Christmas Nigh; Adeste Fi!

A/N: Ok, if you don't pick up on the Christmas allusions in the case discussion - that portion may seem a bit boring ... but Harm and Mac are lawyers, so there will be shop talk (and after all, JAG is partly a legal show). But there are some good shippery things happening in this part too!

Part 14

"A Marine sweatshirt?" Harm came out wearing the offending garment along with his new pajama pants.

Mac smiled. "I'm a Marine, … it's what I've got. Besides, you put me in a Navy one when I spent the night at your place years ago."

"You remember what sweatshirt I loaned you?"

"I remember a lot about that night." She remembered being scared for Harm, mad at Palmer, upset over Webb's 'death.' She knew she was in a bad place emotionally if she was crying over that spook. But mostly, she remembered Harm in nothing but boxers, standing close, comforting her, cupping her cheek in his hand.

"I remember a thing or two about that night as well," said Harm. He remembered her stubborn insistence to stay at his place to protect him that night. He remembered how she could not sleep. How she was cold and crying. Even then, part of him wanted to take her to his bed and put his arms around her in comfort and warmth. And, … of course, he remembered her asking if it was okay to 'strip it down.'

That was worse than the 'what pajamas?' line, … except that she wasn't trying to be playful or flirty with her strip it down question. She'd been referring to his gun … and was completely serious.

"You gonna come sit down again?" asked Mac. "I brought out the cookie tray. … I forgot it before."

"Sure." Harm walked around the couch. "Ow!!" He jumped on one foot, and then balanced himself against the back of the sofa, holding his other foot in his hand.

"You okay?" asked Mac. "What happened?"

"I'll be fine. … I just stepped on something. He bent down and picked up the object which had hurt his socked foot. He hobbled back around to sit next to Mac on the floor. When he opened his hand the firelight revealed the small item to be a jingle bell.

Seeing this, Mac exclaimed, "Oh, that's where that went! Sorry, Harm. It must have rolled under the couch before we moved it. The bell was attached to the stuffed animal I gave little AJ. It was a seal dressed in a Christmas outfit."

"The bell fell off?"

"No, I cut it off; … it was defective," she explained.

Harm shook it, finally realizing that it hadn't made any noise so far, and it still didn't. "Empty?"

"I assume so, since it doesn't jingle," said Mac.

"Hmm. I hope there were enough other bells on the little seal so that AJ won't miss this one."

"Actually, this was the only bell. It was attached to the seal's hat."

"So, now the little seal has no bell?" Harm asked, as if feeling sorry for the stuffed animal.

"I replaced it with a pom-pom," said Mac. "It's probably for the best anyhow. I'm sure Harriet will appreciate not having to hear the constant noise every time AJ picks him up."

"Jingle bells aren't that loud," said Harm.

"They can be," Mac disagreed. "… When I was a kid, I had a friend whose mother hung jingle bells on the front door of the house all year long. It acted like an alarm. Anytime someone came or left, the bells would jingle, and his mom could hear it all over the house. She could even hear the jingle all the way in the upstairs bedroom with the door shut."

"She could hear it all that way?" Harm skeptically asked. "Just a jingle?"

"A jingle. All the way," Mac confirmed. "It made sneaking in and out without his mom knowing very difficult. We had to use other methods of entrance and escape."

"We?" Harm hadn't missed the 'his' mom reference either. "You must be referring to stories from your teenage past."

Mac somewhat regretted bringing it up now and tried to avoid discussion of her teenage dating life. "Which is exactly where those stories are going to stay," Mac insisted. "… In the past."

Harm knew not to pursue it. He held the bell up. "Where do you want this?"

Mac took it from him. "I guess I should throw it away. It's no good if it doesn't jingle." She shook it again, and it remained silent. She put it on the coffee table for the time being. "I'll take care of it later."

Harm rubbed his arms.

"You're cold?" asked Mac. "That's unusual."

He shrugged. "It was cold in your bathroom," he explained. "You're right; it does get chilly pretty quickly in here without the heat on."

"You need a blanket?" Mac asked.

Harm paused for just a moment in thought. Then he asked hopefully, "You got room under yours?"

Mac looked at him with amused curiosity. "Are you giving yourself an invitation?"

"No," he answered. "… I was giving a subtle hint in hopes that you'd give me an invitation."

"Subtle, huh?" she questioned his definition of the word.

He grinned at her. She gave him a knowing look, but then she lifted up the blanket. "Get over here," she offered.

Harm scooted over, and they both tried to adjust, pulling the blanket this way and that in a collective effort to untangle it from Mac and refit it around both of them. It wasn't as large as Mac thought it was, and they had to move in tightly against each other for it to completely cover them both. They tried several times and finally ended up in a comfortable position with Harm putting his arm around Mac's shoulders, pulling her to him.

"Is this okay?" he asked, unsure how she felt about his arm position.

Part of Mac thought she should be practical and go get another blanket for him, but the other part of her brain must have controlled her mouth, because she answered, "Yeah, … you okay?"

"Yeah. This is nice," he commented. "… Cuddled up on a snowy night. The fire, so …"

"Delightful?" suggested Mac.

"I was going to say, the fire is so -"

"Wait," Mac interrupted again. "Let me guess. … Warm?" Considering Harm's choice word for snow had been 'cold,' it was a good guess. But Harm surprised her.

"Christmassy," he finished his sentence.

"Christmassy?"

"Yeah," he confirmed that he had used her earlier term.

"Careful there, Harm. I'll start to believe you're a romantic yet."

Harm chuckled, but did not reply. The two sat in comfortable silence for a bit, relishing the closeness, the touching, and the warmth.

Mac needed a distraction. Being this close to the man she loved and was so very attracted to, she needed something to keep herself in check. Something decidedly work related.

"So, how did your TAD on the carrier go?" she asked.

"Fine. Not much to tell. … It was nice to spend some time with Admiral Boone."

"He's an interesting character."

"Sure is," Harm agreed. "… Hey, how did the Kristofferson case end up?"

Mac replied simply, "Charges were dropped."

"How'd you manage that?"

Seemed like a good opportunity to dive into shop talk, she decided. "The prosecution's case hinged on the weapon, which they claimed was the cane Kristofferson carried around all the time. And Sturgis had some quack psychologist lined up to testify that the defendant might have violent tendencies as a result of his accident."

"Battle of the expert psychologists. Got to love those cases," chuckled Harm.

"Fortunately, it didn't get that far," said Mac. "There was bloodstain evidence at the scene, where the weapon had rested at one point."

"DNA?"

Mac shook her head. "Nothing was found on the cane except Kristofferson's own DNA and prints from holding it. There was no trace of blood on the cane at all. But of course, Turner suggested that Kristofferson simply cleaned the cane thoroughly."

"So what did you have?" Harm asked.

"A forensic expert specializing in bloodstain patterns to testify that the object used to kill the victim was not my client's cane. … The pattern in the blood indicated that what was lying there was, in fact, the murder weapon, but it did not match the design of Kristofferson's cane."

"Was Nichols your expert?" asked Harm, wondering if Mac had gotten the same guy he had once used to testify.

"Yeah."

"He's good."

"He is," agreed Mac, "and it was amusing how Turner challenged Nichols' methodology. … The fun and games were all during the 'Daubert' hearing."

Harm's eyebrows shot up. "Wow, evidentiary hearings are usually pretty boring."

"Usually," Mac granted, "but counsel and judge were all in a rare mood that day."

"Uh-oh," Harm reacted.

Mac explained, "Turner kept trying to attack Nichols' credibility. He kept insisting that Nichols was using a technique for the analysis that, not only wasn't widely accepted by the scientific community, but was outright fraudulent."

"What was Sturgis thinking?" asked Harm in surprise. "Nichols might be controversial in some circles, but he has more support for his work than an igloo has ice," he said. "You gave Sturgis the background info, right?"

"Sure," said Mac. "I submitted Nichols' CV, a report from respected colleagues attesting to his thoroughness and competence, and two of his peer reviewed, published articles on the subject. I don't know, … I guess Sturgis was just desperate. If the judge allowed my expert to testify and Nichols was believed, Turner had no case. … I know he didn't have a whole lot of prep time, but I couldn't get over how he was pushing the judge, implying that the CV was falsified, the report misleading, and the articles some kind of fluke. … The judge was not in the mood."

"Who was presiding?"

"Colonel Harper."

"He's new on the bench, right?"

"Yep. And instead of controlling Turner, he looks at me and asks if I had any other evidence to support Nichols' credentials and the methods he used. I told him I did, but hadn't wanted to unnecessarily burden the court."

"Generally, the court does hate to be burdened," Harm stated in agreement.

"… But Colonel Harper seemed to think the easiest way to stop Turner's complaints was to be thorough enough to prove that his allegations were either right or wrong. Apparently what I had already submitted wasn't enough. So Harper insisted both sides produce all such evidence and put it in front of him immediately."

"So, what happened?" asked Harm.

"After a recess, during which I had Nichols and some support staff help me, I did as asked. I double checked that we shouldn't just submit the material to the clerk, but Harper insisted that I put everything right there on his desk."

"There are a lot of articles by Nichols and citing him," said Harm incredulously, "and even more on the methodology, … not to mention other cases he's testified in. He's got a ton of support across the world."

"Exactly," said Mac. "And we dumped as much of it as we could get copied during the recess right on Colonel Harper's desk."

"How much?"

"Enough so that we couldn't see the judge, because it was piled so high."

Harm laughed. "I wish I'd been there."

Mac smiled in amusement. "You should have seen Turner's face. … And when the judge stood up to address us over the pile, … he was not happy with the Commander."

"Tell me Sturgis didn't press for authentication for all that?"

"He's not that suicidal. Most of it's self-authenticating anyway. He's gonna be in hot water with Colonel Harper for awhile though because Turner should have known all that info was out there."

"He must have."

Mac nodded in agreement. "He probably didn't expect the judge to ask for 'every piece of evidence.' I don't know. There were other ways of challenging Nichols' testimony without calling him a liar. Sturgis really should have known better than to attack him on that level. … I mean, even Sturgis' father knows Nichols well enough to attest to his credibility. They worked on an article together about faith and science."

"Huh, I didn't know that. … So what happened then?" asked Harm.

"Sturgis dropped the charges. … It all came down to Nichols' testimony, and it looked like the judge was going to allow it. If you believed Nichols, then Kristofferson's cane was not the murder weapon. No weapon, … no case."

"Yeah, but Turner could still have offered counter evidence, … other experts to call the techniques or interpretation into question. Underneath it all, he believed in Nichols?"

"I guess," Mac shrugged. "Well, that … and I threatened to subpoena his father to testify that he believed in Nichols," teased Mac.

Harm laughed. "The picture of innocence in Chaplain Turner on the stand attesting to his belief in a man that his very own son is trying to accuse as a fraudulent liar. … I like the way you think, MacKenzie."

"Thank you," she smiled up at Harm.

"You were brave to pull that stunt with Colonel Harper though," Harm pointed out. "Burying the judge behind a mountain of papers is a little extreme. The Admiral could have punished you for that by assigning you a ton of paperwork - … reports, FOIA requests, budget analyses, – especially considering the costs of all that photocopying you did. … And I don't think judges appreciate you going beyond what common sense tells you is appropriate for court."

"Look who's talking," Mac pointed out. "Besides, I'd rather spend a month in an appalling dump heap overflowing with the most disgraceful assortment of deplorable rubbish imaginable, … than let Turner steamroll over my expert."

Harm smiled at how worked up Mac was getting. "I love it when you're feisty," he told her, "… so sexy."

… Wait, that wasn't what he meant to say.

"What?" Mac was sure she must have been hearing things.

"… so … sassy," Harm repeated with what he had meant to say, hoping to convince her that she hadn't heard his Freudian slip.

Mac decided she must have been imagining things. Must be the effect of sitting so close to Harm. The man's very presence was driving her thoughts to places … that probably weren't appropriate.

They lapsed into another period of quiet. This one slightly more awkward, due to the sexual tension that neither one of them realized was affecting the other.

Eventually, Harm needed more conversation to distract him from his thoughts of how sexy he did think Mac was. Something to help fight his urges to caress and kiss this woman who was still tightly pressed against him under the blanket, … under his arm. It would be so easy to put his lips to the side of her face and let his mouth wander from there. … Well, easy until she reacted negatively to his advances, he figured. Yep, he definitely needed a distraction.

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TBC …

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