BEFORE
This fic quite shamelessly ignores the Season 9 finale. I suppose it's romance (H/M) with a more minor investigation being carried out. It's just really fun to write, and I hope you enjoy it.
BTW, I thought the finale was great, but quite saddening. Can't wait until Season 10.
My first fanfic! R&R
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1815 ZULU
Sarah Mackenzie's Apartment
Georgetown
His shirt feels foreign under my fingers. It's cool and smooth to the touch. I grab little bunches of it and pull him towards me as I feel his lips dance across the skin of my neck. The sun has just started to set, the scanty streams of light that manage to reach the window are met by my thin drapes. Their patterns reflect across the walls slowly, and eventually disappear as the sun goes lower on the horizon.
Clay's fingers play with the buttons on my shirt as he pushes me to the wall of my bedroom. As expected, much like every other time I am not juggling files, or working on my next court martial, my cell phone's shrill cry can be heard from my nightstand, where I had placed it nonchalantly as I came home from the office just twenty minutes before. This is the first time in months that I've come home before 1900 – I was a sucker to think it would last.
He lets me go as the phone rings for the third time. I lazily retreat and answer, loosing my foothold a little as I slip on a shirt that's been on my floor for God knows how long, "Mackenzie."
"Colonel," it's unmistakably Chegwidden, undoubtedly contacting me to shackle me to my desk at headquarters.
"Sir?" I say slowly, I don't want him to crush my hopes of staying home so quickly.
I hear a pause on the other end, almost as if he is contemplating what to tell me, "I need you here at the office."
His voice leaves no room for argument, but I still try to weasel myself out, "I'm a bit busy Sir…I…" I trail off trying to make an excuse, but the lawyer inside me screams 'no'. "Is there a problem?"
"Colonel, you need to be at headquarters within the hour."
In my peripheral vision, I can see Clay walking towards my dresser, admiring the little trinkets I've collected over the years, and a picture of Harm and I.
I sigh, but quickly compose myself, remembering my CO is on the other line. I tuck a stray lock of hair behind my ear and glance at my clock, if the beltway isn't too bad, I can make it, "I'll be there, Sir."
"Good Colonel. I'll see you then, just hurry." I hear a click. I've been disconnected.
I shuffle the cell phone in my hands and glance up at Clay. He's leaning against the wall with his arms crossed. I feel horrible. We haven't been able to get together in weeks, and the one time we're both free, it's been ruined.
He smiles, already knowing what's coming. He knows about the constraints of work more than I do, and understands my predicament, "I'll see you later. Call me?"
"Yeah. From the sounds of it, seems like the Admiral is pretty flustered. I think it's an emergency," the excuse sounds lame even to me.
Clay buttons his shirt and walks out of my room. I follow him, despite the fact I know I should hurry to the office, and I watch as he grabs his jacket. He looks up after he leans to get it from my chair and smiles again, "Goodbye Sarah."
I nod as he pulls the door open and exits. He stands by the doorframe, waiting for me to come over, and ever the gentleman, he kisses my chastely on the lips. I smile one last time and close the door as he turns his back to me to leave. An empty apartment once more.
I curse myself for being so slow as I look at the clock again. I now have thirty minutes to get to the office. I run into my bedroom, and see my cover on the floor, which was unceremoniously discarded when Clay came in. I rush out, having just enough time to grab my cell phone and jacket.
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1906 ZULU
JAG Headquarters
I nearly trip and crash into Sturgis who is just making his way out and apologize furtively to him as I clambered up the steps. I press the elevator button aggressively; some jackass didn't hold the it for me. It opens after a moment, and Harm is standing at the back or the small cloistered area, grinning like and idiot.
I smirk back, "What's so funny?"
"You," he says with another smile as he pushes the button for the next floor.
"You thought it'd be funny not to hold the elevator." I say bluntly, still a little angry that he made me rush like that.
The elevator doors close, and he shrugs, "Just liked that show you were putting on, Mac. Wanted to prolong it a bit. Chegwidden call you too?" I nod. The next few moments are filled with an awkward silence. I find myself longing for the days before Paraguay, when we were comfortable around one another. This initial surprise turns into disgust when I realize what Harm and I have been reduced to: best of friends to mere acquaintances. And 'acquaintances' is an over statement. There are moments when it comes back, the light-hearted banter, and the friendly arguments – or, altercations, if you will. But it isn't the same. I want it all back; I know I'm being selfish, he can't keep on giving to our relationship while I keep on taking after I shot him down like that in Paraguay.
I have Clay now, and it seems things are coming back on track for Harm and I. He seems to be getting over everything, and our conversations aren't monosyllabic or painfully generic like: going to court today? Yes. Good luck. Thanks. Your welcome.
My life seems more complete than it ever was when Harm and I were doing our little dance. My career is blossoming, I have a stable and safe relationship in my life. I'm happy. I think.
I'm startled to find the elevator doors once again ajar. Harm's looking at me a bit strangely, his eyebrow cocked. I don't say anything as I step into the bullpen, immediately making my way to Chegwidden's office. Harm follows, silent as well.
Coates beams up at us from behind her desk, she's seems to be the happiest person at JAG, "Sir, Ma'am? I'll notify the Admiral." She presses the button on her intercom, "Sir? Commander Rabb and Colonel Mackenzie are here."
"Send them in," Chegwidden replies gruffly. God, he sounds pissed, I'm certainly staying out of his way. Harm catches my eye, he notices the Admiral's less than ebullient tone and looks at me with a puzzled expression – he seemed fine during the earlier hours of the day. Harm walks in front of me and opens the door cautiously, as if afraid of being hit by flying objects from within.
We stand at attention. I love the décor of his office, not that I've ever told anyone that. From the rich oak furniture, to the cherry red floor and the small picture frames hanging off the dark walls, it's so homely. That is, until Chegwidden busts Harm's six for not listening to his orders, or offending a high-ranking marine officer.
Chegwidden doesn't waste any time, "At ease. I know you two just headed home but…" he trails off, "I hope you weren't involved in anything in anything incredibly important."
No Sir, nothing at all. In fact, I was just about to get busy with my boyfriend, 'cause I haven't been getting any for a while now, when you rudely interrupted -
Harm's voice interrupts my trail of thought, "No Sir."
"No Sir," I follow in suit. Harm starts to sit down and I do the same. It seems a lot like 'Simon Says' right now.
The Admiral was very gracious this morning, saying something about us being at the office a bit too much. He ordered both Harm and I to go home while I went in search of an afternoon snack in the break room. Sturgis, who was in the vicinity at the time, kept on glancing at Chegwidden, the hope evident in his eyes, but was sadly neglected. The Admiral left, hollering for Coates to get him the files he asked for, and Sturgis trudged back to his office, carrying a stack of folders.
Chegwidden stops with the pleasantries, pinning me to the wall with his stare, and then transfixes his gaze on Harm from behind his spectacles.
"We have a situation. A Petty Officer First Class, Andrew Larson was stationed at the USS Iowa. It took port on the western coast of Italy one week ago. Larson was seen leaving the scene of a murder." He massages his temples.
"Sir?" I say, the uncertainty obvious in my voice. I steal a glance at Harm, he's watching with the same perplexed expression I am sure is writ on my face right now.
"Larson is 22 years of age. He was seen leaving a warehouse near Naples around 0800 Thursday of last week. Authorities found two bodies inside the building…" Chegwidden pauses again. Something inside me tells me I really don't want to know the rest, "his shipmate, Petty Officer Lisa Harper and Benito Rossi, the son of an important delegate in the country. Harper's body was found in bad condition. You two…"
There it is again, the recurring silence. I suck in my breath, "If you need specifics, they're in the files here. I've already had the pleasure of viewing everything. Lieutenant Roberts has booked seats for you on the next plan to Italy."
Harm clears his throat, "Are we investigating or…"
"Yes. Larson hasn't been charged with anything as of yet, let's hope it stays this way. I must warn you, authorities seem to be doing everything possible to get Larson convicted, and if the notion should arise, I want you two defending that boy," Chegwidden eyes the plain, manila folder in front of him.
It's thin. I can see a paperclip keeping the pictures of what is undoubtedly the crime scene in the folder.
I haven't said anything in a while. Simply to keep up appearances, I look up hesitantly and break the silence in the room, "When's the flight scheduled Sir?"
Chegwidden takes off his glasses and put them in front of him, "The plane leaves at 2400. I know it's inconvenient, but it will have to do, and the best we could get on such short notice. I'll get someone to take care of your caseloads for you. Go home, get packed. Dismissed."
Finally, I'm the first to respond, "Yessir."
"Aye Sir."
We leave the office hastily, relieved to getting out of Chegwidden's way. The moment we step outside, I look at Harm. He's holding the infamous folder in his hands. I overwhelming sense of guilt washes over me; people were murdered, and I was more interested in other less-than-honorable activities.
I start to walk away from Harm, "See you in a few hours."
He grabs my arm, a bit clumsily, "I-why don't I pick you up by taxi? I'll be at your place around 2100?"
"You'll bring the file?" I swallow hard, while nodding. We haven't taken trips like these in a while.
"Yeah, I'll see you then?"
This time, I stop him, "Let me just clean up some files for tomorrow, organize my caseloads, I'll be a few minutes."
I get to my office, and glance behind me. Harm is standing patiently at the elevator, and takes his first glance into the files. I quickly make sure everything is accounted for with my cases, and step outside the office, turning off the light. Harm has called the elevator. He steps inside, and this time, he holds it for me.
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END CHAPTER I