Hi, everyone! beatrixacs and I were trying to remember if Harm and Mac ever went undercover together on the show. From that discussion, this story just sort of ... happened. It was a lot of fun to write, and I hope you like it. Thank you, beatrixacs, for the ideas and inspiration — and thank you all for reading!
"So what's for dinner tonight?"
U.S. Navy Commander Kevin Madison had just finished a busy shift at one of the Navy's newest aerodynamics test facilities. Twilight had long since fallen over Washington, DC as the blond, blue-eyed officer strolled through the parking lot, tucking his cell phone between his ear and his shoulder, unlocking the door to his car, and settling into the driver's seat.
"Oh, I don't know," came the sweet, sultry reply over the phone. "Maybe we'll just have dessert tonight."
"Melissa..." Kevin teased his wife with a smile.
"Well, sailor, you'll just have to get home and find out."
"I'm on my way." As Kevin inserted the key in the ignition and the engine started up, he heard a loud popping noise. Concerned that something was wrong with his car, he glanced down at the dashboard but didn't see any warning lights. The car idled quietly, and Kevin wondered if it had simply been his imagination.
That was weird, he thought. "Melissa?"
"Kevin?"
Her voice suddenly sounded strained.
"Honey, are you okay?"
"Kevin, there's someone—oh!"
"Melissa?"
His only reply was a muffled scream followed by fuzzy static.
"Hang on, honey, I'm coming!"
Panicked by his wife's helpless cries, Kevin shifted the car into drive and jammed his foot on the gas pedal, the tires screeching as he roared out of the parking lot.
~*~o~*~
"Melissa!"
The front door was unlocked, and the house was eerily quiet when Kevin burst into his living room. He let out a cry when he saw his wife's body laying limp on the floor, two bloody bullet holes in her chest and dark bruises around her neck, as if she had been strangled.
Hot tears rushed down his cheeks as he dropped to his knees and touched her face tenderly. "Oh, God, Melissa," he whispered, choking on a sob.
He never saw the hooded figure step silently out of the shadows and double tap him straight through the heart.
"And what makes you think I believe a word of that?" Admiral A.J. Chegwidden demanded. "The CIA runs another secret operation involving a U.S. Navy commander, and you expect me to believe that you didn't know he and his wife were in danger that night?"
A.J. crossed his arms over his chest and angrily paced his office, rapidly losing patience with his visitor.
Clayton Webb sighed in frustration. "I told you, A.J. It was an undercover operation to draw out a suspected assassin. We think he's been moving around the country for a while now, targeting the wives of military personnel as revenge on their husbands."
"Revenge for what?"
"We don't know."
"So now both Commander Madison and his wife are dead, and the CIA doesn't have any more intel than what they started with."
"Not true." Webb held up a hand in protest and then took a cautious step backwards as the Judge Advocate General and former Navy SEAL scowled at him. "Commander Madison and his wife were often seen at La Vittoria on Friday nights. It's one of the Italian restaurants downtown, and we think the assassin first targeted them there."
"I'm listening."
"We knew the assassin would be interested because of Kevin's Navy career. Kevin and Melissa agreed to relocate to a neighboring suburb to draw his attention and keep him from moving again until we could identify him and track him down."
"So you used them as bait," A.J. pointed out.
"I prefer to think of it as operating for the greater good," Webb replied. "We're closing in on him, A.J. All we have to do is set up another couple in the same neighborhood, and we'll be ready to take him down." He took a deep breath. "That's why I want your people to go in this time."
"My people?" A.J.'s eyes narrowed. "My people? You want...my people? Again?"
"You know they're the best, A.J."
"Damn right they're the best."
Webb waited expectantly, as if he knew A.J. would come to the conclusion on his own.
With a growl of frustration, A.J. punched the intercom on his phone. "Tiner, get me Rabb and MacKenzie."
"Aye, sir."
"Tell me you know what you're doing, Webb," he said in a low voice.
"I know what I'm doing, A.J."
"Now why don't I feel reassured by that? Commander, Colonel, have a seat," the admiral growled at both of his senior attorneys as they entered his office.
Harm and Mac eyed Webb curiously.
"I trust you both have heard by now that Commander Kevin Madison and his wife Melissa were murdered last night."
They nodded.
"Horrible case, sir," Mac said. "The wife was strangled before she was shot, and the husband came home from work to find his wife dead just moments before he was also shot fatally in the chest."
"Apparently Kevin and Melissa were part of an undercover CIA operation trying to draw out a foreign assassin," A.J. explained. "The CIA now needs a couple of new undercover agents."
He nodded at Webb, and Clayton didn't miss his cue. "The two of you have been selected for the job. You'll be going undercover as Commander Matthew Walker and his wife Monica."
"Us? Husband and wife?" Mac squeaked. "Why us? Um, sir, won't this—"
"Have absolutely no impact on your military career whatsoever," A.J. finished for her. "You won't be working for JAG during this operation, Colonel. You'll be under Webb's command"—he glared at the spook pointedly—"and as far as I can tell, there's no such thing as impropriety in the CIA."
Webb shrugged impassively. "Can't say I disagree with that."
"And what makes you think we want to be involved in another one of the CIA's harebrained operations?" Mac asked, her eyes narrowing with concern.
"Mac, maybe we should do it," Harm urged quietly. "Commander Madison was a good man and an outstanding officer."
Mac gave her partner a knowing smirk. "This wouldn't have anything to do with the fact that he's also one of the best minds in naval aerodynamics?"
"Was one of the best minds," Harm corrected. "Mac, the man deserves to have his killer brought to justice."
"Not just because he was working on the latest upgrades to the F-14 Tomcat?"
"Mac—"
"Just listen to yourselves," Webb interrupted the argument before it began. "You already sound like an old married couple."
Somehow A.J. managed to suppress the smirk on his face as his two senior attorneys fell silent.
"Colonel, Commander, it's my understanding that the CIA will supply you with everything that you need and also treat you both to dinner at La Vittoria tonight. Consider it..."—he hummed thoughtfully—"a formal dinner date. That will be all."
"Aye, sir." Harm and Mac stood at attention and turned to leave.
"And send in Lieutenant Roberts on your way out."
A.J. stared after them, the faintest shadow of worry crossing over his face. "You make sure you take care of them, Webb. Because if you don't—"
Webb sighed. "I know…you'll break my nose."
"Oh, I'll break more than your nose this time," A.J. threatened. "I'll break your whole body and mail the pieces back to the CIA headquarters one by one."
Webb gulped noticeably. "I'll take that into consideration, A.J."
Just then, there was a polite knock at the door.
"Enter."
"You wanted to see me, sir?" Lieutenant Bud Roberts asked.
"Come in, Lieutenant," A.J. invited, motioning to a chair. "Have a seat. I trust that you've heard about the Madison homicide by now."
"Yes, sir."
"Good. Then you won't be surprised to learn that the CIA is sending in a new undercover team as quickly as possible. I'd like both you and your wife to assist with the operation."
"Uh...me, sir? And Harriet? Both of us?" Bud couldn't hide his surprise.
A.J. sank down in his chair with a dramatic sigh. "Well, due to the...uh, matrimonial nature of this particular case, we thought it would be best to consult with...well, a married couple."
Bud's face brightened with a wide smile. "Why, thank you, sir."
"Don't thank me yet, Lieutenant. You and Lieutenant Sims will help the new team get caught up on the case, get settled into their house, and..."—A.J. paused—"Well, the two of them don't have a lot of experience with marriage. It's possible that you may need to..."
"Need to what, sir?"
A.J. looked down at his desk for a moment as he gathered his thoughts. "Lieutenant, do you know what happens when a young boy puts on his first baseball glove but it turns out he can't even catch the ball?"
"Uh…sir?"
"Well, sometimes all that boy needs is a little—"
"Coaching?" Bud asked with a cheeky smile.
A.J. shot him a stern look.
"Sorry, sir." Bud shook his head and quickly straightened his posture. "Uh, Harriet and I will be glad to help in any way we can."
"Good," A.J. said with conviction. "Then I suggest you start by helping the Commander and the Colonel prepare for their dinner date tonight."