Same time (0545 local)
Mac's Apartment
Georgetown
Mac had barely hung up when her apartment door opened, revealing a
cheerful Mic Brumby. "Morning, Luv! Thought I'd bring you a bit of
breakfast," he said, kicking the door shut and crossing to drop a kiss
in Mac's cheek before setting down a bakery box.
Oh no, Mac thought. This was the last thing she wanted to deal
with right now. She had a plane to catch, dammit. At least she was
already packed--then again, she had been since about an hour after she
got home from Harm's. "Mic..." she got out weakly, "This is a
surprise."
Another kiss, followed by a hug. "Just for you, luv," he said,
grinning. Then he noticed her clothes. "You're not dressed for work?"
he asked, confused.
"Mic, I... look, I have to go away for a bit," she hedged, pulling
away.
"A case?" he asked, still confused.
"Not really. Look, I really need to get going. The flight leaves
in a half an hour."
"Wait a minute...Sarah, if it's not a case, why are you leaving?"
A thought occurred to him. "Is something wrong with your uncle? Are
you going out to see him?"
"No, Uncle Matt is fine," she sighed. "Look, Mic, I really don't
have time to talk about this," she said impatiently, beginning to
gather her things.
"Well at least tell me where you're going, Sarah."
Oh, hell. "Russia."
"Russia? What the bloody hell's in Russia?"
"Harm's father." Here it comes.
"You're going to Russia with *Rabb*?" Mic said disbelievingly.
"Yes, Mic," she said wearily. "And I need to get going. Now."
"NO."
"*Excuse* *me*?"
"No, Sarah." The Australian's voice was cold. "I will not have
my fiancée running off to a foreign country with another man."
"You won't," she stated flatly, not believing what she was
hearing.
"No, I won't, Sarah. If you leave, it's over." He drew himself
up, crossing his arm over his chest. "It's me or Rabb, luv. Make your
choice."
It was that last statement that made something within her snap.
"Fine, Mic," she said equitably, then moved to the kitchen table,
picked up his keys, and removed hers from the keychain, stuffing it in
her pocket. Turning to face the now-stunned Aussie, she said, "I
wanted to marry you, Mic. I even think I loved you a little, once upon
a time. But if you force me to choose between my best friend, who has
stuck by me through more than you can imagine, and my fiancé, who seems
to care less and less about what is best for *us* and more and
more about what's good for *him*, YOU WILL LOSE. And you just have."
She yanked the now-offending ring off her finger, and slapped it into
Mic's palm. "Goodbye, Mic."
"Now, wait a minute, Sarah, luv..." he cajoled.
"I said Goodbye, Mic. And pissing me off further is not a wise
idea right now. Get. Out." The last was said with every bit of Marine
forcefulness she had, causing Mic to reflexively take a step back.
She pointed to the door, glaring at her now ex-fiancé with a
stare worthy of the most fearsome drill sergeant. Mic took the hint
and made his way out. "This isn't over, Sarah," he insisted, pausing
at the door.
She crossed to the door, and looked him dead in the eyes, much
the same way she took aim with a rifle. "Yes it is, Mic," she said,
then slammed the door in his face.
Leaning against the door, she paused to collect her thoughts.
Seventy-eight minutes and forty-six seconds to make it to the airport.
She grinned. Good thing she had a 'Vette.
***********************************************************************
Dulles Airport
58 minutes and 23 seconds later
Harm sat at the gate, idly waiting for the boarding call. It'd
been an interesting 24 hours. He'd gotten grudging permission to leave
from his CO, run off his best friend, and inadvertently dumped his
girlfriend. Heck of a scorecard, there, Rabb.
He'd called Chegwidden yesterday afternoon. The Admiral'd been
less than pleased, but had told him to go, after getting Harm to admit
he was going to go with or without permission.
Renee had shown up shortly afterward. After he'd told her of his
plans, she threw a fit worthy of an operatic diva, which he watched,
unimpressed. "I'm telling you only out of concern, Renee," he'd told
her.
"Concern?!? CONCERN!?! Harm, if you were at all *concerned* about
me, you wouldn't be going in the first place!" she'd shrieked. Stomping
to the door, she announced, "If you get on that plane, Harmon Rabb,
don't bother calling me when you get back!!" before slamming the door
behind her.
Oh well, scratch one girlfriend, he thought. She'd been fun, but
to be honest, he'd been planning to split with her anyway. He just
hadn't figured out how to go about it yet. So much for that.
He did wish things had gone better with Mac, though. He'd hoped
that if anyone could understand, she would. Although he'd never
willingly asked her to come along--simply because he'd never ask her to
put herself at risk for him-- he'd halfway hoped she'd show up on her
own. He still did.
The gate attendant announced his row for boarding call, and he
sighed. Guess she wasn't coming after all.
"Hey there, flyboy, they're calling our row, so get your six
moving," a familiar voice said from behind him.
He turned around, and sure enough, there she was, dressed in
jeans, sweater, and leather jacket, a backpack slung over one shoulder.
"Mac?"
She grinned. "Someone's got to keep you on time and out of
trouble."
He returned the grin, full force. "Leave it to the Marines,
hunh?" he teased.
"Smart man."
TBC......
Mac's Apartment
Georgetown
Mac had barely hung up when her apartment door opened, revealing a
cheerful Mic Brumby. "Morning, Luv! Thought I'd bring you a bit of
breakfast," he said, kicking the door shut and crossing to drop a kiss
in Mac's cheek before setting down a bakery box.
Oh no, Mac thought. This was the last thing she wanted to deal
with right now. She had a plane to catch, dammit. At least she was
already packed--then again, she had been since about an hour after she
got home from Harm's. "Mic..." she got out weakly, "This is a
surprise."
Another kiss, followed by a hug. "Just for you, luv," he said,
grinning. Then he noticed her clothes. "You're not dressed for work?"
he asked, confused.
"Mic, I... look, I have to go away for a bit," she hedged, pulling
away.
"A case?" he asked, still confused.
"Not really. Look, I really need to get going. The flight leaves
in a half an hour."
"Wait a minute...Sarah, if it's not a case, why are you leaving?"
A thought occurred to him. "Is something wrong with your uncle? Are
you going out to see him?"
"No, Uncle Matt is fine," she sighed. "Look, Mic, I really don't
have time to talk about this," she said impatiently, beginning to
gather her things.
"Well at least tell me where you're going, Sarah."
Oh, hell. "Russia."
"Russia? What the bloody hell's in Russia?"
"Harm's father." Here it comes.
"You're going to Russia with *Rabb*?" Mic said disbelievingly.
"Yes, Mic," she said wearily. "And I need to get going. Now."
"NO."
"*Excuse* *me*?"
"No, Sarah." The Australian's voice was cold. "I will not have
my fiancée running off to a foreign country with another man."
"You won't," she stated flatly, not believing what she was
hearing.
"No, I won't, Sarah. If you leave, it's over." He drew himself
up, crossing his arm over his chest. "It's me or Rabb, luv. Make your
choice."
It was that last statement that made something within her snap.
"Fine, Mic," she said equitably, then moved to the kitchen table,
picked up his keys, and removed hers from the keychain, stuffing it in
her pocket. Turning to face the now-stunned Aussie, she said, "I
wanted to marry you, Mic. I even think I loved you a little, once upon
a time. But if you force me to choose between my best friend, who has
stuck by me through more than you can imagine, and my fiancé, who seems
to care less and less about what is best for *us* and more and
more about what's good for *him*, YOU WILL LOSE. And you just have."
She yanked the now-offending ring off her finger, and slapped it into
Mic's palm. "Goodbye, Mic."
"Now, wait a minute, Sarah, luv..." he cajoled.
"I said Goodbye, Mic. And pissing me off further is not a wise
idea right now. Get. Out." The last was said with every bit of Marine
forcefulness she had, causing Mic to reflexively take a step back.
She pointed to the door, glaring at her now ex-fiancé with a
stare worthy of the most fearsome drill sergeant. Mic took the hint
and made his way out. "This isn't over, Sarah," he insisted, pausing
at the door.
She crossed to the door, and looked him dead in the eyes, much
the same way she took aim with a rifle. "Yes it is, Mic," she said,
then slammed the door in his face.
Leaning against the door, she paused to collect her thoughts.
Seventy-eight minutes and forty-six seconds to make it to the airport.
She grinned. Good thing she had a 'Vette.
***********************************************************************
Dulles Airport
58 minutes and 23 seconds later
Harm sat at the gate, idly waiting for the boarding call. It'd
been an interesting 24 hours. He'd gotten grudging permission to leave
from his CO, run off his best friend, and inadvertently dumped his
girlfriend. Heck of a scorecard, there, Rabb.
He'd called Chegwidden yesterday afternoon. The Admiral'd been
less than pleased, but had told him to go, after getting Harm to admit
he was going to go with or without permission.
Renee had shown up shortly afterward. After he'd told her of his
plans, she threw a fit worthy of an operatic diva, which he watched,
unimpressed. "I'm telling you only out of concern, Renee," he'd told
her.
"Concern?!? CONCERN!?! Harm, if you were at all *concerned* about
me, you wouldn't be going in the first place!" she'd shrieked. Stomping
to the door, she announced, "If you get on that plane, Harmon Rabb,
don't bother calling me when you get back!!" before slamming the door
behind her.
Oh well, scratch one girlfriend, he thought. She'd been fun, but
to be honest, he'd been planning to split with her anyway. He just
hadn't figured out how to go about it yet. So much for that.
He did wish things had gone better with Mac, though. He'd hoped
that if anyone could understand, she would. Although he'd never
willingly asked her to come along--simply because he'd never ask her to
put herself at risk for him-- he'd halfway hoped she'd show up on her
own. He still did.
The gate attendant announced his row for boarding call, and he
sighed. Guess she wasn't coming after all.
"Hey there, flyboy, they're calling our row, so get your six
moving," a familiar voice said from behind him.
He turned around, and sure enough, there she was, dressed in
jeans, sweater, and leather jacket, a backpack slung over one shoulder.
"Mac?"
She grinned. "Someone's got to keep you on time and out of
trouble."
He returned the grin, full force. "Leave it to the Marines,
hunh?" he teased.
"Smart man."
TBC......