Timeline: JAG: post The Martin Baker Fan Club
               The Practice: post End Games 

Author's note: To best enjoy this story, pretend that Biteme and Jordasche never existed and also that Harm hasn't decided to bug out. I live in denial, so sue me!
 

Boston, Massachusetts 2024 Romeo 

The pouring rain which had coated the Boston area for most of the week had finally settled to a light drizzle as a figure in a black suit deftly navigated through the various puddles on his way to the meeting hall. Tiny drops of water shimmied from his dark umbrella as he twirled it around before quickly closing it and entering the building.

A cacophony of voices greeted his entrance and he silently slid into a seat near the back of the room. The rally of sorts was in full swing. He had missed the beginning political rhetoric, much to his displeasure. He always liked seeing the master of ceremonies whip a crowd into a fervor. 

His eyes roved aimlessly, judging the size of the audience. The room was almost filled to capacity. 'Good,' he thought, satisfied. 'This will make the law suit that much easier to push through.' A small, dark smile flitted over his features as he settled back in his seat. 'One way or another, that bastard will hang.'

Delta Airline Flight 628 Enroute to Boston, Massachusetts One week later 1349 Romeo

Major Sarah "Mac" MacKenzie sat in the aisle seat quietly studying the file she had memorized over the past three weeks. Her partner, Lt. Commander Harmon Rabb, Jr., had somehow contorted his long body into the space by the window seat and was contentedly popping peanuts while gazing out at the horizon. 

Mac glanced over at him and smiled softly, "No, Harm," she teased, "I don't think you could talk the pilot into letting you fly."

He tossed his partner one of his patented flyboy grins and replied, "I don't know. The dress whites have always worked with the stewardesses. Who's to say the pilot wouldn't be as impressed?"

She snorted, "That smile only got you an extra bag of peanuts, so what makes you think the dress whites would do any better?" She glanced down at his khaki pants pointedly. Since they were flying in on a Sunday, they had foregone the usual uniforms in favor of something comfortable. After all, Mac had rationalized, it wasn't as if they weren't going straight to their hotel to work on the case. 

Closing her eyes at the thought of the case, which had occupied a majority of their time over the past month, Mac willed herself not to dredge up the particulars yet again. Unfortunately, her brain had other ideas. 

Lt. James McGregor, while on liberty, had approached a drug dealer at the Charlestown Navy Yard and bought $400 worth of cocaine to celebrate the approval of his request to go active reserves in lieu of his current position on active duty. The dealer, a 16 year old black male named LeShawn Ryan, sold him the drugs without incident and the pair had then parted company. 

Unfortunately for the lieutenant, the next morning one of the tour leaders found Ryan's body, near a dumpster where the deal had been done, with a bullet to the chest at close range. The gun was covered in McGregor's fingerprints. 

McGregor had been acquitted of the murder charges in the military courts and after pleading guilty to the drug possession charge, was dishonorably discharged. However, the case hadn't ended there as most of the ones she and Harm worked on usually did. The Brotherhood for Racial Equality, a group of black leaders in Boston who represented the poorer districts and aided in the renovation of some of the more dangerous areas of the city, had decided the sailor had not received a fitting punishment. They were now bringing a wrongful death suit to the courts on behalf of the mother and family of LeShawn Ryan. The law firm the group had chosen was well-known for their bulldog tenacity. So McGregor, knowing he was best served by relying on those most familiar with the case, had asked that his JAG lawyers represent him in the civil suit. A petition to the presiding judge had granted them the ability to argue in the Massachusetts courts, and here they were. 

Mac sighed and closed the file in her lap. Hearing her, Harm glanced over and flashed a sympathetic smile. "Cheer up, Mac, at least we're out of the admiral's direct line of sight for a while."

She chuckled softly, "Yeah, that's what's got me worried. If you'd fire an HNK in the middle of a military courtroom, who knows what you'll do this time."

Harm shook his head and grabbed the file out of her lap. "Relax, you've probably got the whole thing memorized by now. It's not as if we can really do anything until we meet with opposing counsel." Seeing the troubled look in her dark eyes, he placed a comforting hand on her arm. "It's not the case at all, is it?" he murmured. "It's the fact that we're going up against civilian lawyers."

She glanced down at his hand, then promptly looked away.

"You're still not over what Dalton did, are you?" He gripped her arm sharply for a moment then released it and moved his hand to clasp hers. "Mac, when are you going to understand that it wasn't your fault? Dalton was the one who cheated. Dalton was the one who looked at your files. You did <nothing> wrong."

After a moment, she nodded tiredly. "I know." She turned and read the doubt she found in his eyes. "I <know.> Don't worry about me, Harm." Mac offered him a slight, rueful smile. "I'm a Marine. If I can survive boot camp, I can survive anything. Even being partnered with you."

Harm recognized the teasing lilt to her words and smiled. She was back. He knew that she had recovered for the most part from Dalton's betrayal, but every once in a while the old hurt would reappear. For all her accomplishments, Mac still suffered from a low self-esteem when it came to men. And Harm often found himself at a loss as to how to mend her damaged self- image. 

The overhead lights blinked, signaling that the plane was beginning its descent into Logan International Airport. Harm squeezed her hand one last time, then sat up and adjusted his seat. As soon as he had moved his hand, Mac felt a sense of loss. Chastising herself for her fleeting romantic notions, she followed suit and closed her tray table.

 Law Offices of Donnell, Young, Dole & Frutt Boston, Massachusetts 1425 Romeo

Lucy Hatcher, the firm's receptionist, who looked barely old enough to be out of high school, quickly slipped through the opaque door that heralded the offices of Donnell, Young and Frutt. '<Dole> and Frutt,' mentally admonished the voice of the third partner, Lindsey Dole. Lucy rolled her eyes as she flipped on the lights and hurried to her desk. She wasn't normally one for working on the weekends and today was no different. However as she was walking out the door to go shopping for her date tonight, she realized that she'd left her favorite lipstick in her desk drawer. Hence, the need for the brief stop-over on her way to the mall. 

She glanced idly around the office, noting the states of the various desks. Lindsey's, of course, held neatly stacked files and papers. 'Which perfectly characterizes the woman herself,' Lucy thought. Lindsay Dole was every mother's dream of a daughter-in-law. She had a clean, natural grace that shone through the sea of inhumanity often found in the courtrooms of Boston. 

Lucy's gaze shifted from the stacks of files on Lindsey's desk to the pieces of unopened mail on her own. Instead of going straight to it, Lucy detoured and wandered up the short hall to Bobby's office. In the large room, bookcases and a couch accompanied the requisite oak desk; additionally, it had a small bathroom off to one side. Wide windows, shielded only by mini-blinds, completed what she often privately referred to as the "fish bowl."

The man who normally occupied this office was almost an enigma. He would tirelessly and passionately fight for the innocent and the guilty. But between his well-modulated tones and designer suits, Bobby Donnell possessed a Park Avenue elegance that even the most banal of legal tricks could not diminish. 

Seeing that nothing had been disturbed since she'd left on Friday, Lucy closed that door and moved toward the next. Again, mini-blinds afforded the occupant some privacy. She winced a little as she opened the door. For some reason, she always felt a little claustrophobic whenever she went into this particular office. It wasn't only the size, being about half that of Bobby's, it was also the occupant. Part junk yard dog, part verbal sharpshooter, Eugene Young would latch onto a case and throw out every trick in the book to get his client off. No one would ever find a better personification of a defense attorney, unless he looked at the firm's remaining partner: Ellenor Frutt. 

Lucy turned back, her eyes resting on the desk just at the end of the hall and to one side of the common area. A large woman, both in size and spirit, Ellenor was the last to back down from a fight and the first to trust the wrong person. She also had a short fuse, which Lucy couldn't help but test from time to time. 

The remaining lawyers, Jimmy Berluti and Rebecca Washington, could best be depicted as lambs walking to their own slaughter. Both good attorneys in their own rights, they had an air of innocence that lately had been tarnished around the edges. Every unspeakable crime, every guilty client, shook the very foundations of their idealism. 

Shaking off her reverie, Lucy returned to her desk and, ignoring the stack of mail, dug through her center drawer until she found her lipstick. She smiled happily and hurried out, taking care to glance back one more time and lock the door.

 The Holiday Inn Boston, Massachusetts 1526 Romeo

Having checked in without incident, Harm and Mac began unpacking. Secretly delighted by the adjacent doors, Harm watched his partner through the door between their rooms out of the corner of his eye as she roved around her room. After she passed him for what had to be the fourth time, he called out, "Hey, you wanna get out of here? See some of the city before we hit the case full force?"

She paused mid-stride and smiled sheepishly. "Am I that transparent?" 

He shook his head as he walked into her room and smiled in return. "No, just stuck in a great city with nothing else to do."

"Harm," she chastised. "I wouldn't say '<nothing> else to do.' But, yeah, I do feel like getting out of here."

"Good," he replied, satisfied with her forthright answer. "Then I'll show you around the town."

"You've been to Boston?" she asked, curiosity piqued by that unknown detail.

He nodded, tugging at her hand to urge her out of the room. "It's been a few years, but my RIO at flight school was from here." He shut her door and continued as they walked toward the elevator. "I remember one Thanksgiving my mom and Frank had taken a cruise so Jeff, my RIO, invited me to come home with him." 

Mac punched the button to the ground floor and the doors slipped shut. "I bet that was fun," she commented as she returned her gaze to him.

"Yeah, it was. He had a huge family. Five brothers and sisters, all older than he with spouses and kids. It was like a huge party." His eyes glinted with a teasing light as he remembered, "He had this one cousin. Tall, blonde, legs up to her neck. Man was she hot."

"Red light, flyboy!" Mac answered a teasing grin tickling her mouth. "So, I take it he played tour guide for a while?" she asked, trying to steer the conversation back.

Harm chuckled. "Yeah. Matter of fact he was the one who taught me how to appreciate a fine cigar."

"Oh, so that's who I have to blame?" she asked archly, her eyebrows raised.

"Hey!" he glared playfully. "I quit remember?"

"Hmmm, so you say," she remarked as the doors opened once again revealing the lobby. He followed her out of the elevator and gallantly held open the door for her to walk out onto the street. "But odors don't lie, Harm."

"So now you think I smell bad?" he asked pausing on the sidewalk. His eyes twinkled, but as Mac looked deeper, she saw the underlying concern hidden within his blue eyes. 

She closed her eyes a moment and inhaled deeply. Her senses were rocked by the musky combination of his light cologne and natural scent. Smiling shakily, Mac looked up and murmured, "No, Harm. I don't think you smell bad."

He stood riveted to his spot and watched as her brown eyes darkened until they were almost black. A passer-by jostled him slightly and broke the moment. Harm flashed her a soft smile before taking her elbow and steering her down the street. Dipping her head toward the passing cars, Mac vainly attempted to quell the rising blush. 'What in the world is going on?' she thought dazedly. 'I'm mooning like a lovesick teenager! He's my <partner> for crying out loud!' Ruthlessly she reined in her feelings and turned her attention to the surrounding buildings. Harm cleared his throat quickly and returned to the previous conversation. "Um, yeah, Jeff took me to the Oak Bar one night. Great atmosphere. You can sit there all night just people-watching a enjoying the feel and taste of a well-made cigar."

"Yuck!" Mac cried, wrinkling her nose. 

"OK, OK," Harm replied laughingly. "I promise I won't take you there! So where <do> you want to go?"

She glanced up at him warily and looked away. 

"What?"

"Alright, I'll tell you, but first you have to promise that you won't laugh!" she ordered sternly.

His eyes glinted with humor as he solemnly swore, "I promise, Major."

"I'd like to go see Cheers," she murmured as she deftly wended her way between pedestrians.

Given her history, Harm was a little taken aback. "You mean the bar?"

"Yeah, the bar. Or at least the place where the show was filmed." She looked up at him, satisfied and slightly worried that his face held no trace of humor. Mac lay a light hand on his arm and soothed. "I used to love that show. The way everybody interacted."

A cab stopped just in front of them and Harm opened the door. Smiling he answered, "Alright then, Cheers it is." ***

 Harm turned out to be quite an informed tour guide, taking her to the Boston Commons and Fanueil Hall, then capping off their visit with a trip on Boston's subway, called the "T." Even though discovering an over-commercialized Cheers was somewhat disappointing, overall, Mac was easily able to forget they were in town on business rather than pleasure. Neither mentioned the case, not even as they ate chowder at a small cafe. It was the best time Mac could remember having since the debacle with Dalton; for one night she was merely a person, a woman, with no concern for rules and regulations. 

As they rode back to the hotel, Mac leaned her head against the seat. "Tired?" Harm murmured softly, his warm breath whispering across her cheek.

"Mmm," she replied as her head lolled over to look at him. The faint light of the passing street lamps darkened and lightened the shadows in the car. "I had a good time. Thanks, Harm."

He looked over at her and was struck by the erotic combination of her sleepy eyes and soft smile. 'Down, boy!' he chastised himself. 'Remember she's your partner. And this is not a weekend getaway; you're here for a case!' Aloud, he replied, "I'm glad. You need to get out more, Mac."

"<I> need to get out?" she questioned, shifting slightly so she could face him. "This from a guy who hasn't had a date in five months? Don't tell me the gold wings are slipping!"

Grateful that she hadn't taken offense at his attempt to lighten the tension that suddenly surrounded them, his lips tilted upward, humor glinting in his eyes. "Naw, not slipping, only in need of a little polishing and lately there hasn't been time for that."

She smiled her understanding and allowed the conversation to drift off into a silence broken only by the noise of the outside world. At length, the cabbie halted at the front door of their hotel.

Harm leaned forward to pay him, then helped Mac out of the car. Much to her secret delight, his hand continued to clasp hers even after she'd gotten out. They walked hand in hand into the lobby and headed for the elevator. Mac stopped at her door and, taking out her room key, looked up at him. "Well, um, it's late and..."

"And we've got a busy day tomorrow," Harm finished for her with a soft smile. "I know. Good night, Mac. I had a great time." 

She nodded and was surprised to find him leaning toward her. He looked thoughtful, as if he was seeing her for the first time. 'Oh my God, he's going to kiss me!' she thought, the tingly combination of panic and arousal flooding her. At the very last second, he veered away from her lips and placed a chaste kiss on her cheek.

"I'll see you in the morning," he murmured into her ear. 

Mac closed her eyes, relishing his closeness and echoed, "See you."

Harm stepped away quickly and without another look, unlocked his own door and stepped into his room. Mac stood in a daze. A passing maid glanced at her with a fond smile and the major jerked back to the present. 

She shook her head, and entered her room knowing instinctively it was going to be a long time before she got any sleep.

 Law Offices of Donnell, Young, Dole, & Frutt Boston, Massachusetts 0809 Romeo

"Are the squids here yet?" Lucy asked excitedly as she entered the office. 

Perplexed, Rebecca looked up from the file she and Jimmy were currently studying at her desk at the end of the room and answered dryly, "Isn't it a little too early for lunch?"

The young receptionist rolled her eyes as she stowed her purse in one of her bottom desk drawers. "Not food, the Navy lawyers!"

"Lucy!" Bobby chastised from his office door. 

"Hey! That's what they're called!" she argued. "Trust me, my uncle was in the Navy for a while. They're all called squids."

Bobby sighed and retreated to his desk; it looked like it was going to be one of those days. The front door opened once more and revealed Ellenor, who looked pressed and practical, as usual. Her long hair, which she sometimes left down, was pulled into a neat braid. The whole office knew the past few weeks had been rough on her. Between the Vogelman murder trial and the police's planted evidence, it was a wonder she was even coming into the office. And yet, here she was, like the Energizer bunny, ready to keep going. As the room quieted, she pierced everyone with a determined stare and calmly walked toward her desk. 

Rebecca nodded once and offered the other woman an understanding smile. If there was one thing she had learned since she'd been sworn in as an attorney, it was that even though clients disappoint and tell bold-faced lies, there were still others in need of a defense. And just maybe in that group, there would be one falsely-accused person, an innocent who'd gotten trapped by circumstances. Rebecca shook her head; knowing it was a lost cause, she still prayed every night that she would wake up the next morning and find all her clients to be truthful.

She returned her gaze to the file in front of her as Ellenor settled in for the day. The door opened once more as Lindsey walked in carrying a stack of files; paperwork she had obviously taken home with her. Face freshly scrubbed and augmented with little make-up, she smiled at everyone, though her brightness faded a little when she glanced at Ellenor. Although the other woman had apologized for her jealousy and thanked Lindsey for the defense she'd presented in court on Ellenor's behalf, a slight strain still existed between the two. Lindsey pursed her lips and sighed inwardly before proceeding to Bobby's office. 

"Morning," she murmured opening the door. 

A delighted smile spread over his gorgeous face as he replied, "Morning, yourself. Did you sleep well?"

"Very well, as if you didn't know," she berated with a wide smile. Their relationship was still new, but she found she had no problem talking about it at the office. Even though they had slept together previously, and she had even been in love, this new relationship seemed wilder, almost as if it had a life of its own. Lindsey wanted to make sure it would last. Her heart couldn't bear it to be any other way.

She wandered around the room, her eyes catching on the open file he had been reading through. "How's the Brotherhood case shaping up?"

Bobby smiled grimly. "Eugene and I will meet with the JAG lawyers later this morning." Hearing her frustrated sigh, he placated, "I know you want to be in on this one, but I talked it over with Reverend Hamilton and he would rather have Eugene second chairing." He stood and walked around the desk and placed his hands on her shoulders, "You know the impact the whole case will have. The victim was a drug dealer and suing on grounds of wrongful death is shaky at best."

"And you think having Eugene will help on the PR factor," she reluctantly admitted, conceding his point.

"Exactly. Besides, you just got finished defending Ellenor on short notice; I thought you might like the break to get caught up on some research."

She nodded once and offered him a slight smile. "So, have you got any plans for tonight?"

***

Holiday Inn Boston, Massachusetts 0815 Romeo

Mac stood outside her door stretching just as Harm walked out of his room. Each wore t-shirts and sweatshorts, though hers screamed UMSC while his bore a Navy logo. She smiled when she saw his attire. "Great minds, huh, Flyboy?"

Harm let his gaze travel down her well-toned legs, fully appreciating the view and replied, "Can't think of anything better than to sleep in then go for a run. Where are you planning on going?"

She shrugged, "Oh, I was just going to take a tour around the area."

He shook his head and slung an arm around her shoulder. "I've got a better idea. Why don't we head out to the Public Garden? They've got great trails there-or at least they used to."

Mac smiled up at him and replied, "Sounds like a good idea to me. Since the meeting isn't until 10:45, we can talk over the case while we're at it."

After arguing over the distance of their run and finally compromising on 12 miles, they picked up a light jog at the park's entrance. "So, what do we know so far?" Mac asked as they rounded a bend of trees. 

"Well, after dropping out of high school at 15, Ryan worked for his uncle at the family's body shop. The uncle was an upstanding member of the Brotherhood for Racial Equality. Apparently the boy was doing OK, but unbeknownst to the uncle was selling drugs on the side to supplement his income."

Mac nodded and continued his train of thought, "The family is suing on the grounds of wrongful death and is hoping to collect not only lost wages from the body shop, but also from the potential drug deals?" She looked at him skeptically. "You <are> sure you heard that right?"

Harm shook his head with resignation. "That's exactly what Bobby Donnell told me when we spoke on the phone."

"I just can't get over it," Mac marveled. "With the state our country is in today, someone actually has the gall to sue for lost income from drug deals."

"I don't think this case would have even gone to court if the Brotherhood hadn't pushed the suit." By silent agreement, they picked up the pace a bit and bypassed another jogger whose German Shepherd trailed behind her. Mac rolled her eyes as Harm's gaze strayed toward the other woman's skin-tight biker's shorts. 

"Uh, Commander?" she reminded teasingly. "The case?"

"Oh! Yeah," he answered shaking his head slightly. Pleased with his partner's response, he tossed her a flyboy grin and sped up a little.

Chuckling, she quickly caught up to him and said, "So I assume we're sticking with contributory negligence like we talked about earlier." 

"Yeah," he agreed, sobering instantly, "that seems to be the best defense for the lieutenant."

"Former lieutenant. Remember he was discharged. He is here already isn't he?"

Harm nodded and replied, "His parents live near Concord so he'll be here for any depos that have to be done and of course for the pre-trial."

Mac sighed, "Pre-trial. There's no way the family is going to settle this, is there?"

"Not with the Brotherhood backing it," Harm agreed as they moved around another grove, startling a few pigeons. "While the circumstances and the case itself is a little shaky in terms of publicity, that group has a strong membership and heavily influences a lot of the communities around here."

"Sheesh. This type of case and the exposure it'll generate does <no one> any good." She stared off to the side, her gaze captured by a mother and two kids taking a morning stroll. 

They ran a few more miles in silence, each contemplating the case, but neither having much success at finding a way out of a trial. After a few minutes, Harm pushed Mac toward a water fountain near the bathroom area. 

Shaking her head with a smile, she slowed to follow him and remarked, "That's the problem with you sailors. Can't do a thing without water!"

He chuckled and splashed her playfully. "Hey!" she cried, raising her arms to block the onslaught. Mac caught his arm and pulled him away from the fountain. She leaned down for a long drink, but cringed at the feel of ice cold water pouring down her back. "Harmon Rabb!" she yelled turning around to find a gleeful look on his face and his hands dripping with water. "You'll pay for that!" 

Mac scooped up a good handful of water and aimed directly at his head. Unfortunately, for her, Harm sidestepped her quickly and the water ended up all over the front of a policeman's uniform. The officer, a stern-looking, older man, merely raised his eyebrows and looked pointedly at both Harm and Mac. "Sorry, officer," they mumbled together, two errant children caught with their hands in the cookie jar. 

"See that it doesn't happen again," the older man admonished before returning to his route.

Both military officers burst into a fit of giggles as soon as the policeman had turned the corner. "I can't take you anywhere!" Mac cried, as soon as her laughing fit slowed.

"Me?" Harm asked, innocently. "You're the one who threw the water!" 

"Yeah, but you started it!" Mac barely suppressed the urge to stick her tongue out at him.

"Oh, well that's a convincing argument, Counselor!" he teased, slinging an arm around her shoulders and directing her back to the park's entrance. 

She elbowed him lightly in the side and replied, "Think you can make a better one? If we'd gone to jail, I would've loved to have heard what you told the admiral!" She smiled saucily up at him and matched her stride to his. 

"And on that note, why don't we head back to the hotel? We've don't have much time before we have to meet with the other lawyers anyway."

Mac sobered instantly. "Time to put on our game faces."

"Do we have to? I rather like yours the way it is," Harm murmured as he gazed down at her.

Suddenly, Mac felt a little breathless, and it wasn't from their morning run. Deciding it was easier to diffuse the tension, than face it, she glanced back up at him and teased, "Maybe so, but you need a shave, Flyboy!"

Harm read the unspoken decision in her eyes and, accepting that now was not the time to deal with whatever existed between them, he grinned happily and ruffled her sweat-dampened hair. "And you need a shower!"

The rest of the walk back to the hotel room passed in jovial silence as each clung to the remaining peace of the morning.

***

Law Offices of Donnell, Young, Dole & Frutt Boston, Massachusetts 1037 Romeo

Mac inhaled softly steeling herself for the walk into the civilian law offices. Harm, who was right behind her, placed a calming hand on her shoulder and she flashed him a quick smile of thanks. Opening the door, they found the offices to be set up rather like the JAG bullpen. Desks sat at strategic places and there was even a separate office; in this case, however, it was for the lead attorney rather than a testy admiral. 

A petite black woman greeted them as they entered. "Hi! I'm Rebecca Washington. You are obviously the JAG lawyers."

"How ever did you guess?" Mac asked glancing down at her alphas and Harm's blues. "Major Sarah MacKenzie and this is Lt. Commander Harmon Rabb, my partner."

Rebecca shook each person's hand and gestured to the other lawyers in the room. A short stocky man walked up behind her as the woman introduced, "This is Jimmy Berluti, he works with the firm. And this is Lindsey Dole." A young woman with shoulder length sandy blonde hair shook their hands and smiled warmly. 

"Ellenor just stepped out for a moment and Eugene isn't in yet," Lindsey explained as she led them further into the room. "Bobby's in his office with our receptionist but he should be out in a moment."

As if he had heard her, the man in question appeared with a diminutive red head trailing behind him. "Good morning. Bobby Donnell. This is Lucy Hatcher, the firm's receptionist."

The young girl quickly grabbed Harm's hand after ignoring Mac completely and pumped it enthusiastically. "Hooboy," she murmured as her gaze drifted over the commander. "If all squids look like you, I think I picked the wrong profession!"

Mac blinked once, startled by the girl's bluntness. Not that she hadn't had the same thoughts herself from time to time, but still. The major glanced quickly to other members of the firm and caught Rebecca and Lindsey sharing a tight smile. Rebecca rolled her eyes before turning her attention to her computer monitor, while Lindsey sidled over to Lucy and gave her a warning nudge.

"Can I get you anything, Commander?" Lucy asked sweetly, ignoring the unsubtle cue. She was practically batting her eyelashes, Mac noticed with a stab of disbelief. 'That girl would give Scarlet herself a run for her money!' 

Harm blushed slightly and, after glancing at Mac, answered, "No, thanks though, Lucy."

She opened her mouth to further offer her services, but closed it when Bobby sent her a pointed look before directing, "Why don't we go into the conference room? Eugene will be here in a few minutes."

Mac nodded and followed Harm's tall form as it beat a hasty retreat into the adjoining room. Once the conference room door had closed, Lucy shook her head, "Now that is one hot man!"

"Let's try to keep the drool off of the floor!" Rebecca admonished sternly as she walked back to her desk. 

Lucy, however, merely stood there, her eyes glued to the tall figure in blue on the other side of the glass door. Lindsey gripped the girl by her shoulders and turned her back to her desk, stating, "Let's get back to work now, shall we?" ***

"I'm not sure how familiar you are with the civilian court system..." Bobby began as each of the lawyers took their seats around the table.

Mac smiled ruefully while she opened a few files and spread out a few documents. "I practiced at the firm of Lowell, Hanson and Lowne in D.C. for a period of time."

Eugene had joined the group a few moments after they had entered the conference room. He and Bobby shared an impressed glance as Harm thought caustically, 'Apparently, the firm's reputation preceded itself.' He wanted to tell them that Mac wasn't like the lawyers at that firm; that she'd gotten out before the full brain washing could be completed. Instead, however, he kept quiet, knowing that such an outburst would only increase the guilt he knew she still felt from her brief stint. He settled for gently squeezing her hand under the table, a small, quiet sign of support for his partner and best friend. Her lips quirked into an almost smile, acknowledging the unspoken sentiment and she nodded for Donnell to continue.

"I think you should know," Bobby warned, his brows raised slightly to reinforce his point. "If we can't come to some sort of an agreement between now and the pre-trial hearing, then we'll go straight to trial."

"You mean the family is willing to discuss a settlement?" Harm asked, his brow furrowed with surprise. He traded a quick glance with Mac.

"That's where it gets tricky," Eugene answered as he leaned toward the conference table. "The family is willing to discuss a settlement, but if the members of the Brotherhood found out, they would be less than enthusiastic about it."

"Why?" Mac asked. "It's in everyone's best interest to keep this out of court. The damage to the communities and to the effort to fight the drug problem itself could be overwhelming."

"The Brotherhood is tired of having the blame for the country's drug problems placed mainly on the shoulders of the African- American population," Bobby explained as he rolled a pen between his fingers.

Mac looked askance at Harm before replying, "But if they're suing for lost wages from the victim's drug sales, aren't they admitting culpability? That Ryan contributed in some way to his own demise?"

Eugene shook his head. "Not from the way they see it. The Brotherhood thinks that through the decommissioning of various bases, the Navy has basically abandoned the Boston area, except for the use of its drug dealers. In their eyes, and I must say, in some of the other communities as well, the Navy and your client in particular, are solely responsible for LeShawn's death."

"So you're arguing dangerous premises?" Harm asked, shaking his head as if he hadn't heard the other man correctly. "Unless something really bad has happened in the past few years, the last time I checked, the Charlestown Navy Yard was right in the middle of high end condos and office buildings. Hardly what I would call a dangerous premises." The commander leaned back in his chair and studied the open file that lay between him and Mac. 

She glanced over at him and silently asked, 'Where are they going with this? They surely can't be thinking they'll get a guilty verdict on this argument.'

Harm quirked his eyebrows in response and turned back to the civilian lawyers in time to see Eugene give Bobby a slightly confused glance. 'What the hell did they just do?' Eugene thought curiously. 

Mac looked at their counterparts speculatively and bit her lip. "What's the family's offer for the settlement?"

Eugene and Bobby traded a glance before Bobby answered, "Five hundred thousand dollars. That's it."

Harm snorted with disbelief. "You've got to be kidding. Our client was just discharged from the Navy. He doesn't have that kind of money. Nor does his family."

"Don't you think you should ask you client before you turn it down?" Eugene asserted as his hooded eyes bore into Harm. "I'm not sure how long this offer will be good. Especially since the Brotherhood doesn't know it's on the table." No doubt about it, this firm played hard ball.

"With all due respect," the commander answered as he rose, "we'll take our chances in court." 

Mac followed his lead and murmured, "It was nice to meet you, gentlemen," before walking out behind him. 

***

McGregor Home Concord, Massachusetts 1204 Romeo

"Five hundred thousand? Are you crazy?" James McGregor ran a shaky hand through his short blond hair as he paced back and forth in front of the fireplace in his parent's living room.

Harm and Mac sat opposite him on an overstuffed leather couch. The major set aside her coffee cup and leaned forward. "Don't worry, James," Mac soothed. "We turned it down. We're going to trial."

"But, five hundred thousand dollars? I <didn't> kill him! If that's all that they're offering, does this mean they've got a strong case against me?" He paused midstride and flashed a desperate look at the two lawyers. "I mean, I've seen those lawyer shows; they always try tricks like this."

"Normally, though," Harm began as he too leaned forward on the couch, "when they start talking a deal, they aren't sure of their case. Now the Brotherhood wants to take this trial and fight with everything it's got, but if we can work on the family, then maybe..." he let his voice trail off. 

"But it's still a long shot," Mac countered. "If this does go to trial, then the court of public opinion will be the only one that matters. Especially if the jury isn't sequestered. It's a crap shoot, James." She took in a breath and glanced at Harm. 

"It's up to you, James," Harm said nodding his head. "We can go back to the table with a counter offer or we can just go to trial."

The young man turned and leaned against a window, his eyes unseeing on the scenery. "I just wanted to celebrate, ya' know? I was going reserves. I was gonna get to see my girl friend for longer stretches at a time." He faced them once more and whispered, "I didn't want anyone to get killed!"

Mac smiled softly and answered, "We know, James. We know." ***

Bombay Bistro Boston, Massachusetts 1324 Romeo

Harm and Mac had skipped lunch to meet with their client so they decided to stop before heading back to the offices of opposing counsel. 

"You're gonna love this place, Mac," Harm prefaced with a smile as the T stopped at the Harvard Square exit.

Mac smiled in return. Instead of bristling at his somewhat high-handed control over their stay in Boston, she found herself relishing in his knowledge and relaxing, sure that he would only take her to places they would both enjoy. Which was the main reason for her surprise as he led her down the street passed Harvard Square. 

While they walked toward the square, Mac noticed a group of teenagers dressed in the alternative clothes that were popular with the younger generation. She shuddered as she glanced at the jewelry sprouting from every part of their bodies. Multiple earrings were the predominate choice, and several of the kids sported brow rings. Loose, baggy clothing covered who knew what other pierced body parts. 

After a few more minutes of walking, they passed a sign with an Indian woman whose hands were clasped in a salaam. Interest piqued, she glanced up at Harm, who merely smiled and replied, "You're gonna love it." He grabbed her hand and pulled her up a ramp and into the mall. Once they had climbed the stairs, Harm pointed down the hall toward a small window. 

"That's the kitchen where they hand-make the naan," he explained and glanced down at her. Seeing her confused look, he continued, "It's like pita." They stood and watched the bakers for a little while longer, then he steered her toward the entrance.

Mac oohed and ahhed over the display cases that lined the hall. Each held Indian trinkets and artifacts as well as interesting details about the country's history. Harm paused as well and looked over the intricate carvings and statues. Mac looked up at him in wonder, "How did you find this place?" 

"My training RIO," he answered simply. "He brought me here the last night of leave. He personally had had enough turkey and dressing and thought that I needed to experience something less than traditional." He paused, a thoughtful look crossing his face. "Of course he was dating a waitress in the restaurant at the time, too."

Seeing the teasing light in his eyes, Mac replied sarcastically, "Yeah, I'm sure that didn't have anything to do with it. You flyboys!"

Harm chuckled, then tugged on her hand. "Come on! If you're this taken with the atmosphere, I can't wait for you to try the food!"

He pulled open the heavy carved wooden door to reveal a small foyer. As soon as the door closed, the maitre d', a small Indian man, asked in broken English, "Two for lunch?" When Harm nodded, the man turned and led them to a secluded table in the corner. The restaurant itself was sparsely populated with diners because of the lateness of the hour. After seating both of them, the maitre d' handed each an embossed menu, the sight of which raised Mac's eyebrows. He disappeared a moment later and she murmured, "I'm impressed, Commander."

He glanced up from the menu and replied, "Well, it's no Beltway Burgers."

She chuckled happily and asked, "So, what would you recommend?" 

"Well, the Indian specialty is tandoori chicken and, if I remember correctly, Jeff had that the last time I was here. I got chola. It's a concoction with chick peas and a spicy curry." Mac rolled her eyes, "OK, Veggieboy! I think I'll go with the chicken."

"One thing you have to get is the mango lassi." He leaned across the table and trailed his way over her menu looking for the beverage. Underlining it with his finger, Harm said, "It's like an Indian milkshake, made with mangoes and yogurt. It is perfect for cooling the tongue!"

"How do you remember all of this when you were only here one time?" she asked, a teasing glint flitting through her eyes.

He parried and looked back at his own menu, "Let's just say it was a memorable experience." 

Realization dawned as she asked, "Did you research this?" A guilty flush crept over his features. "You did!"

He glanced up at her and replied, "I might have called Jeff."

Inordinately pleased, a wide, warm smile broke out over her face. "Thank you," she whispered sincerely.

"Well, I knew this morning was going to be tough for you, and I thought you might enjoy this." He smiled in return, pleased with her response.

At that moment, a waitress stopped at their table and took their orders and their menus. Harm leaned back in his chair and eyed Mac speculatively. Her brow furrowed as she asked, "What?"

"I was thinking over the case as we were driving back from Concord. You know if we get desperate, we could always argue 'sovereign immunity.'"

"You've got to be kidding!" she cried leaning toward the table. "There are no grounds for that in this case!"

"Think about it, Mac," he continued unperturbed by her objection. "McGregor was a lieutenant at the time, so in essence, he worked for the U.S. government."

"There's no way that the purchase of drugs falls under the guise of discretionary immunity!" she countered quickly.

"But he wasn't buying drugs per se; he was buying party items for a celebration," he argued with his patented flyboy grin firmly in place.

Mac shot him a dark look. "I <hardly> think that the U.S. government would look favorably on us for arguing <that> point!" 

 Law Offices of Donnell, Young, Dole, & Frutt Boston, Massachusetts 1348 Romeo

"I heard some rather disturbing news today, Mr. Donnell. Sarah Ryan actually told me that you and she had discussed a settlement."

Bobby nodded as a sinking feeling filtered through him. He had been dreading this conversation. As soon as Mrs. Ryan mentioned that she would think and pray about what was the right action to take, he knew her next step would be to call Reverend Luther. While a good man at heart, who truly cared about his parishioners, the man was also ruthless when it came to protecting his community's interests.

"Reverend, I understand your concern," Bobby began as he set aside the law book he had been studying.

"No," Luther interrupted, "I don't think you do. What we have here is a crime against my race and buckling under will not get our concerns out into the public venue."

"I don't think you understand the potential ramifications of this suit. I know you are after publicity, but trust me, this is <not> the case you want to gain it on." He stood up behind his desk and moved toward the far wall. "Suing on the grounds of wrongful death without a solid basis for the case is shaky at best. Added to that, the fact that you're suing for lost wages from the drug sales...." He trailed off, spreading his hands helplessly.

"This boy was killed by Lt. McGregor as sure as if that man had pulled the trigger. Had he not asked to meet LeShawn there, he would still be alive today!" the reverend raged. "Now, I don't care what Mrs. Ryan says; she's speaking out of sorrow over his death. <We> are sponsoring the suit, so her concerns are just that, 'concerns.' They have no bearing on whether or not we take this to trial."

Bobby stared at the man as if he had grown another head. "I'm sorry, I must have misunderstood you. Wasn't LeShawn Sarah Ryan's son? Were you or the Brotherhood in any way legally connected to the family? From what I understand you were not, nor are you now, guardian for any member of the family. Therefore, if you have <any> say in this matter, it is in an advisory capacity only!" Bobby's voice rose until rattled against the blinds in his office. "If she wants to settle this suit, she has the right to do so."

Luther stood quietly, absorbing Bobby's argument with a shuttered look. After a moment, he replied stiffly, "Well, I'm sorry to hear you say this. I would have thought you appreciated our contingency fee more than this."

Bobby sighed inwardly, "It isn't the money, Reverend. It's doing what is right for the family. Would you rather run the risk of losing big not only in terms of a monetary penalty but also with the publicity?"

Again, Luther merely stared at him. At length, he pursed his lips and murmured, "I'll need to discuss this with the members." Without another word, he turned and left the room.

Bobby leaned back in his chair and tossed a pen across the desk. Sometimes he hated being a lawyer.

 Law offices of Donnell, Young, Dole, and Frutt Boston, Massachusetts 1447 Romeo

"Well, as we expected, the Brotherhood isn't happy about the idea of a settlement. So it looks as though, it has been withdrawn," Bobby stated to his two JAG counterparts. They had taken up the same seats as before and Eugene watched Mac and Harm exchange a silent question and answer. 

"Our client refused the deal at any rate," Harm replied, then looked the black man squarely in the eye and finished, "just as we knew he would."

Eugene nodded slightly, his lips quirking. 

"Look, why don't we make it simple here," Mac began as she leaned toward the table and rested her elbows on the surface. "Our client has already been acquitted of the murder charges and we all know that this case is going to do more damage than good, so what say you withdraw the charges and let McGregor go on about his life?"

Bobby spread his hands placatingly and answered, "First off, Major, he was acquitted in the military courts..."

"Which means that trial in the civilian courts is not an option due to double jeopardy," Harm argued, tag-teaming the other attorney with Mac.

"True, but that doesn't preclude our client's right to bring charges against him in the civil courts," Bobby stipulated quickly.

"Your <client> is comprised of two different people with two completely different ideas as to how this case should proceed," the major shot back. Knowing that the other two attorneys would argue against her, she cocked a knowing eyebrow and remarked, "You said so yourself, Mr. Donnell."

Harm nodded and took over for a moment. "We will go to court and we will fight this, but it is in the best interest of both parties for this to just die."

Eugene shook his head and replied, "Well it looks like none of us will get our wish. Reverend Luther wants to go to trial."

***

"Damn!" Mac cursed in the hallway outside the offices. "I thought we might have had them. Harm, they've got to know they have no case!"

Her partner nodded and squeezed her shoulder in support. "They do and that's the problem. We don't see things like this very often because we aren't forced to do a lot of pro bono work. You remember what it was like in the civilian life. You grab what you can get and go from there."

Mac nodded resignedly as they moved down the hall. "Maybe so. I guess that means we need to be ready to get sandbagged," she answered with a teasing smile. 

"No," Harm replied with an equal grin, "I don't think there's much chance they're from Ohio."

***

Suffolk County Courthouse Boston, Massachusetts Pre-Trial Hearing 1602 Romeo

Harm and Mac sat with James McGregor between them on the left side of the room and watched as reporters clamored for pictures and soundbytes from either party. The JAG officers had firmly instructed their client and his parents not to answer any questions, but it didn't look like opposing counsel had done the same with the reverend. He stood, almost holding a court of his own on the opposite side of the room and answered question after question while the parties and observers waited for court to convene. 

"How can they just sit over there and not tell him to shut up?" James whispered harshly to Harm. 

"Just looking at the reverend, I don't think they have much of a choice," the commander answered as his gaze drifted over. Eugene stood off to one side talking quietly to Sarah Ryan while Bobby stared pointedly at the Brotherhood representative, who simply ignored him and continued to answer questions. At one point, Bobby gripped the other man's arm and pulled him away from the crowd and whispered something in the reverend's ear. With a reluctant nod, Luther called the interview to a halt just as the chamber doors opened and Judge Zoey Hiller walked in. 

Despite the woman's small stature, she radiated authority and commanded respect with a simple glance. The room quieted quickly and the bailiff called, "All rise, court is now in session, the Honorable Zoey Hiller presiding. Draw near and ye shall be heard." Amidst the hubbub, no one had noticed the middle-aged black man who stood off to the edge of the crowd at the back of the room. 

"Sit," Hiller ordered as she shuffled through the papers in her file, not bothering to take the time to look at her audience. After casting a brief glance at the crowd, she nodded to Bobby who rose to introduce his side of the case.

"Your Honor, the plaintiff will show that James McGregor, then a lieutenant with the United States Navy, willfully purchased drug paraphernalia from our client's son and in doing so, caused LeShawn Ryan to put himself in a dangerous position which subsequently led to his death."

As Bobby returned to his seat, the middle-aged man eased closer to Reverend Luther, who sat in the aisle seat just behind the plaintiff's table. Commander Rabb rose to present his side of the facts. "Your Honor, we will show that the deceased's occupation of drug dealing led to his demise through no fault of our client. The area where the transaction occurred was by no means dangerous to either party. In fact, due to the nature of the transaction, it was probably one of the safest places it could have occurred. James McGregor did not kill LeShawn Ryan nor did his actions lead to the deceased's death. Therefore, this case has no merit."

Hiller pursed her lips and looked pointedly at Donnell. "The commander has a point. Why are we even here today?"

"Your Honor, the actions of the defendant directly contributed to the death of my client's son. Under the cause of action of wrongful death, my client has every reason to sue. Even though she personally might not have the means to retain our services and has enlisted the aid of a concerned citizen's rights group, it still does not preclude her right to petition for her case to be heard."

Hiller paused as if considering the men's words, then decided, "Very well, I'll hear witnesses on both sides tomorrow at nine." 

Just as she was about to bang the gavel to close the proceedings, the middle-aged man jerked the reverend out of his seat and pressed a small .38 special to his temple. Luther gave a cry of alarm alerting the rest of the crowd. The bailiff reacted immediately and drew his weapon from its holster. Aiming it at the assailant, he ordered firmly, "Put the gun <down>, sir, and no one will get hurt!"

The lawyers turned toward the man and Sarah Ryan gasped when she saw who the man was. "Joseph! What are you doing?"

Beads of sweat broke out over the man's brow as he adjusted his grip on the reverend so that he could look at his sister. "Sarah, I can't let him do this! LeShawn is dead and he won't let him rest! I know in the beginning we both wanted someone to pay for killing him, but now...look at this place!"

The woman did as asked and gazed around the courtroom, absorbing the frantically writing pens and the faces eager for latest development in the case.

"It's <his> fault, Sarah!" Joseph cried, tightening his grip on Luther for effect. "<He> wanted it this way. He doesn't care about my nephew and getting justice for him! He only cares about the TV people!"

Bobby stood and reached toward the man. "Maybe so, Joseph, but this isn't the way. You can't fight him this way. Put down the gun and let's talk this out."

"No! I'm done talking to you! Sarah told you she wanted to drop the suit, but you wouldn't listen. You wouldn't turn down the Brotherhood's money!" He sent a heated glare to his sister's attorney. "This is the only way to get through to them. To tell them that we don't want to go through with it." He turned pleading eyes toward his sister and she nodded her head in resignation.

>From the bench, Judge Hiller had watched the proceedings hoping to get a better grasp of the details surrounding this situation before she took over. "Ms. Ryan?" she asked, her gravelly tone warmed by irritated resolve. The woman had no choice but to obey even though she only wanted to talk to her brother. "Is that what you want? To drop the charges?"

Sadly, Sarah nodded. "Yes, ma'am, I'm sorry it came to this. That my brother felt this desperate, but we don't want to ruin my boy's memory." She raised her hands in a helpless gesture, then continued. "He was a good boy. I never knew he was dealing drugs, but I know now that he did to help me out. We didn't have enough money for the family. He was trying to take care of us. Of me and his sisters. And he did it the quickest way he could. We were about to lose the house and then he came through with a bunch of money..."

She turned toward McGregor and smiled softly. "I <know> you weren't responsible for killing my boy. But we needed his income. And we still do. I'm sorry." Sarah paused a moment and looked down nervously at her hands, then spoke again. "But this isn't the way to do it. Your Honor, I want to drop the case."

Luther gasped in outrage at her words, and Joseph shoved him out of his grasp. "You piece of filth!" Joseph raged. "You <would> want this to continue, without any concern as to what Sarah and I are going through.!"

The reverend looked pleadingly between Bobby and the woman. "I want justice for that boy's death! Nothing more!" he argued. 

>From the bench, Judge Hiller replied, "Well, that's tough, Reverend. Ms. Ryan has asked to drop the case and it is her right to do so as well as my right to honor her decision." With a loud bang, her gavel resounded throughout the court room. "Bailiff, take Mr. Ryan into custody. Case dismissed."

Her words lifted the veil of silence that had settled over the room and reporters clamored to be the first to ask questions of both parties. Ignoring the tape recorder that was shoved into her face, Sarah pleaded with Eugene and Bobby, "You will look after Joseph, won't you? He's not a bad man. He was just desperate."

With a glance to his partner, who nodded imperceptibly, Eugene answered, "We'll go talk to him. Don't worry, Sarah."

On the opposite side of the courtroom, James McGregor shook the hands of his attorneys vigorously, thanking them for their help before turning and encompassing his parents in a huge hug of relief. Mac looked at Harm, relief evident in her eyes. "And here I thought you were the only lawyer who regularly disrupted the courtroom!" she teased.

"Who me?" Harm asked in a mocking tone, "I'm practically an angel."

Mac merely rolled her eyes and began packing up the files. After she'd finished, she glanced around the still-full courtroom, and met Bobby at the gate which separated the courtroom from the audience seats. "So, Counselor, do all of your cases end with this much excitement?" she asked looking pointedly around the room.

Bobby chuckled slightly and returned, "Only lately, it seems."

Harm joined them, remarking, "It's better that the case was dropped. For everyone."

"It looks like Reverend Luther got his wish after all," Mac murmured as they walked into the crush of reporters that met them when they exited the room. "He's got the full attention of the press to air his grievances."

The three lawyers moved off to the side to watch the reverend as he animatedly answered the questions that were thrown at him. "I'm truly sorry that Mr. Ryan felt that such extreme tactics were needed to get my attention. He was, after all, an active member in the Brotherhood for Racial Equality and my door is always open for any concerned citizen."

'What about the concerns of drug dealing and the black community?" interjected one of the reporters.

Reverend Luther paused a moment, as if drawing on some inner resolve, and answered, "The leaders of the black community are tired of the drug problem being laid at our door, whether the act is unintentional or not, we still feel the burden. The truth of the matter is that it is a burden the whole nation should share. The dealing of drugs involves at least two people: the dealer and the buyer. If we solely focus on the dealer, then we ignore a critical part of the equation. We as a nation must understand this and confront it in our schools, in our churches, and in our lives. If we do not, everyone will suffer the consequences."

The man continued to answer questions from his captive audience, allowing the lawyers escape without comment. "Whew!" Harm murmured once they were safely ensconced in the elevator. "He preaches a helluva sermon."

"That he does," Bobby answered, "but you can't help but wonder who exactly he's preaching to."
 

The End