And to Thine Own Self Be True
By BiblioBabe
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Author's Note: AU. Don't say I didn't warn you.
Kokomo
The Caribbean
1100 hours local
31 March
Mac sighed as she reclined in her beach chair. The warm equatorial sun felt marvelous on skin that had stayed too long under the woolen winter uniforms and--more recently--the constant salty damp of a carrier. At least, she reflected, the "airspace confusion issue" that turned into an international incident had been cleared up, more or less to everyone's satisfaction.
And now, thanks to Webb, she was on an all-expense paid vacation to a delightful little island in the Caribbean. She wasn't sure how he'd been able to swing it on the Company's dime, but she thought that maybe distracting that diplomat from the CIA's presence in the investigation had something to do with it. It wasn't her fault that the misogynist pig had a horror of women in uniform or, more precisely, women doing something outside the home that wasn't directly related to cooking, cleaning or popping out babies.
Asshole. She had no use for diplomats; she never had. Too often, the Corps was called in to patch up messes that had been made worse, not better, by diplomats' meddling. War was hell, she reflected, but diplomats were the fiddlers that directed the shrieking music.
Thank God Webb was there to help her keep her sanity. Ever since they had taken solace in each other's arms following their little… adventure… in that Afghani prison camp, their sexual tension had melted away like the completely abnormal late winter snow in DC had no intention of doing. He was good in bed--there was no denying that--and if she had been the kind of woman who went in for "friends with benefits," they might still be together on that level. But there was no passion, no deep, all-consuming love, just a mutual respect for each other. A good base for a great friendship, but that's all. It had been over a year since they had slept together, and she wasn't missing that aspect of their relationship at all. That aspect in her life, yes, but not necessarily with him.
But as Mac surveyed the men on the beach, it did occur to her that an island dalliance might not be amiss. Life had been hell recently, what with Sturgis transferring in after the death of Lieutenant Singer, and then the fancy little frolic on the Henry and abroad. Yes, she deserved some relaxation, and if that relaxation came in the form of one of her fellow island vacationers, there were worse things that could happen.