

Mac's grip on Harm's hand was becoming painful. "They said I might not need chemotherapy," she said. "Doesn’t it make you sterile?"

"Not necessarily. Patients’ reactions to the drugs are very individual. The best current opinion, which I subscribe to, is that chemotherapy is absolutely essential. Without it, the rate of recurrence increases and your survival rate drops significantly. Sterility is always a possibility, as is damage to other organs, but we’ve come a long way with reducing the side effects."

"What is the survival rate for this type of cancer?" Mac asked steadily.

Levine leaned forward and said with great deliberation, "In Stage One-A, when cancer has not spread beyond the interior of one ovary, five-year survival is 90 percent. That's very good, and the thing to remember is that it's an average. You're young, and you're strong -- you're in incredible physical shape. You don't drink or smoke, and you have no other condition that would affect treatment. Your outlook is excellent."

Harm felt the air go out of his lungs. He swallowed and discovered he didn't trust himself to speak. He was awed by Mac's composure.

She said, "What if it's worse than One-A?"

Levine's eyes sharpened. Gotcha, Harm thought. You won't underestimate her again, doc.

"If it's One-B, which means it has spread to the surface of your ovary or nearby organs, or One-C, where we find stray cancer cells in the pelvic fluid, then we will have to do a complete hysterectomy."

"And the survival rate?" Mac pressed relentlessly.

"Drops to 80 percent. That's still excellent for any cancer, Colonel, especially a virulent one that grows quickly. But I emphasize that you should focus on your specific situation, not averages."

Mac nodded once, decisively, and looked at Harm. "I agree. When do we start?"

Levine looked at her with respect. "I'd like to admit you this afternoon. We need to do a bunch of tests, including an MRI. We'll do the procedure first thing tomorrow morning. You'll have a full day to recover, then we'll give you the first course of chemo on Thursday. I'd like to keep you overnight the first time, until we see how you tolerate the drugs. After that, you'll get a treatment twice a week, on Mondays and Thursdays, for three weeks, and you'll have the fourth week off to let your body recover. We'll do six courses of treatment, 24 weeks. After that, we monitor you weekly for awhile, then monthly. If you're still cancer-free after six months, we'll declare you officially in remission, but we'll continue to check on you regularly." He leaned back. "I won't kid you, Colonel. This is a tough disease, and chemotherapy is no fun. But it's your best shot."

Mac had been watching Levine steadily. Now she turned to Harm. They didn't need words. After a moment, she said firmly, "Okay."

Levine nodded. "I'll have my nurse get the paperwork started."

* * *

Monday, 1825 Hours EDT

Mac's room, Georgetown University Hospital

When he came in, Mac was perched in the chair watching the evening news. She clicked the remote to mute and looked up expectantly.

Harm tossed his cover on the bureau and held up a duffle bag. "Toothbrush, hairbrush, pajamas, slippers, and your current novel. I gotta tell you, Mac, some of that stuff in your dresser is a lot cuter than these pj's."

She blushed. When he had offered to stop by her apartment to pick up some things, she hadn't stopped to think that he'd have to go through her lingerie drawer. He grinned as she pulled the thin hospital robe around her with dignity and stalked into the bathroom.

"Tell me you brought dinner!" she called while she changed.

"One cheeseburger with everything," he said, and set the takeout sack on the table. "Is it okay for you to have this now?"

"Must be -- they brought me a meal, if you can call it that." She emerged wearing her own flannel pajamas and gestured at the tray. "That stuff isn't recognizable as food." She hopped back onto the bed and unwrapped the burger and fries.

"How'd you get along this afternoon?" he asked, easing his tall frame into the chair and leaning forward. His clasped hands rested between his knees.

"About a million tests," she said. "You know, go here, go there, just like boot camp. I'm not sure I have any blood left."

"How was the MRI?"

"Worse than being strapped into the back seat of an F-14," she said lightly, but he noticed that she was barely picking at her meal. Finally she pushed away the burger half-eaten.

Harm held up a manila envelope. "I brought the medical leave forms for you to sign."

"I'll be back at work next week," she waved it away.

"You need to file if you're out more than three days, Mac. You know that."

She glared at the wall, then wiped her fingers fastidiously with the napkins and held out her hand. He passed her the papers and a pen. "I'll submit them for you in the morning," he said, tucking them into his jacket and watching as she sipped at her chocolate shake. "Look, Mac," he began reluctantly. "I'm really sorry I can't be here for you tomorrow morning."

"It's okay, Harm," she said. "You have the new admiral coming in. Besides, there's nothing you can do just sitting around waiting. I'd rather see you when I'm awake."

"I can make it by about 1600," he frowned. "Mattie and I have a hearing with the family court judge tomorrow afternoon to get permission for her to spend time with her father this summer."

"I should be there for *you*," she said gently. "You've got a hell of a day lined up."

"So do you," he muttered. "Anyway, I'll get here as soon as I can, okay? I want to hear what they have to say."

She nodded soberly and looked down, picking at the cotton blanket. After a long pause, she whispered, "I feel like I'm at the top of a big slide, and when I start down I'll be out of control."

He reached over and took her hand. "I know," he nodded. "But we'll get through this, Mac. We'll hang in there and we'll get through it, a step at a time."

She blinked furiously. After a moment she managed to say, "Okay."

* * *
Tuesday, 0900 Hours EDT

JAG Headquarters

"Attention on deck!"

With a muted thump, 75 officers and enlisted personnel snapped to attention, eyes front.

Admiral Harrison Prescott came to a rigid halt just inside the glass doors. Flanked by two aides, a Marine staff sergeant and a Navy lieutenant commander, Prescott surveyed the orderly rows of his staff with frosty grey eyes. "At ease," he snapped, and the ranks shifted to parade rest, moving as one individual. Prescott nodded once, and the lieutenant commander stepped forward and read the orders for the change of command.

Prescott continued to stare over the rows of people, and the silence began to stretch out. At last he said, "Staff call for senior officers at 1100 in the conference room." He nodded to the Marine, who bellowed, "Dismissed!"

Everyone broke ranks and milled around in quiet disorder as they headed back to their duties. Prescott marched straight into his office with the lieutenant commander at his heels. The Marine stopped in the outer office and spoke to Petty Officer Coates, who hurriedly gathered up her things and dumped them on an unoccupied desk in the bullpen.

A few minutes later, she looked up to see Harm frowning at her. "You're sitting out here now, Jennifer?" he asked.

"Yes, sir," she answered, trying not to sound upset. "Staff Sergeant Morrissey will be the Admiral's administrative assistant. I'll be his clerical backup."

"Keep your chin up, Petty Officer. I'd better get in there or I'll be shoveling guano on Guam myself," Harm said under his breath and continued briskly to the Admiral's anteroom, where the sergeant jumped to attention.

"Go right in, sir," he said crisply. "He's expecting you." The man's square face and hard eyes were impassive, and the pale skin over his jaws betrayed a shadow of beard despite an immaculate shave.

"Thank you, Staff Sergeant," Harm nodded and opened the door. "Commander Rabb reporting, sir," he said as he came to attention.

Already the room seemed unfamiliar. The worn leather chairs had been replaced with handsome antiques, and an Oriental rug was spread before the fireplace. The young officer was busy at the mantel, hanging a Fitz Hugh Lane marine seascape that looked like it belonged in a museum.

Prescott finished reading something on his computer and tapped a few keys while Harm waited patiently. The discourtesy surprised him, but he realized he simply didn't care. He was finding it difficult to think about anything but Mac, who was probably in surgery right now. With an effort, he forced himself to focus.

Harrison Prescott had been the deputy JAG for eighteen months, but his visits to headquarters had always occurred when Harm was on assignment, and he had never met the man. Prescott had a reputation as a by-the-book guy, a solid administrator who had spent very little time in the courtroom and owed his career in the Navy to his impeccable background, connected by marriage to the President himself.

Finally the man swiveled his chair to the front and looked up. "At ease, Commander," he said curtly. "Have a seat." He picked up a sheaf of papers and went on, "I expected to be dealing with Colonel Mackenzie on the transition."

"The Colonel was hospitalized yesterday, sir," Harm said and laid Mac's forms on the desk. "She'll be out the rest of this week at least. Here are her leave papers."

"What the hell's the matter with her?" Prescott frowned. "This isn't some sort of elective procedure, is it?"

"No, sir." Harm waited while the man picked up the forms and began to read.

"My God," Prescott frowned. "Jesus, what a hell of a thing. Well, obviously she won't be back on full duty for a long time, if ever. Solves one problem, at least. Jack!" The lieutenant colonel stopped shelving books and stepped smartly across to the desk.

Prescott made the introductions with a wave of his hand. "Lieutenant Commander Montgomery Jackson, my aide. Commander Harmon Rabb." The two men nodded, sizing each other up. "Jack, you'll be in Colonel Mackenzie's office," Prescott said. "Have her stuff moved to an unoccupied office on the lower level, or put it in storage until a space opens up."

Jackson nodded, "Aye, sir."

"Dismissed."

"Sir -- " Harm started to protest and waited as Jackson left. He held Prescott's cool gaze. "Sir, Colonel Mackenzie expects to return to duty in a week or two."

"She will be undergoing treatment for months, correct?"

"I believe so, sir."

"Then it would be extremely unrealistic to wait until her health situation is resolved, one way or another."

When the meaning of the admiral's words sank home, Harm had to grip the arms of his chair until the red haze dissipated from his vision.

Unconcerned or oblivious, Prescott was scanning a folder on his desk. "You and the Colonel have worked together here at headquarters for years now, correct?"

"Yes, sir."

"And that's why you're running interference for her on this matter?"

Harm took hold of his temper. "Colonel Mackenzie has no family, sir. We've been friends for a long time."

"A long time. Yes. Look, Rabb. Admiral Chegwidden compiled an outstanding record, and he did it by developing a team of fine litigators, headed by yourself. But I believe he extended your tour of duty here at headquarters what -- three times? -- and several others, also. Well, Commander, I might as well be blunt. That's going to change. I'll be bringing up new officers who deserve a shot at top level litigation, and many of you will be rotating to new billets in accordance with normal military procedure. It won't happen tomorrow, but it's time for some new blood around here."

"Understood, sir." Harm kept his expression neutral.

"Let's get something straight, Rabb. Your record as an attorney is exceptional, and so is your reputation for getting results. Silver Star, two DFCs -- Jesus. But your service record reads like a cheap novel. You'll be lucky to make Captain no matter what the hell that missing six months was all about, and you certainly won't make it unless you take an overseas billet with command responsibilities before you come up for promotion. I don't have time for dead wood on my staff."

"Yes, sir."

"Excellent. Now let's go over these summaries before staff call. I'll be meeting with heads of all JAG divisions and overseas commands during the next month, and I'll expect litigation to keep moving smoothly."

* * *

Later that morning, 1145 Hours EDT

Conference Room, JAG Headquarters

"Well, that about wraps it up, gentlemen." Prescott closed the cover of his leather portfolio and stared down the long mahogany table. "I have a lunch at the Pentagon, but first I have a couple of announcements." Every officer at the table looked up expectantly.

"As of now, Lieutenant Commander Jackson will assume the duties of chief of staff," Prescott said. "All matters of personnel will be referred to him. Staff Sergeant Morrissey will serve as my administrative aide and keep my appointments calendar." His cool voice continued without skipping a beat. "Lieutenant Colonel Mackenzie has been hospitalized with a diagnosis of ovarian cancer, and as of today she is on medical leave. Her assignments will be determined when she is cleared to return to duty. Dismissed."

An icy wave of rage swept over Harm, and he forced his expression to remain impassive as everyone came to attention and the Admiral left the room. Instantly Sturgis and Bud turned to him, their faces taut with shock.

"Harm? What's going on, man?" Sturgis demanded.

"Mac's having surgery this morning," Harm said reluctantly. "We'll know more later."

"Can Harriet call her, sir?" Bud asked.

"Of course, Bud. I know Mac will appreciate seeing her when she feels better, she just didn't want everyone to hear about it by public broadcast," Harm snapped. "That son of a bitch didn't waste any time, did he?"

Sturgis put his hand on Harm's shoulder. "Easy, man. How's she holding up?"

Harm let his breath out slowly. "They say they've caught it early, and her chances are very good. That's all we know right now."

"What can we do, sir?" Bud said.

"We'll pray for her, Harm," Sturgis said.

End Part Four

* * *

Part Five

That afternoon, 1630 Hours EDT

Mac's room, Georgetown University Hospital

She knew when he entered the room, and opened her eyes. "Hi," she smiled. Her voice sounded hoarse.

"Hi yourself," he said, seating himself gingerly beside her bed. "How are you doing?"

"Fine. I didn't get back to the room 'til about 1400, so I'm still a little groggy, that's all."

"Wow, what time did they start?" he asked, hiding his anxiety.

"It felt like the crack of dawn. Then they kept me in the recovery room a long time."

"Have they told you how it went?"

"Not really. They said it went okay, but I haven't seen Dr. Levine yet. It's hard to remember what they say when you're all doped up."

"Well, that's good. I mean, I wanted to be here when you talked to him."

"How did it go with Mattie?" she asked.

"All right. The judge approved her spending the time with her dad, I mean. We'll try it for a month and see how it goes, and we can ask for a change if Tom falls off the wagon or it just doesn't work out."

"Are you okay with it?"

He looked away, but she didn't miss the pain in his eyes. "Sure. Hell, I'm proud of her. It isn't easy to admit you were wrong and give somebody another chance. This is the best possible outcome for her."

"But not for you. You did a great thing, Harm."

"It's not about me." He looked away. "And I wouldn't trade the past six months for anything." Quickly changing the subject, he bent to retrieve a package from the floor, and with a wistful smile, held up a threadbare pink teddy bear. "Mattie sent this. She said it always makes her feel better, and she wants you to take care of it for her."

Mac felt tears threatening, and forced herself to smile. "Oh Harm. What's its name?"

"Hell, I don't know. Look, when she asked me why I was worried, I had to tell her you were in the hospital, but I didn't say why."

"That's all right, Harm. I just don't want everybody to hear until I can tell them myself." A pained expression flitted across his face, and she said quickly, "What?"

"The cat's out of the bag. Admiral Prescott announced it at staff call. It hit Bud and Sturgis pretty hard."

"Oh no." She grimaced. "Well, what are you gonna do. I just didn't want a lot of rumors and people fussing around." His expression warned her. "What else happened? Harm?"

"What makes you think something else happened?"

"You have that look."

"*What* look?"

"That 'how do I get out of here' look."

He gave a short laugh. "Mac, it's nothing. It'll keep."

"*Now,* Commander."

He sighed. "Prescott made his aide chief of staff and moved him into your office. The good news is, you're next door to me."

She stared at him. "Wow, that was fast."

"If it's any comfort, I think Prescott planned to do it anyway. This just gave him an excuse."

"It's not a big surprise, Harm. Anyway, it'll give me more time to try cases."

Harm might have looked inscrutable to anyone else, but she knew he wasn't telling her everything. Just as she started to press for details, Dr. Levine gave a loud knock on the open door and bustled in, his white coat rustling with starch.

"Hello, Colonel," he said cheerfully. "Commander. No, no, please sit down," he waved Harm back into his chair and pulled up a stool on the opposite side of the bed. "How are you feeling, Sarah?" he asked and reached for her pulse.

"Not too bad, considering I seem to have gone three rounds with a kangaroo wearing boxing gloves," Mac said. Levine chuckled.

"You've had two procedures in less than a week. You're bound to feel pretty beat up. But the good news is, we only had to take the one ovary. There was no sign that the tumor had spread."

Harm's hand tightened around hers. "Thank God," she heard him whisper, and their eyes met. Her heart was thudding erratically, and she saw him swallow hard.

"We'll let you have tomorrow to recover," Levine was going on, "and we'll start the chemo on Thursday morning."

Mac cleared her throat. "Can't I go home tomorrow and come back?"

"I'd rather keep you here, Sarah. We need to monitor everything you eat and drink tomorrow, and you'll need all the rest you can get. And we'll be doing some more tests to choose exactly the right drugs and dosages for you. There have been a lot of advances in custom therapy that targets each patient's type of cancer and minimizes adverse reactions, but it takes a few tries to get it just right."

"But I can go home on Friday?"

"If all goes smoothly, yes. Now get some rest, okay? I'll stop by to see you tomorrow."

When he was gone, she turned to Harm. "These guys never give you an absolute answer to anything, have you noticed that?"

"Yeah, I have. Just like we don't ever promise a client how the members will decide."

She had to smile at that.

* * *

Wednesday, 1300 Hours EDT

Mac's room, Georgetown University Hospital

"I am going to go nuts if I have to watch another episode of 'Law and Order'!"

Mac hurled the TV remote against the pillow with more force than necessary, and Harriet's laughter greeted Harm as he came in. He was relieved to see Mac bouncing up and down, nearly fizzing with suppressed energy.

"Hi, Commander!" Harriet greeted him cheerfully. She was seated on the unoccupied bed with her shoes off, and Mac was sitting crosslegged on hers. "I was just trying to convince the Colonel that staying home during the daytime has its perks."

"Hey, Harriet. How are you doing?" Harm smiled and kissed her cheek.

"We're just great, sir, thanks," she beamed.

"Harriet brought me some stuff from home," Mac smiled as he took her hand and held it. He didn't see Harriet's eyebrows ascend to her bangs. "I didn't want you to have to deal with girl stuff again."

"Hey, I liked it," he grinned. "Look, Mac, I'm sorry I can't stay, but I've got court this afternoon, and Mattie has her last volleyball game tonight. Do you need anything?"

"I'll be fine. Please thank Mattie for me, tell her how much I love the bear."

"I'll get here by lunchtime tomorrow." Mac gave him a reassuring nod, and he reluctantly picked up his cover, hating that she had to be on her own for the next 24 hours. With a wave, he called from the doorway, "Harriet -- try to keep her from assaulting any of the nurses."

* * *

Thursday, 1230 Hours EDT

Mac's room, Georgetown University Hospital

The curtains were drawn against the brilliant sunlight outside. He tiptoed into the room, thinking she must be asleep, and froze at the sight of her curled on the bed. He couldn't believe this was the same vibrant woman he had talked to on the phone last night.

Mac lay huddled on her side, clutching a kidney-shaped plastic basin. Her eyes were closed, and her face was so pale it looked yellow. Clear plastic tubes snaked down from two IVs. There was an unpleasant odor of chemicals and sickness in the air.

Harm clutched his fists. As he hesitated, Mac cracked an eye and one corner of her mouth turned up. "Hey," she whispered.

"Hey Mac," he said, and sat carefully in the chair. "How's it going?"

She slowly shook her head and shut her eyes. He reached out and gingerly stroked the damp hair off her forehead. "You need to get back to the office," she mumbled, not opening her eyes.

"Yeah, I do," he said. "But I can stay a little while. I just wish there was something I could do for you, Mac."

"You're" -- abruptly she retched, horribly. A thin stream of yellow bile dripped into the basin, and she heaved again. Harm jumped to his feet, frantic, just as a nurse came in.

"Okay, Colonel Mackenzie, how are we doing?" the woman said brightly as she whisked the basin away and handed Mac a fresh one.

"Just peachy," Mac mumbled.

"Isn't there something you can do to make her more comfortable?" Harm demanded.

The nurse checked Mac's IVs and said briskly, "I'm sorry, but this is normal for the treatment. It'll pass in a few hours." She gestured to the door. "Let's go outside, sir."

With a glance at Mac, Harm followed reluctantly and confronted the nurse with a furious whisper. "A few *hours*?"

"Try not to be upset, sir. It's helping her. It's just part of the chemo."

Harm turned away from the woman, afraid he'd say something unforgivable. He gripped the window frame until his knuckles turned white, and after a moment the nurse walked briskly away, her shoes squeaking on the linoleum.

He saw nothing of the sunny day outside the glass. A cold wind was rattling the shutters of his soul, ripping away his last tattered shreds of denial. He could no longer hide from the knowledge that Mac was suffering, that she could die. His helplessness mocked him as he stared into the abyss.

After a few minutes he steeled himself to go back into her room. Her eyes were closed, and he sat silently beside her, turning his cover around and around in his hands. He recognized rage and frustration as the masks of fear, and at that moment, Harmon Rabb knew he had never been more terrified in his life.

* * *

That evening, 1900 Hours EDT

North of Union Station, Washington D.C.

"Should I put these onions in now, or what? Harm? Earth to Harm," Mattie said, waving her hand in front of his face. He came to with a start.

"Huh? Oh, sorry, Mats. Um, yeah. Lower the heat first." He stirred the pot of rice and covered it while Mattie tossed vegetables into the wok. Harm turned to the sink and began washing up a few odds and ends, not speaking.

He was absentmindedly pushing food around on his plate when Mattie blurted, "Harm? Are you mad at me?"

"What?" He looked up.

"You're acting like you're mad at me or something. Are you upset because I'm leaving?" Mattie glared at him. Her eyes were bright and shiny, and he knew she was trying not to cry.

"Oh God, no, Mattie -- I'm not upset with you. My mind was a million miles away, that's all. I'm sorry."

"Well you're upset about something," she tossed her curls. "You've been like this ever since Mac went in the hospital, so if it isn't me, it must be her. Harm, she's really sick, isn't she?"

He put his fork down. "Yes. She is."

"Is she going to be okay?"

"I hope so."

"But you can't tell me about it?"

"No, I can't, Mattie. Not ‘til Mac says it's okay."

Mattie sat very still, watching him carefully. "I'm not leaving," she announced.

"Mattie, I thought we had an agreement."

"I need to be here for you! Like you were there for me! Besides, what if I hate it? What if he gets drunk? What'll I do?" Suddenly Mattie looked very young.

"You'll call me, and I'll be there. But you need to give it a fair shot, okay?"

Mattie scowled down at her plate, cross and rebellious. Finally she said, "Can we still spend the day together tomorrow?"

"You bet. I'm going to pick Mac up at the hospital and take her home, then you and I are going to do what we planned. Are you all packed for Saturday?"

"I guess. I'm going to leave most of my stuff here, though."

* * *

Friday, 0900 Hours EDT

Mac's room, Georgetown University Hospital

Mac was dressed and waiting for him when he stuck his head in the door. She was sitting in a wheelchair, looking out the window and holding Mattie's bear on her lap.

"Hey, you look better," he greeted her, smiling for what felt like the first time in days.

"I feel better," she said. "But they told me I have to use this thing." Actually she still looked exhausted, and her hair was pushed back behind her ears, limp and shapeless. But she was smiling at him, and that was all that mattered.

He sat on the edge of the chair facing her, and brushed her cheek with his fingers. "It's so much worse than I expected, Mac. Yesterday -- "

"The treatment's worse than the disease," she said lightly. "But they tell me it gets easier."

"God, I hope so."

"Let's get out of here," she said.

He picked up her bag, released the brakes on the chair, and pushed it slowly through the door. Mac said over her shoulder, "Thanks for picking me up, Harm. Prescott doesn't sound like the type to approve a personal day."

"I have 30 days leave on the books, Mac, and I requested the time off last week. It's Mattie's last day before she leaves for Blacksburg, and I promised to take her to the Air and Space Museum, then out to dinner."

"I'm sorry to take up your time like this."

"Don't be an idiot, Mac."

* * *

Later

Mac's apartment, Georgetown

Since most of her neighbors were at work, they actually found a parking place right by the entrance to her building. Harm jumped out and made it around the Lexus in time to help her climb down, then fetched her bag as she shuffled carefully across the brick sidewalk. She stopped at the bottom of the high stone steps before slowly lifting her foot onto the first one.

Harm followed right behind her and held the door before opening the inner door with her keys. "I'll check your mail," he said, and unlocked the little cubbyhole in the foyer while Mac went inside.

He stuffed a few envelopes into his pocket and looked around. She was leaning on the newel post at the base of the stairs, looking up.

Hesitantly he asked, "Are you sure about this, Mac? ‘Cause I can carry you if" –

"No," she snapped, not looking at him. "I can do it. I just need to take it slowly." They started up step by step, with Mac holding onto the banister. Harm stayed at her elbow, trying not to let her see how much her effort upset him.

At the first landing, Mac paused and leaned on the railing. "I just need to rest for a minute," she panted.

"It's okay, Mac," he said. "We have all the time you need."

"They said it will get better after this," Mac said after a minute, as if reminding herself.

"Good."

She looked up quickly. "I'm okay, Harm. Really. And I need to do this, because you aren't going to be able to bring me home every time."

"We'll work something out, Mac. Don't push yourself too hard."

"Okay, I'm ready," she said, and straightened up. Cautiously she turned and made her way up the next short flight. She took his arm to walk along the hallway to the next set of stairs, where she grabbed the rail. "Just one more to go," she said with grim determination, and began climbing, one step at a time.

Halfway up, she swayed. Instantly he had his arm around her waist, taking most of her weight. "Three more steps," she panted, and he supported her as she lifted one foot, then the next, and again. Then they were at the top landing, and he dropped the bag and put both arms around her, holding her against him. His throat ached, and he could not have spoken if he'd tried.

Mac's arms slipped around his waist as she rested her head on his chest. He held her quietly for a long time, feeling her heartbeat slow beneath his hands, feeling the slight tremor in her limbs ease. "I'm ready," she said at last.

He put his arm around her waist, and this time she frankly leaned on him as they climbed the last short flight to the third floor. At last they made it to her door, and she eased herself onto the sofa while he carried her bag into the bedroom.

When he came back, she was reclining against the cushions, eyes closed. "Mac?" he whispered, thinking she had drifted off to sleep.

"Hm?" she answered. She opened her eyes and gave him the ghost of a smile.

"What do you need? What can I do?" he asked, perching on the edge of one of the wicker armchairs.

"Not a thing. I'm gonna rest and then I'm going to take a nice hot bath in my own tub."

"What about some tea or Seven-Up or something?"

"Please, don't mention anything about eating right now. The grocery store delivers. And a friend promised to stop by later. So get going, and have a good time with Mattie."

"I don't think I should leave yet, Mac."

"I'll kick your ass if you don't," she said. "Harm, your plans with Mattie are important. Give her my love, and tell her I'll be fine."

He watched her steadily, his eyes troubled, and she reached out and put her hand over his. "Go. Call me tonight, okay?"

His shoulders relaxed, and he leaned forward and gently kissed her cheek. As he went to the door, she called, "Harm?"

"What?" he turned back.

"Thank you."

End Part Five

* * *

Part Six

Friday, 1800 Hours

Harborside Restaurant, Alexandria, Virginia

"Wow, no wonder you made me get all dressed up," Mattie whispered as the maitre'd led them to their table.

"Wearing a skirt is not ‘all dressed up,' " Harm teased. The restaurant's outdoor seating area extended over the water and was strung with twinkle lights that glittered on the Potomac gliding past the railings. At this early hour, only a few other tables were occupied.

Mattie's ringlets stirred in the soft breeze off the water as she looked around in delight. "This is a pretty fancy place, Harm."

She was trying to sound blasé, and Harm concealed his grin. "Do you like it?"

"I like all of it. The Smithsonian was really cool, but I think the Aviation Museum here in Alexandria was the best," Mattie said. "All those old biplanes are right up my alley. Especially since I'm learning to fly one." She looked at him with a shy smile. "You'll still keep giving me lessons, right?"

"Of course I will, Mattie." His eyes were warm.

They ordered dinner, with Mattie firmly refusing to try the soft shell crabs and opting instead for pasta with shrimp, while Harm ordered grilled fish and vegetables. Mattie chattered gamely while they ate, telling him all her plans for the coming month, and Harm listened and marveled at how much she had grown up this year.

While Mattie attacked a huge mound of strawberry shortcake, he excused himself and walked down the pier to use his cell phone. Mac answered on the first ring, "Hi, how's it going?"

He laughed. "Are you having a psychic moment, or doesn't anyone else call you?"

"Are you kidding? Since you called the last time, the phone hasn't stopped. Harriet and Bud, Sturgis, a couple of friends. You're the only person I know who's left."

"How are you holding up?" he asked.

"Tired," she admitted. "But I'm curled up in bed. How was the museum?"

"A big hit. We're having dinner at the Harborside."

"Mattie must be loving it."

"Yeah, I hope so. Well, I'd better get back. Are you okay for tonight? Do you need anything?"

"Thanks, I'm going to be asleep in about ten minutes. Give her a big hug for me, Harm."

"I'll do it. ‘Night, Mac."

Mattie looked up when he returned to the table. "How's Mac?" she asked.

"Good. She had a lot of calls today, so she's pretty worn out."

"Well, you've called her three times. I can see why she'd be tired," Mattie grinned impishly. Then her expression turned serious. "Are you ever going to tell her?"

"Tell her what?" Harm wasn't paying attention as he signed the check.

"That you love her."

"Mattie."

"I know, I know. But take her some flowers at least, girls love that." They left the restaurant and strolled across the wide wooden pier toward the parking lot. Harm started to retort with amused exasperation and stopped when he saw Mattie's face.

"Hey, hey, what's all this?" he asked, reaching out, but Mattie turned angrily away to hide the traces of tears in her eyes. She stood rigid, her arms wrapped tightly around herself. Harm hesitated, then put his hand on her shoulder. "Mattie," he said gently, and abruptly she turned and buried her face in his jacket. He patted her back and waited.

"I'm sorry," Mattie gulped, swiping furiously at her eyes. "I'm just going to miss you so much. And I love you and I don't want you to be lonely."

Oh God, Harm thought, his throat aching with tenderness. He blinked away the sudden sting in his eyes and hugged her. "Mattie," he said after a moment. "Mattie, look at me."

Reluctantly she raised her eyes to his. He said gently, "I love you too, honey. I always will, no matter where you go. But you have to live your life, Mattie – not mine, and not your dad's. It's up to us to take care of you, not the other way around." He smiled at her. "And like I told you, Mac and I are working on it. The only thing you have to worry about this summer is being the best right fielder that softball team has ever seen."

Mattie gave him a tremulous smile. "Deal," she said.

* * *

Saturday, 0900 Hours EDT

Mac's apartment, Georgetown

She pried her eyelids open and wearily considered the digital clock on her bedside table. When was the last time she had slept this late? She had lain awake much of the night, uncomfortable and unable to rest, but too tired to get up. It was nearly dawn when she finally dropped off to sleep.

A clap of thunder shook the bed, and she realized the storm must have awakened her. The room was still dark as rain lashed the windows and lightning flashed. Briefly she considered pulling the covers over her head, but sheer stubbornness pulled her out of bed. She plodded to the bathroom and winced when she flipped on the light, avoiding her reflection in the mirror.

"Come on, Mac. You have to start feeling better," she lectured herself, rubbing crumbs from her eyes. Her skin and hair felt rough and dry, but the thought of lowering herself into the tub and climbing out again exhausted her. Wearily she turned on the shower and stepped in, and for an instant, her head spun with vertigo. Carefully, she steadied herself on the towel bar and reached for the shampoo.

The water felt like needles on her skin, and she fumbled ineffectually with the shower head, trying to adjust it. The old-fashioned chrome attachment was stiff with lime deposits, and she gave up, soaping and rinsing as quickly as she could.

She twisted the knobs to ‘off' and straightened up cautiously, feeling only a slight dizziness. Her thick terry robe was warm and soft, and she let it blot up the moisture rather than toweling herself dry. Her skin felt sensitive, and when she brushed her teeth, the taste of the toothpaste was nauseating.

Briefly Mac considered getting back into bed, but she couldn't stand the thought of lying on the same rumpled sheets after her long night. She would get dressed and have something to eat, and that would help, she told herself firmly.

She dragged on clean sweats and some thick socks and padded into the kitchen, where she set a mug of water in the microwave to boil. Some tea sounded good. Maybe some dry toast. Come on, Mac. It's just like a bad case of the flu. It'll pass.

The smell of the bread toasting was almost too much for her, but after sipping some tea with a little honey, and she was able to put the cool toast on a plate and carry it into the living room. She turned on a lamp, fetched her newspaper from the doorstep and sat on the sofa, pulling a comforter over her knees. Perfect. A rainy Saturday morning with breakfast and the Washington Post, who could ask for more?

By chewing very small bites slowly, she was able to finish the toast and keep it down. Definite progress. It was tiring to hold the paper up, so she leafed through it page by page. After a while, she rested her head on the cushion and closed her eyes.

Slowly she became aware that someone was knocking insistently on her door. "It's open!" she called, pushing her damp hair off her face. "Come in!"

The door swung wide to reveal Harm standing on the threshold with a dripping umbrella. "Hi," she greeted him, feeling unreasonably glad to see him, and her internal clock kicked in to tell her that an hour had passed. "Sorry, I must have dozed off."

He didn't take his eyes off her as he leaned his umbrella in the stand. "I got a little worried when you didn't answer the door bell or your cell phone. One of your neighbors let me in downstairs." He swiped at his wet forehead. "Tell me you don't always leave your door unlocked, Mac. You didn't even know it was me."

"I guess I left it open when I picked up the paper," she told him. "Why don't you get a dry towel? You look like a drowned rat."

"Thanks," he grinned, shrugging out of his wet leather flight jacket. "I had to park in the next block." He disappeared through the door to the bedroom and came back rubbing his hair with a towel.

"Would you like some tea?" she held up her mug.

"Yeah, sounds good. No, let me get it," he waved her off when she started to rise, and gratefully she dropped back into her seat.

"So how's it going?" he asked when he returned with fresh tea for both of them.

"Better," she said, determined to sound cheerful.

He put his head on one side, considering. "Looks like you got that bath," he teased, eyeing her damp hair.

"Shower, actually. I decided not to try climbing in and out of the tub again." His gaze sharpened, but he made no comment, and Mac quickly changed the subject. "Did Mattie get off okay?"

He gave a noncommittal shrug, and she noticed that he failed to meet her eyes. "Tom picked her up around ten. They'll have a tough drive in this rain."

"Did you decide what to do about the apartment?"

"Not yet. We don't know where she'll be next year, and it was important for her to know she'll always have a home to come back to." His quick smile couldn't quite conceal the shadow in his deep set eyes.

"I guess you still have to pay the extra rent, then."

"It isn't that much. Besides, I think Jennifer's enjoying having the place to herself for a change."

"She'll miss her, too," Mac said.

He looked down at the mug in his hands as if wondering what it was, and said quietly, "It's amazing how someone so small can leave such a big hole behind them."

Mac's heart ached for him, but she knew he didn't want sympathy. She picked up the stuffed bear sitting on the couch and hugged it. "Well, at least we still have this little guy."

Harm gave a half-smile and stood up, prowling restlessly around the room. He stared out at the rain for a minute, his expression bleak, before gathering their mugs from the coffee table and heading for the kitchen. She heard water running and closed her eyes, enjoying the sounds of him moving around in the other room.

When Harm brought another cup of tea, she accepted it with a smile. "Thanks, but you don't have to wait on me, Harm. It's nice just to have some company."

He sat down again and sipped at his mug. "Is there anything that needs doing around here, Mac? Laundry, chores, anything?" She grinned, and he demanded, "What?"

"I had a sudden vision of you downstairs in the laundry room with my lingerie. The neighbors would love it."

He gri