Title : Double Negative (HBX Challenge – August 2008)
Author : Jaggie 107
Disclaimer : JAG characters belong to DPB, CBS and Paramount – and I hope all parties will allow me to have fun for a little while, and replace them all when I'm done. Thank you.
Summary : An unwanted assignment brings unexpected rewards.
A/N: Set at the start of Season 9, when Harm first returns to JAG, but Mattie's not a part of this story, so for my purposes she wasn't in the picture! Harm went from the 'Dark Side' back to JAG on order of the SecNav.
DOUBLE NEGATIVE
Mac: It works better if you put your arms around me. Washington Holiday
Mac's POV
Admiral Chegwidden's Office
I knew I should have warned him first.
"Excuse me, sir?" Harm's standing at ease, in front of the Admiral (as am I) and he's just been told he's got to play a part. Not that he hasn't done this before. Loads of times, actually, during our professional partnership. There was the time in Bahrain, when we were following Sergeant Steele as she waited for a contact – he had his arm around my shoulder at one point, and then actually held my hand as we pretended to look over some local trinkets on a market stall. Then there was the time in Russia when we pretended to be gypsies. I remember when his eyebrows nearly hit his hairline as he saw me in one of Rusza's dresses, asking him if he wanted a good time! That has to be one of my more favored memories in our life together. I digress…he's stood here beside me now, and although I can't see his full expression I'd bet my next six months' salary that he's got the 'deer in headlights' look.
It wouldn't be so bad if we were actually talking these days…but we're not, at least not outside the office.
The Admiral was waiting for a response, and he's not a patient man. I cough discreetly, and Harm seems to come out of his freeze.
"Sir, I…we are in the midst of preparations for the Lassky court martial. It's…"
"Been shelved. I know that neither Turner nor Roberts can take over, so it's on hold. This takes precedence."
"On hold, sir?" Harm's imitation of a puzzled parrot is very good. The Admiral's impression of a disgruntled commanding officer is better.
"Rabb, don't try my patience. Not at this time of the morning on a Monday. The Colonel will fill you in on details. She's been briefed."
Uh oh!
My office, moments later…
"Colonel?"
"Harm…I can explain," I begin, but the look on his face isn't conducive to regular speech patterns and if thought were fact, I'd be in outer Siberia right now. Bravely I continue. "We've been requested to take part in a government commercial."
"What?" Even I have to wince at that thought, and my heart physically goes into spasm at the thought of another 'Bitch Director From Hell' taking Harm away from me once more. Not that he's with me now, but at least we're talking. Or rather, I am…to myself. Harm has left my office on a snort of disgust. I quickly regroup and go after him, finding him in his own personal hell-hole, the foul-smelling former file room. The door is open, but I still knock before entering. I lost the privilege of just walking in a long time ago.
"Harm, it's by order of the SecNav. We can't not do it."
"Isn't that a double negative, Colonel? That, by definition, makes it null and void. Now, if you don't mind, I do have work to do." Harm's head drops to the folder on his desk, and he's partially hidden by all the other folders the Admiral has passed to him.
Really, even with the Lassky case now pending, Harm has very little free time to play Poster Boy once more. I have an idea. It's not my best to date, and it actually does me out of being in close quarters with Harm, but it might gain me some small favor with him.
"You're right, you are too busy. I can ask the Admiral to assign Sturgis," I get into my stride, but Harm shoots me down in flames, his eyes glittering.
"What, and give me his workload too? Thanks for nothing, Colonel."
At that precise moment I've had enough of his childish petulance.
"Considering your image as the Navy's Poster Boy is a little tarnished these days, I thought it might get you out of what is obviously abhorrent to you." Then I turn and leave, without saying anything more. That six months' salary I bet earlier is still in my possession, and I bet it once more – double or nothing – that Harm is sitting open-mouthed behind me as I storm out.
JAG Bullpen, moments later…
"Colonel!" I can feel the waves of disgust rolling off him as he stands at my back, and I am just about to turn around when the Admiral appears at the door that leads directly into his office, the tone and volume of Harm's voice having reached into his domain.
"Commander, is there a problem?"
"No…sir," Harm regains his poise and I can practically feel him rise to his six foot four, standing ramrod-straight behind me. "Not a problem, sir."
"Do I need to call a meeting with yourself and the Colonel?"
We both know what that meeting would consist of. A complete dressing down followed by a lecture on duty, and a swift dismissal, and we would still have to go through with the dreaded commercial. Not high on my list of 'favorite things to do' – the dressing down, or the commercial.
We both answer with a precise, 'No, sir,' at the same time. With an aggrieved nod from the Admiral I walk away to my office, expecting Harm to follow me inside and ream me off in a more subdued tone. My expectations fall far from the actual. He has simply turned and left the bullpen, returning to his own office.
This is going to be the week from hell, I can just 'feel' it!
Grand Ballroom, The Fairmont Hotel, Washington DC, days later…
We're into the social phase of the commercial depicting the hard work and the rewards of being a part of our country's Military, and so far we've managed to avoid any unnecessary contact, verbal or otherwise. Until now… I'm standing frozen in front of Harm, and the director is beginning to lose patience with me.
"Umm?" My thought processes have gone into meltdown and I barely register his low, husky voice in my ear.
"It works better if you put your arms around me," Harm murmurs, and I open my eyes a fraction to see an expanse of dress whites in front of me, save for the jumbled colours of his decorations on his left breast, and the twinkle of gold wings in the light from the chandelier above us. Then I raise my eyes to his. We're supposed to be dancing formally, him in dress whites, me in a civilian ball gown, showing prospective military candidates what their life could be like if they join the service. Not that it's all partying, not after recent events around the world, but there is a social element to our career, and this commercial has been designed to show the military at play too.
"I'm sorry, Harm…" I blurt out, and then raise my gloved hand to my mouth. Did I really just say that? "I should never have said 'never'," I add, for good measure, and my fate is sealed. At the very least he'll turn around and walk away. At worst, he'll take the latest director with him. A Renee Peterson clone. I really hate blondes!
"There's that double negative again, Mac," Harm smiles down at me, and I wonder if I've entered an alternate universe. I pinch myself surreptitiously. Nope, I'm still here!
"What…do you mean?" I respond cautiously, my voice sounding near to breaking.
"It cancels itself out," he explains patiently, as if to a child, "and so it never happened…"
Well, we both know Paraguay did happen, but if he's willing to overlook my life altering words, then who am I to complain?
"So where does that leave us?" I ask with trepidation, echoing a long-ago encounter.
"I'd say it leaves us at the point where I tell the woman I love that I love her," Harm whispers in the seconds before his mouth meets mine, and the director shrieks 'cut!'
And that part about putting my arms around him? Not a problem!
The End