Red Mittens and a Rose Garden – the Trisha Pike Chronicles,
Ch25 – "Don't get mad – get even! Making plans: home for a Rabb Christmas"
A/N: AU. What if there was a long-term consequence to the weekend romp between Lt Caitlin Pike and Lt Harmon Rabb Jr at that motel back in the summer of 1996? What is the responsible way to deal with an unexpected aftermath?
A/N – link to Canon Episodes: A "post-canon" timeline puts this into "JAG Season 24…" (solely for those who want to count! "Season 24" would start broadcasting around 20-Sep-2018).
A/N: Publication date: 19-06-2020: The impact of the newspaper article begins to settle – and the Rabb family plot their revenge (sorry, their justified strike-back!) before ignoring the newspaper article and enjoying their Christmas. We drop in on Jack and Faith briefly before Christmas.
Notes: Mike, UK, 19-Jun-2020 – Happy Fathers' Day for Sunday (in the UK at least!) – whilst an outraged father plans how to defend his cub – along with the mother lioness alongside him!
Characters from FFNET – C Pike, H Rabb jr, Faith McBurney-Coleman plus OC
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Ch25 – "Don't get mad – get even!"
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Saturday 22nd December 2018 – 20:04hrs EST
Duty Office, Admin Centre, US Naval Academy, Annapolis MD:
"Officer of the Watch, Captain McBurney-Coleman speaking."
"Good evening Faith, this is Harm – and on a social call basically but with serious intent."
"Good evening Harm; how may I help you? Don't tell me you've forgotten Caitlin's Christmas present?" There was laughter in Faith's voice as she struggled to work out why the Admiral was calling in, two days ahead of Christmas.
"Oh, it is *so* much better than that! Faith, don't be offended by my next question but do you read the 'National Inquisition' – even for a joke?"
Faith switched into "prim and proper staid Vulcan" mode for her answer. "Harm, certainly not – what kind of girl do you think I am?"
"Well, clearly not the sort of girl who reads junk supermarket tabloid title-tattle anyway. No, the National Inquisition has run a piece, basically following me around with Trisha, and accused me of having an affair with, quote: 'a young midshipman young enough to be his daughter' unquote."
"Oh dear Harm, that is going to prove expensive for them."
"Yes indeed Faith, but watch for anything erupting on the campus over the weekend. I may need a Supervisory Board convened on Monday."
"Christmas Eve, Harm? You're not asking much, are you?"
"Yeah well, if only the muppets had asked, we could have informed them of the reality. Look Faith, my main concern is preserving Trisha's privacy, for God's sake."
"Harm, I know you are angry – hell, I would be too, if Loren or Maria were in the Academy and some arsehole did that to my daughters. OK, I shall start telephoning around now, to convene a Supervisory Board meeting; suggestion would be 1130hrs Monday for a 25-minute conference. That should minimise family disruptions. The other thing, Harm, is that this may constitute a breach of the Patriot Act – harassing military families."
"Oh Faith you are on fire tonight – that is an absolute peach of an idea. Thanks."
"My final thought, Harm, is that you should have NCIS with you when you go and kick down their door – I reckon that Christmas Eve would be too soon, but boy would that wreck their spirit of Christmas!" Faith was chuckling down the 'phone line.
"Now that sounds like a truly evil idea. Great thinking, Faith – and thanks."
"De nada, Harm – that's why you appointed me. As OoW, I can put a call into NCIS now, requesting that they contact you after breakfast tomorrow morning."
"Indeed; please make it so. Thanks and goodnight, Faith."
"G'night, Harm."
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Harm closed the call and looked at Caitlin. "Did you find Trisha?"
"Her gym colleague answered her cell; she's in a kick-boxing trial, due to be finishing and free by 20:30hrs."
"OK, good; should we drive over there?"
"No, Harm; my instinct is we stay here; we wait for our daughter to arrive as planned, then we talk to our daughter and then we collectively agree a plan of action. But come the reckoning, I am going to stomp on someone's head for this."
"I suspect that Trisha will activate her support mechanism – the other five Horsemen will be a formidable support network for her."
"Five? Oh yes, RV and Sam Wilkinson. Oh brother, I wouldn't want to be the editor of that paper, when they realise the size of this fuck-up."
"Hmm, and how easily they could have avoided the embarrassment; what were they thinking?"
"I dunno Harm – maybe they were smoking something strong, or illegal – or both? I wonder if…"
Caitlin's musing were interrupted by the ringing of Harm's cell-phone; he glanced at the name displayed, smiled then answered the call.
"Good evening Bud; how are Harriet and the offspring this fine evening?"
"They are all fine Admiral, but that's not why I am calling you."
"Go on, Bud." Harm was intrigued by Bud's "around-the-houses" circumlocution.
"Well, it's a bit tricky…" Bud was skirting round an issue.
"OK Bud, let me guess – the Inquisition's story today?"
The relief in Bud's voice – that Harm had pre-empted him – was evident.
"Yes Admiral, exactly."
"Well, Bud; I can clear this up. But I need to take you into my confidence. It is never a good idea to ask a husband to keep secrets from his wife, so could you bring Harriet to the phone and put it on speaker, please?"
"Sure think; give me a minute. Harriet – it's Harm and he wants to talk to us both."
The background sounds of distant children's happy voices came over the phone-line as the conference phone was opened up, followed shortly by Harriet's greeting.
"Hello Admiral; I presume that Mrs Rabb is there with you?"
"Yes indeed she is, Harriet – and this evening it's Harm and Caitlin, please."
"Of course. So, how may we help the Rabb family?"
"Well, it is an information exchange between our two families, Harriet. Bud has told me that he's seen the National Inquisition; have you, Harriet?"
"Yes we both read that tasteless article." Harm could imagine Harriet bristling with righteous indignation!
"Well folks, Caitlin and I have something to tell you, which dates from March of 1997 and which I discovered a lot later – some two-and-one-half years ago in the summer of 2016."
The muffled squeak from Harriet let slip the fact that she had just guessed what was going on.
"Bud, has she guessed it?"
Alongside Bud, Harriet was red-faced with suppressed joy; she stood up and did a little "happy dance" around the Roberts' living room.
"I think so, Harm – but please confirm this and put both of us out of our misery."
"OK, well, once upon a time…"
"Oh for the love of Pete, please get on with it" screamed Harriet.
"Sorry Harriet; well, the young lady in the pictures – elegantly tall, with long legs from her mother and her father, may show a family resemblance…"
"HARM!" Harriet was evidently close to wetting herself with excitement.
"OK guys; we want to announce to you both – in confidence - the presence of our daughter, Patricia Caitlin Harmony Pike, known as "Trisha". She is now a second-class midshipman here at Annapolis, in her penultimate year before graduation."
"Yippee!" Harm had a momentary vision of Harriet spinning joyful cartwheels across the floor of the lounge in Roberts Towers.
"So the paper was totally wrong on this supposed 'relationship' between you?"
A momentary pause had preceded Harriet's positive response. "How disgraceful, Harm; I hope that you and Caitlin will give 'em hell!"
"Oh, my dear Harriet: be assured that we will."
"So, Harm; who else knows about Trisha at JAG?"
"Err, no-one - and could we keep it that way for a while please Harriet? We - in an ideal world - wanted to keep Trisha's parental identity hidden until she graduates the Academy in May of 2020. Obviously the Academy's Supervisory Board are aware and consenting."
"Yes, Harm - I can see that rationale." Harm could imagine Harriet's blonde bob giving a determined nod. "OK, no-one will hear it from us. But come over soon and let us meet this - I would guess - sparkling example of the Pike-Rabb gene pool - please?"
Harm was laughing. "Harriet, in exchange for your silence - you have a deal; Merry Christmas."
"Merry Christmas, Harm."
Harriet replaced the receiver and turned to Bud.
"Holy daughters, Batman! Can you believe it? TWENTY YEARS?"
She sat, in stunned silence for a few minutes - for Harriet, this was an unprecedentedly-low level of activity!
"I just cannot wait until we meet her; she just *has* to be tall."
"Well, Harriet, you can see the photographs there in the magazine and we'll know soon enough when we meet her in the flesh. Why don't you issue an invitation to them?"
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Saturday 22nd December 2018, 22:45hrs EDT
McBurney-Coleman residence, Annapolis MD, 21401:
"Hey darling, welcome home." Jack McBurney welcomed Faith home with a hug and a gentle kiss. He knew that these Saturday night OoW shifts were a drag on her energy levels, but she had explained her preference for the weekend evening shift by being able to clear paperwork. It meant that she always had the whole of Sunday to be "Mommy Faith" to Loren and Maria.
Faith relaxed, back-heeling the front door closed with a stretch of one long leg as she continued to enjoy her husband's greeting, leaning into him for both support and a tighter embrace.
Separating from Jack, she turned and secured the door, before removing her cover and outer coat, which went to their allotted hooks in the cloakroom. She leaned down and slid off her shoes, which went into the "to be polished" shoe cupboard. Straightening once more, she looked lovingly at her husband and then ruined the image by yawning!
"OK Faith, that's you done; come on Lady Sailor, git along up them thar stairs lady and I'll bring the hot chocolate."
"Yes master, Mister Marine! Hot chocolate sounds good."
She walked slowly up the stairs and checked on her daughters. Both Loren and Maria were sleeping soundly. Earlier that year, Loren had finally dispensed with the need for a night-light in her room, whilst Maria (who was a little more precocious) had opted for a darkened bedroom before her eighth birthday.
Unbuttoning her uniform jacket, she placed it on a hanger which she hung in the "cooling down" wardrobe. Likewise, her skirt was hung on a clipped hanger and placed to air until she started her pressing session on Sunday night. Faith still had her little rituals – but far less pronounced than 15 years ago in what she now referred to as her "BJ" (before Jack) phase. Now, he simply loved the "little routines" that made his wife distinctive.
Jack arrived, with the two hot drinks in his hands, and leaned in the doorway to admire the view of his wife. A trim 50-year-old, mother of two (they didn't mention the third miscarriage these days) and with a slim, toned body which still drove him wild after 15 years. He loved the way that her leg muscles flexed as she rolled down the thigh-high hosiery then turned to gaze adoringly at him, as she sensed his presence.
Her trim stomach gave the lie to the fact that she had borne him two daughters with barely a stretchmark in sight. Yes, Jack McBurney was a very lucky Marine, with his very own Lady Sailor.
His mind wandered back 15 years, to the aftermath of the Harmon Rabb trial for the murder of the unfortunate Loren Singer. He had observed his opponent (the then-LtCdr Faith Coleman) as part of his standard Marine "known thy enemy" research. He rapidly learned her coffee order, along with the "over-organised" state of her briefcase and her OCD-influenced working patterns.
During one disclosure of exculpatory information, he had strolled into Faith's temporary office in JAG HQ to bring her a coffee (after knocking on her door and announcing his presence, of course) but had inadvertently knocked over her tumbler containing a set of pencils. It should not have mattered (the pencils had already been used, for Pete's sake and would need a re-sharpening before she would be able to re-use them). Nevertheless, Faith had suffered a severe sense-of-humour failure as her pot-full of spilled pencils rolled across the desk and dropped, one-by-one, onto the carpet.
Feeling honour-bound to help her, Jack had bent down to assist – resulting in him clashing foreheads (gently) with Faith. Thank God that she had (belatedly) seen the funny side!
On instinct, he had placed the pencils into one hand, then he had reached across the gap between them and held out his other hand to her. Shyly she had reached out and taken his hand, strengthening her grip as she slowly pulled herself closer. His single phrase: "Coffee sometime, outside of here?" had caused her a moment of confusion, before she nodded decisively.
Thus the Faith and Jack love story had begun on such a simple basis.
A further invitation to coffee was followed by a run together in Rock Creek Park over the following weekend and then, finally after two more months, a "proper date" on July 4th of 2003. From there, Faith had opened up steadily, revealing her previous heartache and the sins which she perceived had been done to her. It was clear, from their earliest meetings away from their office surroundings, that Faith Coleman needed to be handled carefully. Jack was ready to deliver the "careful handling", because he could see that this lovely, nervous, damaged woman would be a prize worth winning when she blossomed.
Jack had abandoned his "storm the beaches" USMC approach when it came to dealing with Faith Coleman, adopting a slower, more-respectful and infinitely-more-patient approach as he pursued this damaged woman with the goal of winning her love eventually. Slowly, the warmth (and width) of her smile had grown under his steady affection. His patient approach had eventually been rewarded, with the undying love of a beautiful, smart woman along (over time) with the gift of two lovely daughters. Faith Coleman had blossomed under his loving care.
He was also proud to be the only man alive who knew one piece of personal information about Faith Coleman (as was) which no-one else could ever have known. In the throes of passion on their first night of lovemaking – and every time since over the intervening 14 years – Faith Coleman's expression went blank, then she grunted, then she went cross-eyed as her orgasm took her over the edge and down into the Land of Fulfilment! Jack never – ever – risked making a joke about the Android operating system re-booting after data entry! It didn't stop him thinking it to himself however – and he always smiled to see his wife so completely sated and fulfilled.
Somehow, the coffee and the accident with the pencils, back in '03, had launched him on the path for marriage, fatherhood and a life-time partnership with a truly awesome (if unappreciated by some) woman. He was very proud to be Faith's husband.
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He was always proud to see his wife wearing good clothes and he enjoyed her dress sense, be it what she chose to wear beneath her all-concealing uniforms (for both their pleasures!) or in one of her many casual outfits.
Faith McBurney-Coleman was definitely a clothes-horse. Mind you, the Vulcan/Romulan Star Trek Star Fleet uniform which she had worn on Hallowe'en for the dance had been especially *hot*, he thought to himself.
Meantime back in the present time, the Romulan's eyes had focussed upon him tonight - and only him as he turned once more to face her! Drat, busted!
"Admiring the view, darling husband?"
"Oh yes, darling wife. Drinks are here." Jack had finished his chocolate during Faith's impromptu striptease. Faith took a sip of her drink with an appreciative smile and then placed it on her bedside table as she continued undressing. She licked her lips, savouring the chocolate aftertaste.
"Mmm, thanks." She unclipped her bra, washed quickly and then pulled on her winter nightdress – a Victorian-style neck-to-floor cotton nightdress which Jack had once mistakenly described as a "lovely passion killer" – coincidentally on the night when they had conceived Loren!
"So, went the day well?"
Faith nodded, sipping her chocolate.
"Pretty well, but with a twist. I need to pop to the convenience shop tomorrow and grab a copy of the National Inquisition."
"Oh really? What's the interest in that rag?" Jack's eyebrows, so eloquently expressive in the courtroom, led her to continue.
"Apparently some muppet reporter had been following Harm and his daughter for a few weeks - and has then jumped to the conclusion (entirely wrongly, of course!) that there is some sort of May-to-September love affair going on."
"Oops, that's going to knock a hole in somebody's libel budget."
"Exactly." Faith finished her hot chocolate and placed the mug on a coaster on her bedside table. Turning back to face her husband, her eyes flashed with passion.
"Now come on, Mister Marine; remind me why I love you so much."
"With pleasure, Lady Sailor."
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Sunday 23rd December 2018, 11:20hrs EDT
Upstairs meeting room, Galway Bay Irish Pub and bar, 63 Maryland Ave, Annapolis MD, VA 21401:
Trisha walked straight into RV's arms when she arrived. They rested their foreheads together, their hands rubbing each other's back in reassurance.
After a good few minutes of silent communion, Trisha pulled back and sighed.
"Oh God, I know this is wrong but I just needed that". She gave him a chaste peck on the cheek, then she stepped back and sat down to soak up the sympathetic expressions of her fellow Horsemen. Samantha and Tony – who potentially had more to lose than anyone else around the table if news about their friendship ever got out – opened the conversation. Sam had a copy of the offending "newspaper" in her hand.
"Trisha, this is so wrong on so many levels; what were these clowns thinking?" Sam was livid, her cheeks burning bright red as her foot tapped urgently in the bar-room floor.
Trisha smiled conspiratorially. "Well Sam, my Dad – the Admiral, as you may recall – has a saying: "Don't get mad; get even." So that is what we are going to do; my Mom's legal firm will initiate proceedings, plus NCIS are authorised to investigate and probe and arrest the guilty parties under the Patriot Act."
Tom McGee smiled. "Oh I like that plan. Top marks for your Dad, Trisha."
Anna Svenson joined in: "Yes, let's hope they get buried. That article – apart from being so wrong – was really unfair. Whatever happened to journalistic qualifications, leaving aside the right of reply?"
Trisha raised her glass. "And now, here's to happy holidays, everyone."
The Horsemen remained united.
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Sunday 23rd December 2018 – 15:28hrs EST
Superintendent's Apartment, The Buchanan House, US Naval Academy, Annapolis MD:
"Harm, Trisha should be here momentarily – she called me earlier to let me know that the Horsemen were meeting up for coffee at the Galway. Would you open the wine please?" Caitlin was feeding Samuel, so that he would rest quietly and without complaint whilst the "older Rabb" family members enjoyed a Sunday lunch.
Harm already had the corkscrew in his hand when Trisha rang the doorbell then let herself in with her key. She had secured her bicycle inside the entrance porch
"Hey dad; hey Mom and hello little brother Samuel."
"Welcome daughter. Let me know if you need any luggage brought across from the dormitory."
"Oh yes please Dad; if it helps, I can come across with you when you finish work on Monday."
"Sounds like a plan. Harm was planning the Christmas wind-down. "I intend to close the offices by 12:30 tomorrow."
The home was soon filled with happy conversations as the Rabb family prepared for their family Christmas.
The muppets at the "National Inquisition" were forgotten. The Rabb family plan of action was in place. Christmas was just around the corner.
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Monday 24th December 2018 – 11:29hrs EST
Main Board Room, Admin Centre, US Naval Academy, Annapolis MD:
"Good morning everyone and thank you for joining this short-notice update and decision session."
Faith opened the Skype call, sitting across the large polished mahogany table from Harm.
The other members of the Supervisory Board reported in (including one from the Virgin Islands, resisting the temptations of the local rum because she would be diving back below the ocean once she had joined in the Annapolis conference).
Five minutes of discussion was followed by ten minutes of "these are the possibilities and these are the implications" presentation from Faith.
The consensus of the Supervisory Board of the US Naval Academy at Annapolis was unanimous:
"We project our own; we protect our family. Anonymity continues. Harm, go nail these mis-reporting bastards; hang 'em from the yard-arm! Oh, Superintendent: you'd better let NCIS take the lead!"
Harm was relieved: "Acknowledged. Thanks everyone for your support. Meeting over; thank you, Officer of the Watch."
"My pleasure, Admiral. Now then Harm, time for us to head home – unless you want me to raise NCIS and update them after your conversation yesterday?"
"That is a very good idea indeed Faith; thanks once more. OK, book me a call to NCIS then you go hug Jack and your girls; we shall see you in the New Year unless we have an emergency."
"Agreed; Merry Christmas, Harm."
"Merry Christmas, Faith."
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End Ch25 – "Don't get mad – get even!"
Notes: Mike, UK, 19-Jun-2020 – I got a roll on this week, amongst my work commitments and wanted to get this to you before the Father's Day weekend hers in the UK.