And So It Begins

Title: And So It Begins
Author: JAGslashLady
Feedback: No flames, please. Otherwise, YES
Pairing: Harm/Clay m/m
Rating: NC-17 for the most part. Slash/Romance. If sex between two men bothers you, don't read further.
Disclaimer: I don't own the JAG characters. Don't have any money, either, so please don't sue me. I promise to return them relatively unscathed in due time.
Time Frame: After 9-11 certainly. Starts about six months before my story "A Matter of Conscience" begins. Probably sometime during Season 7.
Archiving: Ask first. I'll probably say yes, but I really like to know where my stories end up.
Author's notes: Prequel to "A Matter of Conscience" Explains how Harm and Clay started their relationship

Saturday
2300 Hours Local
Seattle Washington

Harmon Rabb Jr. paced along the sidewalk for the ninth - no tenth, time, glancing uncertainly toward the club's entrance. He'd been pacing like this for fifteen minutes, trying to work up the courage to go inside.

His mind flew back to the JAG offices before he'd left to interview a witness in the Donaldson court-martial - and pay a courtesy call on the mother of an old friend who had recently died.

He'd been grateful to the Admiral for agreeing to his request to remain in Seattle over the weekend to take care of a 'personal matter'. Admiral Chegwidden had frowned, and then nodded. "Take whatever time you need, Commander. Just be back in the office on Monday morning."

Mac had given him a concerned look as they had gone over the Donaldson matter - and he'd offered her one last chance for a deal before he found the so-called 'smoking gun' that would convict her client.

"You're not yourself, Harm," she had commented. "You haven't been for the last several days."

"I just need some time away," Harm had said, smiling. "Been working too hard, I suppose."

"Well," she had smiled, "You'll have the entire weekend after your interview. Take some time to unwind. Relax. You'll come back a new man."

Reflecting on those words now, on Saturday evening, Harm looked at the entrance to the club again, well aware that a visit to a gay bar wasn't *not* what Mac had in mind with her comment.

"Hello there," a male voice almost purred as a hand touched Harm's arm, causing him to jump nervously and turn to look at the blond haired, muscular man who stood there smiling at him with a decidedly predatory gleam in his dark eyes. "You're new around here, aren't you?" he questioned, that dark gaze moving the length of Harm's body, lingering over his denim encased lower body.

"Uh, yeah," Harm replied as he thought *This was a *bad* idea, Rabb. Probably right up there in the top ten- no, five - bad ideas you've ever had.*

The blond tugged at Harm's arm, pulling him toward the entrance. "Why don't you and I go inside for a drink and you can tell me where you've been all my life?" He slipped his arm around Harm's shoulders to turn them both toward the steps that led inside. The doors had opened a moment ago, and Harm stopped as he came face to face with a very familiar shorter man wearing his customary three-piece suit.

Seeing the man's hazel eyes narrow in recognition, Harm managed an embarrassed grin - which quickly faded as Clayton Webb spoke.

"It's about time you got here," he said in an angry tone, remaining on the bottom step directly in front of Harm. "I've been waiting for half an hour. Where the hell have you been?"

Before Harm could frame a reply, the blond man's eyes moved from Clay to Harm and then back to Clay. "You two know each other?"

"Yeah," Clay said, grabbing Harm's arm out of the other man's grip. "Let's go."

Harm didn't move, staring at Clay, trying to figure out how he was going to explain why he'd been going into a gay bar with a complete stranger. "I -"

The hesitation made the blond suspicious. "You *sure* you know him?" he asked Harm, and Harm swallowed nervously, still unable to put two words together. "I -" he tried again, but stopped as Clay gave a frustrated groan an rolled his eyes, moving so close to him that he could see the flecks of gold in those hazel eyes.

"We've known each other for almost six years," Clay told the other man, his eyes boring into Harm's daring him to deny the statement as his hand slid up Harm's arm onto his shoulder.

Suddenly Clay's hand moved from Harm's shoulder to the back of his neck, pulling his head closer, pressing his lips to Harm's.

Too surprised to fight, Harm felt Clay's lips moving beneath his, urging a response - and after a second's hesitation, Harm began to return the kiss, his arms sliding around Clay to pull him closer.

When the kiss ended, Clay whispered against his ear, "Keep your mouth shut for once, Rabb, and maybe I can get us out of this." Smiling, still in Harm's embrace, Clay turned to look at the blond. "Satisfied?" he asked. "Just a little - lover's spat. I'm sure you know how these things go."

With a sigh of obvious regret, the blond said, "You'd better keep him on a shorter leash, then, or someone's just liable to steal him away."

Clay ran his hand through Harm's hair, looking him in the eyes as he said, "It won't happen." Stepping down off of the step and out of Harm's embrace, he said, "Come on," and led Harm away from the club to where a rental car was sitting just down the street. Still speechless, Harm stood while Clay unlocked the passenger side and opened the door. "Get in." When Harm didn't move, Clay said, "Do you *really* want to discuss this on a public street, Harm?" he asked in a controlled voice.

Harm got inside, flinching as Clay closed the door with enough force to shake the car before going around to get behind the steering wheel. "Clay, I-"

"Don't Harm," Clay said, looking straight ahead to watch the blond go into the club. "The only thing I want to hear from you is what the *hell* you thought you were doing?"

"I don't know," was all Harm could find to say, his mind still focused on the kiss, the way it had made him feel as if every nerve ending in his body was suffused with a white-hot flame that threatened to consume them both.

"You don't know?!" Clay took a deep breath and ran a shaking hand through his hair. "How long has this been going on, Harm?" he asked.

*When all else fails,* Harm thought, *bluff.* To Clay, he said, "What do you mean?"

Clay signed again, and this time looked directly at him. "How long have you been cruising gay bars?"

Harm thought about simply pretending not to know where he'd been going, but one glance into Clay's eyes, and he knew it wouldn’t do any good. "This was the first time," he admitted. "I thought I'd be able to- Nothing happened," he added quickly. "I couldn't -."

"You picked one hell of a time to indulge your curiosity, Harm," Clay said.

"I'm not - curious," Harm told him in a soft voice, giving up any attempt at pretense.

"When was the last time you -?"

Harm couldn’t look at Clay as he answered. It was bad enough that Clay could use this against him - he didn't want to have to see his face as he made his confession. "Right after the Academy," he said. "During my first carrier tour. The other Lieutenant that I was bunking with - we-"

"That was - almost twenty years ago, Harm," Clay pointed out. "You haven't - since then?"

"No," Harm said, putting his head back against the headrest, closing his eyes. "I promised myself that it wouldn't happen again after he transferred to another unit on another carrier. That being in the Navy was more important than the way I felt - That it was just an - experiment. A - mistake."

"What happened to change that decision? I mean, after all these years, - why now?"

"I found out that Johnny Devlin committed suicide two weeks ago while on leave."

"And Johnny Devlin was -"

Harm nodded jerkily. "My first and only. I was the one who broke it off, insisted that he transfer out so that I could protect *my* career." He drew a shudderbreabreath as he felt Clay's hand on his shoulder. "It was too much of a temptation, having him there."

"Was he still in the Navy?" Clay asked.

"He was. Lt. Commander. He left flying a few years ago got an assignment stateside. When I found out I was coming out here on JAG business, I decided to see his mother. She lives in Seattle."

"Did she know?"

"That Johnny was gay? Yes. She'd never told anyone - she knew what being in the Navy meant to her son. Johnny's father was ex-Navy, too. Killed in Nam. I guess that's what drew us together," Harm said, drawing a shuddering breath.

"Did she know about you?"

"Not by name. But she told me that Johnny had mentioned someone he'd met early in his career that he'd never really gotten over - "

"And you think that was you?"

Harm's eyes opened and he turned to look at Clay. "I got a letter, too, Clay. Johnny wrote it just before he -"

"And thinking about him sent you here," Clay said, looking toward the club.

"I thought I'd be safe here. Away from DC. No one would know me."

"That's not the way, Harm," Clay said. "Do you have any idea what would have happened if I hadn't come along when I did?"

Harm's pride finally kicked in, and he managed a smile. "I'm a big boy, Clay. I can take care of myself.-"

The muscles tightened in Clay's jaw and after studying Harm for a moment, he reached across Harm, opening the door. "Then go on. I'm sure the brawny blond will be more than happy to help you destroy your career and everything you've worked so hard to build over the last 20 years."

Harm tore his gaze away from Clay's angry face to look at the entrance - and then he closed the door, hearing Clay's sigh of relief as he made his decision.

"Good choice, Harm," he said softly. "I always said you were smarter than you look."

Harm sat back in the seat, drained. "I don't feel very smart at the moment."

Starting the engine of the car, Clay told him, "I'll take you back to your hotel. You can come get your car tomorrow morning when it's safe."

"I took a cab here," Harm told him. "You don't have to-"

"I want to," Clay said in a firm tone of voice that Harm knew from experience would brook no argument.

"I'm at the Registry -" he began, and gave Clay a surprised look as he responded.

"I know."

"How?"

"I'm a spook, Harm," he said with a half grin. "Remember? It's my job to gather information."

"About me?"

Clay's mouth - the same mouth that had kissed Harm earlier - twisted into a scowl that didn't quite reach his eyes, Harm thought. "After all the trouble you've caused me over the years, I've found it's safer to know where you are at all times."

"If I'm so much trouble, then why even bother?" Harm questioned.

"Because I'll be damned if I was going to let you risk your career - hell, your *life* - by having sex with a total stranger that you let pick you up in a bar," Clay answered, gripping the steering wheel so tightly that Harm could see that his knuckles were white. "Now shut up and stop asking questions."

Clay was so angry with the other man that he wasn't sure he could talk anymore without saying more than he should. And the less they talked, the less likely it would be that Harm would ask the question he'd been dreading. Turning into the parking lot of the Registry Hotel, Clay found a spot near the back entrance to the building, because it was closer to the elevator. Shutting down the engine, he turned to look at Harm.

He was sitting there, head back, eyes closed, his expression full of such sadness and self-loathing and fear that Clay's fingers itched to reach out and touch his face, to try and take it all away. Fighting for control, Clay put a hand on the other man's shoulder once again. "Harm, I'm not going to tell anyone about this - if that's worrying you."

Harm's relief was visible. "Thanks, Clay. I guess I owe you one."

"I'll add it to the long list," Clay told him with a smile. "Come on," he said, opening his door, and saw Harm frown.

"You don't have to -"

"I'll feel better knowing that you're safely tucked away in your room," Clay told him, getting out of the car and waiting for Harm to join him.

As they entered the hotel and got onto the elevator, Clay told himself that he would leave as soon as Harm was in his room. He didn't like the idea of leaving him alone - he could tell Harm had been drinking. He'd been able to taste the alcohol when they had kissed. The memory of that ill-advised act made Clay groan softly, and he tried, unsuccessfully, to bite it back. Hearing it, Harm looked concerned.

"You okay, Clay?"

"I'm fine," Clay growled as the elevator deposited them on Harm's floor. "Which room?" he asked in an abrupt tone.

Harm frowned and pulled out a key card. "Two nineteen," he said, and stopped at that door. He placed the card into the reader, and gave Clay a grin as he pushed the door open. "You said something about tucking me in?" he recalled, and Clay rolled his eyes as he entered the room just behind Harm - only to find himself pushed against the door as Harm turned around and closed it, his arms braced on either side of Clay.

"Harm -" Clay said in a calm voice. "Let me go."

"Why were you at that club tonight, Clay?" Harm asked in that soft voice, asking the question that Clay had been dreading.

Clay forced himself to remain calm. "Need to know, Harm," he answered easily, hoping that Harm would accept that answer and let it go.

"Do you really expect me to believe that you were in that bar on CIA business?" Harm asked, and Clay realized that Harm hadn't had as much to drink as he'd thought.

"Why would I lie to you, Harm?" Clay asked, still looking into those blue-green eyes that he haunted his dreams for more years than Clay cared to admit to.

Apparently accepting Clay's answer, Harm finally released Clay, moving to the bed, where he sat down. "What am I going to do, Clay?" he asked.

"What you've been doing," Clay suggested, not moving from the door, although he did put his hands into his pockets to hide the fact that they were shaking. He wanted more than anything to go to Harm, to put his arms around him and comfort him, to let him know that he understood - but that was something that he had long ago promised that he would never do. The complications would be immeasurable.

"I don't think I can anymore," Harm sighed, lying back on the bed, an arm over his eyes. "I'm tired," he said. "Tired of lying to myself - telling myself that I can make a woman happy. How can I do that when *I'm* not happy?"

Clay stepped away from the door, toward the bed. "People do it all the time, Harm. Because they have to. Because there are people depending on them. Because they don’t want to hurt those people. Because they don't have any other choice."

He stopped as Harm's arm moved and those eyes were on him again. "Could you do it?" he asked. "Hide the truth about yourself every day? Let the people you're closest to think you're something you aren't?"

*I do it everyday*, Clay thought, but said aloud, "If I had to. If my family and friends would be upset to know the truth - if it would cost me a job that I loved."

"You wouldn't have to quit the Agency," Harm said.

"Not necessarily. I would depend on the circumstances. As long as I was discreet."

"I don't have that option," Harm sighed, his arm across his eyes again. "I can't even talk to anyone back in DC about this. Not if I want to stay in the Navy."

"And you do want to stay in the Navy." It wasn't a question. When Harm didn't respond, Clay decided that the other man had finally fallen asleep. He took the final steps to the bed and removed Harm's shoes. When he pulled a blanket laying on the end of the bed up over the other man's body, Clay found his hand hovering over Harm's face.

Before Clay realized what was happening, Harm's eyes were open and his hand was sliding around Clay's neck, holding him there. "Why did you kiss me, Clay?" he asked.

Clay froze, pulling against Harm's attempt to draw him closer. "It was the only way to convince Blondie that you were unavailable. Guys like that aren't impressed with words, only actions."

"Kiss me again."

"I don't think that's a good idea, Harm," Clay said, continuing to pull against Harm's hand. He could have freed himself- but it would have meant inflicting physical injury - if he had really wanted to be free. Instead, Clay allowed Harm to pull him closer.

"Please, Clay. I was surprised before. I didn't really have a chance to-"

"Harm," Clay sighed, his lips hovering over Harm's.

"Yes, Clay?"

"Anyone ever tell you that you talk too much?" he asked, and didn't wait for a response before fusing his lips to Harm's, demanding a response more gently than he had earlier.

This time, it wasn't for someone else's benefit. It wasn't even really for Harm. It was for Clay. Because it was probably the last chance he'd ever have to do this. Because it *had* to be the last time.

Harm deepened the kiss, exploring every bit of Clay's mouth with his tongue; Clay opened to him, and found himself stretched out beside Harm when it finally ended due to their mutual need for air.

"Don't go, Clay," Harm begged, his finger lightly tracing Clay's swollen lips. "I don't want to be alone. If I’m alone, I might go back there -"

Clay captured Harm's hand, threading their fingers together. "Go to sleep, Harm," he said.

He would stay just until Harm went to sleep - and then he'd leave. As much as he wanted to wake up with Harm, it was impossible. Clay had figured out a long time ago that what he felt for the Navy JAG's Top Gun would forever remain his own private hell…

Sunday
1000 Hours Local
Seattle Washington

Harm woke the next morning and frowned as he realized that he wasn't alone. Someone was lying spooned against him, and Harm's arm was wrapped around - Clayton Webb.

He rolled onto his back as memory returned. He'd gone to a bar after speaking to Johnny's mother. After a few beers, he had asked for something stronger. Dutch courage, he thought now, smothering a groan as the rest of the night came back to him as well.

A few well-placed questions to the bartender had gotten Harm the address of a gay bar. He'd called a cab- and then spent fifteen minutes on the sidewalk outside of that bar trying to psych himself up to go inside and be himself for the first time in almost twenty years.

He'd been hit on by a well-built blond - only to find himself face-to-face with Clayton Webb. Glancing over at the other man's back, Harm's fingers touched his own lips - Clay had kissed him. Twice. And he - Harmon Rabb, Jr. - had initiated that second kiss.

Harm took a deep breath, remembering how he had flirted with Clay, even blackmailed him into staying with him by threatening to go back to the club if he was left alone. Harm held his breath as Clay stirred, turning further away from him, and only released it when Clay was again still. The CIA agent was still asleep.

Very slowly and carefully, Harm slid out of bed and went into the bathroom, hoping that Clay had meant what he'd said the night before: that this wasn't going to go any further than the two of them. Clay could destroy him, but something told Harm that it wouldn’t happen. He and Clay had their differences, but Harm also knew that there was a grudging respect for one another's talents. With a groan at that double entendre, Harm closed the door behind him.

Clay opened his eyes when he heard the bathroom door close and quickly considered the odds of his being able to get out of the room before Harm returned. He heard water running - not loudly enough to be the shower, probably the sink, he decided. He slipped out of bed, frowning at the sight of his impossibly wrinkled clothing. And where the devil had his shoes gone, he wondered. He vaguely recalled kicking them off the end of the bed just before he'd fallen asleep.

Kneeling at the end of the bed, he found one of the leather shoes, but the second was nowhere to be found, and he felt under the bed for it - only to freeze in place as the bathroom door opened and Harm appeared.

Harm wiped his face with a towel, craning his neck in an attempt to see Clay, grinning as he asked, "Lose something, Clay?" He left the towel draped around his neck.

Clay swallowed heavily, trying and failing to keep his eyes fixed on Harm's smirking face instead of his bare chest. Holding up the second shoe, he snarled, "Looking for my shoe."

"Ah," Harm said with a nod of understanding.

Clay stood up. "Listen, Rabb-"

"You called me Harm last night, Clay," he said, easily. *Too* easily, Clay worried.

Unable to face him, Clay sat down on the edge of the bed to put on the shoes. "There were extenuating circumstances. Don't you have a plane to catch or something?"

Harm's predatory smile had Clay wondering if it had worked on women- and knew immediately that it had. He tensed as Harm took two steps closer to the bed. "Not until this evening. I don't have to be back in Washington until tomorrow morning, technically." The smile faded slightly as he grew serious. "Thank you, Clay. For everything."

"Don't mention it," Clay said, heading for the door as he spoke. "And don't let it happen again." His hand was on the doorknob, ready to turn it, when he realized that Harm hadn't said anything. Slowly, he turned to meet those eyes. "It *won't* happen again, right?"

Harm's shoulders lifted as he held onto the towel around his neck. "I can't promise that, Clay. There *are* quite a few gay bars in DC," he said, now walking inexorably toward the spot where Clay stood. "And I'd be willing to bet hard cash that you know every one of them," he finished, coming to a stop directly in front of Clay. So close, in fact, that Clay would feel the heat coming from the taller man's body.

"I'm not sure what you're implying, Harm," Clay bluffed in desperation, his mouth suddenly as dry as a Saudi desert.

Harm lifted a hand to touch the top button of Clay's shirt, his finger running down along the line of buttons as he spoke again. "Why *were* you at the bar last night? And don't give me that line about it being business."

Needing to put some space between himself and Harm, Clay released the door and moved around him into the center of the room. "I knew I never should have -" he took a deep breath. "All right, Harm, you want the truth? Fine. I was there to have a drink with an old friend."

"Friend?" Harm questioned, suddenly in front of him again, making it impossible to think - must less talk.

"Look, just because I was there, doesn't mean I'm -"

"Are you?" Harm asked, and Clay suddenly regretted that the two of them didn't have a "don't ask, don't tell" policy. "It's a simple question, Clay. Are you gay?"

"I'm not on trial here, Counselor. Stop cross-examining me as though I were a hostile witness." Harm's eyes were on him, that same look that had broken countess witnesses on the stand. But Clay refused to back down. He was Clayton Webb, CIA, for God's sake. Stronger men than Harmon Rabb had tried to break him and failed

But those men hadn't been Harm, Clay recalled. They hadn't been someone that Clay had been secretly obsessing over ever since their first meeting.

Harm's hand gently touched Clay's cheek. "Clay?"

"Dammit, Harm, you're not playing fair," Clay sighed, unconsciously leaning into that caress, and saw the flicker of triumph on Harm's face.

"Well," Harm said, "you know what they say about love and war -"

"This isn't love," Clay ground out, meeting that needy, lust filled gaze squarely. "Don't pretend that it is." Another deep breath. "Okay. You're right. I'm gay," he admitted, and seeing the smile of triumph appear on Harm's handsome face, Clay continued quickly. "It doesn't matter, Harm. Doesn’t make any difference -"

He never finished the sentence, because Harm's lips were on his, demanding a response as his long-fingered hands slid Clay's jacket off of his shoulders.

Clay's fingers tangled in the hair on Harm's chest, and then started to slide around him with the intent to pull the other man closer. Sanity returned suddenly and he pushed Harm away. "Harm, no." Putting some space between them, he scooped up his jacket. "We are *not* going to do this."

"Clay-"

"No!" He turned in time to see the same look he'd seen on Harm's face the evening before when he'd been talking about Johnny. "Look, Harm. I can't let you do this. Your career -"

"I don't -" Harm began, but Clay shook his head.

"Yes, you do, Harm," he said quietly, and put a hand on the back of his neck to massage the strained muscles there. "You'll get over this. Right now, you're hurting. And I refuse to be the one to cause you anymore pain."

"You said last night that it was a mistake for me to go to a stranger," Harm reminded him. "You're not a stranger, Clay. And I know you'd never hurt me."

*But you could hurt me*, Clay thought, and shook his head. "You don't even trust me, Harm," he said, hoping that he didn't sound as desperate as he felt.

"We're not talking the best way to do our jobs here. But I know you would never hurt me," he said again. Clay remained where he was, trying to find the words to convince Harm that it would be mistake- for both of them - if they allowed themselves to become involved on any level other than work. "Clay, if you leave, I'll go back to Washington and find someone else -"

"Don't play that card again, Harm," Clay said, tired of that being used against him. "If you're so damn determined to ruin your life, then fine. I won't stop you." He turned toward the door again. "I don't know why I bothered to begin with. I'm not your keeper. We're not even friends -" He had the door open, and was ready to walk out when Harm spoke again.

"All right, Clay," he said in a voice that sent a chill up Clay's spine. "You win. I won't bother you again."

Clay kept the door open, ignoring the voice in his head that was urging him to leave for the sake of his own sanity. "What do you mean?" he asked, looking at Harm.

"Nothing," Harm answered, his eyes looking sunken, haunted. "I want to thank you again for what you did last night - I suppose I just thought you'd understand what I’m going through - but I guess no one can. Maybe Johnny had the right idea after all." He nodded toward the door. "Go on. I'll take care of things."

Clay was torn. Harm was just playing on his sympathy. Wasn't he? Could he take the risk that the man wouldn’t do something stupid? His eyes narrowed. "If you're playing me, Harm -" he warned, but one look into those eyes told Clay that Harm was deadly serious. He'd do it. Maybe not immediately, but someday Clay would get a call that Harm was dead by his own hand, just like his friend Johnny. Closing his eyes to hide the pain that thought brought with it, Clay took a deep breath as he came to a decision. He closed the door again, and tossed his coat in the direction of a nearby chair. "If we're going to do this, we have to lay down some ground rules." He saw the obvious relief in Harm's eyes, but slid past it to continue talking as he paced across the room and back. "Number one: No gay bars. If you need someone to - talk to, call me."

Harm nodded. "I can do that."

"And for God's sake, whenever we're around anyone from JAG - remember that we can barely stand the sight of each other. Especially Mac. The last thing that *either* of us needs is for her to become suspicious." He came to a stop directly in front of Harm.

"Keep it separate from our professional lives," Harm nodded. "I think I can handle that," he agreed.

"There are otheingsings we need to discuss -" Clay began, cursing softly as his cell phone rang. Pulling it out, he flipped it open. "Webb." It was his boss. An assignment out of the country - and he had to be there yesterday. "Okay. I'll be there as soon as I -" He closed his eyes. Arrangements had been made for him to be briefed at the Seattle office ASAP. "Okay. Goodbye." He closed the phone, giving Harm a regretful smile. "I want you to get an earlier flight back to DC, Harm. I have to get back to *my* hotel, change clothes, then get to a meeting."

"Business?" Harm questioned.

"Yeah." Clay admitted, reaching out to touch Harm's warm skin, resting his hand on the man's broad shoulder. "I'll call you as soon as I can. Are you going to be okay?"

Harm nodded slowly. "I'll be fine. I suppose you can't tell me where you're going?"

"Need to know," Clay said, trying to smile. "I'd get used to hearing that phrase, Harm, and learn to accept it without argument."

"How long?"

"Only as long as it takes." Clay promised as he watched the emotions flitting across Harm's face. Fear, uncertainty, loneliness. "Listen, if you really need to talk to someone while I'm gone, call my Mother."

"Your - m-mother?" Harm asked, his eyes wide with surprise.

"I'll call her before I leave the country and let her know what's going on." *And ask her to set up an appointment for me with a shrink because I have to be crazy to even consider doing this* Clay added silently.

"Your mother knows that you're -?"

"She knew before I did," Clay informed him with a smile as he slipped his hand behind Harm's neck, pulling him down for a kiss. A quick kiss that ended far too soon for either of them, and left them both groaning with frustration. "Have a good flight home," Clay whispered.

"I will. And you be careful," Harm said, following him to the door.

"Always," Clay promised, and finally managed to get out of the door.

**************

0900 Hours Local time
Monday
JAG Headquarters
Falls Church, Virginia

"Looks like I was right," Mac said as she entered Harm's office, causing Harm to shake off his memory of that last kiss and his worry about Clay to smile at her. He could do this. Nothing had changed, he was still Commander Harmon Rabb, Jr., USN, but everything had changed. Living a double life would cha challenge, but he could do it.

"About what?" he asked.

"You. Taking some time off. You look more relaxed. More at ease with yourself."

"Ah. I do feel a lot better," he admitted.

"Thought you might want a heads up before Harriet finds the time to talk to you-"

Harm looked through the open doorway where Lt. Harriet Sims was talking on the telephone. "Why?" he asked.

"She's playing matchmaker," Mac warned. "Bud told me that an old college friend of hers recently moved to DC and Harriet seems to think you and she would be perfect for each other."

Harm chuckled. "Thanks for the warning. How was your weekend?" he asked to change the subject. He was grateful. Even though he knew that he couldn't just suddenly stop being seen in the company of women, Harm wasn't sure he was ready to go there so quickly after Seattle.

"Work, mostly."

"Speaking of work," he said, pulling out a file, "You might want to read this and then reconsider my offer in the Donaldson case."

Mac took the file, flipping through the contents. "Lt. Graves implicated Petty Officer Donaldson?" she questioned.

"Oh, it was more than implication, Mac," he said, still smiling. "Read that, and then get back to me."

Mac nodded, already reading as she left his office. Harm looked back to the desk before him, but he kept looking at the telephone, willing it to ring and for Clay to be on the other end. Not that he expected it. He knew the kind of work Clay did - that he couldn’t just pick up a phone while on a mission because he might compromise that mission. He'd give it a few more days, he decided, and turned his attention back to the paperwork on his desk - only to find himself interrupted by someone knocking on his door.

"Excuse me, sir?" Lt. Harriet Sims said, eyeing him nervously. "Do you have a moment?"

"I think I can spare at least one, Harriet," Harm agreed, smiling at her, recalling 's w's warning. "What can I do for you?"

"You can come to dinner tonight," she said quickly. "I mean, if you don't have other plans."

"Any particular reason?" he asked.

"I - didn't think I needed a reason, sir. You *are* little AJ's godparent, after all," she pointed out.

"Who else will be there?" Harm asked.

"Just, Bud and me, and you -" She was fidgeting now as Harm lifted an eyebrow. "And an old friend of mine from college. She's a pediatric nurse - just moved to the area and doesn't know many people yet. I just thought -"

Harm laughed. "At ease, Harriet," he said. "Thanks, but, I already have plans for the evening."

Harriet's eyes widened. "I wasn't aware you were seeing anyone, Commander," she said, suddenly horrified at the idea that she might have made a mistake.

"I was talking about work," Harm explained, still smiling. "The Donaldson case is firn thn the docket tomorrow morning, and I still have some research to finish before I'm ready. Maybe some other time," he added, hoping that before that time came, Harriet's friend would have found friends of her own and Harriet would forget all about her plan.

"Yes, sir. Thank you, sir."

Harm's smile faded as Harriet left the room, wondering what she would have done if he'd told her that he was indeed "seeing someone". Well, not yet, technically. But he would be once the other person returned from places unknown.

Sighing, Harm forcibly put Clay out of his mind and concentrated on his work.

***

Thursday
1500 Hours Local
Jag Headquarters
Falls Church, Virginia

Mac caught up with Harm as they left the courtroom. "Regretting that you didn't take the offer, Mac?" he asked, fully aware that if she had, her client wouldn't have been convicted and given the maximum penalty allowed under the UCMJ.

"You're right," she sighed. "I should have taken it. But I really thought that the panel wouldn't believe Lt. Graves' testimony." She grinned as they stood in the elevator. "So, you want to make it up to me by buying dinner tonight?"

"You're the one who lost, Mac. If anyone buys dinner -" he let his words trail off as the elevator opened.

"Okay, you're on, Flyboy," she told him. "But if *I'm* buying, I get to eat dead animal."

Harm laughed, enjoying himself. Maybe an evening in Mac's company was what he needed. She was his best friend, even if he couldn't be totally honest with her about things. That thought brought him up short. Things were still too new for him to trust himself not to say something, or do something that might make her suspicious. He started toward his office, and stopped. "Damn," he said, and Mac turned around to look at him. "I just remembered that I've already promised to have dinner with an old friend from out of town," he said. "Rain check? You can buy lunch tomorrow."

Mac looked disappointed, but nodded. "Okay. Lunch it is."

Harm nearly stopped her as she continued to her office to tell her that he could put dinner with the "old friend" off to another night. But instead he went into his own office and stood at the window, finding himself thinking about Clay and where he might be - and if he was safe.

Turning to the desk, he flipped through his card file and d a d a telephone number. Dialing it, he waited for it to be picked up. "Webb residence," a man said, and Harm recalled that Porter Webb had a butler/body guard who worked for her. Markov or something like that.

"I'd like to speak to Mrs. Webb, if possible."

"May I say who is calling?" the butler asked.

Harm hesitated for a moment. "Harmon Rabb."

"Just a moment."

Harm sat down at the desk, waiting until he heard someone pick up the telephone. "Hello, Harmon. Clayton mentioned that you might call. Is there something I can do for you?"

She sounded friendly enough," Harm told himself, but he was more than a little nervous. "I was just wondering -"

"If I've heard from Clayton?" she finished for him, and Harm could almost see her smiling. "No. But then I never do when he's away. It's something that you'll have to learn to expect, if you're going to be involved in his life, I'm afraid, just as I had to with Clayton's father as well as Clayton." She paused. "Are you free for dinner, Harmon?" she asked.

"As a matter of fact, I am," Harm replied, feeling a huge sense of relief. "What time shall I be there?"

"Eight o'clock?"

"I'll be there," he answered.

"Good. I think you and I should get to know each other a little better."

******

2000 Hours Local
Great Falls, Virginia

"I must say that I was surprised when Clayton called me before he left and told me about you, Harmon. You told me that you and my son were friends, but-"

"I like to think that we are, Mrs. Webb," Harm said. "I only recently discovered that it could be more."

She nodded. "Which makes things a bit - difficult for you, doesn't it? I mean, being in the Navy - they're not actually very supportive of the kind of lifestyle you've chosen."

"I'm not really sure that I chose it, ma'am. I'm beginning to realize that it chose me ag tig time ago, and I just refused to accept that choice."

Porter smiled at him. "Rather like Clayton, I suppose. Poor dear. All during college he was so keyed up and nervous, he had a steady girlfriend, but I could tell that he wasn't happy with her. So I invited another friend of his to dinner one evening, and - well, a month later Clay came to me and told me that he was gay, and that he and Paul were dating." Her smile became a soft laugh. "He was totally surprised when I informed him that I already knew about it, and that that was precisely what I'd been hoping for when I brought them together."

"Paul?" Harm questioned.

Porter waved her hand in the air dismissively. "Oh, it didn't last very long - Paul moved across the country, and Clayton decided to pursue a career in government service. They parted as friends, though. I believe Clayton still gets Christmas cards from Paul and his current partner, but you'd have to ask him about that. My son doesn't speak to me much about his personal life these days. Which is why I was surprised when he told me about you." She reached out to touch his hand. "It really must be quite difficult for you, having no one to share things with."

"It's all still pretty new to me," Harm admitted. "I'd managed to bury all of my memories so deeply that they barely bothered me. But-"

"The death of your friend brought it all back," Porter finished, and Harm nodded, tr to to figure out how Clay had managed to tell his mother so much in a short amount of time. "Clay said that he took his own life."

Harm stood up as he felt the need to move around, still tortured by that memory. "I got a letter in the mail from him, telling me that he'd never forgotten those nights we were together, the things we'd shared. He told me that he forgave me for breaking it off and suggesting that he transfer off of the carrier. I hadn't really thought aboutnny nny in years, and then, suddenly, he was all I *could* think about. So I called his mother in Seattle, and she told me that Johnny was dead - that she had just come from the funeral. She asked if I could come out to see her," Harm studied the marble tiles on the floor at his feet.

"And that's when she told you that he had committed suicide?"

"He'd been seen with another man in a compromising position," Harm explained, "and there were rumors an an inquiry was going to be started. Johnny's entire life was the Navy - and I guess the idea of losing that was too much for him. He ran his car into a tree at ninety miles an hour. He was killed instantly."

He felt Porter's hand on his shoulder. "I'm sorry. Were you in love with him?"

Harm blinked to clear the moisture forming in his eyes. "I don't think so. We were only together for a short time. It was all new atrantrange, and - something that I knew couldn't continue if I was going to achieve my goals."

"And you're wondering if you made the right decision now," Porter said. It wasn't a question.

"Do you blame me? If I hadn't pushed Johnny away, he might be alive right now."

"And you would *both* be out of the Navy - and none of things you've accomplished in your career would have happened." She nodded. "I've read your record, Harmon. You're very good at what you do. Rumor has it that you could be in line one day to replace Admiral Chegwidden as Judge Advocate General."

"Do you always listen to rumors, Mrs. Webb?" Harm asked, smiling at her.

"Only when it concerns the people I care about. And I can see why my son is attracted to you. With that charm, Clayton didn't stand a chance."

Harm filed that comment about Clay being attracted to him away for future reference as he said, "I can't see myself ever being JAG, Mrs. Webb. Not for at least ten more years - and even then - I'm not sure I could accept it, all things considered."

"You never know what might happen. Things could change - by that time, your being in the Navy could be no problem at all."

"Well, we'll see," Harm nodded, feeling suddenly more at ease.

"I do hope that you and Clayton can find a way to work this out, Harmon. I think he needs someone like you." She sighed. "My son is a difficult man to live with. He's much like his father in that respect. Disappearing for days, weeks on end with no word, and then suddenly he's home - and he can't talk about anything that happened while he was gone. It's not an easy life. For him or those he cares about. But being in the military, I think maybe you're in a position to understand that part of him, and to try and look beyond that to the sensitive, caring man behind the mask that he presents to the rest of the world."

"I'd like the chance to try, Mrs. Webb. Clay and I don't always see eye to eye on everything, but -"

"Well, that's good. Couples shouldn't agree about everything. My God, how boring that would be. Neville and I used to argue to the Heavens about philosophical differences, but when the end of the day came, none of it mattered, because we loved each other." She sighed. "I want something like that for my son. It might not be the dream that most parents have, but as long as Clayton's happy, I'll be happy. That's not saying that I would hesitate to tell him if he's being an absolute ass, of course." She looked at Harm, her eyes serious. "I don't want my son hurt, Harmon. And I don't want to see you hurt, either. Even if this with Clayton doesn't work, I want you to know that you'll always be welcome in this house. If you ever need to talk, or just need a place where you can relax and be yourself, I hope you'll come here."

"Thank you. And the last thing I want to do is hurt Clay."

Markov appeared in the doorway to the room, and Porter nodded. "We'll be right there." She turned to Harm. "You know, I've just had the most wonderful idea. Would you be available to - take Clayton's place as my escort to various charity and diplomatic functions whenever he's gone? It would be the perfect blind for your relationship."

"Me? Mrs. Webb -"

"Think about it. You're a very charming, handsome man, Harmon. I'd be the envy of evwomawoman in the room with you at my side."

"Well, when you put it that way, Mrs. Webb," Harm said, smiling, "I can't refuse, can I?"

"I believe you'll discover, Harmon, that very few people ever refuse me anything. Especially my son." She slipped her arm through his. "Now, let's go and have dinner, shall we? And then I'll show you around. I meant it when I said that I want you feel at home here. And *do* call me Porter."

1000 Hours Local
JAG Headquarters
Falls Church, Virginia

Harm was still smiling the next day as he thought about his evening with Porter Webb. The woman was amazing, and had assured him repeatedly that his secret was safe with her, putting him totally at ease for the first time since Johnny's letter had arrived. Harm smiled at her apology for not having told him that Clayton was alive on his last visit, but Harm had assured her that he'd understood her reason for the omission.

A tap on his door made him look up as Harriet said, "Excuse me, sir."

Harm looked at her. "Yes, Harriet?"

"I was wondering- are you free for dinner this evening?"

"Harriet -" Harm began, about to tell her that he wasn't interested in a blind date with anyone.

"Please, sir. Just this once. If I'm not right and she's not *totally* perfect for you, I'll never play matchmakerin.\in."

"Do I have your word on that, Harriet?" Harm asked, thinking that it wouldn't hurt him to spend an evening with Harriet's friend. Otherwise, all he would do would be to sit in his apartment all evening, watching the telephone, willing Clay to call.

"Yes, sir. As long as you give her a chance," she amended.

Harm took a deep breath. "When and where?" he asked, and Harriet grinned, delighted to have finally broken his resistance.

"2000 hours, sir. The Greenery."

"I'll be there," he said. "What's your friend's name again?"

"Tina, sir. I just know you'll love her."

"We'll see, Harriet. I'm not making any promises, though," he said, laughing at her esiassiasm. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I have to get back to work on some briefs."

"Oh, yes, sir," the Lieutenant said, hurrying out to her desk, where Harm saw her pick up the telephone, probably to call Tina and let her know that the date was on.

*****

2100 Hours Local
The Greenery Restaurant
Washington DC

Harm gave the blonde a charming smile, finding it very easy to slip back into the old patterns. She was very attractive, amusing, a good listener - and she was a vegetarian, too. Harm had to admit that Harriet was right: Tina Morgan was perfect for Harm. At least, for the Harm that Harriet thought she knew. They had spent the dinner flirting shamelessly with each other, 'feeling' each other out, talking about their respective careers, family, Harriet.

At one point, however, Harm felt as if someone was looking at him, watching him, and lifted his head, but no one was there. Tina noticed his distraction, and frowned, following Harm's gaze to the empty spot by the doorway. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing," he told her, feeling ill at ease for some unknown reason. "You ready to go?" he asked.

"Sure," Tina said, smiling as he lifted his hand to ask the waitress for their check. She reached across the table to place her hand over his. "We can have an after dinner drink at my place," she suggested.

Harm smiled, but didn't respond as he gave the waitress his credit card. Luckily he didn't have time to say anything else, since the woman returned with the receipt almost immediately. He got up, and Tina did the same, leading the way out of the restaurant to where she had parked her car. Harm took her keys and unlocked it, opening the door for her. She made no move to get inside, and he stood there, looking at her.

"I guess it's 'no' to the nightcap, hmm?"

"Tonight, yeah. It's been a long week," he told her.

"Maybe next time?" Tina said, running her finger up his shirtsleeve. "There will *be* a next time, right?"

"I'll call," Harm said.

"I hope so," she said, and pulled him down into a kiss.

Harm didn't fight against it, finding himself suddenly curious about how he would feel now, kissing someone else after the kisses that he and Clay had shared. When he felt nothing, Harm found himself deepening the kiss more, reaching for something more than the slight tingle that Tina's lips on his and her hands on his back sent through him.

But that's all there was, and even though he could tell when the kiss ended that it was enough for Tina, it wasn't enough for Harm. Stepping back, he gave her a smile. "Drive carefully," he said, seeing her disappointed sig she she got into her car.

"You'll call?" she asked again.

"First chance I get," Harm nodded, and watched as she started the car and accelerated out of the parking lot.

He found the Vette and unlocked it, getting behind the steering wheel, his mind awhirl with questions. Those kisses with Clay had set every nerve in his body on fire. He'd never felt as alive as he had during those few, brief moments in the other man's arms. He and Johnny had never kissed, never been that intimate. It had all been about sex and relieving sexual tension in their brief time together.

The question that was filling Harm's thoughts was a simple one: was it only Clay that he responded to in such an uninhibited fashion, or would any man's kisses make him react that way?

He started the car and put it into gear, but instead of turning toward his apartment, Harm turned the other way.

*******

2300 Hours Local
Washington DC

Harm hadn't even heted ted this time. He had parked the car a block away from the club and walked directly through the doors, pausing only htlyhtly as he saw several eyes on him in the dimly light interior. The air was heavy with the smell of alcohol, smoke, and a pounding, driving beat that seemed to be a part of everything in the room.

Going to the bar, Harm ordered a beer, and sat there, wondering if this was such a good idea. But he had to know. He had to find out if it was just Clay or - he felt someone watching him again, but this time when he turned around, he saw that a man at one of the tables was focused totally on him as he stood, leaning on the bar, sipping his beer.

The man lifted his own glass, and motioned for Harm to join him, indicating the chair next to him. Swallowing, and putting on his most charming face, Harm crossed the room and sat down. "Hi," he said.

"Hi yourself," the man said. "I don't think I've seen you in here before. And I know most of the regulars. New in the area?"

"Yeah," Harm nodded, stretching out in his chair. "I'm new."

"Thought so. Sam," he said by way of introduction. "So, you just cruising or meeting someone here?"

"Cruising," Harm said.

Sam's smile revealed even, white teeth between full lips. "Nice to meet a guy after my own heart. Not much on relationships," he said, nodding to indicate the club. "All these guynd snd so little time," he said with a low, throaty chuckle.

Harm thought again that this hadn't been such a good idea, and finished his beer. "Well, nice meeting you, but I-"

Sam's arm snaked out to grasp Harm's wrist in a vice-like grip. "What's your hurry, pretty boy? We've just met." His fingers relaxed and began to draw random patterns on Harm's sleeve. "I wouldn't mind getting to know you better."

Harm looked around. "Here?"

Sam smiled, and Harm repressed the shiver that ran through his body at the sight of the predatory gleam in the man's eyes. "Come on. Let's go someplace where it's a little more private." He grasped Harm's wrist again, as if he was afraid he might lose his newfound friend, and dragged him outside to a dark alleyway beside the building.

"Hey!" Harm said in protest as he was shoved roughly against the brick wall, and then he couldn't talk at all as Sam's lips covered his, demanding that Harm return the kiss as Ss has hands seemed to be everywhere all at once. When Sam's fingers closed around Harm through his jeans, Harm moaned, trying to end the kiss, suddenly aware that he couldn't do this.

The man's hands and lips made him feel cheap and dirty - and used. There was no spark; no liquid fire running through is veins, nothing except for the bile that rose up into Harm's throat.

"Excuse me?"

Harm closed his eyes in relief and terror, recognizing that voice as Sam lifted his head. "Get lost, buddy. I don't share," Sam growled.

"Neither do I," Clay announced, his eyes locked on the taller man who was still holding Harm against the wall. "You were just pawing my boyfriend," he said, and Harm tried to ignore the thrill that Clay's possessive tone sent through him.

Sam's grin wasn't pretty as he glanced at Harm and then back to where Clay was standing, sizing up the opposition. "Possession's nine tenths of the law," he said, and moved back toward Harm, apparently not intending to give up his new toy. It was a mistake he would regret later.

Suddenly Harm was free and Clay was twisting Sam's arm behind his back, causing the larger man to groan in a mixture of anger and pain. He sent Sam to the ground of the alley with a well-placed karate chop, and then stood there, looking at Harm.

"Clay-"

"Get in your car, Harm. Go home."

"Clay, I can explain-"

"It's not a good idea to be here when he wakes up," Clay said, walking away. "He won't be happy, and he'll take it out on you."

"Just like you're doing now?" Harm asked. "Condemning me without hearing me out?"

Clay stopped, and glanced back at him. "Follow me back to my place. You can park in the garage. I'll park on the street." Without another word, he left the alley.

Harm glanced once more at Sam's still unconscious form, then stepped over him and went to the Vette, turning it toward Alexandra.

******

2400 Hours Local
Alexandria, Virginia

Harm followed Clay into his townhouse, still trying to phrase his explanation while staring at the uncompromising set of Clay's shoulders. He'd only been here once - when he'd thought Clay was dead. Thank God he hadn't been, Harm thought now, wondering what he would have done if Clay hadn't been there for him in Seattle - or tonight.

"I don't think this is going to work, Harm," Clay n, pn, pouring himself a stiff drink from the bar.

"I can explain, Clay," Harm insisted. "If you'll just listen-"

"No, *you* listen. I get home after being gone five days, and first thing I do go to your apartment. But you're not there. So I call my mother, to see if she's heard from you. She tells me that you and she had a lovely dinner last night, that she thinks you're wonderful. That you're *perfect* for me-" he laughed, but there was no humor in the sound. "You've got her fooled, Rabb. Something that's not easy to do. And I don't like people who think they can play me *or* my mother."

"I'm not playing anyone, Clay," Harm insisted. "Dammit, just listen, please?"

But Clay wasn't listening. "When I saw you kissing that blonde at the restaurant, I thought, 'Okay, didn't take him long to crawl back into that nice, safe little closet, and maybe that's for the best -."

"You were at the restaurant," Harm realized, recalling the feeling of being watched. "How-"

"Mother. She told me that you had a date when I called to see if she'd heard from you."

Harm looked at the ceiling, remembering telling Porter about the blind date when they had talked between the time he got home and the time he left to meet Tina.

"I was ready to let it go - but then you turned the opposite direction from you your apartment when you left, and I decided to follow you. I mean, it *was* in this general direction. I figured maybe you were coming here to see if I was home, to tell me that you'd decided to keep pretending to be straight arrow Commander Harmon Rabb and whatever we'd discussed had been a mistake. I lost you for a few minutes, and you weren't here when I arrived -"

"How did you know -?"

"I retraced the route and found your car. Kinda of hard to miss a red Corvette. Especially in that neighborhood, Harm. You might consider getting something a little lconsconspicuous -"

"Would you please let me explain, Clay?" Harm asked again.

Clay finished his drink and poured another, then sat down in the black leather chair. He lifted those hazel eyes toward Harm. "Go on. I'm listening."

Harm ran a hand through his hair, trying to decide where to start. "The blonde is an old college friend of Harriet's," he said. "She's been after me all week to have dinner with Tina, sure that we would hit it off."

"It appeared that she was right," Clay muttered, lifting his glass again.

"Yes. She was. Tina was funny, intelligent, everything that would keep me interested in a woman," Harm admitted, looking directly at Clay. "If I *wanted* to be interested in a woman."

"Could have fooled me with that kiss."

"It didn't mean anything, Clay," Harm said, sitting down on the chair nearby, his elbows on his knees as he leaned forward. "I didn't feel anything more with her than I had with any of the women I've been with. Nothing like what it felt like when you kissed me."

Clay's eyes were now focused on the drink in his hand. He didn't say anything, so Harm decided to continue his explanation.

"After I kissed Tina, I started wondering whether my reaction to you was *because* it was you or just because you were a man." Clay snorted in disbelief, and Harm moved forward, onto his knees before Clay. "Clay, I hated him touching me, hated the way he made me feel. You're the first man that I've - What Johnny and I had wasn't about intimacy. It was sex. I realize that now. What I feel when I'm with you - when your arms are around me, when your lips are on mine," he said, moving closer and closer to Clay, who wasn't moving away, Harm noticed. "I feel alive," he continued taking the empty glass out of Clay's fingers without any protest. "Every nerve in my body reacts to your touch," he said, lifting a hand to Clay's cheek, caressing it. "I'm sorry, Clay. I screwed up tonight. It won't happen again. I promise." He pressed his lips against Clay's, gently requesting a response, praying that he hadn't messed things up beyond repair. Harm circled Clay's lips with his tongue, and when those lips opened, he pressed home his advantage, taking what was offered.

Clay moaned into Harm's mouth, spreading his legs so that Harm could move closer. Harm's hands slid down Clay's chest unfastening vest and shirt buttons to reach bare skin. He could feel the other man's heart racing in time with his own. Moving lower, Harm's fingers found the expensive leather belt and opened it as he nipped at Clay's lips, returning the kiss that Clay had initiated. Lowering the zipper of Clay's trousers, he smiled against Clay's lips as he felt the other man groan as his fingers touched Clay's cock. It was hard, ready, and Harm knew what he needed- what he wanted to do.

Clay's hands moved to either side of Harm's head, forcing Harm to look up and meet his eyes. "Harm-"

"Please, Clay," he begged. "Let me taste you." Clay slowly nodded, and his hands moved to the wooden arms of the chair, leaving nothing to keep Harm from his goal. When he circled the tip of the swollen head with his tongue, Clay's hips bucked up, and he moaned again.

"Oh, God, Harm," he sighed, and Harm noticed that his knuckles were white as he gripped the chair.

Circling the head, Harm licked up and down the length of Clay's cock, then back up again slowly, causing another groan to sound in the quiet room. His eyes on Clay's, Harm covered Clay with his mouth, taking him as far as he could, before pulling back, and setting up a rhythm. Clay's hips lifted again, and Harm held him down. "Easy, Clay," he whispered, and saw the tension around his lover's mouth as he tried to control himself.

Harm went back to his ministrations, sliding his left hand under Clay's balls, and then up to press against the tight ring beyond. So much was coming back to him, so many things - he pulled back until just the head of Clay's cock was in his mouth and sucked as hard as he could.

"Harm, I'm - you don't have to- " Clay was saying, trying again to pull Harm's head back up to his.

But Harm refused to budge, and redoubled his efforts until he felt Clay's cock pulse, and then concentrated on swallowing all of it.

Clay was still panting when he pulled Harm up to him, lifting his face for another kiss. "Damn, Harm," he said at last. "You've been holding out on me."

"Am I forgiven?" Harm asked, and Clay smiled, his fingers working at the buttons on Harm's shirt.

"Don't ever do that to me again, Harm," Clay said, and Harm knew that he was serious. "I was terrified when I saw you with that woman tonight. And then that guy at the bar-"

"I'm yours, Clay," Harm assured him, "Only yours."

Clay kicked off his shoes and stood, stepping out of his trousers and shorts. "I think we'd be more comfortable in bed, don't you?"

Harm allowed Clay to pull him by the hand toward the bedroom of the condo. Inside, he noticed that it was furnished as the living room was - very tastefully, much like Porter's house in Great Falls. But he didn't have a lot of time to appreciate the décor as Clay removed his shirt and pushed him backward onto the bed, following a moment later, his own clothes now gone.

"One of us is overdressed," Harm said, enjoying the feel of Clay's bare skin under his fingers. He brushed over a nipple, and Clay groaned. Harm echoed that noise a moment later as Clay's lips found his nipple and circled it with his tongue before nipping gently with blunt teeth. "Ohhh," Harm sighed, feeling Clay's fingers working on the fastening of his jeans. Those same fingers freed Harm from the confines of the clothing, stroking, pulling gently. When Clay's thumb circled the sensitive tip, Harm cried out softly, and saw Clay smile. "I understand now. You're going to torture me."

"Not torture," Clay said, shaking his head as he tugged at Harm's jeans, causing Harm to lift his hips in cooperation. "Pleasure. Ever heard the term, 'killing with kindness'?" he asked.

Harm lay back as Clay's lips closed around him. "What a way to go," he sighed, his fingers clawing at the comforter beneath them. He lifted his head to watch as Clay sucked him, until he could no longer stand the sweet torture and his eyes rolled back into his head. "Clay," he panted, feeling the other man's fingers pressing for entry to the ring of muscles around his anus. "Oh, God, Clay," he cried out as he started to come, sending what seemed to be every bit of himself into Clay's eager, sucking mouth.

Once he was still, Clay crawled back up to Harm's side, pressing another kiss onto Harm's open lips. Tasting himself on Clay's tongue, Harm felt his cock twitch and he pulled Clay's head onto his chest, needing to recover a bit. "That was-"

"Yeah," Clay agreed, sounding just as awed by the experience.

"How long have you wanted this, Clay?" he asked, his hand rubbing gently over his lover's back. He felt the instant tension, and worked to relieve it. "Clay?"

"Where did you get that idea?" Clay wanted to know.

"Your mother. She said something the other night that made me think you'd been attracted to me for some time."

"I am never going to tell my mother anything ever again," Clay muttered.

Harm lifted Clay's chin, so that he could the other man's face. "How long?"

"I don't know when it happened, exactly. One day we were arguing about something - and the next I was fantasizing about what it would be like to kiss you." He sighed, running his hand over Harm's chest, and then lower, causing Harm to gasp. "I never thought it would happen. Figured I'd have to keep whatever I felt quiet. I mean, as far as I knew, you were totally straight and would have decked me if I'd made a move."

Harm gave him a crooked smile, and then gasped again as Clay's hands found him. "Not if you'd done that," he said, and rolled over so that his leg was over Clay's and Clay was on his back. "I guess some good came out of Johnny's death after all, hmm?"

"Oh, Harm, this is only the beginning," Clay promised, and lifted an arm to point at the nightstand drawer. "There are some things in there we might need."

Harm released him to open the drawer, finding a tube of lube and some condoms. Turning back to Clay, he held them up, one eyebrow lifting as he smiled. But the smile vanished when he saw the raw need in Clay's eyes.

"I want you, Harm. Now. I've waited such a long time-"

"Clay, I -" he began, trying to remind him that it had been a long time for him, too. Almost twenty years since he'd been with another man. He wasn't ready, he thought, feeling the panic begin to build.

But Clay's hand on his cheek brought a calming influence, and Clay smiled and held out one of the condoms. "Put it on, Harm."

Realizing what he meant, Harm took a deep breath and tore the package open, rolling the contents over his erect cock, and then removed the top of the lube, warming it in his hands as he lubed the condom, waiting for Clay to turn over onto his knees.

But Clay shook his head, lifting a leg over Harm's shoulder. "I want to be able to see your face when you're in me," he said, and Harm leaned forward, kissing him. "Thank you," he said, and moved back down, taking Clay's cock in one hand as he spread the remaining lube around the tiny rosette of muscle on Clay's ass. His eyes locked with Clay's as he slipped one finger inside to the knuckle, then another. Clay's breathing had changed, becoming shallower. "More, Harm," he cried. Harm put a third finger inside, working them in and out as Clay groaned. "Now, Harm. I need you now," he cried and Harm stood, pulling Clay's ass to the edge of the bed, his legs over Harm's shoulders.

Harm placed the tip of his cock against the tight ring of Clay's anus, and pressed forward, his own head going back as the sensitive head of his cock was pressed into the tight canal. "Damn, Clay," he moaned. "You're so tight."

"Keep going," Clay panted. "Fuck me, Harm. Now." He lowered a leg, using it to pull Harm closer, burying Harm's cock up to its base in Clay's heat.

"Uhhh," Harm groaned, and had to a wait a moment before he gripped Clay's hips and started moving, pulling his cock almost all the way out before slamming it back into Clay's grasping ass. Harm grabbed Clay's cock, jerking him off in time to his thrusts, and as Clay started moving his hips, Harm knew what he was trying to do, and changed his own position slightly, enabling him to hit Clay's prostate on every forward thrust. Clay cried out, burying his fingers in the comforter, calling out Harm's name as he started to come, the white liquid covering his stomach.

Harm increased his own pace, and went still after slamming into Clay once more, nearly passing out from the intensity of his orgasm. Clay's legs fell to either side of Harm's body, and Harm collapsed forward, rolling over to his side. "Oh, shit," he said at last, beginning to regain some semblance of sanity. "It was *never* like that," he panted. "Not once."

Clay turned to look at him. "Never?" he asked.

"No. Never." He frowned as Clay got out of bed and disappeared into what he supposed was the bathroom. "Clay?" he asked. He heard water running, and then Clay returned with a wet washrag for him to use. Removing the condom, he cleaned himself up, watching as Clay turned the bedcovers down on the bed. Harm took the rag back into the bathroom easily finding the trash to deposit the condom into, but the dirty clothes were nowhere to be found.

"Dirty clothes are under the sink," Clay called out, and Harm opened the door to deposit the rag there before rejoining Clay, who was already in the bed. "You will stay, won't you?" Clay asked. "You don't have any other plans this weekend?"

"Not a one," Harm said with a smile, climbing into the bed beside Clay. "Except to spend it with you."

Clay pulled the covers up over them.

0900 Hours Local
Alexandria, Virginia

When Clay woke the next morning, he smiled at the already familiar feeling of waking with Harm's arm around him. He hadn't been able to enjoy it last time. But this time, he intended to make the most of it. Wiggling his ass against Harm, he felt Harm's hard cock resting in the crack of his ass and smiled as Harm stirred, tightening his hold. Clay turned onto his back, smiling. "Good morning."

"Morning," Harm said, giving him a kiss. "It's nice waking up next to you."

Clay groaned in response as Harm's fingers circled his cock. "Damn, Harm. Making up for lost time?" he said. He was certainly a quick study, Clay thought, or else he was just remembering things he'd forced himself to forget all those years ago. Harm disappeared underneath the blankets, and Clay dug his fingers into his lover's back, moving around on the bed until he was under Harm, where he took Harm's cock into his mouth, copying every move the other man made.

Once they were both spent and panting, Clay slapped playfully at Harm's ass. "I'm going to take a shower. Care to join me?" he asked, pausing in the doorway. Seeing Harm's eyes light up, he knew the answer, and turned on the water, getting into the oversize enclosure, dropping the condom packet that he'd picked up on the way to the bathroom into the caddy in the corner. He heard Harm taking a piss, and then the door opened to admit him.

Harm's arms went around him, and Clay leaned back into that embrace, closing his eyes for a moment. "I could get used to this," he sighed.

"I hope so," Harm murmured, takthe the soap from him as he placed several kisses on the back of Clay's neck. "Because I already have."

Once Harm finished washing Clay, Clay took the soap back. "My turn," he said, and turned Harm toward the wall, lathering Harm's neck and back and arms, sliding his hands around to circle the nipples on his chest, smiling as Harm groaned as he'd done moments before. Kneeling, he soaped up Harm's legs, sliding his hand between his thighs. Harm pressed his palms against the tile wall before him, spreading those long legs at Clay's gentle, unspoken urging.

Still kneeling, Clay washed Harm's now fully accessible ass, including the puckered rosebud. Putting the soap into its dish, Clay watched as the water running down Harm's back rinsed the lather away, and then leaned forward to place his tongue against that winking bud. He felt Harm's response, and was encouraged that he didn't seem to mind as Clay reached through his legs to fondle his balls, still laving Harm's asshole with his tongue. Finally Clay slid a finger into that tight ring, and Harm's head fell to his chest. Clay looked around his body to see those eyes looking at him.

"That feeood,ood," Harm sighed, pressing back into Clay's finger. Clay added another finger, brushing against Harm's prostate, causing him to groan loudly. "Do it, Clay," he said in a strangled voice. "Please."

Clay used his teeth to open the condom, his other hand still busy preparing Harm for this. He wanted it to be good. Too much pain could destroy Harm's trust in him, and that was the last thing that Clay wanted to happen. Taking the soap, Clay lathered the condom, then his hands, spreading the lather around Harm's ass and into his anus. Harm bent his legs to give Clay better access, and then Clay pressed forward.

Harm hissed through his teeth, and Clay knew he was in pain. "Should I stop?" Clay asked, rubbing his back, leaning forward to place a kiss on his spine.

"N-no," Harm told him. "Just - wait a minute."

"I can wait," Clay agreed, reaching around to grasp Harm's cock. "Just relax," he cooed. "Don't fight it. Relax, Harm." Suddenly Harm's ass muscles did just that, and Clay found himself buried to the hilt inside of Harm. He stayed still, waiting for Harm to give him a signal that he was all right. "Damn," he said between clenched teeth. "You said *I* was tight." Clay knew that he couldn't possibly hold out for very long as Harm started moving again. "Oh, Harm. Oh, that feels good."

"Yeah," Harm agreed, his head back now as he gasped for breath. "Oh, yeah, that's it." He jumped as Clay's cock hit his prostate, and turned to look at Clay with a sexy smile. "Damn." He moved back again, and Clay realized that he wanted to feel it again, and gave him what he wanted, pumping his hips back and forth as he held Harm's with both hands. His fingers were digging into the pale skin beneath them as the pressure began to build.

"Harm, I can't hold off," he gasped, and felt Harm's orgasm starting. Spent now, Harm remained still as Clay's movements sped up until he cried out his own completion.

Harm turned around to put his arms around Clay, kissing him. "Thank you," he said, and picked up the soap to clean them both up again.

*****************

Saturday
1300 Hours Local
Alexandria, Virginia

Clay was rudely awakened out of a sound sleep by the telephone ringing. Harm groaned at the intrusion, and Clay reached over him, fumbling for the offending device for what seemed like forever before he found it. Draped over Harm's chest, he said, "Hello?"

"Don't tell me you were still asleep at this hour, Clayton," a woman said, and Clay groaned into the phone. Harm slipped from under him and headed toward the bathroom.

"Mother, it's -" he looked at the digital clock. "One," he said.

"In the afternoon," she confirmed. "I thought you said you were going to call me this morning?" she said.

Harm returned from the bathroom, going to the other side of the bed, where he started trailing his fingers along Clay's back. "Something came up," he said, swatting at Harm's hand, and giving him a threatening look as Harm chuckled at his answer. "Did you call for a reason, Mother?"

wantwanted to invite you and Harmon for dinner this evening," she informed him.

"Harm? What if he has plans?" Clay asked, swatting at Harm's wandering hands again.

"I don't," Harm said, and Clay quickly clamped a hand over the receiver, glaring at him.

"Clayton, dear, I called Harmon's apartment earlier. There's no answer. Since you're back in town, where else *would* he be but with you? Give him my regards, and I'll expect to see you both at six." The line went dead, leaving Clay no option but to hang up.

"Damn," he sighed, laying back in the bed as Harm cuddled up next to him.

"What's wrong?"

"Summons from the palace," Clay sighed. "Mother wants us there for dinner at six."

"And that's a problem?" Harm asked, giving him a kiss on the shoulder. "I thought Porter was very charming."

Clay's eyes narrowed. "Porter?"

Harm shrugged. "She asked me to call her that," he explained.

Clay got out of bed, grabbing a robe from the closet door as he passed.

"Clay?" Harm called after him, getting out of bed and finding his jeans, slipping them on as he followed. "Is something wrong?" he asked as he found Clay in the kitchen.

"Wrong? What could possibly be wrong? I've been gone for five days, I was expecting a little down time, and my mother insists that we go over there to keep her company. And she's treating *you* like another son," he grumbled, turning on the coffee maker with an almost savage gesture.

Harm stood watching Clay rant for a moment before crossing the kitchen to slip his arms around the man's shoulders, pulling him back against him. "We'll have tonight and the rest of the day tomorrow," he said. "Porter missed you. She worries." Hearing Clay's "harrumph!' of disbelief, he said, "She doesn’t let on, but she does. Is one dinner too much for her to ask?"

"We're going to the ball at the British Embassy next week," Clay said. "I don't know why she couldn’t wait until then -"

"Because she wants to see us both. I think she wants confirmation that she's right about us."

Clay laughed and shook his head, moving away from Harm's embrace to get coffee cups out of the cabinet. "My mother doesn’t need confirmation on anything." He gave Harm a sideways glance, chuckling.

"What?" Harm asked.

"My mother has never wanted to spend time with anyone I've been involved with. You impressed her," he said, pouring two cups of coffee and handing one to harm. "God knows how, or why, but you did."

"What can I say?" Harm said, grinning over his cup. "I'm charming."

"Too charming for your own good," Clay nodded, sitting down at the table. Harm remained where he was, leaning against the counter, legs crossed at the ankles. "We need to talk, Harm."

"I told you that last night was-"

"It's not about last night," Clay said, indicating the other chair. "Sit down."

Harm sat down. "Why do I feel a lecture coming on?"

"No lectures. But we need tok ouk out how we're going to do this. If you want to, that is."

"Try and stop me," Harm replied, grinning from ear to ear.

"I'm serious, Harm," Clay said with a sigh. "We're not always going to be able to spend the entire night together. And spending time at your place, when almost everyone from JAG seems to think they have free access to the place -"

"Easy. I can forward my phone at the apartment to my cell," Harm told him. "If anyone calls during the weekend, they'll think I'm there."

"And what if they've already been there looking for you?" Clay asked. "There are a lot of things to consider, Harm."

"Such as how this could affect your job with the CIA?" Harm questioned, suddenly becoming serious. "Porter mentioned that some people might - try to use your relationship with a US Naval officer against you. Or try to use it to blackmail me into getting information for them."

"My mother has a big mouth," Clay muttered, "And I can take care of myself. As for you, I don't think you'd give in to blackmail."

"I wouldn't. I'd resign my commission before I let it happen," Harm admitted, looking down at his coffee cup. "But it's still something that has to be considered. This doesn't just affect my career. It affects yours, too."

Clay looked at him. "Are you sure you want to do this, Harm? It's not going to be easy."

"Never thought it would be," Harm said, lifting his coffee cup to his lips as he smiled. "But I happen to think that the benefits are more than worth the risk."

Clay returned the smile. "Want some lunch? I might be able to make an omelet or-" he groaned as the telephone rang again. Getting up, he looked ready to give Porter a piece of his mind. "Webb." Harm saw the way his eyes flickered to him, and then away. "Just a minute." He pressed the button marked "hold" on the wall phone, hanging up as he told Harm. "It's business. I won't be a minute," he promised.

Harm nodded, staring into his cup again as Clay left the kitchen. Looking around the spotless kitchen, Harm decided that he *was* hungry, and went to the refrigerator, finding ingredients for the omelet that Clay had mentioned.

****

Clay sighed into the phone. "Look, I just woke up. And this can wait until Monday morning." He sighed, his lips tightening. "First thing. And I'd appreciate not being bothered again this week end unless it's a national emergency. Good bye." He hung up, forcing his breathing to slow to a more normal rate. Picking up his empty cup, he started back toward the kitchen, sniffing the air as he did so.

At the doorway, he stopped, watching Harm slide an omelet onto a plate. "You are indeed a man of many talents, Harm," he said, going to get another cup of coffee. "Smells good," he said, going to the table. Harm looked up and grinned. "I don't suppose you made two?"

Harm removed a plate from the microwave, and set it before Clay with a flourish. "Hyou you go." Going back to the counter, Harm asked, "Everything okay?" referring to the phone call.

"Yeah. They wanted me to come in and file a couple of reports, but I told them it could wait until Monday morning." Clay picked up his fork as Harm joined him with a second plate and a fresh cup of coffee. "Here goes nothing," he said, and cut a piece of the food, putting it into his mouth. "Hmm. Damn. It's delicious."

"You should taste my French toast and pancakes," Harm told him, digging into his own food. "I hope you don't mind my-"

"No. I used to cook for myself, but lately it's seemed like more trouble than it was worth. Easier to go out to a restaurant." He looked around. "I don't suppose you fixed anything to go with this? Like bacon?"

Harm groaned. "Dead animal." He shook his head, and Clay sighed. "Besides, there wasn't any."

"I forgot. You're a vegetarian." He groaned as well. "This isn't going to work. Get out."

Harm saw the playful light in his eyes, apparently, because his held the same thing. "Sorry. I see it as my mission in life to make you see that a healthier diet will make everything *so* much better."

"So that's where you get your stamina," Clay said, smiling. "I might have to look into it, just to keep up."

Harm's fingers were on Clay's wrist, his thumb rubbing the skin in tiny circles. "Oh, believe me, you don't have a problem with keeping *up*, Clay." He winked, and then continued eating his omelet, as Clay laughed softly, wondering how in the hell he had managed to be so lucky as to finally have a chance with Harmon Rabb.

The reality was so much better than the fantasies that had kept him going all these years. Harm was funny, and sexy, and a good cook. What more could any man ask for, Clay wondered, taking another bite of his own food. "You're going to have to show me how you make this," he said.

"Anytime," Harm agreed.

They made love again before Harm went back to his apartment to change for dinner with Clay's mother. Clay suggested that he pack a bag to bring back to leave there, and decided that he would do the same. He could easily leave a few things at Harm's apartment, a robe, a change of clothes, both informal and a suit. Maybe it wouldn’t be as impossible as he'd first thought it would be.

*****

Saturday
2200 Hours Local
Alexandria, Virginia

Clay removed his suit coat and draped it carefully over a chair, before pouring two glasses of scotch. Picking his up and carrying it over to the black leather chair he dropped into it, sighing. "I love my mother," he told Harm. "But if I'd had to listen to her tell you one more story about my solitary childhood I'd have started to scream."

Harm, his own drink in hand, grinned. "I don't know. I thought they were kind of cute."

"You try being smaller than your age and getting along," Clay replied, putting his head back and closing his eyes. "It's a cruel world out there. Full of bullies who like taking advantage of anyone that they see a sign of weakness in." He heard Harm prowling around the room. "I bet no one ever tried to bully you around."

Harm laughed. "They tried," he said. "Usually wound up flat on their back afterward, though."

Clay smiled at that thought. "Too bad you weren't around back then to be my white knight. I could have used someone who wasn't afraid to stick up for himself."

"How old were you when your father died?" Harm asked, and Clay sighed.

"Same age as you were. Six. And we were never told for certain that he died. He went missing."

"MIA?"

Clay nodded, taking another drink of his scotch. "Only the Company doesn't call it that."

"You've never tried to find him?"

"I did," Clay said. "I managed to get access to the file a few years ago. I can't talk about it. It's classified. Although there are times I wish I could for Mother's sake, to give her some closure."

"She never considered remarrying?"

"Not that I'm aware of. She spent my formative years taking care of me and keeping the family name present in diplomatic circles. She could have remarried, I guess. There were several men who were interested, but-" Clay looked over at Harm, who was standing beside the piano. "You weren't happy when your mother decided to remarry, were you?"

"That's an understatement. I fought every step of the way, kept finding ways to remind her that my father might not be dead - It's a wonder she and Frank put up with me at all."

"You were - what? Thirteen? Fourteen?"

"Fourteen," Harm nodded. "I decided to prove that she was wrong, that he was still alive-"

"And you did," Clay said.

"With your help." Harm opened the keyboard cover and pushed a key, looking up at him. "Do you play?"

"No," Clay replied. "I just have a baby grand piano in my apartment for looks. Same with the cello." He smiled to take the sting out of the sarcasm. "Learned when I was young. One of the things that Mother insisted on. Thought knowing how to play the piano would make me 'popular'. Trouble was, not everyone had a piano so that I show off. And not many people appreciate the cello."

Harm laughed. "That's why I learned to play the guitar. And I could take it with me."

"Bet you had all the girls just clamoring for a date with the hunky star football player," Clay grinned.

"How'd you know I played football?" Harm asked, his eyes narrowing as he played with the piano - hitting enough wrong notes that Clay winced. Finishing his drink, he stood up and went over to the instrument.

"Move over," he said, and waited for Harm to slide to the other end of the bench before sitting down.

"I thought you'd never take the bait," Harm said with a soft laugh, his hand on Clay's back. Clay could feel the heat of that touch even through his vest and shirt. Clay placed his hands on the ivory keys, running a quick riff to loosen them up a bit. "You didn't answer my question," Harm said.

"It's in your file," Clay told him.

"My file?"

"CIA dossier. We do them on anyone who works even in an unofficial capacity for the Agency." He could see out of the corner of his eye that the idea bothered Harm, and said, "Don't worry, Harm. There's nothing in there that could cause any problems. According to the file, you're the all American boy next door."

Clay started playing Chopin, allowing the music to wash over him, relaxing him even further- until he felt Harm's fingers on his thigh, gently kneading through the fabric. That hand moved ever upward, almost in time to the music, and when he felt Harm lowering the zipper on his trousers, Clay barely managed to keep his fingers on the right keys.

Harm slid from the bench and somehow managed to fit himself between the piano and Clay, releasing Clay's half-hard cock to stroke it lightly. Clay closed his eyes, forcing himself to continue playing the piano, to hit every note exactly. But when he felt Harm's mouth on his cock, his fingers faltered, and he had to sit for a moment to regain his equilibrium. "Don't stop," he heard Harm say.

"Don't you stop," Clay replied, and placed shaking hands onto the keys again, resuming playing until he could no longer think enough to play at all. He sat there, gripping the edge of the o, ho, his head back, as he came, crying out as he did so.

He felt Harm move to slide back onto the bench at his side and opened his eyes in time to see the other man run his tongue around his lips, as if trying to capture every last drop. Leaning against Harm, he said, "Go get a condom and the lube, Harm" he said, "And get undressed." Seeing Harm about to form a question, Clay shook his head. "Don't ask questions, Harm, just do it."

Harm nodded, and disappeared into the other room as Clay rose on shaking legs to kick off his shoes and step out of his trousers before bending forward over the back of the sofa. He heard Harm returning, and looked back to see him falter for a moment - before a huge grin appeared. "I need you, Harm. Now," he said in a voice that revealed that need clearly.

Clay heard Harm open the condom, and then felt his fingers, getting him ready, spreading the hand-warmed lube where it needed to be. A moment later, he felt Harm's cock enter his body, and relaxed to let it in all the way. He had no idea how many times he'd fantasized about letting Harm take him here, in this room, over this couch. And now it was coming true. They'd work it out. Somehow. It was the last clear thought Clay had before everything went brilliant white and he came, feeling Harm following him almost immediately.

Clay regained his senses slowly, feeling Harm's hands gently stroking his back as they lay side by side on the sofa. He didn't bother to ask how they'd gotten into this position, he just lay there, enjoying being close to the other man. His other relationships had never felt this right - and the thought terrified Clay. So many things could tear them apart: his career, Harm's, the fact that Harm, while very good, was also very new to this - He'd seen it destroy stronger men than Harmon Rabb, Jr.

"Clay," Harm said, and Clay pressed his lips to his lover's chest where he could feel the vibrations of that voice. "Can I ask a question?"

"You can ask," Clay told him. "I'll answer if I can."

"Why are you insisting on our using protection?" Harm asked, and Clay held his breath. "I mean, I know I'm clean - and it's not like either of us can get the other pregnant -"

Clay found himself laughing before he answered. "And so am I," Clay assured him. "It's just - safer, Harm." He looked up into Harm's blue eyes as he finished. "Just accept that, okay?" He could read every thought that went through the man's head, Clay realized. Harm was afraid that Clay was seeing other men, or that he might have to do something in the line of duty - "Harm - don't think about it. We're together. That's all that matters." He grinned. "Of course, if we keep this up, neither of us is going to alive by Monday morning."

He watched as Harm forced himself to follow the lead he set. "Was that complaint?"

"As someone said last night, what a way to go," he returned. "It's only natural. We're still getting to know each other, learning what the other likes or doesn't like -" He chuckled. "So far, I haven't found anything that you don't like."

Harm mumbled something under his breath, and Clay frowned. "I didn't hear that."

"Good. Less you know the better for me."

Clay narrowed his eyes as he replayed that mumble in his mind, and then smiled, lightly dragging his fingertips across Harm's ribcage. The action had the expected effect: Harm started to squirm and tried to push Clay's hand away. "Clay, don't, please."

"You're ticklish," Clay realized. "I hadn't noticed -" He experimented with a similar touch on Harm's backbone, and got the same response.

"Clay, please -" Harm said, grabbing Clay's hand to stop the torture.

Remembering that he'd said he didn't like to be tickled, Clay stopped as requested. "Let's go to bed," he said gently. "This sofa might be comfortable, but it's not nearly big enough for what I have in mind."

Monday
0900 Hours Local
JAG Headquarters
Falls Church, Virginia

Harm tossed his cover onto the shelf beside the door, and then put his briefcase onto the desk, opening the latches. "Excuse me, sir?"

He looked dup to see Harriet hovering in the doorway. "Yes, Harriet?"

"I was just - curious, sir, about your date Friday night. Was I right?"

"Right, Lieutenant?" Harm questioned, taking some files from the case before closing it and setting it on the floor beside the desk.

"What did you think of Tina, sir?"

He smiled. "What did she have to say about me?" he countered.

"That you're a perfect gentleman, sir - but that she wouldn't have minded you being a little *less* of one," she finished, wincing as if she was afraid she'd said too much.

"Harriet, you were right," he said, and when he saw the smile that spread over her round face he held up a cautioning hand. "If I were ready to get back into a relationship with a woman, she'd probably be perfect."

"But you're not ready, sir?" Harriet said, frowning now.

"I just think I need to be on my own for awhile."

"It's been over a year, sir -"

"I know. But I need to work on me before I'm ready to be with anyone else. If that makes any sense."

Harriet looked thoughtful. "I suppose it does, sir. Tina said that you told her you'd call -"

"When I'm ready. I just don't want her waiting around because it could be awhile before I am."

The blonde nodded, looking a little sad. "Thank you, sir. I'll see that she gets the message."

"Thank you for worrying about me, Harriet," he said. "I'm lucky to have such a good friend." Her smile was worth the effort that Harm put out. "Anything else?" he asked.

"No, sir," she said, and left the office.

Harm smiled, and turned his attention back to the files on his desk.

****

He looked up later when Mac entered the office, carrying a file. "I need to talk to you about the Carey case," she said. "Got a minute?"

"For you? Sure," he said, indicating the chair across the desk. "The Carey case," he said, looking through his own notes. "Lieutenant David Carey, accused of stealing shoulder launched missiles from Guantanamo." He glanced through the file. "Looks pretty straightforward to me, Mac-" he looked up to find her watching him, frowning. "What?"

"There's something - different about you. I can't quite put my finger on it, but -"

Harm hid the tremor of fear behind a smile. "I'm the same person I was last week, Mac," he told her. *Except that you spent the weekend with Clayton Webb - and most of that in his bed,* Harm reminded himself.

"You look more- relaxed. At ease with yourself. You went out on a date Friday night with Harriet's friend, didn't you?"

"Dinner and nothing else, Mac," he assured her. "She's a nice lady, but I'm not looking for a relationship at the moment." He saw the expression on her face, and looked back down at the Carey file. "What did you need to talk about on the Carey case?"

"Want to make a deal?"

"He's innocent, Mac."

"You're sure of that?"

"Totally. Why? Do you have something that says otherwise?"

"You'll find out in discovery, Harm," she replied, standing up.

"Lunch?" Harm asked.

"If you're buying," she agreed.

"No problem," he replied, laughing as she left the office after giving him another curious glance.

Once she was out of sight, Harm forced himself to take several deep breaths in an effort to relax. He was going to have to get through this - which was why he'd asked Mac to lunch. The best way to get used to dodging her questions was to simply do it. "Damn the bullets, full speed ahead" kind of thing. He glanced at the telephone, thinking about calling Clay, but stopped himself at the last minute. They'd made arrangements to meet for drinks this evening at an out of the way bar, just two friends, spending some time together. He could wait until then, he decided, and decided to study the Carey file again, wondering what Mac had come up with that made her so certain that the Lieutenant was guilty of stealing several weapons from the base in Italy where he'd been stationed and selling them to terrorists.

According to the NCIS report, Lt. Carey had been in charge of the weapons storage facility at the time of the theft, and had insisted that he had been hit over the head by someone else who then stole the weapons. The problem was that Carey had been the only one with the combination to the lock on the weapons room, and the door had not been forced. Carey was picked up by NCIS returning from a possible meeting with members of a known Al Queda cell, but had refused to speak to anyone until he had spoken with Harm on Friday afternoon. The members of the cell had been either captured or killed by parties or party unknown, and those who survived had indicated that Lt. Carey had been the one who contacted them and set up the meeting.

Harm knew that it looked on the surface that Carey was guilty, and he'd been more than willing to believe that his client might just have done what he was accused of. But after talking to the young man, hearing his pleas of innocence, his insistence that he had been set up, Harm had changed his mind. His reasoning wasn't based on anything concrete, but it hadn't been the first time that Harm had followed his "gut feeling" about a client and been right.

****

"You buy next time," Harm was saying as he and Mac returned to JAG ops after lunch.

"It's a deal," Mac agreed, looking up as Tiner called their names.

"Major, Commander, the Admiral would like to see you both in his office."

Harm handed Tiner his cover and followed Mac to the closed door, then knocked once on the frame. "Enter," the Admiral's voice called out.

Following Mac into the room, Harm forced himself not to react as he realized that the Admiral wasn't alone. "You wanted to see us, sir," Mac asked the Admiral.

"Close the hatch, Commander," AJ Chegwidden ordered, and Harm was grateful for the added moment to collect his thoughts before turning to give Clay a disgusted look. Once Harm rejoined Mac, the Admiral said, "Mr. Webb has asked that we back off of the Carey case."

"Why?" Harm asked.

"That's what I was trying to find out when the two of you got here," AJ told them.

Three pairs of eyes focused on Clayton Webb. "I'm sorry. Its need to know -"

"Let me guess," Harm suggested. "You're running an op and Carey's your sacrificial lamb."

"Sorry, Rabb, I can't say anything further. But if you speak with your client, I believe he'll tell you that he's decided to change his plea to guilty-"

"He's innocent of thcharcharges, Webb and you know it," Harm said, finding it far easier to do this than he'd thought it would be. Of course, the fact that Webb was willing to let an innocent man go to prison was helping.

"I never said anything of the kind, Rabb," Clay replied. "But to take this to trial will compromise something that's a matter of international security."

"Have you spoken with Lt. Carey, Mr. Rabb?" AJ asked.

"Not since Friday, sir. I was going to see him this afternoon."

"Not alone," Clay said.

"What's wrong, Webb?" Harm questioned. "Afraid I'll convince him to tell me the truth?"

The Admiral looked from one man to the other, sighing. "Break it up, gentlemen! Both of you go to see the Lieutenant. See if you can come to some kind of compromise. Dismissed."

Harm turned on his heel and left the Admiral's office. "Harm," Mac said, catching up with him at his office. "Hold on."

"Mac, I'm not going to let Carey take the fall for something he didn't do."

"I don't like it anymore than you do, Harm," she said, glancing to where Clay stood, glancing at his wristwatch as if he were on a timetable. "But if that's what he wants, there's not much you can do to stop him."

"I can convince him to take his chances in open court," Harm reminded her. "And that deal you mentioned this morning? The answer's no." He grabbed his own cover and overcoat, and then picked up his briefcase before crossing to where Clay was now standing at the elevators. Seeing him glance at the Rolex on his wrist once more, Harm said, "What's wrong, Webb? Hot date?"

Since they were both facing away from JAG ops, but still being watched by most of the people there, no one but Harm witnessed Clay's narrowed eyes in response to his question. "This case isn't the only thing I have to work on, Rabb," he said out loud as the doors opened and he stepped inside.

Harm followed him, keeping his eyes straight aheadil til the doors closed. "You couldn't have warned me?"

"I didn't know that Carey had become involved in this until this morning when I got into the office," Clay said.

"I meant that you were coming to JAG."

"How was I supposed to do that, Harm?" he asked.

"Pick up a phone?" Harm suggested.

"And risk someone else answering, asking questions? Wondering why I had to call you directly instead of going through channels and approaching the Admiral?"

Harm took a deep breath, trying to calm down. "You're right. It was just a shock - what's the story on Carey?"

Clay shook his head. "Need to know, Harm," and when Harm snorted, he said, "I'm sorry. I can't tell you anything else."

Harm's fingers itched to touch the other man. Just being in close quarters with him, breathing in the scents that he associated with Clay was making him crazy. But he was also angry that Clay would be so willing to let an innocent man go to prison.

Webb's eyes met his, and they both took a step closer to each other, - just as the doors opened on the ground floor. Smiling tightly, Harm led the way out of the elevator and signed out.

In the parking lot, Harm said, "I'll meet you there," he said.

"Might as well take one car, Rabb," Clay said. "I'll have to come back here and tell the Admiral what's going on anyway."

Harm nodded, turning away. "We'll take mine, then."

Clay joined him a moment later. "Don't trust my driving, Rabb?" he asked as Harm unlocked the red Vette's passenger door for him.

"I just prefer to be in the driver's seat," Harm replied, and went around to get behind the steering wheel.

"You're angry," Clay said once Harm had turned the car toward the shipyards.

"You'd really let Lt. Carey spend the rest of his life in prison to protect one of your ops, Clay?"

"It's not black and white, Harm," Clay said. "It never is, even though you prefer to believe that it is."

"The man has a wife and young son. Or don't you care about that?"

"Sometimes innocent people have to suffer-" Clay began, but Harm shook his head in disbelief, cutting him off.

"Spare me the party line, Clay. In fact, just spare me anymore of your crap until we get to the brig."

*****
Monday
1400 Hours Local
Brig
Norfolk Naval Shipyards

Clay sighed as he stood at the window of the interrogation room, wondering why he was surprised by Harm's reaction to all of this. He should have expected it. His and Harm's view of the world was so dissimilar in many respects. He saw the world in shades of gray, while Harm saw it as black and white. He hadn't been aware of Lt. Carey's arrest on charges of theft and collaboration with the enemy until this morning when he had gotten to the office. After clearing up the paperwork on the mission that he'd returned from on Friday, Clay had gone directly to see Lt. Carey, debriefing him and informing him of his options.

It had shaken Clay when he'd discovered that Carey's JAG attorney was Commander Harmon Rabb, Jr. But Clay had persevered, confirming that Carey was willing to change his plea for the good of all concerned. Watching Harm standing at the table halfway across the room, taking things out of his briefcase, Clay sighed again.

"Conscience bothering you, Webb?" Harm asked without looking around.

"Not at all. Just wishing that you could step back and look at the bigger picture here."

"The only picture I see is that if Carey does this, his son will grow up never knowing his father - and believing that his father is a traitor to his country."

Clay extended a hand toward him, only to let it fall back to his side as the door opened and Lt. Carey appeared, snapping to immediate attention at the sight of a superior officer. "Lt. Carey reporting, sir," he said.

"At ease, Lieutenant," Harm said, and nodded at the guard, dismissing him. Carey, a thin blond young man with intense blue eyes, glanced toward Clay, who remained by the window, unmoving and silent.

"Mr. Webb tells me that you'd like to change your plea, Lt. Carey," Harm said. "Is that true?"

Carey's eyes resumed their focus on a point past Harm's head. "Yes, sir, Commander," he confirmed. "I've decided not to fight the charges and take responsibility for my actions in this matter."

Harm rose to his feet, directly in the younger man's line of sight. "Are you guilty of the crime with which you're charged, Lt. Carey?" he questioned. Carey's eyes moved behind Harm for a moment. "I asked you a question, Lieutenant."

"Yes, sir. I am, sir," Carey responded, but Harm felt that those blue eyes didn't quite meet his.

"What about your wife and son?" Harm wanted to know.

Carey's eyes finally met Harm's, a silent plea in their depths. "I know what I'm doing, sir."

"You realize that you could be sentenced to prison for the rest of your life? And that's *if* the judge doesn't decide to give you the death penalty?"

"Yes, sir. I'm well aware of all of my options. This is the best way for all concerned, Commander. And with all due respect, sir, if you can't accept that, I'll find another lawyer to go to court with me tomorrow morning."

Harm shook his head. "There's no need for that, Lieutenant. If it's what you want - not something you've chosen because of any coercion by -" he turned to glance at Clay, "outside sources -"

"It's the right thing to do, Commander," Carey said in a determined voice.

"I'll see you tomorrow morning, then." He called for the guard to retrieve the prisoner, and then put his paperwork back into the briefcase.

"Satisfied, Harm?" Clay questioned, and refused to flinch as Harm spun on his heel to answer.

"Not by a long-shot, Webb. But it would appear that there's nothing more I can do for the Lieutenant except to request that the court grant some leniency in punishment." Picking up his briefcase, Harm left the room, giving Clay no choice except to follow him back out to the Corvette.

The interior of the tiny sports car was silent during the drive back to Falls Church, and by the time Harm pulled into his assigned parking spot, Clay's nerves felt stretched to the breaking point. As Harm reached to open his door, Clay felt compelled to break that silence. "Harm…"

Harm didn't turn to look at him. "I think it's best if we don't discuss this at the moment, Clay," he saind Cnd Clay could hear how tightly controlled the other man's emotions were. He opened the door. "Oh, and I won't be able to meet you for that drink this evening. I have an early appearance in court trying to control the damage you and your friends have done." Without another word, Harm turned toward the red brick building, showing his ID to the guard at the door before going inside.

Clay took a deep breath, and followed, going up to the Admiral's office to let him kthatthat Harm was going to accept the guilty plea from his client after all. Afterward, Clay left, glancing only once at Harm's closed office door.

*****
Monday
1800 Hours Local
North of Union Station
Washington DC

Harm entered his apartment, tossing his cover and briefcase onto the desk. Going to the refrigerator, he pulled out a beer and twisted the cap off, then took a long drink of the liquid. Damn Clayton Webb anyway. The man thought he could play God with people's lives.

He took another drink as the phone rang. Instead of answering, he let the machine pick up, and once the greeting ended, he went still as he heard Clay's voice. "Harm, pick up. . . Okay. I know you're angry, but I just wanted to let you know that I'll be at the bar this evening in case you change you mind. Bye."

Harm waited until the machine clicked off, then crossed to press the "erase" button. He'd been a fool to believe this was ever going to work. He didn't live his life the way Clay did. To Harm, honesty and the truth were absolutes. They weren't things to be pushed aside for the sake of expediency.

A memory of being in Clay's arms flashed through Harm's mind, and he laughed at the hypocrisy of his thoughts. Honesty and truth, huh? He'd been living a lie for so long- but maybe that's why he fought so hard to reveal the truth in other areas. Because he knew first hand what denying the truth could do to a person.

Removing his jacket, Harm moved up to the bedroom, deciding that he needed a long hot shower before going to work on his argument to spare Lt. Carey's life. At least his son would be able to see him in prison. Not the best or most perfect answer, but he'd be alive.

*****

Harm jerked out of a restless sleep when the telephone began to ring. A glance at the clock revealed that it was after midnight. By the time he reached the desk, the machine had already picked up, and Harm fully expected to hear Clay's voice again. He had called once more, from the bar, and it had taken all of Harm's willpower to resist the other man's request to talk to him.

"Commander Rabb," a male voice said. "This is Colonel Davenport." Davenport was in charge of the brig where Lt. Carey was being held, and Harm quickly grabbed the telephone.

"Hello, Colonel," Harm said. "I'm sorry. I was asleep."

"That's to be expected, Commander. I thought you should know that Lt. Carey is dead."

"I'll be right there, Colonel," Harm said, already moving toward the bedroom to find his clothes.

Tuesday
0100 Hours Local
Brig
Norfolk Naval Shipyards

Harm got there just as they were bringing a gurney with a black body bag out of the building. "Wait," he said, flashing his identification at the coroner's men. Stepping between them, he reached over to carefully slide the zipper down on the bag. Seeing Lt. David Carey's pale features, Harm's lips thinned in anger. Sealing the bag, he nodded at the men before continuing to the Colonel Davenport's office.

He wasn't surprised to find Clay standing in the office as well, watching out of the window as the body was loaded into the coroner's wagon. "Begging your pardon, Colonel, but- what the hell happened?"

Davenport gave Harm a look of disapproval. "We're still investigating, Commander. It appears that Lt. Carey managed to get a knife out of the mess hall after evening chow. He stabbed himself in the stomach and bled to death before we realized what was happening. We probably wouldn't have found him until morning if Mr. Webb hadn't arrived to speak with the prisoner -"

"You were going to let him speak to someone without counsel? For the second time in twenty four hours?" Harm pointed out.

"Rabb," Clay said, speaking for the first time. "You don't have a leg to stand on here. Carey's dead." He turned to face Harm. "It's over. There's nothing more you can do."

"Have you notified his wife?" Harm asked the Colonel, not looking at Clay. At the moment, he didn't want to look at Clayton Webb ever again.

"Mrs. Carey was informed immediately," Davenport nodded. "I'm sorry, Commander. I know you believed in his innocence. But apparently you were wrong."

Harm drew himself up to his full height. "Permission to leave, sir."

"Dismissed," Davenport said.

Harm turned on his heel and left the office, getting to his car before he heard Clay's voice.

"Harm."

Harm froze, his hand on the latch of the door. "Go away, Clay."

"Let it go, Harm. For your sake. For everyone's sake. Let it go."

"Like hell I will," Harm ground out as he opened the door and got into the drivers seat. Starting the engine, he passed Clay without a second glance.

Clay stood there, hands in the pocket of his raincoat, staring straight ahead until he heard the squeal of tires as Harm turned out of the parking lot and onto the main road. He hadn't expected the man to take this well, but he hoped Harm didn't do anything he'd regret later.

As for his still new relationship with Harm RaClayClay had already written that off. After this, Harm would probably crawl so far back into that damned closet that it would take another twenty years to get him out. He refused to consider that Harm might simply decide to take his chances cruising gay bars, hoping that he wouldn’t get caught - or worse.

He saw the coroner's wagon finally pull out of the parking area, and went to his own car. He was finished here.

*****
Tuesday
0800 Local Time
JAG Headquarters
Falls Church, Virginia

Harm called the office the next morning, intending to let them know that he would be late for personal reasons. But Tiner had informed him that the Admiral had moved the daily meeting up to 0800, and had insisted that everyone be there - no exceptions.

Frustrated, Harm told Tiner that he would be there, and deiced that he'd go to visit Mrs. Carey and her son during lunch if necessary. He needed to tell the woman that her husband hadn't been guilty of what he'd been charged with- and that if she or her son ever needed anything that he wanted her to call him. He was driven by the same memory of a frightened little boy with dark eyes that had kept him awake after his return from the brig.

At the meeting, the Admiral informed the others about Lt. Carey's suicide, saying that NCIS was investigating the incident. Mac and Harm received new cases, and that he was going to be out of the office in meetings on Capital Hill for the rest of the day, leaving Harm in temporary command of the office. "Try to stay out of trouble, Commander," he admonished before dismissing the meeting.

Harm followed the Admiral back to his office. "Do you have a moment, sir?" he asked.

"Barely," AJ said, gathering his briefcase and overcoat.

"I'd like your permission to assist NCIS on the Carey suicide investigation, Admiral."

"Rabb -"

"Sir, I have reason to believe that Lt. Carey did not kill himself -"

"Commander, the man is dead. Let him rest in peace and move on."

Harm recognized that tone and stood at attention. "Yes sir."

The Admiral looked at him and started to turn toward the door, then stopped. "Harm, I know how involved you get in your cases. I have a feeling that we're never going to know what happened last night- and maybe it's best that way. I'll see you tomorrow morning. Tiner will know how to reach me if necessary.
Ha
Harm stood in the office once the Admiral had left, wondering what the hell the man had meant. "Maybe it's best that way?" he repeated.

The door opened, and Tiner appeared. "Would you like a cup of coffee, sir?" he asked.

"Yes, Tiner. I would," Harm nodded, finally moving toward the desk and the chair behind it. "Thanks." He paused, a hand on the back of the chair. What was it Porter Webb had told him? That he was rumored to be in line to sit in this chair one day? At the moment, he wasn't sure he wanted to do that. Of course, he probably wouldn't anyway. Someone, someday would find out the truth about Harmon Rabb, Jr., and it would all come crashing down around him.

Harm took a deep breath and sat downTineTiner returned with the cup of coffee. "Are you okay, sir?" he asked, looking at Harm with concerned eyes.

"Didn't sleep much last night, Tiner," he said, trying to smile. "Just need a few minutes to gather my wits."

"Yes, sir. I can understand that, sir. I'm sorry about Lt. Carey."

"So am I, Tiner. So am I."

****
Tuesday
12:30 Hours Local Time
Carey Apartment
Georgetown

Harm walked up the sidewalk toward the apartment where Mrs. Carey and her son had been living since her husband's deployment a year ago, and hesitated a moment before knocking on the door. When there was no answer, he frowned, thinking that perhaps they had gone to make funeral arrangements.

"They're not there, young man," an elderly woman said, and Harm turned to look at her. She was barely five foot tall, with snow-white hair, and was holding a tiny dog of some kind in her arms.

"Do you know when they'll be back?"

"I don't they will be. Her husband killed himself in jail last night. He was a traitor. Selling weapons to terrorists," she sighed.hat hat is this world coming to when a Navy officer does something like that? I ask you, Commander, it's just terrible."

"Yes, ma'am. Why don't you think Mrs. Carey will be coming back?"

"She moved out."

"She moved out?" Harm repeated, frowning.

"A moving van was here at the break of dawn. Within an hour they were gone."

"What about her husband's funeral?" Harm asked.

"I asked her about that. She said he was being cremated, and his ashes would be sent to her."

"Did she leave an address of some kind? Did she mention where she and her son were going?"

"No, I'm afraid she didn't. And that's strange, because I've known her for four years. I used to baby-sit little Tommy when she and her husband would go out."

"Did you ask-?"

"Of course I did. She said she didn't know where they would be."

"Thank you, Mrs.-"

"Parker," she told him. "My late husband was Commander Harlan Parker. I doubt you ever heard of him."

"Sorry," Harm said. "If you'll excuse me, Mrs. Parker. I have to go. Thank you."

"If you find them, tell them I -"

"I will," Harm promised, going to his car and leaving. Looking at his watch, he decided that he didn't have time to drop by the coroner's office before returning to JAG, but the moment he got into the office, he asked Tiner to find the number for the coroner's office and get them on the phone.

"Any particular reason, sir?" Tiner asked, already looking up the number.

"Just do it, Tiner," he said. "Any word from the Admiral?"

"No, sir. Still tied up in meetings."

Harm nodded and went back into the Admiral's office. When the telephone rang, he picked it up. "This is Commander Harmon Rabb of the Navy Judge Advocate General's office. I'm curious about the disposition of Lt. David Carey's body."

"Lt. David Carey?" the man questioned.

"Yes. He killed himself last night at the brig in the shipyards -"

"I'm sorry, sir, but we didn't bring anyone in from the brig there last night. Perhaps you should try another coroner's office."

"Thank you. Sorry to take up your time," Harm said, and hung up. He could chase around the area all day for coroners - he'd been sure that the black car had been lettered "Norfolk Coroner's Office".

Something was going on, and it was making Harm edgy as hell.

Harm picked up the telephone again, and called the guard station at Norfolk, identifying himself. "Do you still have the log in records from last night, Sergeant?" he asked the man who picked up.

"Yes, sir. We keep a copy here," he said. "What time?"

"Around midnight. The coroner's wagon that came in to take Lt. Carey from the brig."

"Oh. Here it is." He read the license number off as Harm wrote it down.

"Thank you, Sergeant."

Harm left the office. "I'll be in my office for few minutes, Tiner," he said. "Need to do some research on my computer."

"I'm sure the Admiral wouldn’t mind -"

"I just feel more comfortable using my machine," Harm insisted, continuing on. Once seated behind his desk, Harm turned on the computer and opened the database program, typing in the license number. When it came up with "no such license found" for the third time, Harm sat back, shaking his head. "Damn," he muttered.

"What's wrong?" Mac asked. "I thought you were in the Admiral's office?"

Harm closed the program and turned off the computer. "Just doing some research. You need something?" His mood had suddenly taken a change for the better, even without verification of what he suspected.

"I thought we could go over the McDonald case if you have a few minutes. I know busy your schedule must be as acting JAG," she teased.

"Might as well do it in the Admiral's office," Harm said. "Besides, that's where I left the file."

****

Tuesday
1830 Local Time
Alexandria, Virginia

Clay sat back in his chair, glass of scotch in hand. Putting his head back, he let the music from the stereo system wash over him, hoping it would ease the emptiness he felt. One weekend. One damn weekend.

He should have expected it. Should have known it wouldn’t last. The sound of a high-powered engine stopping outside cut through the music, alerting Clay. The sound of that engine was unmistakable. He'd heard it over and over again last night, roaring into the distance, taking Harm farther and farther away. Out of his life.

Clay opened his eyes, focusing on the door, uncertain if he wanted someone to knock or not. Then he wasn't sure if he should open it damn thing. But when the knock came, Clay opened the door.

"Harm." He glanced behind Harm as he stepped back from the door. "This is a surprise. After last night -"

"He's alive, isn't he, Clay?"

"Who?"

"Lt. Carey."

"I don't know what you're talking about, Harm," Clay insisted, going to the bar to refill his glass - even though it was still half-full. "Care for a drink?"

"Sure."

"Carey's dead. You saw him yourself. The man bled to death -"

Harm took the glass of scotch and shook his head. "I decided to pay a visit to his wife and son today. They've moved. According to a neighbor who's known them for years, they didn't leave a forwarding address."

"There was no reason for her to stay here. She probably decided to move somewhere to start over," Clay suggested.

"Without attending her husband's funeral?" Harm said. "Oh, that's right. The next-door neighbor told me that he was being cremated - and that the ashere bre being sent to Mrs. Carey. So from that, I assumed that the funeral home would have known an address that I could contact her through."

"Good idea," Clay nodded. "Which funeral home?"

"You know, when I got there last night, I was furious. But I *do* remember seeing the words "Norfolk Coroner's Office" on the car they loaded that body into. But when I called them, they told me that they hadn't picked up Lt. Carey or anyone else from the brig at Norfolk. Sloppy, Clay."

"You were wrong about the name, maybe. Lots of coroner's offices in the area."

"I also contacted that guard station at Norfolk. Did you know they keep the license numbers of all non-military vehicles that enter and leave the base?"

Clay forced himself to remain cool. "No, I didn't know that."

"They do." Harm pulled out the slip of paper that he'd written the number on and held it out for Clay to take. "I ran it through three databases. All of them turned up nothing. That number doesn't exist."

"Probably wrote it down wrong," Clay said, crumpling the paper into a tiny ball in his hand.

Harm laughed and shook his head. "You set it up, didn't you? Asked him to help you find that terrorist cell, but he was caught. So he volunteered to take a fall - knowing that you'd get him and his family to safety in the witness protection program."

"If that's what you want to believe, Harm, then do so. I can't crm orm or deny any of it."

"Which means I'm right." Harm looked at him. "How long were you planning it?"

"I can't talk about it, Harm."

"Okay." Harm sat back, drinking, and Clay felt those eyes on him. "I owe you an apology, Clay. I misjudged you."

"Harm-"

"I'm sorry. And it won't happen again."

"Of course it will. The next time we butt on a case, the next time we disagree about how something should be handled -" Clay stood up wentwent to bar, putting his glass down heavily on the top. "I'm not sure this is going to work, Harm. It might better for both of us if-" he stopped as he felt Harm behind him, felt Harms' hands on his shoulders, gently massaging away the tension. For a moment, Clay closed his eyes, enjoying the sensation.

"If what, Clay?" Harm asked, his breath warm on Clay's ear. "If we forget it ever happened? Can you do that?" Harm's lips touched Clay's neck. "Honestly? Because I can't. I can't go back now, Clay. I don't *want* to go back." He began to nibble gently on Clay's neck, and Clay felt his knees start to give way as he groaned.

"Harm -"

"Do you really want me to go, Clay?" he asked and Clay had to grab onto the bar to keep standing as Harm stepped away from him.

Clay slowly turned around, suddenly aware that his vest and shirt were unfastened, and half out of his slacks. When the hell had that happened, he wondered, finally looking up into Harm's face. "No," he said. "I don't want you to go."

"I am sorry, Clay," Harm said again.

"Shut up, Harm," Clay said, pulling his lover's mouth down to his . . .

The End
Continued in "Shake Down"