The lightning flashed outside the window and the thunder clapped loudly. Bob shivered in his cage, burying himself under his blankie. He refused to move for anything, and was determined that Chloe and Kris had abandoned him. There's ferret logic for you. He heard a key in the lock and poked his nose out, hoping it was the blonde lady with the soft voice, come to feed him. He knew her, she always came after Kris left.

As the door opened, he sniffed the air. It wasn't the blonde lady, she didn't smell like that. This lady smelled good, kinda like the garbage can on Fridays.

The woman slipped through the door quietly, the sound of the thunderstorm covering any noise she might make, just as planned. She glanced around, peering through the murky darkness of the mid-afternoon cloud cover at the apartment.

Bob pulled back under his blankie, cowering away from the lady. She shouldn't be here, even if she did smell good. He wanted the blonde lady. Or maybe the rambunctious, dark-haired boy, who played with him, building mazes and bridges and other fun things.

The woman stepped further into the apartment, closing the door silently behind her. She glanced around for the occupants, and realized they weren't home. *Fuck,* she thought. *What a waste of time.* She decided to sit and wait until they arrived. Surprise them as they walk through the door. They'll never see it coming.

Harriet Roberts hummed to herself as she stepped out of the elevator at Chloe and Kris' apartment. She knew Chloe thought she disapproved, and while she had at first, she was reconciled to their relationship. After all, no one had ever seen Mac's little sister as happy as she had been with the red-haired psychology major. Now feeding the ferret was going a bit far, but she had the time for the damn rodent, as Chloe called him, and she didn't mind doing something for the pair, anything to make up for her reluctance to accept them, and their current troubles.

Reaching the door, she fumbled with her keys. Admiral Rabb's, General Mackenzie's, retired Admiral Chegwidden's, Chief Petty Officer Tiner's... Finally locating the right one, she opened the door to the darkened apartment, reaching for the lamp. She closed the door behind her as she went to check on Bob. His water bottle was nearly full, so there was no need to worry about that. But his dish was nearly empty. Popping open the top of the cage, she reached for the bag of lettuce and carrots that Kris had left on the foyer table, simultaneously lifting out the food dish.

Silently slipping out of the bedroom, where she'd hidden, the woman came upon Harriet standing in front of Bob's cage. She stood there, knife in hand.

Sensing someone behind her, Harriet turned around, gasping at the sight of the switchblade. "Who are you?" she demanded. "What do you want?"

"Not you," the woman assured her. "I have business with Kristin." She stepped forward, and it became obvious that it wasn't a switchblade in her hand but a kitchen knife. "Unfortunately for you, now I've got business with you." She sounded like a bad gangster movie.

Harriet stifled her laughter. Though she wasn't normally in on the action, she'd dealt with enough sickos while working at JAG to not be intimidated by this...trailer trash. "You sound like a really bad movie. Since you started this," she moved slowly away from Bob's cage, "I guess that means I get to play the damsel in distress. So what are you going to do to Kris?" Harriet smiled to herself.

The woman shifted from one foot to the other uncomfortably. Her beef was with McGowan, she really didn't want to involve this woman. But....so be it. "That's really none of your business," she sneered. It's between me and her."

"But I'm the one you're holding at knife-point," Harriet replied patiently. "I think I deserve an explanation."

Bob's nose emerged from under his blankie. The nice blonde lady had left his cage door open. That meant he could climb out and explore. Maybe there would be something to chase on the floor.

He was arrested by sharp voices. The nice-smelling lady was yelling at the nice blonde lady. He scrabbled his way out of the cage, dropping to the floor. Carefully avoiding people's feet, he crawled under the couch, behind the mean lady.

The woman shook her head. "Listen, lady, I can knock you out until I'm done with Kristin. Or, I can tell you what I'm planning and just go ahead and kill you now." She was making less and less sense as the conversation wore on. "You pick."

"Well, personally, I've never liked waiting around for people to kill me. Anticipation just makes it worse," Harriet replied flippantly. "You might as well tell me now." She hoped to get the woman talking, letting her guard down so that she could go for the knife. "First off, why do you want to hurt Kris?"

"We have old issues," the woman said simply. "Listen, I've seen the movies, okay? I know you're trying to distract me so you can make your move, but it's not working."

Harriet frowned. "I guess you figured me out," she heaved a sigh. "So go ahead and kill me." After all, the woman had to get close enough to stab her. She could grapple for the knife then.

The woman laughed, reaching into the pocket of her coat and pulling out a bungee cord. "Too messy. How about I just tie you up in the bedroom? Come on, hands behind your back."

Harriet thought furiously as she slowly began to turn. "You know, I really have a thing about being tied up. Let's skip that part, okay?"

Bob watched the proceedings silently. The mean lady was playing with some rope. That looked like fun. He wanted to play too. He ran forward and bit her ankle, hoping to attract her attention.

As she felt his little incisors digging into his ankle, she yelped and glared down at the ferret. Reaching down, she grabbed Bob and sent him skittering across the tile.

Bob whimpered as he impacted against the wall, trying valiantly to get up. The mean lady was going to hurt the nice blonde lady. After all, if anyone could hurt something as cute as him, they wouldn't have any problems hurting the nice blonde lady, who just wasn't as cute as he was.

Harriet made her move when the other woman was distracted, sending a fist crashing into her jaw.

The woman grunted and struck out wildly, her palm connecting with Harriet's face.

Harriet's head snapped back, moving with the blow, minimizing its impact. She reached down and clamped down on the intruder's wrist, forcing her grip open so the knife clattered to the floor.

The woman muttered something about "idiot" and pushed Harriet away from her savagely, reaching for her knife.

Harriet kicked out, sending the knife clattering across the room.

Bob pounced on the shiny new toy, savagely protecting it from the mean lady.

"Bitch," she muttered, cocking back a fist and aiming for Harriet's stomach, intending to knock the wind out of the blonde.

Harriet dodged, moving forward and closing with the woman, trying to force her to the floor.

The intruder stumbled backwards, pulling Harriet with her. She tried to roll so that Harriet was underneath, but failed, tumbling to the floor. Kicking her leg up, she tried vainly to connect with anything fleshy.

Harriet reached blindly for anything to use as a weapon, finally finding the phone and bringing it crashing down on the other woman's head. She went limp, and Harriet crawled to her feet, using the phone for its intended purpose, dialing JAG Headquarters.

Harm picked up as soon as his yoeman transferred her through. "Harriet? Are you okay?" Fatherly concern was evident in his voice. "What happened?"

"I got to Kris and Chloe's to feed Bob, oh no, Bob, I forgot all about him!" Harriet dropped to her knees, searching for the ferret, and continued breathlessly, "There was a woman here. She had a knife, said her business was with Kris. We fought...Bob saved me. She's knocked out now. Sir, I could really use some help here," Harriet finished, her voice approaching a wail. Locating the ferret, who was still playing with his shiny toy, she reached out a trembling hand to pet him.

Bob noticed the nice blonde lady's hand, and since she didn't want to take the shiny thing, he rubbed against it, offering her comfort in the only way he could.

Harm spoke softly and slowly. "Harriet, it's okay. Calm down. Shhhh," he murmured. "Listen, find a rope or something and tie her hands together, in case she wakes up, okay?" He waited for Harriet's sniffling to subside. "I'll call Bud and tell him to go to Chloe's apartment immediately. I'll get Tiner to pick the kids up from school and meet us at the police station. Just stay calm, okay? You did a great job, Commander."

"Yes, sir," Harriet affirmed, sniffling slightly. Now that it was all over, she felt her control slipping. "I'll tie her up and I'll stay here." She continued petting Bob, who was grounding her to the reality of what still must be done.

"Good, you do that. I'm going to call Bud right now, he should be there soon. Harriet, who is she?" he asked, curious.

"I don't know, sir," Harriet confessed as Bob crept away. She reached for him, but he scuttled away from her touch, returning with something large dragging from his mouth. "She's Carly Mills, sir. Bob just brought me her wallet."

"Okay. We'll figure out how to deal with her later. Right now, I'm going to go call Bud and tell him to go over there, okay?" Harm reached for a notepad and began jotting down information.

"Thank you, sir," Harriet quavered. Hanging up the phone, she reached for the bungee cord that Carly had carried, tying the woman's wrists behind her back. Sitting on the floor, she pulled Bob into her lap, petting him lightly, and waiting for someone to show up.

Bob snuggled into the warm lap. The nice blonde lady was soft and comfortable. He liked her. Maybe if Chloe and Kris didn't come back, she'd take him to live with her and the fun boy.

Harm hung up with Harriet and immediately called Bud. He was on his way to Chloe's place within minutes, and Harm sent Tiner to pick up Sarah and AJ at three.

Kris lay baking under the midday sun. The Atlantic roared peacefully at their feet, until the relative silence was shattered by the ringing of Chloe's cell phone. "Chlo, get that," she muttered from under the towel covering her face. "I'm tanning."

Chloe, who had been gazing at the water, mumbled, "Sure." Flipping open the phone, she spoke crisply, "Private Madison."

"Chloe, it's Harm. You better get back here soon. Harriet caught someone breaking into your apartment."

Chloe sat up straight. "Our stalker?" she inquired tensely.

"Most likely. We're checking it out," Harm added.

"Do you have a name on him?"

"Her. Carly Mills."

"Carly Mills?" Chloe repeated, her face furrowed. "Never heard of her. But we'll leave now. We should be back to D.C. in a few hours. Where should we meet you?"

Harm thought a second. "Come to the office. We should have everyone rounded up by the time you get back."

Kris listened to the entire conversation, ashen.

"We'll see you there, Harm. And thanks. Oh, is Harriet okay?" Chloe inquired as an afterhought.

"Yes, she's fine. She says *Bob* saved her, though, so we think she might've taken a little bump to the head."

"Probably," Chloe replied. "Look, we'll go check out of the hotel so we can get going. See you in awhile."

"Bye."

Kris stared at Chloe, all but speechless. "What....Carly....?" she stammered.

"You know her?" Chloe asked, studying her face.

"She's my ex-girlfriend," Kris whispered.

"Your ex?" Chloe repeated incredulously. "Well, I guess Josh was right," she said weakly. "C'mon, we need to go check out and get home. They need us there."

"Okay." Kris got up, working on auto-pilot, and gathered her things.

Chloe followed suit, heading back to the room, merely grasping Kris' hand to let her know it would be okay.

They arrived in Falls Church in record time, despite having been stopped once by a cop. When he heard their story, he let them off with a warning.

Chloe showed her ID to the gate guard, and signed Kris in. Taking the elevator up to the bullpen, she glanced around. It hadn't changed since she was a child. Shaking her head, she headed for Harm's office.

"Sampson, we're here to see the Admiral," she informed Harm's aide.

"Yes, ma'am, I'll announce you, ma'am."

"Thank you, Petty Officer."

Petty Officer Sampson knocked on the door and poked his head in. "Admiral Rabb, sir, there's a Chloe Madison and guest here to see you."

"Send them in, please."

"Yes, sir." He stepped back into the hall. "You can go in."

Chloe stepped into the office, her hand clasping Kris'. "Hey, Harm."

"Hi." Harm came around the big, oak desk and perched on the edge.

Kris slid into a seat, clasping her hands in her lap. "What happened?"

Harm summed it up as quickly as possible, explaining what Harriet had told him, and the information Tiner had been able to gather from the public records. "Apparently, Carly Mills has a history of convictions on aggravated assault and domestic violence, was a suspect in a kidnapping, and had a number of priors, including juvenile car theft, petty larceny and breaking and entering."

"I really pick the winners," Kris muttered under her breath.

Chloe sent her a silent glance of sympathy, before addressing Harm. "What's going to happen to her?"

"She's going to be charged with stalking, breaking and entering and assault with a deadly weapon, at the least. Since this will be her third, fourth, fifth offenses, if she's convicted, she'll probably get the maximum penalty," Harm said. He was just relieved that all this would be over soon.

"Good," Chloe said firmly. "Do we need to go down and file a complaint or anything?"

"No, it's all taken care of. Harriet's got to do most of the paperwork this time, since she was there. All you have to do is provide proof of residence for the B and E." Harm smiled slightly. "I'm just glad this is all over."

Kris stood up abruptly. "Thanks for all your help, Harm. But this won't ever be over." She walked out of the office quickly, so they wouldn't see her shaking. Heading out, she bumped into Mac. "I'm sorry," she murmured, head down.

"I'm sure you are," Mac said sympathetically. "Let me guess, sorry for everything, heaping blame on yourself?"

Kris looked up, grinning through the tears. "A little, but it's more than that." She paused in thought. "Hey, Mac, where would they be keeping Carly?"

"In a holding cell downtown. And don't think you're going down there alone, young lady. I'll go with you."

Kris didn't reply, just started walking. She did glance back to make sure Mac was following her, though.

Chloe backed away from the door. "Mac's going with her. Sorry my fiancee is stealing yours, but it looks like they'll be gone for awhile. I'll see you later, Harm."

"Chloe?" Harm stopped her momentarily. "Try not to worry so much. Kris is a strong young lady, she can deal with her own problems without you."

"I know. That's what I'm afraid of," Chloe replied somberly as she headed out the door.

Exiting the JAG offices, she headed for the car, knowing that Kris would have ridden with Mac. There was someone she needed to talk to, someone who would help her make sense of all her feelings.

Kris signed in and handed over her purse. She approached the holding cell, her eyes roaming the unfamiliar faces until....she saw her. "Carly," she murmured.

Mac followed at a distance, wanting to give the young woman support, but not wanting to intrude. She needed to deal with this on her own.

Kris rested her hands on the bars, staring in at the familiar face in an unfamiliar place. "Carly?" she said, a little louder.

"McGowan," the unkempt brunette replied. "What do you want?"

"I want to know what the hell you were doing in my apartment, pulling a knife on my friend," she demanded.

"Friend, huh?" Carly sneered. "Or were you sleeping around, like you did with me?"

"What?" Kris replied brilliantly. "What are you talking about?"

"You know damned well what I'm talking about, Kristin! You were always sleeping with other people. You were never faithful!" Carly stood, enraged, and grasped the bars over Kris' hands. She railed, "You cheated on me! And now you're cheating on her! You're still mine, Kristin! She can't have you!"

Kris snatched her hands away, backing up a foot and a half. "I what?" she growled. "I never *kissed* anybody the entire time we were together. And what I do or don't do with Chloe is none of your business!"

Carly stalked the small cell. "You're lying! You were sleeping with other guys! Everyone knew it! And-and that *whore* you're with now is mine! I'm gonna kill her!"

"Everyone knew you were crazy," Kris countered angrily. "I was so blindly in love with you, Carly, I couldn't see my hand in front of my face. And that *whore*," she spat back, "is my fiancee." Kristin stepped closer to the barred cell and lowered her voice. This was for Carly's ears alone. "You touch one hair on her head and I will personally see to it that you *die* in this stinking hellhole." She stepped back, turning towards Mac.

"You can't just leave like this!" Carly yelled angrily. "You can't threaten me and leave! My big brother is coming to get me out, and he'll make you pay, *bitch*!"

Kris just walked out, shaking her head.

Bryan Kaplan muttered angrily as he headed up the stairs. Bailing his little sister out for stalking? He couldn't believe it. There had to be some mistake.

Not watching where he was going, he ran into a woman. Looking up to apologize, his words froze on his lips when he recognized Kris McGowan.

Kris stopped mid-step. "Bryan," she said, the wheels turning in her head. "What are you doing here?"

"Bailing my kid sister out. There was a mistake. There had to be," he continued a bit desperately.

Kris shook her head. "Carly?" she asked softly, actually feeling sorry for the young man.

"Yeah. How'd you know?" Bryan said suspiciously. He examined her more closely. "And what are *you* doing here?"

"I was visiting Carly, too," Kris replied carefully. "She's the one that's been harassing me and Chloe."

"She-she was?" Bryan's face fell momentarily. Then a fierce look came over his face. "You're the one who ruined her in high school!"

Kris went pale, glancing around for Mac. "I didn't ruin anybody, Bryan," she said calmly.

He took a step toward her, hand raised.

Instead of stepping back, Kris stepped up to meet him. She kept her voice low. "Go ahead, Bryan. If it'll make you feel better, hit me. But you can't keep blaming me for your sister's problems - or for her loving women," Kris added, trying to keep her voice neutral.

Bryan stopped, confusion and agony flitting across his face before his expression settled into weariness. "I'm sorry. I don't have any right to blame you for Carly's problems. Momma always told me I was too stubborn for my own good. Guess she was right." He turned on his heel and headed into the police station, not offering any other sign that he'd made his own peace.

Kris sighed in relief, sinking against the nearest wall. Her hands were shaking with the adrenaline rush - she was horrible with confrontations. She looked behind her again for Mac, who seemed to have disappeared.

Mac exited the building moments later, a thoughtful expression on her face. "Kris, Bryan stopped and talked to me. He wanted you to know that he's sorry."

Kris smiled slightly, nodding her thanks. "I spoke to him a few minutes ago," she said, pushing off the wall and standing up. "You ready to go?"

"Yeah." Mac glanced sideways at the younger woman. "You okay?"

"I will be," Kris affirmed. "You ready to go?"

"Deja vu all over again," Mac raised her eyebrows teasingly. "You just asked me that. Let's go." She started walking to her new truck, the one she and Harm had finally bought the day before to replace the one that had been bombed.

"Forgive me for repeating myself," Kris murmured good-naturedly. "I have a lot on my mind." They climbed into the car and were soon headed back towards Georgetown.

* * *

Chloe reclined comfortably in her favorite chair at Josh's apartment. "Thanks for letting me come vent to you, Josh."

"Anytime," Josh said, handing her a beer and settling down on the couch. "So talk to me. What's eating you?"

Chloe took a sip of the Rolling Rock before answering. "Kris. We found our stalker. It's her ex-girlfriend. She's not particularly happy."

Josh nodded lamely. "I know. I heard this morning. Why's it bothering *you*?" he pressed. "Kris can deal with it."

"Because it's bothering her." Chloe looked at him like he was an idiot.

"She'll get over it," he said simply.

"You don't just get over something like that," she protested. "It's betrayal, Joshua, pure and simple."

Josh shook his head vehemently. "She's a psycho, Chloe. She was evaluated by the best psychiatrists DC has to offer, and they all said the same thing: bi-polar with homicidal tendencies."

"Doesn't matter, Josh. She and Kris were still close. They were important to each other for-" Chloe's voice broke, "for a long time."

"Ah." Josh nodded, finally realizing what was upsetting Chloe. "That was years ago," he reassured her. "Kris loves you, you know that."

"Sometimes I wonder," Chloe murmured, setting her bottle down on the table. She closed her eyes, signaling the end of the conversation. She knew Josh would understand. She'd come to his place for solitude many times, and he always let her talk, or curl up with him, or watch TV, or sleep. Anything she wanted.

"You're incredible, Madison," he muttered angrily. Josh shoved his beer away from him and crossed his arms defiantly.

"What do you mean?" Chloe's eyes flew open, hurt reflecting in their depths.

Josh shook his head slowly, incredulous. "You have an incredible fiancee - smart, funny, beautiful - who loves you more than life itself, and you're sitting here having a pity-party." He stood, stalking towards the kitchen. "Open your eyes, dammit. Kris would do anything, and I mean *anything*, for you."

Chloe jumped up and headed after him. "I know that! You think I don't? It's just...it's just..." She trailed off, unable to articulate what she felt. She turned away, walking slowly to the door. "I'll be elsewhere. Thanks so much for your help."

"Stop feeling sorry for yourself," Josh called after her. "You're the only one sabotaging it."

Chloe stopped, leaning her head against the door. "I know. Dammit, I know, and I don't know how to talk to her!"

"Open up your mouth and speak. Jesus, you're two *women*. Isn't it supposed to be men who're unable to communicate?"

"It doesn't have anything to do with what sex you are, Josh."

Josh sighed softly. "Why is it so hard for you to talk to her, Chloe? You love her, don't you?"

"More than life itself," she whispered in reply, still leaning against the door. "But talking hasn't been my thing in a long time, Josh."

"So maybe it's not hers, either," Josh said in a moment of clarity. "Have you tried *not* talking?"

"'Scuse me?" Chloe blinked.

"I mean, have you tried just sitting and enjoying each other's company? How long has it been since you did something that didn't involve long, drawn-out, emotional conversations?" Josh asked. "Outside the bedroom," he added quickly.

"At the beach earlier...but we weren't there for very long," Chloe realized. "Maybe you're right. Except for one thing...Kris is *definitely,* um, vocal."

Nodding in understanding, Josh suggested, "Maybe you need to show her that she doesn't need to be." He left it at that.

Chloe sighed, turning to face him. She quirked one corner of her mouth up into a smile and managed, "Thank you."

"Quite welcome. That'll be five cents, please." Josh grinned.

"Yes, Lucy," Chloe mocked. Reaching forward, she hugged her friend. "I owe you one." Glancing at her watch, she cursed. "Damn, I've got to get to Sarah's recital! Kris and I promised we wouldn't miss it!" She looked up at Josh with a slow smile. "And afterwards...we'll try not talking." She backed out the door, waving to the spy before taking off down the stairs.
* * *
Chloe glanced over the crowd at McMurphy's. They were celebrating with nearly reckless abandon, but then, everyone deserved it.

They were celebrating two victories. Carly's trial was over, and she and Kris had succeeded not only in becoming whole again, but they'd made a successful plea for Carly to receive help, not jail time.

And Harm and Mac were married. They'd decided to get married in a private ceremony, with just Harriet and Bud as witnesses.

Their circle definitely had reason to party.

Chloe watched her friends. Her family. She leaned against the bar, content to simply observe for awhile. After all, talking wasn't her thing. Her lips curved into a smile. She and Kris had spent their time together rather effectively. It would take work, but they wouldn't forget the lessons learned in this whole mess.

Harm sauntered up and leaned against the bar, his gold wings gleaming in the neon lights. "Hey, Chlo," he said with a smile. "How are things?"

"Not bad," she responded lazily, sipping her soda.

Harm raised an eyebrow. "Not bad?" he echoed. "I would've thought it was going better than that," he surmised, watching Kris dancing with big AJ. "She looks radiant."

"She does, doesn't she?" Chloe pulled out a bar stool. "Can I buy you a drink, sailor?"

"No, thanks," Harm said, settling down on a stool himself. "My treat." He glanced over at Kris and Mac, who were now off to one side of the bar, deep in conversation.

Chloe followed his gaze. "How's married life treating you?"

"Wonderfully." He smiled broadly. "I can hardly believe we're finally married, after all this time."

Across the room, Kris placed a hand on Mac's arm, passion in her eyes. "You wouldn't believe it if you saw it, Mac. Hundreds of kids, from toddlers to teenagers, and there aren't enough to people to care for half of them! It was *awful.*" Kris shook her head she described the foster homes she'd visited as part of her social psychology graduate work.

"I know," Mac replied softly. "It's the kind of thing Chloe nearly grew up with. It's why I still participate in the big sister program. It's why I'm a lawyer. To do as much as I can to help."

"So much more is needed," Kris said sadly, releasing her grip on Mac's hand. "I wish I could find adoptive homes for all of them. There was this one little boy...oh, you should've seen him, Mac! He was so sweet, and smart, too. About AJ's age, and just dying to find a home. He asked if Chloe and I could adopt him. Just broke my heart to tell him no."

"Why did you tell him no?" Mac replied. "There's no reason you and Chloe can't adopt."

"She doesn't want kids yet, and I guess I understand that," Kris murmured, downcast. "Brendan was just so incredible. He reminded me a little of Harm, actually," she smiled a little.

"Have you talked to her about kids? Granted, it is a little early, because both of your lives are so uncertain. Right this instant, she's probably right. You're finishing your degree, she's just finishing up her probation period at JAG, and you're not married yet. But later on, when you're settled, are you sure she doesn't want kids?" Mac held Kris' gaze steadily. "I know she told me she wants them."

"Oh, I know she wants them *eventually*. I just don't know how long I can wait." Kris gazed wistfully at little Sarah and her brother, playing checkers on the floor in a corner of the bar. "And it's not about us having kids, anyway. I want someone to help the kids I saw this week. Someone needs to give *them* homes."

"If you're thinking what I think you are, Kristin," Mac warned. "I'm sure he's a nice kid, really I am. But Harm and I got married *two days ago*. We're not ready for kids yet. Give us a bit to settle in." She sighed. "There are...issues. But I'd like to adopt. Soon. Just not right now."

Kris' face lit up. "Honestly, Mac, I wasn't suggesting anything, but I think it's a great idea. You and Harm will make incredible parents!" she said in a rush.

"Sure you weren't," Mac laughed, a hint of pain underlying her warm tone. "We'll even talk about Brendan."

Kris reached up and wrapped her arms around Mac's neck on impulse, hugging her tightly. "I'm sorry," she murmured. "But thank you."

Mac hugged her in return. "You're welcome. Now go enjoy your victory party." She playfully shoved the redhead toward Chloe and Harm. "Your fiancee is looking a bit lonely, and my husband promised me a dance."

Kris practically skipped across to Chloe, tugging her away from the bar for a dance.

Mac followed more sedately, wrapping her arms around her husband's waist. "Hey, flyboy."

"Hey, Ninja Girl," he said, setting his beer on the counter and embracing Mac. "What was that all about?"

"Mmm, Kris not so subtly hinting that we would be great parents, so great that we should adopt a young boy she met when she was doing her social work." She rested her cheek against his chest, not looking into his eyes.

"We - what?" Harm looked perplexed. *This* was new. "Hey, you promised me a dance," he reminded Mac, his eyes shining.

"I think it was the other way around, counselor," Mac tossed back, smiling as Reba's latest romantic ballad played over the jukebox. She tugged him out onto the dance floor, not once losing contact with his body.

Harm twined his arms around Mac's waist as they swayed to the music. "Either way, I'm gonna score," he teased.

"Are you sure?" Mac murmured, her hand grazing his cheek.

"I better," he laughed. "It's still our honeymoon." As they danced in silence, Harm grew bolder and asked the question pecking at his mind. "So what do you think about what Kris said?"

"What? About kids?" Mac looked surprised, and then contemplative. "I've always wanted kids, Harm. I love them. I want to help out a kid who needs it. But I know you've always wanted biological children, to carry on the Rabb family name."

"Mac," Harm began softly, holding her tight against him, "you couldn't be more wrong. Any child of ours can carry on 'the family name', blood relation or not. But that's not what it's about. I want kids...*our* kids. I want to have them *with* you, however we can do it."

Mac sighed, closing her eyes briefly. "Harm, I...I can't have kids."

"Why not?" Harm asked, misunderstanding her. "You're going to be a great mom, Mac. Believe me."

"No, Harm, I mean, I *can't* have kids," she returned. "Biologically."

"Oh." Harm fell silent for a full minute. "So?" he finally said. "I don't care," he added firmly.

"Harmon Rabb, you obssessed for years over your father. Family is important to you, and now you're telling me you don't care?" Mac pulled back slightly and glanced around. "Um, let's go outside to finish this discussion. I'd rather 100 of our nearest and dearest didn't overhear us."

Harm shook his head, lowering his voice to a near whisper. "I don't care if you can't have kids, Mac. I love you, and we'll build our family any way we can."

She tugged on his hand. "Outside, Admiral," she ordered firmly.

Acquiesing, Harm followed her quietly. They stood in the deepening twilight, facing each other.

Mac nervously pushed a strand of hair away from her face, and paused to examine her ring as it caught in the light. "Harm, I..." She stopped, uncertain what to say.

"What?" he asked in a whisper, reaching up to run a hand over her hair gently.

Mac closed her eyes, shivering at the sensation. "Have I ever told you about how high school was for me?"

"No," Harm said softly, stepping closer to her.

"I was drunk, all the time. And there was Eddie, but we weren't exactly joined at the hip. And then there was Chris. Harm, except for drinking, which I know is a pretty big except, I was a *good* kid, you have to believe me."

Harm placed a hand on Mac's cheek, stroking it with his thumb. "I believe you," he said sincerely.

"The teachers didn't really care about me. Neither did the principal. No one in town bothered to look past the surface. I had good grades. I swam for awhile, but I stayed pretty isolated. I loved distance swimming, the way you could get away from it all. But it was for the nice girls; they snubbed me. So I gave up. And then...the football team..." Sarah Mackenzie Rabb was crying softly, backing away from her husband.

"Mac, honey, what happened?" he asked, stepping toward Mac. Harm grabbed her arm, gently but firmly, so she couldn't run away. "You can tell me, I'm not going to judge you." His voice was filled with sympathy.

"Chris saved me..." Mac whispered, half-heartedly trying to free herself from his grasp.

Harm tugged on her arm lightly, pulling her closer. "Saved you from what?" he asked, not wanting to hear the answer. "What did they do to you?"

Mac looked down at the ground, tears falling hard. "They decided that easy Sarah Mackenzie should be taught a lesson for trying to be a good girl. After all, she was trash, and nobody cared about her. They took me out behind The Cellar, a local club, and they, they," her voice broke as she finished in a choked whisper, "gang raped me. I couldn't report it because nobody would believe me. After all, I was the drunken whore. Chris found me, and he patched me up. He even paid for me to see a doctor. I didn't find out I couldn't have kids, though, until my physical for boot camp. When they told me, I was devastated. I nearly didn't go through with joining the Corps, but figured it was the only chance I had left at a life, a family."

"Mac...Sarah..." Harm was at a loss for words, for once. He simply opened his arms, gathering his wife against him and holding her tightly. "I'm sorry. I wish I could've stopped them. But I'm your family now. You're not alone anymore. I promise," he murmured softly.

Mac dropped her head to his chest, finding comfort in its familiar broad planes. "I'm sorry to dump all of this on you on our honeymoon."

"Stop that," Harm admonished her. "I wish you'd told me years ago. You don't have to carry all this anymore, Mac, that's what I'm here for."

She sniffled quietly. "I just couldn't, but talking about kids...it brought it all back."

"I'm sorry," he repeated. "But it doesn't change how I feel. You and I are a family now. We'll figure the rest out as we go."

Mac summoned a smile. "I suppose we should go in. They'll be wondering," she said reluctantly.

"We can go say our goodbyes and leave," he suggested. "We have a lot to talk about."

Mac nodded. "Yes, we do."

Harm held her hand as they re-entered the bar. "Hey, everbody!" he called over the jukebox. "Thanks for coming. Mac and I really appreciate your support, but we're gonna head out."

Chloe glanced at the pair, recognizing the exhaustion on Mac's face. She looked like she'd been through the wringer. She tightened her arm around Kris' waist. "Mac looks like hell."

Kris nodded, seeing the same expression of relief and fear that had adorned her face when she spilled her past to Mac. "She'll be okay."

"I know." Chloe recognized that expression herself, having seen it a couple of times after purging her soul to her grandmother, or to Mac. "You about ready to head home too or what?"

"Absolutely," Kris said. "Let's just say goodbye and get out of here."

Chloe smiled. "Sounds good to me."
* * *
Kris took a sip of her Evian and smiled at Mac. "I can't tell you how much I appreciate your help - you and Harm both. It's going to make my project so much easier having some extra pairs of hands around."

"Not a problem. We're glad to help," Mac returned, glancing over to where her husband was talking with Chloe.

Following Mac's gaze, Kris grinned. "They're such dorks," she laughed.

"Chloe," Harm laughed. "You can't tell me that you *honestly* believe the Patriots stand a snowball's chance in *hell* against Tampa Bay?"

Mac chuckled lightly. "And we love them for it."

"Of course they do! There's always a chance," Chloe retorted.

Kris sauntered over and placed her hands on Chloe's shoulders. "Give it up, babe. The Bucs are going to crush New England."

"Amen." Harm leaned over and high-fived Kris. "When are the kids supposed to arrive?" he asked, checking his watch.

Kris glanced at the papers lying on the card table in front of them. "Sometime between now and ten. Thank you again," she effused.

"I think they get that you're grateful," Chloe teased. "And New England is just having a bad year."

"A bad decade," Kris bantered, slapping Chloe's shoulder lightly.

The old wooden door to the YMCA auditorium creaked open loudly. "Hi," a little voice said.

"Hi," Mac greeted warmly. "Come on in. I'm Mac." She held out her hand to the young boy.

"Hi, Mac," the little boy said, shaking her hand tentatively. "My name's Jack."

Kris smiled at Jack, holding out her own hand to the seven-year-old. "Hi, Jack. I'm Kris. And this is Chloe," she gestured to her fiancee. "And this is Harm." After the introductions, she pointed to a chair. "Why don't you sit down and we'll explain a little bit about what's going to happen."

Jack sat down, his big eyes watching the four of them dispassionately. "Okay."

"Basically, we're going to have a lot of kids, just like you, who come from foster homes, orphanages and homes where there is only one parent. We're going to ask lots of questions, mostly about what your life is like and how it makes you feel. Will you answer the questions for us?"

"Sure," Jack said slowly.

"Great, thank you," Kris smiled brightly at him. "I really appreciate your help. Mac's going to take you to that table over there," she pointed to the far corner of the room, "and ask you some questions. Go on with her, I'll be right over here if you have any questions for me."

Jack nodded and stood silently, following Mac to a corner table.

An hour later, the survey was in full swing. Harm, Mac, Chloe and Kris each had a child and were interviewing them, four more kids were playing cards at the fifth card table Kris had set up, and Kris' supervising psychologist was making notes in the back row of the auditorium.

Chloe smiled at the young girl across from her, enjoying herself tremendously. "I'm Chloe." She offered her hand. "Don't worry, I don't bite," she teased lightly, noting the nervous expression on the young face. "I'm going to be asking you a couple of questions if it's okay with you..."

Mac watched her little sister with a fond smile. Chloe was truly enjoying herself. She would make a good mother...or father, depending on how one looked at it. She returned her attention to the pre-teen across from her. "So, you don't want to be here today?" she continued their conversation. "Why not?"

The sullen girl crossed her arms in front of her and slouched down in the folding chair. "My foster mom said I had come. I broke her son's toy yesterday and if I didn't come, she's gonna throw me out. I don't really care if she does!" the girl insisted. "I don't need her crap!"

Mac bit her lip. "Why did you break her son's toy?"

"I didn't do it on purpose," the girl shrugged, avoiding Mac's gaze. "He left it in the living room and I stepped on it. Shit, I didn't know it was there!"

"Is she really going to throw you out?" Mac queried, ignoring the language.

Shrugging again, the girl replied, "Probably just ship me off to another foster home. I been in fifteen different homes since I was five." She seemed almost proud.

"Fifteen?" Mac echoed dumbly. She knew enough about foster homes. She hadn't told Harm, but she'd spent some time in one when she was eleven. Her gym teacher had noted the number of bruises on young Sarah Mackenzie's body, more than those gained from dodge ball.

Ms. Stenson had reported her suspicions to child welfare, who had taken custody of Sarah, placing her in a foster home until her father could be investigated.

What a joke, Mac remembered cynically. The judge had ordered that Joe Mackenzie attend AA meetings, and his daughter would be returned to him. After all, it wouldn't do for a young girl to be removed from a loving home. Not that a foster home would have been any better, if what she'd experienced was normal. She'd been smacked around in the "safe harbor" more than she had by her own father. She'd been almost relieved to go back to the known evil. At least she knew where to hide from her father.

"Yup." The girl nodded. "Can I go now?"

"I suppose so..." Mac responded uncertainly, rubbing her forehead wearily.

"Thanks." The girl stood and practically ran out of the room.

Harm walked over to four children still waiting. He crouched down, getting on their eye level. "Hi," he said. "I'm Harm. Who wants to go next?"

When no one answered, a little girl of about nine raised her hand. "I will."

"Okay," Harm said. "Come on over here."

She followed him to the table and sat down, pulling her legs up under her, Indian-style.

"What's your name?" Harm asked, getting his pen ready.

"Janelle," she replied softly.

Harm smiled slightly. "What a pretty name. Do you mind if I ask you a couple of questions, Janelle?"

"No."

"Okay, how old are you?" Harm asked, getting the basics done.

"I'm nine and a half. I'm going to be ten in February."

"Congratulations, that's a big deal," Harm replied with a smile. "Where do you live, Janelle? With your parents or with somebody else?"

"I used to live with my aunt, but she died, so now I live with foster parents." Janelle stared at Harm's pen as he took notes.

Harm nodded. "Do you know why you don't live with your parents?"

"'Cause Daddy can't stop drinking and Mommy won't stop hitting me," Janelle said, her green eyes downcast.

Harm thought at first that she looked sad, but no - it was resignation in her eyes. She'd just about given up. Glancing over at Mac, who was just finishing up an interview, he said to Janelle, "Excuse me one second. I'll be right back."

Crossing to Mac, he whispered to her, "I think you should talk to this girl."

Mac glanced up, smiling slightly at her flyboy. "Sure, sailor. Any particular reason?" she asked, slowly rising from her seat.

"You two seem to have a lot in common," was all Harm would say.

Mac sighed and followed him, knowing she wouldn't get any further information. Sliding into the chair across from the young girl, she smiled as she introduced herself. "I'm Mac. What's your name?"

"I'm Janelle." The girl looked pointedly towards Harm. "Why'd he leave? Did I say something wrong?"

"No, sweetie," Mac hastened to reassure her. "He just wanted you to meet me."

"Oh, okay."

Mac gazed thoughtfully at her husband. "Where do you live, Janelle?" she inquired, forcing her gaze back to the child across from her.

"He already asked me that," Janelle said softly. "In a foster home."

"What happened?" Mac inquired gently, sensing that this girl needed an outlet.

"My dad drinks and my mom hits me. How many times do I have to say it?" she asked, squirming a little.

"I understand," Mac replied sympathetically. She studied the table for a moment, knowing that this was why Harm had wanted her to meet this girl. That hopelessness in her eyes was compelling. She needed a loving home.

Janelle glanced up at Mac, finally meeting her gaze momentarily. "No one understands."

Mac hesitated, not wanting to overwhelm the girl. But the pain in those wide eyes was too much to ignore. "They do if they've been there," she responded softly.

Janelle nodded. She was a smart little girl, and she caught on to things very quickly - you had to, to survive some of things she had. "Maybe you do," she shrugged non-commitally.

Mac decided not to push it. Without looking at her watch, she noted, "It's lunch time. Are you hungry?"

Nodding, Janelle frowned a little, wondering exactly what was going on. Her social worker said she was going to come and answer some questions for a college student's project. Now some lady was asking if she was hungry...weirder than weird.

Mac stood and held out her hand to the little girl. "So am I. I vote we go find something to eat. What do you think?"

"I've gotta check with Marie," Janelle said, pointing to the social worker in the back of the room. She'd come with Janelle and a group of other little girls from a Boys Town sister facility. Heading up the slanted aisle, Janelle whispered something to Marie and came traipsing back to Mac. "Marie says I can go, but I have to be back by three."

"I think we can manage. It's only 1200 - I mean 12 o'clock, right now," Mac grinned. "What would you like to eat?"

"You ever been to Beltway Burgers?" Janelle asked as Harm followed Mac and her outside.

THE END