"Heroes, Flowers, and the Bite of the Green-Eyed Monster "

Author: McRose (the writing team of highplainswoman and janlaw)

This story was originally written for the JAG Ficathon and posted at HBX. It is re-posted here for readers who don't access that board.

Ficathon prompt:

"On Valentine's Day (season left to author's whim), Mac gets a beautiful bouquet of flowers. It turns out to have been delivered to the wrong person, but what does Harm go through, thinking Mac has an admirer that he doesn't know about?"

Disclaimer: All the usual legalese. We do our best to have them play nice, and when we put them back on the shelf for awhile, we always put them in the same box so they can play together. When we were little, our parents taught us to take care of our toys.

A/N:

This story takes place on Valentine's Day 2005. There are two departures from JAG TV canon: Harriet didn't resign her commission, but remained on active duty after the twins' birth. LT Vukovic reported to JAG a few weeks earlier than he did on the show and is currently TAD to Yokosuka with Bud.

The Maine Troop Greeters are a real organization. This community group composed of World War II, Korea and Vietnam veterans, as well as members of the community with no military connection, meets every troop flight that stops for refueling and flight crew changes at the tiny Bangor International Airport. Between May 2003 and early 2006, that was over 1400 flights, over 260,000 troops. Lining a corridor, cheering and clapping, they offer cell phones for the troops to use to call home, food and snacks, handshakes and hugs. Above all, they are determined that servicemembers will never be treated as they were during and after the Vietnam War. For more information about what communities and individuals across the United States are doing to support servicemembers involved in the Global War on Terrorism, see www.americasupportsyou.mil

The "wounded warriors" described in this story are a composite of both actual and fictional servicemembers. We hope that we have changed the names and circumstances and injuries of those who are actual servicemembers sufficiently to protect their privacy.

This year's Army 10-Miler race was on 8 October 2006. Wounded servicemembers recovering at Walter Reed Army Medical Center participated as members of the "Missing Parts in Action" team.

"Author's license" has been taken regarding eligibility for seeing eye dogs. To the best of our knowledge, young children are not accepted for the program.

Chapter One: Expectations

JAG HQ

Falls Church, VA

14 February 2005

1030/10:30 am

Mac yawned for the umpteenth time that day—and it was only just now approaching the traditional time for a morning break. Never mind, there was an excuse for her weariness, she had just gotten back from a two-week TAD assignment in Afghanistan. Her military transport had landed at Andrews close to midnight Washington time, and unfortunately, there had been no Harm to greet her. She'd known that—he'd emailed her earlier that day telling her he had a few details to wrap up in Norfolk before he could start back. Her mouth curled up in an involuntary grin at that thought—with Harm, "details" probably meant "paperwork," i.e. specifically the actual report of his findings on the investigation that had sent him down there in the first place. He had never liked dealing with all the paperwork —which explained his tendency to want to interview witnesses face to face, rather than just read reports generated by other people. She wondered, as she got up from her desk and wandered towards the break room for her uncounted cup of Marine-grade coffee, if he really was going to get back when he was originally scheduled—sometime today, maybe—if she knew him—late afternoon. She wasn't even sure she would see him in the office; she suspected it would be that late! His email had said they'd "grab a pizza" when they both got back home. She hoped that would be tonight – there sure wasn't anything fit to eat in her apartment. Besides, she'd just missed him so much.

Of all the TADs she'd done, on her own or with her partner, this one took the prize as the "TAD to Hell." Bad enough that her tasking had been to sort out and put a lid on the most sordid "who did what to whom" set of allegations she'd dealt with in years and determine who to charge with what UCMJ offenses. She'd also had to separate and mediate between territorial Air Force and Navy commanders and their SJAs, all in the biting cold of one of the worst winters in a bleak corner of Afghanistan. Now, the entire day would be spent completing her report and drafting proposed UCMJ charges. The only good bit had been the stops in Bangor outbound and returning. Making a mental note to send as large a check as she could to the Maine Troop Greeters, Mac reflected for a moment on how different the public support for the Soldiers, Sailors, Airmen and Marines was in this war, compared to what her uncle and other older servicemembers had told her about their return from Viet-Nam – the public disdain, the name calling…no parades or cheering greeters then. It was so different now –the outpouring of support for the troops from the entire country, from schoolchildren to the elderly, not just the usual charitable and veterans'organizations and major corporations.

Walking through the Bullpen on "autopilot", she was reminded once again that it was Valentine's Day. Ouch! As weary as she was, the ache of loneliness hit her especially hard, as it always had when she wasn't involved with "someone special" at this time of year. All the flowers and other "tokens" of affection crowding the desks of every female under the roof just reminded her of her "single" status. It had first "hit" her several hours ago when she had walked to Judge Helfman's chambers to get the latest copy of the court docket and had seen the flowers Mr. Helfman had ordered perched merrily "out of the way" but definitely not out of sight on a tall filing cabinet tucked in a corner. She had mentally damned the computer gremlins that had prevented her from printing out the docket and forced her to make that walk to the judge's chambers. And, so far as Mac and Valentine's Day were concerned, the day had gone straight downhill from there. Her excuse, if she were to be asked, for staying behind the closed door of her own office, was both her report and all the usual paperwork that seemed to multiply like rabbits whenever she was absent from JAG for any length of time. If she were pressed—and only Harm would have the nerve to press her so far on such a personal issue, she would have to confess to not wanting to see the increasing number of flowers, balloons, plush, etc. rapidly accumulating in the Bullpen and other offices at JAG. It just drilled home in a rather forceful, if unintended, manner, the state of her "love life." Of course, she didn't have to see them to know they were there. On any other day, the co-mingled perfume of roses and chocolate would have been a delight to her senses.

'Are you single and sans lover by choice?' Her inner voice reminded her that she had spent most of 23 hours in flight reviewing and reworking her single New Year's resolution – to make her relationship with Harm work. No more agonizing over their past mis-steps, no more pushing him away, she'd sworn; she was determined to take the hand – and heart – he'd held out to her since last May. Then and there, she decided to stop on her way home and get a card and something sweet and cute for Harm, in addition to the chocolate ice cream she'd have for supper if she didn't hear from him!

Just then, she spotted Harriet. Harriet was "messin" with papers on her own desk, a frown on her normally cheerful and upbeat countenance. Mac diverted from her course to the break room to walk by Harriet.

"Harriet, what's wrong?" She had learned a long time ago, the best way to keep from sinking in a bog of self-pity was to focus on others—and if Harriet was frowning, there had to be something not quite right with the universe. Harriet glanced up from the stack of papers that, so far as Mac could discern, weren't going anywhere real fast or soon.

"Oh, hi, ma'am." She glanced back down at the papers covering her desk, lining it like newspapers would a cat's litter box. "Nothing, really. It's just that I was expecting flowers from Bud today. He never forgets—he always sends flowers on our anniversary, my birthday, the kids' birthdays, and Valentine's Day—and they still haven't arrived. I know Yokosuka's a lot of time zones away and he's full up between the case and LT Vukovic, but he's never forgotten …." Harriet's voice trailed off, remembering that Mac hadn't gotten any deliveries either.

"Oh." Mac had a couple of immediate reactions, one chasing the other much like hounds after a fox on a hunt. The first was that several years ago, Harriet would have been twisted in knots, thinking perhaps Bud didn't care. The second was how unlike Harm Bud was! It was a good thing, she thought involuntarily, that as good a "learner" Bud had proven to be, there were certain things he didn't follow his male mentor on!! She patted Harriet's arm. "The day's not over yet, Harriet. Bud may have ordered flowers on-line. Besides," and she waved her arm gesturing to the flowers already present in the bullpen, "the florists have certainly been busy. Maybe they just haven't been delivered yet!"

Harriet smiled just a tiny bit and Mac congratulated herself on a job well done cheering up the younger officer. Just then, one of the delivery boys—Mac estimated him to be of traditional college age—walked up with a bouquet of unbelievably gorgeous flowers – really different, not roses -- two stuffed bears dressed in Sailor suits complete with "Dixie cup" hats and a box of chocolates. His head was barely visible over the flowers and he was struggling just a bit—his arms, Mac thought privately, were certainly full.

"Excuse me, ladies, but I'm supposed to deliver all of this 'stuff'—"and he nodded towards the items in his arms—"to a woman officer who has a window in her office."

Mac's jaw dropped. She stuttered just a bit, and then gathered herself. "I'm the only female officer who has an office with windows in it." She reached for the vase holding the flowers. "Why don't I take these and we'll go to my office?" She took the vase, held the flowers up to her nose, closed her eyes, and breathed deeply "Harriet, I'm sure it's just a matter of time." She turned to the delivery boy. "Do you have a card?"

He shook his head, visibly showing his relief at not having to struggle with flowers in addition to the bears and the box of truffles. "No—and that's strange. Every delivery I've made so far has had a card." He looked embarrassed. "It may be my fault – we have two vans out today and both are so crammed it may have fallen off when I reached for this vase or even when the van was loaded. Do you want me to go back to the van and look for the card? Or call back to the shop?"

"Uh…no, it's okay." 'What did she want, this kid thinking she didn't know who had sent this outpouring of romantic goodies …anyway, who besides Harm could they possibly be from – she hadn't had a "real" date in nearly a year.'

She nodded decisively. "Harriet, just hang in there. I'm sure Bud's flowers are on their way to you even as we speak." She motioned to the delivery boy. "Follow me." Looking back at her friend, she suggested, "Harriet, why don't you grab us two coffees and come sample these truffles with me. It's past time for a break."

"Mmmm….these are the 'best'." Her attack of the grumps over her flowerless state momentarily soothed by the Godiva, Harriet grinned at the colonel, determined to have a bit of fun with her, even though she had her own suspicions. "So spill, ma'am, who's the secret admirer? These aren't ordinary roses and candy."

"Harriet, we're filling our faces with truffles – don't call me 'ma'am,'" Mac remonstrated, playing with the plush, touching the bears' noses together. "One should be in greens" she pretended to pout. The younger woman giggled, "they are so cute but answer the question, counselor, you don't get off the hook by sharing the loot."

"I haven't had a date in nearly a year" she prevaricated, pretending to consider the question. "Maybe my godchildren?" Harriet snorted, "A.J.'s allowance is fifty cents a week, you can do better than that. Besides, you do 'date' – you just don't call it that - at least four times a week from what I hear ..." Harriet teased her friend: "I know you and the commander hang out together all the time when you're both in DC. Or do you think CDR Brumby sent them, maybe for 'old times sake,' or maybe Mr. Webb is trying to apologize for letting you think he was dead?" Mac grimaced, reacting stiffly. "God, Harriet, bite your tongue. I haven't heard from Mic in years and if I never see or speak to Webb for the rest of my life, it'll be too soon." Harriet had been given a carefully abbreviated version of Webb's 'reincarnation,' as had Sturgis, only because they'd been in the Bullpen when Bud and Jen had figured out the clue to 'Manderlay.'

"Well, if you're sure you're not dating anyone secretly, I'm sure they're from the Commander," Harriet giggled again. "Are you sure you don't have any news to share?"

"Mmmmm…" Mac's hand hovered over the box of truffles, "these are good."

"You can do better than 'good'" Harriet tried again, smirking as Mac murmured "I hope so."

Chapter two to follow shortly.