Background: Follow up to end of Every Tom Dick and Crazy – Episode two in my version of season 11. Reading ETD&C first could be helpful, but like episodes, this story should stand mostly on its own.
Summary: Harm and Mac continue adjusting to life in London.
Chapter 1
London
October 2005
It had been an unusually pleasant fall day. A light sweater wasn't even necessary for going outdoors.
"Have you got any plans for your days off?" Mac asked Mattie from across the table.
"Well, some of the girls were wanting to go hang out at Barb's and have like a home spa day, but I'm just not into it." Mattie took another bite of the chicken Dijon.
"Sounds like fun. Why not?" Mac glanced sideways at Harm. Mattie had done really well with her physical therapy, and was now walking around with only the occasional use of a cane. The wheelchair had been in the closet on a permanent basis for almost a month. Still, something didn't seem right. Mac hadn't decided if it was just being in a new school in a foreign country, even though, technically, the American School in London was like any high school back home, or if maybe something more serious was troubling the young teenager.
"You're kidding? After five months of physical therapy, hot tubs and massages take on a whole new meaning." Mattie gave Mac that 'duh' look, as though it should have been obvious.
"Ah, I see." She really didn't, after all, what did manicures and pedicures have to do with physical therapy, but Mac sensed this was not the time to pursue it.
"Well, if it makes you feel any better, Sport, I can't imagine why anyone would want to hang around wearing oatmeal on their face anyhow." Looking up wide eyed at Mattie and Mac's glaring expressions, "What? That is what they do, isn't it?" Harm swallowed a laugh.
"Neveeerr miiindd." Mattie put her dish in the sink and headed for her room. "I think I'll go look for a rerun of JAG, then I can make fun of how SO not real it is. I mean really, the messes the leads get themselves into." Mattie walked away shaking her head.
Harm and Mac smiled knowingly at each other. If Mattie knew about one tenth of the scrapes they'd somehow gotten themselves into, she wouldn't be so quick to judge.
"Hey, hang on," Mac called over to Mattie. "I was thinking of doing something outside tomorrow. It's supposed to be a lovely day."
"Really? Like what?"
"Oh, maybe catch a train out of Victoria for one of those cute little out skirt towns, or even just walk around near Kensington Palace, do a little window shopping in the stores we can't afford."
"Yeah, sure. That sounds nice." Mattie wasn't really that excited about it, but she enjoyed Mac's company, and she had a much stronger appreciation for the privilege of being able to take long walks at will.
"Coffee?" Mac leaned over and kissed Harm on the cheek on her way to make a fresh pot.
"Thanks. That would hit the spot." Harm carried his plate to the sink. "I think James is determined to send me to an early grave."
"I thought you guys finally found a balanced working relationship?" Mac frowned, pulling out a couple of mugs.
"We did. Have. I don't know. I finally got used to her knowing what files I need before I ask, when I want a cup of coffee before I know I want a cup of coffee, and who I do and don't want to talk to." Harm watched Mac pour the dark brew into the two cups. Briefly he wondered how could anyone manage to make such an ordinary task appear so sexy. It was just coffee.
"But…"
"Now she can't remember a blessed thing," Harm spouted in exasperation, his mind let go of how Mac's long fingers moved from pot to mug, and returned to the problem at hand.
"What do you mean?" Mac started towards the living room.
"Well, for instance, this afternoon, she showed up with a cup of tea. I asked 'what's this?' She said, 'you wanted coffee.' Well, I hadn't wanted coffee, and even if I had, she brought me tea. I said, 'no thank you, but I wouldn't mind a fresh pitcher of water.' An hour later when I asked her about the water, she had absolutely no idea what I was talking about." Harm took a seat beside his wife, turning slightly to face her as they spoke.
"Well, that doesn't sound like the Beth James I know." Mac was as perplexed as Harm. "Do you think it's something serious? Does she have a boyfriend?"
"I have absolutely NO idea. All I know is she was turning into the best yeoman a CO could ask for and suddenly Snoopy seems more qualified." Harm took a long sip of the hot coffee, then set it heavily on the end table.
"Oh, for heaven's sake, Harm. Just because she forgot your water…"
"That was just this afternoon. This morning, when Admiral Ulrich stopped in, not only did she not realize he was coming, she didn't notice he was standing there, and when he finally cleared his throat to let her know he was waiting, she didn't come to attention."
"What?" Mac was floored by that lack of military protocol. It was so unlike Beth.
"Well, eventually she stepped to, but not before mumbling something unintelligible first."
"She wasn't insulting was she?" Mac slid her free hand onto Harm's lap.
"We have no idea. I thought she said 'six piece bird's nest,' and the Admiral thought she said 'chick peas and spices'." Harm picked up his mug for another sip, his other hand closing tightly around the hand his wife had so gingerly placed on his leg. Her concern for the petty officer warmed his heart. Her touch warmed his soul.
"How much trouble did she get into?"
"None. She managed to cover with an unusually contrite apology, and then I later mentioned to the Admiral that she'd been recently upset having to meet with Lt. Philips parents."
"Do you think that's it?" Mac pulled her leg up onto the sofa, tucking it agilely under her other leg.
"No, that was two weeks ago."
"Harm!" Mac's eyes flew open as wide as her mouth dropped at her husband's lie.
"Well, I didn't say how recently. I was hoping maybe you could talk to her." Harm's lower lip curled up awkwardly.
"Me?" Mac knew she wouldn't be able to resist that puppy dog look.
"Look, if I talk to her she's going to clam up. Besides being her CO, I'm also a man."
"Yeah, I noticed," Mac rolled her eyes suggestively, her fingers swirling small circles against his thigh.
"You're not helping," Harm clenched his jaw in mild frustration, but his eyes showed his amusement.
"Okay. I'll see what excuse I can come up with." Standing up with an empty mug in her hand, "I'm going to get another cup and take it to bed with a good book." Mac smiled softly as she slowly pulled her hand out of Harm's hold, a silent apology in her eyes. She couldn't help feeling a little guilty she couldn't be more intimate with her husband than a few stolen kisses and a tender moment holding hands.
"You do look better," Harm offered sweetly. He had been careful not to mention anything about the procedure she'd had to clear her tubes. The specialist at Lister Hospital thought having another laparoscopy to remove new scar tissue might help increase the chances of conception.
Neither had said much about the small increase in odds, or how uncomfortable Mac had been since the procedure last week. Having already been through it once, Harm and Mac were both prepared for the resulting discomforts. They also had silently agreed, that unless there was something new to discuss, it was easier simply not talking about it at all.
"Yeah, I do feel better." Mac put up a brave front. For a few minutes there, she'd forgotten about the last week of discomfort, and especially why she'd put herself through it again. She didn't hold up much hope that this was going to make much of a difference, but she was bound and determined to do anything that might increase the odds of sharing a biological child with Harm.
Chapter 2
Next dayOutside Harrods
"I can't believe you bought that bear," Mattie teased, following Mac down the road.
"It must be written somewhere that it's bad luck to leave Harrods without at least buying a bear," Mac insisted.
"Oh, yeah. I'm sure that must be the eighth deadly sin." Sometimes Mattie found it really hard to believe Mac was, or used to be, a Marine. "Hey. Look at this. Isn't it cool?"
"Sure, if you don't mind looking like you fell out of 1968." Mac would have made a lousy hippie. She didn't care for the tie dye look as a child, and she didn't like it any better now.
"How old are ARE you?" Mattie turned away from the window towards Mac.
"Not that old, but everyone remembers the sixties. Even you have to have seen film clips of people running around in green miniskirts with orange polka-dot blouses and white boots!"
"Yeah, I know. And love beads, and tie dye, and flower children. Okay... but I still think this outfit looks awesome." Mattie turned to follow Mac who had walked away from the window.
"Let's see if we can catch a cab." Mac stepped closer to the curb.
"Can we walk a little more?" Mattie almost whined.
"I don't want you to get too tired."
"I won't. Promise." Mattie drew an x across her heart.
"Okay, but if I think you're too tired. Then we stop."
"Yes, ma'am." Stopping suddenly, "Unless, you need to stop?" Mattie had been so focused on her own recovery, she'd forgotten about Mac's recent surgery, or that Mac might need to rest.
"I'm doing fine. I think the fresh air and exercise is actually helping." Mac took in a deep breath, flashing Mattie a reassuring smile.
A short distance down the street, they turned the corner onto a quaint row of shops.
"Well, isn't this different." Mac stopped in front of an old shop that reminded her somewhat of how she pictured Diagon alley in the popular Harry Potter books. The exterior of the old stone edifice hadn't changed much in the last hundred years or so, but through the dirty window, from what she could see, it appeared as though the inside hadn't changed much either.
"Heritage House? Sounds like a home for wayward…" Mattie paused.
"Wayward what?" Her hands still cupped to the glass where she had been peeking in, Mac turned wondering what was taking Mattie so long to finish her thought.
"I'm not sure, but wayward something," she giggled, realizing how silly that sounded.
"It looks like they research family genealogy. This could be fun." Mac nudged Mattie towards the door.
"Has anyone ever told you that you have a warped perception of fun?"
The inside of the tiny shop was everything Mac had expected from her short glimpse. The walls were stacked with dust covered leather-bound volumes of all sizes. A narrow ladder rested along a brass bar the length of the room, a matching ladder could be seen on the opposite side. In the distance an enormous oak desk sat covered with piles of books.
Mac fully expected to see some decrepit old man akin to the ghost of Christmas past pop his head up over the edge of the highest book, but much to her surprise, from around the corner came a very tall, dark haired, handsome young man.
"May I help you ladies?" the young man's voice dripped with charm.
"We were curious to see what we might be able to find out about our family names," Mac volunteered.
"We don't get many Americans in here." With a proud strut that reminded Mac very much of the same aviator pride that Harm carried, the handsome man stepped around the counter nearer the front of the store.
"I am afraid we don't do those five minute generic copies you find in tourist stands, but we do offer a variety of services depending on your level of interest."
Mac moved closer to the counter, amused by the starry-eyed expression on Mattie's face. She honestly couldn't blame the girl, even the unattractive men seemed dreamy once they opened their mouths and the suave British accent rolled out.
Making an extra effort to focus on the sheet of paper the shopkeeper had placed in front of her, Mac resisted the urge to smack Mattie across the arm and tell her to close her mouth.
"This one wouldn't be so bad. Just enough background to satisfy my curiosity but not enough to bankrupt my husband," Mac smiled politely. "Would you like to do one for Johnson, or Grace?"
"Actually, I'd be more curious to see about Rabb." For the first time since entering the small store, Mattie shifted her attention to Mac.
"You sure?"
"Yeah, I could care less about Johnson, and well, my mom's family history is recorded in surprisingly great detail in the family bible. The thing is huge." Mattie held her hands about 12 inches apart, vertically in front of her.
"Okay, Rabb and MacKenzie it is." Mac placed an order for the two family genealogies.
Carefully she filled out as much information as she could on the small questionnaire, looking forward to picking up the results in a few days.
Only six days later, Mac found herself curled up comfortably on the living room sofa with a fresh cup of tea, and the Heritage House report. Flipping through the pages, she was amazed at the long family history. From her father Joseph MacKenzie, they had managed to go back over two hundred years. The information was limited to names, date of birth, marriage, sporadic professions and occasional accolades, and children, but considering there had only been six days in which to do research, Mac was virtually flabbergasted with the wealth of information she held in her hand.
One entry in particular caught her attention as she slowly perused the pages.
Lieutenant Malcolm MacKenzie. Born 18th May 1774, Married Beatrice Eugenia Spencer 15th November 1800. Died under the command of Vice-Admiral Horatio Nelson 2nd April 1801 (Battle of Copenhagen). Son Patrick MacKenzie born 23rd August 1801.
Mac chuckled softly to herself. Boy, was Harm going to get a kick out of this. Her only ancestor with any apparent military background and he turns out to be a squid.
JAG Headquarters
London
1030 hours Monday
Mac was feeling rather up this morning. She'd come across an advertisement in the paper announcing the last weeks of a special exhibition on Nelson and Napoleon at the National Maritime Museum. Ever since discovering that she had an ancestor in the British Navy who had served under Horatio Nelson, she found herself intrigued by the historical aspects of the Royal Navy. This seemed like an incredible opportunity to discover more about her ancestors.
"Is he busy?" Mac stopped at Beth James' desk, knowing full well that Harm was planning on being busy until she had a chance to chat with Beth again.
"Yes, ma'am. He's on the phone with Admiral Ulrich. He asked if you could wait just a few minutes."
Mac immediately noticed the awkwardness and nervousness, which still plagued the petty officer as she spoke to her. This was extremely out of character. When Beth raised her arm to indicate a chair for Mac to have a seat, Mac had to practically dive to stop the large cup of coffee from spilling all over Beth's paper laden desktop.
"Oh, sorry, ma'am. I don't know what's the matter with me." Beth retrieved the cup from Mac's tentative grip, first pulling a napkin from her desk drawer to wipe up the few errant drops of coffee that had spilled on Mac's hand and the desk.
"Don't worry about it, Beth, are you sure there isn't something you'd like to talk about? If you need an ear, I'm a good listener." Mac specifically chose to use the Petty Officer's given name. She didn't do it often, at least not in the office, but taking a lesson from AJ, she made another attempt at resolving Harm's dilemma. She'd tried speaking to the petty officer a few days earlier and found her in a completely befuddled state. She had been totally unable to obtain any information at all for Harm.
"Thank you, ma'am. That's very nice of you, but there's nothing really," Beth smiled sweetly, trying to appear more in control of her emotions than she was.
It was obvious to Mac she wasn't going to get much further with the upset Petty Officer than she had previously. Whatever was troubling her, she wasn't ready to share yet.
"The Captain's birthday is next week. If your schedule isn't too full, perhaps you could help organize a small celebration. Nothing formal, something here at the office."
"Yes, ma'am. Of course. Anything at all."
"Very well, I'll think through what I want to do and get back to you." Originally they hadn't planned on doing anything for Harm's birthday at the office, but they decided under the circumstances this might kill two birds with one stone. She would be able to have more frequent conversations with the Petty Officer, and Harm could develop a better rapport with some of the junior officers.
Harm had finished his conversation and now felt like a complete idiot standing with his ear pressed against his door, trying desperately to make out what the PO and his wife were discussing.
"The light on his phone line is out. Shall I see if he's free?" Beth asked as she took her seat.
"Thank you," Mac nodded.
Before Beth could announce Mac's presence, Harm swung the heavy door open.
"I hope I didn't keep you waiting long," he smiled in Mac's direction, holding the door for her.
"Not at all."
Mac followed Harm into the office. When the door latched closed behind her, she turned to Harm chuckling. "What were you doing, listening through the keyhole?"
"Something like that." Taking in how beautiful Mac looked, Harm stepped invasively into her space, forgetting all about the reason he'd asked her to come. "I don't recall having time this morning for a proper good bye."
"No, I was in the shower when you left." Mac's lower lip twitched in anticipation of where this little conversation was going.
"I guess I'll just have to make up for it with a proper hello." Pulling her fully into his arms, Harm settled his lips firmly on her mouth, in what would most definitely be considered an inappropriate kiss for the office.
In only a few seconds, Mac had gone weak in the knees, almost forgetting where they were. "Remind me to miss a few proper good byes more often," she smiled lazily, still dazed from the loving gesture.
"If you liked that, wait till I can really show you a proper hello." Pulling her close again for one more, short kiss, Harm willingly accepted he had to be the luckiest man on earth.
Chapter 3National Maritime Museum
Greenwich
Mac strolled the ancient corridors in fascination. There was no way she would be able to take in all the treasures and artifacts available in a lone afternoon. Another day would most definitely be required to satisfactorily appease her curiosity.
She sat on a nearby bench mesmerized by John Bettes' portrait of Elizabeth I. Mac had come in search of some connection to her ancestor through Nelson, but found herself momentarily distracted by the powerful presence this historical woman held, even in art. Mac contemplated what kind of woman Elizabeth must have been to have ruled the most powerful nation in the world during the male dominant world of the sixteenth century.
Ready to move on to the manuscript parlor, Mac stood up and turned, unaware of the slight young man who, walking backwards, was still admiring the large royal portrait.
Stepping heavily on an obviously soft, human, foot, Seaman Thomas Moore turned in a panic.
"Excuse me, ma'am. I am so sorry," he pleaded. "I should have been paying more attention."
Catching her balance against the bench, Mac looked at the frightened young man. "I wasn't paying attention either. It's pretty impressive, isn't it?"
"Yes, ma'am." The young man glanced longingly up at the larger than life portrait.
"There's a lot of fascinating things here, but from now on you may want to try and keep at least one eye on the road," Mac suggested humorously, straightening her outfit before making her way to the next hall.
Mac had not realized that the Royal Naval Museum, and the National Maritime Museum had been involved in a massive search of archives to locate previously unpublished material for the 200th anniversary of the Battle of Trafalgar. The result of several years' efforts was well over 1300 new documents, some of which included sets of letters of different crewmembers while they served under Nelson.
Scanning the names of sailors whose letters had been located, Mac was astounded to see the name, Lieutenant Malcolm MacKenzie on the list. Slowly searching the protective cases, she carefully took in the different names. Having moved further down the hall, her eyes still on the cases, Mac felt a hard mass bump up against her.
"I'm so sorry, ma'am. I … I was just looking at the letters and guess I… I forgot to watch the road," he blushed bashfully.
"You realize we're going to have to stop meeting like this or people are going to talk."
"NO, Ma'am," the wide-eyed young man shook his head, horrified at the implication.
"Relax…" Mac waited for some hint of who she was talking to.
"Thomas."
"Relax, Thomas. I was only kidding," Mac suddenly felt sorry for the bashfully uncoordinated kid.
"Oh, thank you ma'am. I don't run into many fellow Americans, and I have a hard time telling when the Brits are joking around," Thomas let out a slow sigh of relief.
"Where are you from?" Mac tried to put Thomas at ease.
"Yonkers, New York."
"And you're a naval history buff?"
"Any kind of history, ma'am, but especially British Naval history. My dad gave me all the Horatio Hornblower books to read as a kid, and ever since, I can't get enough of the real history. I've been coming here whenever possible, ever since the exhibit opened. There's so much," he chatted excitedly.
"Well, don't let me hold you up," Mac smiled.
"Thank you, ma'am." Thomas turned on his heel and continued reading the displays with fascination.
Mac on the other hand needed to get back to the house. Mattie would be home from school by now, and she had a date with a dashing sailor she didn't want to be late for.
Rabb flatLater that night
Mac set her book down on her lap and watched Harm move about distractedly in the kitchen.
"What are you still doing in there?"
"Sorry, thought I'd wipe the counter down." Harm tossed the sponge into the sink.
"You did that after dinner, and again ten minutes ago. What's got you so restless?" Mac shifted on the sofa, patting the empty space next to her.
"Nothing really. It's just, things could be easier."
Unable to resist laughing out loud, "Okay, now tell me something I don't know."
"James asked for a couple of personal days. I'm not sure if I looked at her cross-eyed or if she just knew what I was thinking, but she added it was for medical reasons so I couldn't very well say no. She left today at lunchtime."
"So who's in the front office?"
"Ensign Barnes." Harm pulled Mac's legs over his lap, and began mindlessly massaging her calves.
" An officer? Isn't that rather unusual?"
"There weren't many options, and Barnes was nice enough to volunteer." Harm found himself slowly unwinding with the feel of Mac's soft skin under his fingertips. He had no idea how he had managed to live so close to her for so many years without being free to show her the simplest form of affection.
"Is he any good?"
"He's okay. The job is pretty straightforward, but we're already short staffed. Meg is only going to be TAD a few more weeks, and I still don't see any sign of Lt. Philips replacement arriving very soon."
"I thought the reason Meg's assignment was extended was to be here until Philips replacement arrived?" Mac snuggled down into the sofa, resting her head back, thoroughly enjoying the relaxing atmosphere. It was a little selfish of her, but she loved the feel of Harm's touch, and she desperately missed the intimacy. She had a follow up appointment with Dr. Rovner in a few days and would hopefully be cleared for 'all' activities. Even though she'd felt up to it, Harm wasn't willing to take any chances setting her health back, and she had to agree, being able to eventually conceive meant too much to them.
"That was the plan, but she absolutely has to be back at Pearl when the XO starts maternity leave. The office just never seems quite in step. I haven't figured out where the missing link is yet. Then keep in mind that I don't have any attorneys with much investigation experience, except for Meg of course, and she's not staying." Lifting up one of Mac's knees, Harm began gently kneading her foot. "I keep praying we'll get someone with enough savvy to take second in command, but I'm not holding my breath."
"So besides an XO, you really need someone to beef up the office, and if that someone happened to have investigative skills?" Mac opened one eye at Harm.
Harm recognized the gleam in Mac's eye. It always followed a brilliant idea. As if reading a neon sign, Harm suddenly realized whom she meant. "You don't think?"
"It's worth a shot. You could request him TAD ASAP, and if it pans out, make it permanent," Mac shrugged.
"I don't know, he wanted to be at the front. An office will seem pretty boring after Afghanistan and Paraguay," Harm winced softly, he hadn't meant to bring up Paraguay. It was a painful part of their past, one they preferred to leave alone.
"He has to rotate out at some point. It's worth a try, he can't stay at the front lines forever," Mac pointed out, ignoring the mention of Paraguay. Some things were better left alone.
"Yeah," Harm smiled broadly, "It is worth a try. What have you got there?" he noticed the book that had fallen to the side of the sofa.
"Oh, I picked it up today at the museum. Remember I told you about that ancestor who served under Nelson?" Mac had let her head fall back against the armrest again, her eyes shut in a pleasantly relaxed state as Harm continued his soothing ministrations.
"Mm hmm. How was it?"
"Very interesting, even with the young kid who kept bumping into me."
"Bumping into you?" Harm's fingers stopped for a moment as he glanced curiously at his wife.
"It wasn't anything. He was so engrossed in the exhibition he wasn't watching where he was going. I'm pretty sure he's military."
"What makes you say that?" Harm started rubbing her legs again.
"Besides the fact that just about his every sentence ended with ma'am? The dead give away was when he walked away. He tapped that toe behind him and spun to his right with the precision of someone who has had many hours of practice. Not sure if he's Navy or Marine, but my guess would be Navy. Too timid for a Marine."
"Timid, huh?" Harm raised one eyebrow impishly.
"Reminded me a bit of Tiner," Mac smiled softly at the memory of the one time Petty Officer.
"I see. So, what's the book?"
"Well, it turns out my great whatever's letters are some of the ones on display, and a few are in this book the museum's published with thousands of letters to and from Nelson. Several of the letters are from his crew to their families. It's an interesting depiction of life on a ship in the nineteenth century. The letters from his mistress are pretty hot for the 1800's," a hint of a smile curled into view.
"Hot, huh?" This time the suggestive glint in his eye emphasized the arch in his brow.
Without opening her eyes, Mac could hear the expression on his face, her smile blossoming into a satisfied grin, "Mm hmm."
"It's getting late. I'd better check if Mattie needs help with her homework, and then I'm going to call it a night." Harm stopped rubbing Mac's leg and lightly let one finger doodle softly up the side of her knee. "Care to join me?"
"Try and keep me away." Mac practically sprang off the sofa and followed Harm down the hall.
Snuggled comfortably in bed, waiting for Harm to finish helping Mattie with her Calculus, Mac picked up the book:
"My dearest Beatrice,
Know that it is only duty that can tear me away from you as it did this morning. As I write this to you, we await the arrival of the Captain, but the rumor on the gun deck is that we are for some distant, important destination."
Chapter 4
Royal Maritime Museum
Next dayMac had found herself back at the museum bright and early the next day enjoying all the archives had to offer. The letters from her ancestor had her curiosity piqued. She wanted to see and understand as much as she could about the world he lived in.
Walking along the corridor displaying uniforms from different periods in Nelson's career, Mac wasn't surprised when she heard a loud crash and looked up to find the same young man from the day before. Only a few feet away, he had frantically straightened a large trash can, and was now returning the varied contents that had spewed across the floor to their rightful place.
"I thought I told you to keep one eye on the road?" Mac bent down to join the young man and one of the guards who was also helping pick up the trash.
"I'm sorry, ma'am. I tried to be careful, really I did."
"The rubbish bin's nothing. You should have been here last week when the lad fell into the pipe display. We were all surprised he hadn't broken his neck," the guard volunteered.
Standing up as the last remnant of trash was tossed into the receptacle, Mac debated asking the young man if he was a sailor or a marine.
"Thank you very much, ma'am. It was very nice of you to help. You too, sir." Thomas turned to the guard.
"Just do as the lady says and next time keep your eyes on the road." Rolling his eyes in exasperation, the older guard returned to his post.
"I really am sorry. I don't know why I keep bumping into people and things, I never do that on duty."
"Duty?"
"Yes, ma'am. Seaman Thomas Moore, United States Navy." Clicking his heels he stood proudly at attention.
"At ease, Seaman," Mac chuckled softly at the young man's exuberance.
"Ma'am?" Shifting to at ease, Thomas looked at Mac curiously. Civilians didn't make it a habit to tell him to stand at ease.
"I guess we haven't been properly introduced. Lt. Colonel Sarah MacKenzie, United States Marine Corps, Reserves," Mac extended her hand, smiling at the wide-eyed look the young sailor gave her.
Thomas wanted desperately to say something but his mouth simply wouldn't cooperate. Not only had he bumped into this nice woman one time too many, but this nice woman was an officer, a Colonel.
"Are you okay?" Mac finally asked, concerned with the slight hint of green rising up his face.
"Yes, Colonel, ma'am," he squeaked softly, swallowing the huge lump in his throat.
"Thomas, why don't you just call me Mrs. Rabb. I stopped using the Colonel when I left JAG."
"You're a lawyer ma'am?"
"That's right. Here, why don't you sit down on that bench a minute and take a deep breath." Mac nudged the young man towards the nearest bench. She wasn't quite sure what to do with him. He was obviously feeling overly flustered at her rank. Though there really wasn't any reason for her to stay, she somehow felt like leaving him in this state would be tantamount to leaving a man behind.
"Can I get you something? A bottle of water maybe?"
"No, thank you, ma'am. I'm fine, really I am."
"Are you sure, you're okay?" His color was slowly returning to normal, but Mac still wasn't convinced.
"Yes, ma'am, Mrs. Rabb. I need to be getting back to the base soon anyway. I need to be on duty early at 1400."
"If you're sure." Mac took a tentative step towards the display she'd originally been interested in, still watching the young sailor out of the corner of her eye. He'd stood up looking around the room as though searching for something in particular. She was just about to turn around and see what he needed when she saw the light of recognition dawn in his expression. He had apparently left his blue navy issue peacoat on the floor near the case he'd been admiring when he not so graciously knocked over the trash can.
Mac kept an eye on Thomas as he quickly put on his coat and hurried out the nearest doorway. She certainly hoped he wasn't that clumsy on duty. Actually, now that she thought about it, she hoped he didn't have anything to do with munitions.
London Headquarters
Tea Room
Harm had finally figured out that the best way to get a decent cup of coffee was to simply get it himself. He had no idea until now how much he had come to depend on Petty Officer Elizabeth James for the simpler things. Her uncanny ability to bring him a cup of coffee at the precise moment he craved a cup, was right up there on the list of life's mysteries with Mac's ability to tell time without a watch, and after less than two days, he missed the petty officer terribly.
"You look like something the cat dragged in." Suddenly remembering this was not just her long time friend strolling into the break room, but her CO. Meg added quickly, "Sir."
"Gee thanks, I really needed to hear that." If his day hadn't already been infernally long, he probably would have found it in him to laugh openly.
Setting his mug on the counter, Harm began opening all the cabinet doors in the tiny cubby before turning to Meg in frustration. "Where do they keep the sugar?"
She hesitated a fraction of a second before picking up the sugar bowl beside the cup he had just set on the counter. "You mean this?"
"Thank you, Commander." Harm reached across for the coffeepot, ignoring Meg's quiet snicker.
"Anything I can help with?" she ventured carefully, getting a container of milk from the refrigerator.
"I don't suppose you can teach Ensign Barnes how to make a decent cup of coffee, or how not to patch absolutely EVERYONE who calls my office through to me?"
"Busy day?"
"I think it would be safe to say I took Petty Officer James' ability to screen calls for granted."
"How is she doing?" Meg handed Harm the milk container.
"I honestly don't know. She requested two personal days, but implied it was for medical reasons. Hopefully, I'll know more when she returns tomorrow."
"Well, if nothing else, you'll be able to get a decent cup of coffee tomorrow." Meg watched as Harm twirled a coffee stirrer in his mouth. She recognized that nervous habit of his. Whenever they'd had a tough case and Harm couldn't quite figure out why something didn't seem right, he would chew those little plastic sticks into confetti.
"How's the Anderson situation?" Harm asked unexpectedly.
"Fine. Perkins is taking a plea bargain," Meg smiled.
"I see." Harm had suspected Perkins didn't have the backbone for a good defense attorney. This would be the fourth defense case in a row that he plead out. Something was going to have to be done.
Bachelor Enlisted Quarters
Kennington Southeast London
Later Tuesday night
Beth dropped her keys on the rickety table as she walked in the door. She had been poked, prodded, and pricked for the better part of two days. Now she was supposed to relax and take it easy until all the results were in. Ha! That was certainly easier said than done.
Having practically fallen into the lumpy easy chair in the tiny living room, Beth curled her foot around the leg of the coffee table and pulled it up closer to use as a footrest. This had been the longest two weeks of her life. Stretching her arm out she retrieved the silver frame. She didn't even need to look to see where it was on the end table. It had become her daily ritual to settle into the comfort of the uncomfortable chair and pick up the memory filled photograph. Greg had been one of the nicest guys she'd ever dated. The six months he'd been stationed here in London had definitely been fun. She'd been here for ages and it wasn't until she met Greg that she actually ventured outside of London to explore the rest of England.
This was by far her favorite photograph. It was taken that weekend in Bury St. Edmonds. Greg had insisted on having a drink in the smallest pub in England. Well, he and every other tourist in town had the same idea about fitting into the tiny space. After finally getting his wish, he asked one of the other tourists to take their picture in front of the Nutshell Pub. When they went to snap the photo, Greg swooped her up into his arms. She was laughing so hard all you could see was her head thrown back, her mouth wide open, and her long hair hanging loosely behind her. Greg on the other hand had a grin on his face that seemed to be the personification of the cat that had swallowed the canary. He'd carried her down the street and around the block to the Angel hotel. She knew he couldn't afford it, but it hadn't mattered to him. He had pulled out all the stops that weekend. She felt like the heroine in a romantic novel being swept off her feet in every sense of the word.
He had taught her so much about living for the day and enjoying life. If he hadn't been around when Captain Rabb first arrived, she surely would have fallen apart at the seams those first two days.
She knew when he got his orders to Iraq that it might be rough, but she hadn't expected this. She'd read the letter over and over so often that her tears left the paper a mere shadow of its former self. It hadn't helped that she'd crumpled and thrown it across the room as many times as she'd sobbed herself to sleep reading it.
It didn't seem fair. No family at home, only a few close friends, and the woman he claimed to love couldn't even fly home for the funeral.
(Small article on Nutshell Pub -http/ Headquarters
Three days laterMac turned the corner towards Harm's office, surprised to see Petty Officer James already rising from her chair to stand at attention. Apparently, whatever had her radar out of kilter, was now back in commission.
"At ease, Beth," Mac was sure she wouldn't be able to get Beth to stop reacting to her officer status anymore than she could get Bud and Harriet to call her by her first name when they were off duty.
"Yes, ma'am. Everything has been arranged just the way you asked."
"Excellent. Thank you. I gather whatever had you upset last week has been taken care of?"
"No, ma'am. That is, I mean…" Beth couldn't find the words. She'd thought she'd finally gotten a handle on all her emotions and with a simple comment from Mrs. Rabb, everything came flooding back.
"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to upset you." Mac placed her hand on the Petty Officer's shoulder.
"Thank you, ma'am. It's fine." Beth pressed her lips tightly together. She was NOT going to cry in front of her CO's wife. She simply wasn't.
"Obviously something has been bothering you, and whatever it is, it's still got you upset. I don't want to push, but I'm willing to listen if it will help."
Tears rolled slowly down Beth's cheek at this woman's concern. "Oh blast, I swore I wasn't going to cry anymore." Beth fumbled through her desk for a tissue.
"What is it?" Mac leaned against the desk and urged Beth to sit back down.
"Oh, ma'am. I have fibroid cysts. I've had them for years. I take birth control pills and vitamin B to help prevent them and don't drink caffeine or eat chocolate. Well, not much anyway." A glint of a smile almost appeared on the young woman's face.
"Go on," Mac encouraged, a knot in her stomach tightening.
"Recently, I've been having more trouble than usual with cysts, well, especially in my breasts, ma'am. They've been heavy and painful and I can feel at least two rather large cysts. The doctor implied that my renewed problems might indicate the need for more invasive treatment, so he sent me for some tests the other day." Looking up at Mac in almost a panic. "If he's right I might need up to six weeks bed rest! Ma'am, all I have back home is my mom, and she's in no condition to take care of me." Beth almost broke down in tears again, sucking in her lower lip, and taking a deep breath, she swallowed the threatening sob, softly repeating, "six weeks bed rest."
"Haven't they gotten the results back to you yet?" Mac was suddenly flooded with vivid memories of how quickly Bethesda was able to diagnose her condition. She had to remind herself that not all hospitals, or countries for that matter, do things the same. It took all her marine training not to join Beth in her tears.
"The lab somehow lost my blood work. I went this morning to be re-tested, but now the doctor wants me to be tested again on Monday to compare the samples. The other tests are inconclusive without the complete blood workup." Beth took another deep breath. Mrs. Rabb was right, just finally being able to tell someone what was going on made her feel better, even if she hadn't told Mrs. Rabb any details about the threat of surgery or the loss of Greg.
"Beth if you need any help at all, with anything, I expect you to come to me or Captain Rabb." Mac reached over and gave her another tissue to replace the one Beth had slowly shredded with her nervous fidgeting.
"I appreciate the offer ma'am. I'm sure everything will be okay." Beth straightened her shoulders some. "I'll be fine now. Thank you."
"I've had female procedures in my past too, and I can certainly empathize with your fears. I have an appointment this afternoon, but if you'd like to talk some more later, I'd be happy to make time." Mac's heart ached for the young girl. She knew exactly what kind of fear Beth must be going through. She hadn't mentioned what sort of invasive treatment was being suggested, but Mac could tell from her tone it had to be serious, especially if it required six weeks bed rest. The last words resounded in Mac's head for just a moment. The light bulb of recognition going off just as Beth spoke.
"No, ma'am. I feel much better now, thank you." Taking one more deep breath, she continued, "I've ordered the cake you requested, carrot. I've also rearranged a few non-essential meetings to make sure everyone is free for at least thirty minutes. The use of the conference room is also confirmed," Beth already felt more like her old self again.
"I knew I could count on you. Thank you again, and remember, I'm here if you need me." Mac felt more confident that if Beth needed someone to confide in again, she just might be willing to approach her, at least Mac hoped so. Seeing Beth press the intercom button to notify Harm of her arrival, Mac stepped over towards the door waiting for Beth's nod that it was okay to enter before pushing the heavy door inward.
"You're here just in time to celebrate." Harm stood up as Mac approached his desk. Resisting the urge to pull her into his arms for a longer, proper hello, he settled for a quick kiss on the lips.
"What are we celebrating?" Mac took a seat across from Harm.
"I got word today from COMUSNAVEUR. Gunny's TAD has been approved, effective immediately. Help should be here bright and early Monday morning," Harm smiled happily.
"Oh, that's wonderful news." Mac had known from her conversations with Harm over the last couple of days that Gunny was due to rotate out of his detachment, but there had been no indication of whether or not Harm's request was feasible.
"Now if I can convince Gunny and the Admiral to make the TAD permanent, then all I'd need is to get a couple of lawyers and all would be right with the world."
"I thought you only needed one to replace Mary."
"Mac, face it, except for Meg, none of the lawyers around here are very diversified. Perkins does fine if he's on the prosecution. He goes after the defendant with the fervor of a pit bull, but put him on the defense and he rolls over and plays dead."
"That's not the end of the world. In most JAG offices lawyers do one or the other, but not many wear all hats the way the admiral had us work."
"I know, but it's not fair to the poor kid who gets stuck with a prosecution attorney because all my other lawyers are overworked. And once Meg is gone, the only one with even a clue of how to handle an investigation is going to be Gunny, and he can only do what's asked of him. He certainly can't tell a superior officer what to order him to do." Harm ran his fingers through his hair. Getting Gunny under his command would only be part of the solution. He needed an XO, and one other well-rounded, experienced attorney.
"Well, I just had a short chat with Beth. She seems to be doing better, at least on the surface, and I think I solved your mystery about 'six piece bird's nest' versus 'chick peas and spices'." Mac quickly juggled around in her mind how much information she should divulge to Harm about Beth's condition.
"And that would be?"
"Her doctor told her that possible medical treatment of a condition she's had for some time could require six weeks bed rest," Mac smiled, quite pleased with herself.
"Well, you're right. She seems to be almost back to her old self, but for her sake as well as mine, I certainly hope whatever's wrong with her doesn't come down to that. Six weeks with Ensign Barnes and I might go mad," Harm tried to laugh off the possibility.
Before Harm could ask Mac what she meant by Beth appeared to be doing better 'on the surface,' the intercom buzzed.
"Sorry to interrupt, sir, but I have Inspector Baskin on the line. He says it's important."
"Put him through, Petty Officer." Harm stabbed at the button on his phone.
"Yes, Baskin. What can the Navy do for you today?" Harm made no attempt to sound friendly.
"It seems there has been a theft at the National Maritime Museum. Some very valuable letters from the Admiral Nelson exhibition were taken late yesterday afternoon. Most likely just before the museum closed."
"And Scotland Yard would like the US Navy to solve this case for you too?"
"Thank you for the offer, but that won't be necessary. We already know who the culprit is. It seems he was not smart enough to avoid the closed circuit TV cameras. The entire episode was caught on tape."
"Well, if that's the case then why are you calling me?"
"Apparently he is in the United States Navy."
"Apparently? You're not sure?" Harm couldn't help the hint of accusation in his tone.
"The security guards recognized the suspect from the CCTV footage. He is in your Navy." Baskin sat back slightly satisfied at the silence on the other end of the phone. Rabb had given him nothing but attitude ever since Mary Philips was murdered.
"Very well, I'll arrange to have him transferred into our custody. I'm assuming you're not going to insist this be handled in the local court system?" Harm wondered if Baskin was simply gloating. There was no need to call him for a simple brig transfer.
"No, we just want to recover the stolen goods. You are welcome to try him in the military system."
"I'll see to it that Petty Officer James arranges for the transfer of custody."
"Actually, Captain, we don't have him in custody yet."
"I see. You want us to apprehend him."
"Not exactly."
Harm was beginning to lose patience with this little cat and mouse word game.
"What exactly do you need?"
"Your wife. That is, to speak with her. While we know who the suspect is, we lack his name. The security guards were able to recognize the chap from the CCTV tape. Unfortunately, all we know about him is that he is an American, and his coat indicates he is in your Navy."
"I'm sorry, did you say his coat?"
"That's correct," Baskin added rather smugly.
"Don't tell me a coat is all you have to identify him. Even to you that should seem like pretty flimsy evidence for assuming he's in the Navy." What was this man trying to pull now? Harm wondered.
"Your wife will be able to settle any doubts."
"Why would Mac know anything more than you do?" Harm wasn't at all happy with the direction this conversation was taking.
"Well, my good Captain, it seems that our thief and your wife are rather good chums."
Chapter 6
"How dare you imply my wife had anything to do with this!" Harm's voice could be clearly heard past Beth's desk and halfway through the bullpen.
"I'm not implying any such thing. The security staff and video cameras show that your wife interacted with the suspect on more than one occasion, and one guard in particular felt fairly certain the two had made introductions."
"Interacted?"
"Do you prefer conversed?"
"I'd prefer it if Scotland Yard solved their cases without involving my wife." Despite not being particularly happy at the detective's implications, Harm was quickly accepting the reality that if Mac did know anything, she was duty bound to help Baskin. No matter how distasteful Harm found the idea. Sighing audibly into the phone, "Very well, we can meet in my office at..." Harm looked at his watch, then up at his wife. "1330."
Mac nodded her agreement. That would give them enough time for the birthday celebration with the staff and then a quick lunch before she'd have to leave for her appointment with Dr. Rovner. She wasn't able to put all the pieces together, but it was fairly obvious from what little she had heard that her presence was being requested.
"Captain, time is of the essence. Would half an hour be enough time for your wife to be able to meet with us?"
"That won't work. We're on our way out the door."
"Excellent! I'm just around the corner. Be there in a mo."
Harm looked at his watch again. "Around the corner?"
"Already entering the building. Be right there." Baskin snapped his phone off before Rabb could argue. It probably would have been more up front if he had mentioned he had actually rung from in front of the Rabb residence, but somehow he hadn't thought it prudent to disclose that information until he was sure of Mrs. Rabb's whereabouts.
Mac recognized the look on Harm's face. What ever Baskin had said, she wouldn't want to be in his shoes when Harm met up with him. As she watched Harm set the receiver down, she would have been willing to testify in court she could see steam coming from his ears.
"Not good?" she tested.
"He's on his way up." Harm took a deep breath. Maybe he could get rid of Baskin quickly enough to still be on time for the special staff call Mac had planned.
"Harm. It's not his fault Mary died." Mac was taking her life into her hands broaching that particular subject. Stepping closer to her husband, she gently laid her palm flatly on his chest. "Mary was too close to finding the truth. Kathy would have gotten to her no matter who Mary was partnered with." Letting her hand slide away slowly, she let if fall on his, "Give him another chance."
Before Harm could answer either way his intercom buzzed, undoubtedly announcing the detective's arrival.
"Send him in," Harm spat, not giving James enough time to announce the visitor. Watching as the door cracked open. "Make this quick, my staff is expecting me in fifteen minutes."
"Good to see you again, too, Captain." Baskin stepped over to Mac and nodded. "Sorry to take up your time Mrs. Rabb, but it appears you have information we need. Shall we sit down?" Baskin turned waiting for Harm to offer him a seat.
"Fine, have a seat." Harm waved at the chairs in front of his desk. "As I said, we're expected elsewhere."
"Yes, Inspector. What is it you need from me?" Mac added with a tad more patience than Harm was showing.
"As I told the Captain, some important documents were stolen from a display at the National Maritime Museum yesterday afternoon. Shortly before closing, an obnoxious odor began filling the hall. The museum was in the process of being evacuated when one of the guards noticed an odd mist filling one of the cases. It was decided for safety reasons to remove the documents immediately to safekeeping."
"I fail to see what this has to do with Navy personnel if the museum guards were the last to have possession of the property," Harm interrupted impatiently.
"Closed circuit television tapes viewed this morning showed a young man hovering over the cases shortly before the odor began. The young man placed something into his right hand coat pocket. Upon closer inspection we were able to make out what appeared to be a syringe. We suspect it was used to inject the smoke generating gas through the rubber seal."
"Unless your video showed this same man carrying off the stolen property. You still haven't proven anything even close to circumstantial." Harm wasn't going to let Baskin railroad a young sailor.
"Captain, the security guards recognized the suspect as the same young man who has spent at least a little time at the musuem almost every day for the last two weeks. He is the only person seen on the CCTV tapes entering or leaving the building in a Navy issue peacoat."
A small knot began to twist in Mac's stomach. She was now all too aware of where this conversation was going.
"A few days ago you were seen talking to him on more than one occasion, Mrs. Rabb. The guard in question thinks the young man introduced himself to you."
"I did converse briefly with an American sailor, but I can assure you the young man who I spoke with wouldn't be capable of something like this."
"I suggest you just give us the sailor's name and let us decide the rest."
Mac glanced briefly at Harm, sighing quietly at his affirmative nod. " Seaman Thomas Moore."
Harm stabbed at the intercom, "James, I need you to get me the current posting on a Seaman Thomas Moore."
"I'll want to be present for questioning," Baskin added quietly.
Harm nodded. He didn't like it, but he had no grounds to object, yet.
Lister Hospital
1530 later that day
"Looking good, Mrs. Rabb," Dr Rovner smiled, gently tapping Mac's knees. "Any discomfort?"
"No."
"Continued bleeding?"
"Not for almost a week."
"I would say things look almost as good as new."
"Almost?"
"You do understand this disease is not reversible? Permanent damage is just that, permanent."
"Yes, but what do you think my odds of conception are now?"
"I think we can safely presume 25, perhaps 30." Dr. Rovner removed his gloves and pushed his chair back from the exam table. "Don't look so disappointed. Those are really much improved odds."
"I know. I'm not disappointed."
"Then why so grim?" Dr. Rovner didn't believe in pulling any punches. If he felt his patients were unsettled, he did his best to reassure them. Fear and anxiousness could be as much of a deterrent to conception as the actual disease.
"Just trying to be realistic."
"Well, don't. Don't rely too heavily on the odds. All healthy women of early child bearing years have the same odds of conception, and yet some women conceive after one try, and others after as long as two years. Odds mean very little. What is important is that it is no longer impossible." The doctor smiled as broadly as he could, trying to encourage his patient.
"When... when would it be okay to start, you know, trying?" Mac tried not to blush.
Dr Rovner's eyes twinkled merrily. He could see Mac's attitude slowly coming around. "As long as it does not bring you any physical discomfort, you could start now if you like."
"And if it does bring ...discomfort, will that adversely affect my chances?"
"No. It would not have any physical affect on your disease, but I would not recommend it. Sexual activity during periods of physical pain after surgery, or traumatic injuries, can have long-term psychological affects that could adversely affect your relationship with your husband. I strongly encourage you not to pursue intercourse if it brings you any serious discomfort."
"I see." Mac glanced away momentarily. She was a marine. She could handle a little discomfort if necessary.
"Mrs. Rabb?" Dr Rovner recognized that far off look. It was the same one his wife got whenever she had made up her mind about something regardless of his opinion.
"Yes."
"Remember, if it's painful, there won't be any risk in waiting. Understood?"
"Yes, thank you, doctor." Mac was already planning out their evening in her head before she'd had time to get up off the table. Harm was going to finally get his proper hello.
Chapter 7
London Headquarters
Same time
"You did a wonderful job today, Petty
Officer. I appreciate your willingness to help Mrs. Rabb out."
"My pleasure, sir," Beth James smiled sweetly. One of the bright spots of her life was working for Captain Rabb. At first she wasn't sure she was going to cut the mustard, but now, she couldn't think of a finer man to serve under. His apparent gruff exterior at their first meeting had given way to a fair and patient man. When he got personally involved in finding Mary Philips' killer, Beth's esteem for her superior officer grew tenfold. The man was apparently a walking embodiment of an officer and a gentleman. Add to that, he appeared to be head over heals in love with his own wife, and there wasn't a woman in the building who didn't think the Captain was any woman's dream come true.
"Any news on ..."
"Yes, sir. I have the seaman's file right here. The MPs are transporting him now. ETA ten minutes." Beth stretched out her arm, handing Harm a narrow file folder.
"What about..."
"On his way, sir. He phoned a few minutes ago. Barring any unforeseen traffic issues, Inspector Baskin should arrive before the seaman, sir."
"Thank you, Petty Officer." Smiling inwardly, Harm turned on his heel and proceeded through his office door, quickly perusing the file Beth had just given him. Electrician's Mate. Hmm. That would certainly give him the needed skills to finagle a burglary. Taking a seat behind the large oak desk, Harm continued reading. Nineteen. That certainly fell in line with what Mac said. Harm had known a lot of sharp seamen in his day, but the likelihood of finding a nineteen year old seaman capable of masterminding a museum heist were about as high as finding a needle in the proverbial haystack.
The sound of the intercom buzzing dragged Harm's attention away from the Seaman's records.
"Yes, James?"
"The MPs and Seaman Moore are waiting for you in conference room B, and Inspector Baskin has just checked in at the front desk."
"Thank you." Harm closed the file, holding it firmly as he strode out of his office and past Beth. "Have the inspector meet us in the conference room – in ten minutes."
"Aye, sir."
Nodding to the two MPs as he entered the room, Harm took a seat across from the obviously frightened sailor.
"At ease," Harm waved. "Tell me Seaman, did you do it?"
"No, sir." Thomas bit his lower lip, making every effort to maintain his military demeanor. Deep down he believed the innocent would always be vindicated, but he couldn't help being just plain scared that this time he might be wrong.
"Where were you yesterday at 1630?"
"In the tube, sir. I had to report for duty at 1800 hours. I usually work the night shift, sir." Thomas glanced at the Captain's nametag.
"What time did you leave the museum?" Harm had noticed the odd contortions in the young man's brow since the last question.
"Around 1600, sir."
"Is something wrong, Seaman?" Harm watched as the young man stiffened to attention in his seat, his eyes focusing at some unknown point behind Harm's shoulder.
"No, sir." Thomas glanced sideways at Harm a moment. "Permission to speak freely, sir?"
"What's on your mind, Seaman?"
"Sir, are you any relation to Colonel Rabb, sir?"
Harm couldn't help the slow grin that tugged at the corners of his mouth, but as usual, he managed to suppress the shear pleasure he felt at the mention of his wife's name.
"That would be my wife."
The two men turned at the sound of the door swooshing open.
"I didn't realize commanding officers sat in on prisoner interrogations," Baskin forced a smile.
"Seaman Moore is not a prisoner, he's merely giving us his statement."
"His statement? You started questioning him without the presence of a Scotland Yard representative."
"The Navy is quite capable of gathering the facts without the need of Scotland Yard to hold her hand."
Thomas watched the two men bicker back and forth with the intensity of a spectator during the last three minutes of a tied pro ball game. A sense of the seriousness of the matter took firm hold of all his fears.
"Repeat for the inspector where you were at 1630 yesterday afternoon," Harm finally directed at the young man.
"Yes, sir. I was on the tube. I had to report for duty at 1800, and sir?"
"Yes."
"I have the right to request counsel, don't I?"
"You do." Harm knew where this was going.
"I think I'd rather not answer anymore questions until I speak with Colonel Rabb." Thomas sat back heavily in his seat, a small wave of calm passing over him for the first time since the MPs appeared at the base to detain him.
Baskin glared at Harm before turning to Moore. "Whose idea is this?"
"Mine, sir. The Colonel seems like a nice lady and I'm willing to take my chances that she's a good lawyer too."
Harm sat back swallowing the smug grin that was threatening to overpower his face. The kid had no idea how right he was. He had just asked to be represented by one of the military's best.
Rabb Flat
1730
Mac quickly glanced around the room, making sure everything was neatly in place. She'd left only one light on in the far corner of the room, and set the dinner table for two with fresh flowers and candles. Originally, Mac had planned for a quiet family dinner, followed by a cozy tete-a-tete with her husband later in their room. When Mattie called to say she was going to stay after school to watch the volleyball games and then go home with Barb to spend the night, Mac decided instead a romantic dinner for two was now in order.
This was only the second time Mattie had asked to spend the night somewhere else and Mac was pleased to see her falling into a normal teenage routine more like the one she'd had before the accident. Having Mattie spend the night away from home still made Harm a little over protective, but Mac knew deep down Harm understood it was a good thing.
She was tossing some lettuce and tomato into a bowl when she heard the front door open. Wiping her hands quickly on a nearby towel, Mac hurried to meet Harm in the entryway.
"Hey," she offered saucily, walking into his space before he could hang up his coat.
"Hey," Harm grinned back.
"Let me," Mac reached out and took hold of his coat, turning momentarily to place it on the wooden rack by the door where he had already hung his cover.
Harm could feel the heat rising quickly in the room. Having Mac stand so close always warmed his soul, but the look in her eyes set the blood in his veins to boil.
"Hello," Mac whispered softly, as her lips raised up to gently caress the edge of Harm's chin before reaching upward to meet his descending lips.
Immediately, his arms wound their way around Mac's tiny waist. Without any effort Harm had melted into the warmth of the tender kiss. Her supple body molding perfectly to the contours of his own. Never had he known two people who fit together as well as they did. His lips matched perfectly with hers as they teased and played, savoring the sweet flavor that was Sarah MacKenzie Rabb.
When her tongue grazed lovingly across his lips, lingering at the corners, pleading for entrance, Harm's arms pulled her more tightly against him. They'd kissed and snuggled but it had been weeks since they'd allowed the heat of a kiss to build to this level. Harm could feel all the blood in his brain racing forcefully to his body's center, pooling shamelessly in what was quickly becoming an aching need.
Mac folded further into his warm embrace, her fingers tangling through the short locks at the back of his head when she felt Harm slowly ease the pressure of the kiss, his head pulling back, his breath blowing heavily on the side of her now sensitive neck.
"Wow." Harm pulled Mac against him, this time resting his chin on the top of her head. "Do you have any idea what you do to me when you kiss me like that?"
"I'd like to think so," Mac grinned, placing a tender kiss on his shoulder.
"Mac?" Harm suddenly remembered where Mac had been this afternoon.
"Hmm?" she mumbled into his chest.
"Is this your way of telling me the doctor gave you a clean bill of health?"
"You noticed?" Mac turned her head and kissed the hollow of his neck, just above his shirt collar.
Harm felt a surge of electricity shoot through his entire body at the warm feel of her soft tongue on his now burning skin. Nothing seemed as important as carrying his wife off to the nearest bed.
Reaching down and capturing Mac's lips in another searing kiss, Harm pulled away momentarily and breathed onto the top of her head, "Where's Mattie?"
"Spending the night at Barb's."
Harm would have taken the time to discuss the wisdom of that decision if he weren't overcome with desire to ravish his beautiful wife from head to toe and then back again from toe to head.
"What do you say we skip straight to dessert?" Harm whispered in her ear before sucking in the soft lobe.
"I...I need to... turn off... the ... oven," Mac managed to spit out, her heart racing at the sensations raging through her body.
Slowly backing her into the kitchen, Harm continued nibbling on her neck and jawline, reaching out blindly for the knob. Glancing up to see if he'd successfully turned the contraption off, Harm leaned down and scooped Mac into his arms, carrying her off down the long hallway.
Chapter 8Rabb flat
Same night
2330
"This is delicious." Harm took another bite of the seafood casserole.
"I'm sorry it's a little dry." Mac shrugged one shoulder.
"I suppose that's my fault," he grinned rather pleased with himself.
"Works for me," she answered quickly, too quickly.
"You set me up." Harm waved a fork at Mac.
Rolling her eyes innocently, "Hey, I wasn't the one who suggested skipping right to dessert."
"Touché." Harm took another bite, contemplating if he should bring up Moore's request now or wait till morning.
"Something on your mind?" Mac had been watching Harm struggle with something the last few minutes and decided maybe he needed a little push.
"Sort of. Are you up to discussing a little business?"
"Sure."
"It's Moore. We brought him in for questioning, and he's refused to answer any more questions until he talks with his lawyer."
"And?"
"He wants you, Mac."
"Me?" Mac dropped her fork with a loud clank.
"It's his right to request private counsel. You are on reserve. There's no reason you can't defend him. If you want to that is."
"I thought we were going to start working on a family."
"I thought we already were." Harm wiggled his brow at his wife. She looked so damn beautiful with her hair wild and tousled after a night of lovemaking.
"You know what I mean," Mac tried to hide her blush.
"I know. It's up to you, but if it's worth anything, I agree with you. I don't think the kid did it either."
"I know."
Harm could hear it in her voice. She was going to do it. There was no way she would walk away from an innocent kid asking for help.
"Where is he now?" Mac asked.
"Confined to quarters under guard."
"Baskin agreed to that?"
"He didn't exactly have much of a choice. So far all he has is some hearsay and very circumstantial evidence."
"Such as?"
"Moore frequents the museum more often than your average museum lover. From the recent videos, he appears to be the only patron to be wearing a peacoat that day."
"But..."
"All you can get from the video is a distant angle. There's no clear shot of his face. Even his size is an approximation. The person in the video is probably his height, but they could be an inch or two taller or shorter. There's also no proof that what he was putting in his pocket wasn't simply a pen. The idea of it being a syringe is rather sketchy at best. There's also the probability that he isn't the only patron to visit the museum wearing a peacoat. Perhaps he was that day, but I'm sure with a little effort..."
"And time," Mac interrupted.
"And time. We could review surveillance footage further back to determine the veracity of our theory."
"Veracity, huh? A little good loving and your vocabulary improves," Mac teased playfully.
"I'll show you good loving." Stepping out from the chair in a flash, Harm had reached around and thrown Mac over his shoulder in a fireman's carry.
"Harm!" Mac screeched, not having anticipated the move.
Patting her rear end softly, Harm smiled broadly, taking his wife down the hall, "Just you wait Henry Higgins."
London Headquarters
Monday morning
The elevator doors opened ever so slowly, the large double doors to Ops only a few feet across the hall. It had been some time since this marine had spent any amount of time in an office building. Almost four years to be precise.
At first he was startled to receive his new orders, almost annoyed. When he reached the name of who he was to report to, a small smile spread across his face. He'd heard through the grapevine that the new captain was recently married to a marine colonel. He could only hope it was the same marine colonel. He had never seen two people more suited to each other, or more stubborn to admit it.
Taking a deep breath, he pushed his way through the glass doors almost marching squarely to the CO's office.
"Master Gunnery Sergeant Victor Galindez reporting to Captain Rabb."
"Yes, Gunnery Sergeant, he's expecting you." Beth James had to make a serious effort to keep her jaw from dropping. She was used to seeing men in uniform, even handsome men in uniform, but there was something strikingly impressive about this dark eyed man.
Calling the Captain over the intercom, "Master Gunnery Sergeant Galindez to see you, sir."
Expecting to hear a voice respond, Gunny and Petty Officer James were startled to have the door fly open behind them.
"Gunny!" Harm extended his arm. "Glad to have you aboard." Harm stepped back, waving the marine into his office.
"Thank you, sir." Gunny stood at attention before the Captain's desk.
"At ease, Gunny." Harm gestured for Gunny to take a seat. "You have no idea how happy I am to see you. Besides the fact that we are short staffed, making running an efficient office twice as difficult, I'm in desperate need of good investigators." Pausing to gauge Gunny's response. "You'll find your duties similar to those you had at JAG HQ, but leaning more heavily on investigations and research."
"Yes, sir," Gunny assented stoically.
"I'm hopeful we'll be able to convince you to accept a permanent position with us."
"Yes, sir."
Harm smiled, not much had changed. Gunny was still a man of few words.
"You're first assignment will be working shot gun with Colonel MacKenzie."
"I didn't realize the Colonel was stationed here," Gunny interjected.
"She's not, but her services were requested by a seaman accused of burglarizing the national museum."
"A seaman, sir?" Gunny shifted his brow curiously. The first readable expression Harm had seen since the Gunny arrived.
"Yes. Scotland Yard seems happy to convict on circumstantial evidence. I want the truth."
"Aye, sir!" Gunny stiffened to attention. Maybe working in an office again wouldn't be so bad after all.
"The Colonel is expecting you. She'll fill you in on all the details. She'll be interviewing the suspect later this morning. I'm sure she'll want you present. Petty officer James will show you the way to her temporary office."
"Aye, sir." Gunny stood at attention.
"Dismissed, and Gunny..."
"Sir?"
"We really are glad to have you back with us."
"Thank you, sir. It will be a privilege to serve with you again." Turning on his heel, Gunny made his way to Petty Officer James' desk.
"Excuse me,"
"Yes, Master Gunnery Sergeant?" Beth looked up from papers she'd been sorting.
"I understand you can direct me towards Colonel MacKenzie's office."
Beth curled her brow in confusion before recognition dawned. "You mean Mrs. Rabb?"
Gunny couldn't help the broad grin that spread across his face. He hadn't wanted to say anything inappropriate to the Captain, but he was damn glad those two finally found each other. He just couldn't believe it took them almost four more years after the Brumby incident.
"Did I say something amusing Master Gunnery Sergeant?" If Beth had thought the Gunnery Sergeant was handsome before, that smile was definitely a lady-killer. He probably had a string of broken hearts from marine camp to camp.
"No, Petty Officer, and it's Gunny. Just Gunny." Gunny squared his shoulders and wiped the silly grin off his face, his marine persona firmly in place once again.
"Follow me." Beth stepped out from behind the desk and waved for Gunny to follow her. Without warning, her mind flashed back to Greg's cocky smile and the first day they met. Damn she missed him.
Not a bad view, Gunny thought as he watched the Petty Officer walking across the bullpen. Gunny wondered momentarily what the petty officer would look like without the heavy glasses and her hair down, but it wasn't long before he shook away those thoughts. He was back in civilization and going to be surrounded by women. He needed to keep his mind on business. Besides, she was probably as young as she looked.
Turning the corner at the end of the bullpen, Beth stopped short knocking lightly on the frame of the first doorway on the left.
"Ma'am, excuse me, but Master Gunnery Sergeant Galindez is here to see you."
"Gunny!" Mac exclaimed enthusiastically as he stepped out from behind the younger petty officer.
"Good morning, Ma'am."
"Ready to start counting paper clips?" Mac teased, thinking back to the first job she'd offered him years ago.
"More than ready, ma'am." A small smile tugged at the corner of his mouth.
"Thank you, Beth. That will be all," Mac dismissed, noticing the young woman watching the conversation curiously. She had no way of knowing that Gunny and her boss' wife had a relationship that went further than the brotherhood of marines. Few soldiers had more respect or trust for each other than these two had.
Gunny had often taken it upon himself to protect Colonel MacKenzie, both physically and emotionally, and he was prepared to do that again if necessary. Though he strongly suspected, now that the two senior officers had finally gotten together, the Colonel wasn't going to be needing very much protecting anymore.