Part Fifteen

Motorpool
Memphis NAS
1225 Local

Bell pulled into a parking space at the motorpool. Beside him, Tyler took a nervous breath, "Okay, showtime." The corporal got out, marched around to the passenger side and opened the door. Grabbing his briefcase, Tyler walked to the office with Bell trailing behind.

The PFC on duty at the front desk cast a bored glance as the young ensign opened the door and came in. His eyes widened considerably at the Marine corporal who followed him. "May I help you, sir?" he asked, his eyes still on the huge Marine, looming behind the ensign.

Tyler consulted a slip of paper in his hand, "I'm here to see Master Chief Wilkins."

"What about, young man?"

Tyler turned to see a stocky, older man standing in an office doorway. His salt and pepper hair was closely cropped and the muscles he must have had in his youth were slowly going to fat. "Are you Chief Wilkins?"

The Chief nodded. Technically, this young pup outranked him but he'd had ensigns like this for breakfast for more years than he could count.

Tyler assumed a self-important attitude, "I'm with the Judge Advocate General's office. A complaint's been filed about some of your trucks. I need to discuss it with you." He threw a haughty glance over his shoulder, "Corporal, why don't you find something to do outside? Try not to get lost."

Bell let a scowl chase across his face before once more looking impassive. "Yes sir," he growled. Turning around, he stalked out of the office. The Chief and the PFC exchanged looks of disbelief, the pompous little ensign must be out of his mind to annoy something that big.

Bell stood in the doorway for a minute and looked around. One thing he had learned growing up was that people always assumed that someone his size was automatically stupid. He was also aware that he looked older than he was, but he was still young enough to find all of this incredibly exciting. He'd been as surprised and pleased by the Colonel's trust as Tyler. However, he had learned to tone down his responses at an early age. He'd inadvertently broken a lot of things when he was young. This spy stuff beat breaking up brawls and ferreting out info on his computer all to hell. He and Tyler had decided that he would be less of threat wandering around the truck yard. Keeping his expression blank and limiting himself to one and two syllable words would probably convince most people he couldn't even count.

He started walking slowly through the yard, looking at everything and nothing. There were a large number of vehicles neatly parked, no doubt an equal number were out and about. Bell angled towards the maintenance sheds. Most of the enlisted who passed him, hurried by after one look. He stood outside the garage for a few minutes watching two privates wrestle with a carburetor. Casually, he turned to enter the building, only to have his way blocked by a staff sergeant.

"No unauthorized personnel past this point, Corporal," said the sergeant, looking up. He was a wiry, brown-skinned man.

Bell regarded him for about ten seconds and then said slowly, "I was looking for a pop machine." He could see one about twenty feet inside the door. He could also see a number of trucks.

"Sorry, Corporal. You ain't authorized and you ain't gettin' in," the sergeant crossed his arms.

"Okay, Sarge," Bell said equably, he turned around and ambled back the way he had come.

The staff sergeant watched him walk away and turned back into the garage, shaking his head, "Dumb as a stone... "

Ensign Tyler glanced at the Master Chief as they sat down in Wilkins' office. He needed to stretch this out as long as possible to give Bell a chance to look around. He rummaged through his briefcase for a minute or two until he thought Wilkins was going to explode. Then he pulled out a thick sheaf of papers, "I'd like to make sure we cover everything, Chief."

Wilkins rolled his eyes as Tyler shuffled through all the papers. 'God save me from the young.' Putting an expression of polite inquiry on his face, he said in a pointed tone, "Ensign, it would probably help if I knew why exactly you were here."

"Oh yeah, right," Tyler said, looking flustered. He managed to drop a stack of papers on the floor. He dropped to his knees beside the chair and made a show of gathering papers and sorting them. "Ummm, sorry, Chief." He got up and sat in the chair again. Tyler tried for a superior tone, "Chief, an environmental group based in Memphis has filed a complaint with our office about air pollution; specifically, your trucks. They claim that the following trucks have excessive exhaust problems." He pulled a sheet of paper out and handed it to Wilkins.

The Master Chief looked dumfounded, "You've got to be kidding."

"Sir," Tyler said.

"What?" Wilkins said, looking puzzled.

"Sir," Tyler repeated, "You have to call me Sir. I outrank you." He watched the Chief's face turn an interesting shade of puce and added self-righteously, "Don't make me put you on report."

The office personnel jumped when the door to Master Chief Wilkins' office slammed shut. The yelling started a few moments later and slowly grew in intensity and volume. Every minute or so it was punctuated with an explosive 'Sir'. The PFC at the front desk cringed a little, listening to it. That arrogant little idiot no doubt deserved every moment but he still couldn't help feeling a bit sorry for the kid. He was startled when he realized that, at some point, the Incredible Hulk had returned. For a big man, he moved very quietly. It was a trifle unnerving.

Finally, there was silence and the Chief's door opened. Tyler walked out, wide-eyed and white-faced, clutching his briefcase. Looking neither left nor right, he marched out of the office without a word. Bell hurried after him. They were silent as the Corporal pulled out of the parking lot. He looked worriedly into the rearview mirror, "Pick? Are you all right?"

Tyler looked back at him, and said loudly, "My ears are still ringing." He worked his jaws, trying to get his ears to pop. He leaned back in the seat and said, "I've haven't been yelled at like that since I got caught stealin' Mammy Jackson's prize cantaloupe outta her truck garden. I think I'd pay good money to see Mammy and the Chief in a set-to." Bell shook his head and chuckled, the ensign was a surprising little guy.

JAG office
Memphis NAS
1435 Local

Mac watched Bell and Tyler leave the conference room in search of a quiet place to type up their official report. She shook her head in amazement, she had no idea they would work so well together. Looking over at the others, she saw Harm and Perez stifling smiles. Singer, for the most part, looked disgruntled. Mac wasn't sure if it was because the Lieutenant had wanted to be part of the action or if she thought their success was some sort of threat to her goals. Either way, she needed to get over it.

Mac cleared her throat and said with a smile, "Those two turned into quite a team." She looked at Perez, "You might just lose Corporal Bell to JAG."

Perez grinned back, "Not if I can talk Tyler into working for me."

Harm got back to the business at hand, "From what Bell said, it sounds like we need to get into the maintenance garage and look around."

Perez nodded while Mac said, "I agree."

Harm paused, he was going to have to be very careful with what he was about to say. Taking a deep breath, he began, "I think it should be me and Perez." He watched the stormclouds gather on Mac's face and hurried on, "I'm not trying to be overprotective, Mac." He gestured towards her, "It's just that you're not at one hundred percent yet. You don't have full use of your left arm and you can't tell me that everything else has stopped hurting." He held his breath, waiting for her reaction. Actually, he was trying to protect her. The thought of these people getting their hands on her scared him to death. For once, though, he had a legitimate reason to keep her out of harm's way.

Harm let out a relieved breath when Mac finally nodded reluctantly. The next part would be trickier. He was pretty sure what she would suggest next and he didn't want her anywhere near the motorpool.

"You're not going in there without backup," Mac said, eyeing the two of them. She knew what Harm was trying to do. He was just lucky that this time there was justification for his position beyond his normal modus operandi. Running, jumping and climbing were pretty much out of the question for her for the time being. She could see Harm gathering himself for his argument if she should suggest herself. With just a hint of devilment in her eyes, she said blandly, "Take Bell and Tyler with you. Singer and I will play cavalry from here." The look on Harm's face as he mentally re-grouped was almost worth the frustration she was feeling about not being able watch his back.

They worked on a general plan until Bell and Tyler came back and then spent the next several hours trying to cover all the angles in a little more detail. Finally, Mac called a halt. "I think we've beaten this one to death. It's 1720, let's take a break and then meet back here at 2030. The office should be secured by then and we can use it as a base of operations." The others nodded, gathering papers, and began to file out of the room.

Harm looked over at Mac, "Dinner?"

"I'm not sure I feel like going out again, Harm," Mac said apologetically.

"Well, how about Chinese at the VOQ?" he persisted. He got to the conference room door first and held it open for her.

"That sounds like a plan," she said, locking the door behind her.

Harm looked at Ensign Tyler who was waiting for them out in the bullpen, "Tyler, are there any Chinese places that deliver around here?"

"Two or three, sir," Tyler replied, "The Golden Dragon is probably the best."

"Great," Harm said, "How about taking us to the VOQ?"

VOQ
Mac's Room
1910 Local

Harm finished up the carton of food and looked over at Mac. She was picking through the rest to see what was left. "Mac, it's time to talk."

She sighed a little and leaned back, "I suppose so." Seeing him watching her expectantly, she scrubbed a hand through her hair and glanced at the ceiling. Directing her gaze back to him, she said simply, "Don't yell." Taking a breath, she jumped in, "When we get back to DC, I'm going to talk to the Admiral and then I'll probably resign my commission."

"WHAT?" Mac gave him a stern look and he lowered his voice, "But why? Mac, you're a Marine. This is crazy... "

She laughed mirthlessly, "And therein lies one of the problems. Harm, I've been seeing a therapist for over a month now. She's a civilian Emma Fine recommended, so it wouldn't show up on my permanent record. 'Archangel' was making me nuts. Every time I closed my eyes, some part of that nightmare would reach out and slap me. The Admiral is the only one I told, I thought he deserved the option of replacing me as Chief of Staff." She shook her head a little at the hurt expression on Harm's face. "I know you think I should have told you, but I just couldn't deal with it. Harm, those first couple of weeks back, you would get worked up if I stubbed my toe. Having you analyze my every word and expression to gauge how I was doing, was more than I could take at the time. Anyway, gradually things seemed to be getting better and then this internet porn case came along... "

Harm groaned and covered his face with his hands, "And I show up on my white horse and knock you out of the box. Mac, I'm sorry."

"Harm," Mac put a hand on his arm and waited for him to look at her, "I'm not blaming you for this." She gave him a quirky little grin, "Not when I can blame you for so many other things... being over-protective, occasionally insensitive, chronically late... and being my best friend." Harm offered up a weak smile and she continued, "Don't you see? At the first whisper of trouble, from Singer no less, the Admiral sends you to help. How can I serve under a CO who thinks I'm going to crack up at the first sign of stress on a case? It's not fair to him, it's not fair to me. At first, I thought about just transferring but this kind of thing follows you. I don't need to listen to a whispering campaign about how I used to be the JAG's Chief of Staff until I went bonkers. So... I've talked to Webb."

"You didn't," Harm said in shock.

"I did." Mac sat back and folded her arms, "C'mon Harm, after some of the situations Clay's gotten us into, how much more dangerous can it get? It won't be so bad, I'll still be doing something worthwhile and I could probably be stationed in DC. We would still see each other." She hesitated a moment and added slowly, "I guess, providing you would want to."

He looked at her in surprise, where did that come from? "Of course, I'd want to see you." He leaned forward a little, "I think you're wrong about the Admiral." He held up a hand when she started to speak, "I agree that he made a mistake, sending me out here so quickly; but he did it out of concern. I know he trusts you. Are you dead-set on this?"

"No, like I said, I'm going to talk to the Admiral first. Then I'll make my decision, nothing's carved in stone."

Harm breathed a quiet sigh of relief, there was still a chance he could change her mind.