A/N: Again, I suck at coming up with situations, please forgive me. Please review. Criticism/suggestions are welcome, as well.
Someone mentioned that ch.2 left off as they were heading off to lunch, and that they would like to know what happened then (which I totally didn't even think about and I may go back and fix). I know there are a lot of open holes, but it is meant to be that way. Mac is utterly in love and the story is meant to be confusing. This person also requested to be filled in about why they had to be undercover... Well, I don't have what you call creativity, so I kind of left it there, hoping it could be avoided. But now I see that it can't. If anyone has any suggestions, I would love them very much.
Disclaimer again: I own none of these characters, I just like to make Harm do hot things ('it wouldn't be prudent at this juncture' is from SNL, in case anyone caught that, that's not mine, either)
***
1027 LOCAL
JAG HEADQUARTERS
FALLS CHURCH, VIRGINIA
THURSDAY
Now I think he chooses the day's cologne at random. Curve for Men today. It's nice for him - a bit sweet, more blended and rounded than yesterday's Spice. It's a calm scent. [A/N: May I just say, damn, Harmon smells good...]
I breathe in as I walk past him. Oh, does he know just how attractive he is? I mean, he must. Everywhere he goes, women are always looking at him.
But I've just now realized it's never me. Until this week. But is has to stop sometime. It has to.
I hope this is all out of my system by next Monday. Tomorrow would be good, too. But I can't handle another week of this. I've been so restless. I can't sleep. I can't concentrate. And, like yesterday, my internal clock has been so out of sync that I can't even count seconds accurately.
I am sitting at my computer. For some reason, I can't remember how to work it. Oh yeah... Right. So.
I have an e-mail. Uh oh. It requires a reply. ::sigh:: Now I have to type, as well.
I sit behind the keyboard for a while, contemplating how to answer. Now I am typing. If I were speaking the way I am typing now, I would sound drunk as all get out. I have to hunt and peck the keys this morning.
This is really getting old.
Almost as soon as I hit 'send', Tiner comes in, content and freaking peppy as always. "The Admiral would like to see you in his office, Ma'am."
"Thank you, Tiner." He smiles, turns, and leaves. How does he do it? Exactly how much caffeine does this boy consume every day? Or is it natural? Lucky dog...
As I think this, I leave my office to weave through people and desks, not noticing that I've passed Harm until I get a whiff of his cologne. I nearly pass out, but I retain my cool head. 'It wouldn't be prudent at this juncture.'
I'm glad as I near the Admiral's open door. "Come in, Colonel," he says in his sharp, early morning tone. "Close the hatch behind you."
Sturgis is already inside. What is this about, I wonder?
"Commander Turner, Colonel, you two are going undercover. Plane leaves at noon."
Good! I finally will get a chance to escape Harm. But then again, I almost wish it was Harm going instead of Sturgis...
Be careful what you wish for. "But Admiral, may I request a day of leave tomorrow?" Sturgis asks. Uh oh. Guess who'll replace -
"No, Commander, did you hear me? You're going undercover and leaving today."
Yes!
"But it's for a funeral, Sir."
Damn!
"Well, that's a fact I wasn't aware of. I'm sorry Sturgis, granted. I wish you would have brought this to my attention sooner..." he added, mumbling.
"I'm sorry, Admiral, I will try to alert you sooner in the future. But I didn't find out about this until yesterday." What mumbo jumbo.
"Alright, you're dismissed. Mac, don't run away just yet, I still need you." Was I trying to sneak aw-, did I seem like I was gonna, gosh, I wasn't even trying to leave, Admiral, don't jump the gun on me, gee...
"Tiner!" he barks as Sturgis leaves. "Get Rabb in here, ASAP."
"Aye, Sir."
DAMMIT, now I have to be stuck on a plane next to this man for, what, hours?!
At least we're not questioning witnesses today.
I feel his aura enter and stand next to me. He doesn't seem at all surprised to see me.
"Yes, Sir?" he asks.
"Rabb, you'll be replacing Commander Turner. You and Mac are going undercover. Your plane leaves for Norfolk at twelve." Good. A short flight. But...
"Admiral, isn't Norfolk's Harborfest this weekend?" I ask. It'll be swamped.
"Yes it is, Colonel. That's why you're going. "
Harm and I give each other quizzical looks.
"You're undercover to look for a lost Petty Officer." He paused. "I can tell by the looks of confusion that you don't get it yet."
"No we don't, Sir." Aww. Harmon answered for me.
"A stowaway, almost." [I suck, I know, but I had to come up with something!]
He continues. "You two will be undercover as married civilians. Be near the port at 1500 tomorrow, when the ships dock. The Marines there know to look for you - they'll give you any clearance you may need."
"Uh, Sir, what exactly are we looking for?" I ask.
"Anyone suspicious." In my head, I'm rolling my eyes. Well duh. I glance at Harm and he gives me a look that says he's thinking the same thing. "You'll be briefed with better details when you land," Chegwidden adds. "Go home now and pack."
"How long will we be there, Sir?" Harm asks.
"As long as it takes." We think about rolling our eyes again. "Dismissed."
Our heels snap together simultaneously. "Aye aye, Sir," we say in unison. We both turn, but AJ calls me back.
After Harm exits, he says, "Mac, are you alright with this? You seemed to have a bit of a... a slump yesterday, in court."
Oh, man, he heard about that? "Yes, but I'll be fine." He narrows his eyes as if this alone will extract more information from me. Boy,it would take a lot more than that to tell you anything else about my thoughts.
His eyes seem to get smaller. He can feel the wheels turning in my head, wanting to say more. But he knows I won't.
He seems to sigh. "Alright." I think he says 'have it your way' under his breath.
***
1209 LOCAL
A PLANE SOMEWHERE OVER VIRGINIA
At least a D.C.-Norfolk flight isn't too terribly long.
***
Not as short as I thought, though.
He's sitting right next to me! What an injustice! His leg is touching mine! I can't handle this... I could have told the Admiral that I couldn't do it, but what would I tell him? That this week alone I am in love with Commander Rabb and cannot carry out my duties because of this in spite of my military training?
Actually, that's exactly what I should have told him.
No, no, I could never tell Chegwidden something like that. And anyway, who would he send to replace me? Coates?
At least we get to play married. I'll get to let out this week's weird feelings.
***
He seems to have been napping. "...Colonel..." he mumbles softly.
"Hm?" I ask.
He looks at me sleepily as though I began the conversation, not him. "Oh," he then says in realization. "I was just wondering why 'colonel' is pronounced the way it is." He closes his eyes to try to sleep again.
"We adopted many of our military grades from the British," I say matter-of-factly. I glance at him to see if he's still even awake. He's actually listening intently. So I go on. "When they were creating their grades, they took the French spelling, c-o-l-o-n-e-l, but the Spanish pronunciation, c-o-r-o-n-e-l, and then messed up its pronunciation." Did I just say that, messed it up?
He sits in thought a while. "Oh."
Then, after a few more minutes, he says, "I wonder what time it is..." He is thinking out loud. "Can you tell yet, Mac?"
Ah, I see what he's doing. At the beginning of the flight, I saw him slip his watch into his carry-on. On purpose, I can tell now. He wanted to know if I could do it yet, but didn't want to ask straight out. Sneaky. Well, I'm on to you.
"It's 1220," I say with closed eyes.
"I don't believe you," he says skeptically. I hear him claw through his bag for his watch. "...Oh... 1221... So you can tell time today?"
"No, I still can't."
"You can't?" He sounds confused. It's cute.
"I just estimated that it had been twenty minutes since we took off."
He pauses. "...Oh."
"You could have done that," I add. Why do I keep talking?
"No way, Mac. Telling time - you're magical about it."
I know. I know, really.
Did he just call me magical?
***
1625 LOCAL
A HOTEL IN NORFOLK
All of a sudden, my girlish moods have scurried away in fear of what is actually going on.
We have a hotel room. A. Singular.
At least there are two beds. JAG gave us that much.
As soon as he opens the door, I practically pounce on a bed and lay spread-eagled all over it.
"I need a shave," he says, thinking out loud again.
I'm still laying on my back when he comes out of the bathroom seven point four two minutes later and smelling like... Halston. His signature scent.
Great. I'll be freaking tipsy the rest of the day. I was practically giddy on Tuesday, and now again... Good. Just great.
I hyperventilate unnoticeably for a minute or so. He's sitting in a chair at the foot of the bed, reading or something weird like that.
I can't stand this. I'm just gonna have to say it.
"Halston?" I ask. I already feel better.
He looks up smilingly. "How'd you know?"
"Someone I used to date wore it all the time." That's how I know, right? I haven't been subconsciously sneaking into his apartment, have I? Sleep stalking, is that possible?
Anyway, he smiles again and goes back to his reading.
He's so irresistably attractive...
I am forced to slap my own forehead again. He looks up without making a face. "Really, Mac, what's been up this week?" He's reminding me of a school counselor. "You seem so distracted, like you're in some other world." I am. It's the Macfantasy Alternate Universe. "And what happened in court yesterday? That never happens." It does now, pal.
I sit up. "I'm not sure..." I answer, my voice completely lacking the sarcasm in my thoughts. He looks straight at me like I do know. "I haven't been drinking." That had to be ruled out. There has been a problem with that in the p-
"I know that, I can tell it's not alcohol."
Oh. Well.
"Really, Mac, you can tell me."
I am twelve again, talking to the boy in the front row who's never even seen me. That is the kind of nerve I have now, for some reason. ::sigh:: I know I can tell him. So I answer quietly and hesitantly, "Seriously..." He nods. "... I think it's you." But in my head I'm thinking I KNOW IT'S YOU YOU'VE BEEN FREAKING TAKING UP ALL MY THOUGHTS YOU'RE THE MOST ATTRACTIVE BEING ON THE FACE OF THIS EARTH AND I WANNA JUMP ON YOUR BACK EVERY TIME YOU WALK BY TAKE ME NOW OR KILL ME QUICKLY.
But that's all in my head.
Dammit, Mac, always the underachiever when it comes to words. Especially words that are synonymous with - eugh - feelings.
"Me?" he asks with a look of confusion that also happens to be very cute. "What am I doing?"
"I don't know why" liar "but you've been affecting me so differently" drr are you blind "in the past few days... I don't know why." YES I DO YOU'RE SEXY AND I WANT YOU AND YOU WANT ME SO LET'S JUST DO IT AND GET IT OVER WITH.
I shut my eyes tight to try to rid my mind of the evil words that have been plaguing my poor haunted head.
When I open my eyes, Harm is staring at me with a strange look. "Are you sure you're okay?" he asks cutely.
Yeah, and if I am to be okay, get out of my face so I'm not breathing your very air.
He sighs. "Let's go do something," he says in a very spur-of-of-the-moment manner.
"Like what? There won't be much to do until tomorrow." Am I retarded? He just asked to go somewhere with me, and all I can say is that there's nothing. I'm such an optimist.
"I don't know, just dinner."
"Harm, it's 1647." Why do I keep talking? He checks his watch and smiles.
"So it is."
"We can't eat at 4:47 in the afternoon." Why do I continue? "I mean, I know it's almost five, but still..."
"Mac, you knew the time."
I pause. "I did?"
"Are you feeling better?" he asks smilingly.
I hesitate. "I guess I am." I don't really feel better, but at least internally I'm back on track again.
Harm gets up. "Well, let's go."
I wrinkle my forehead at him. Why'd I do that? Am I blind? I just keep digging myself deeper and deeper into a hole I can't crawl out of.
Luckily, Harm has a ladder. He says mockingly, "Come on, honey." A ladder made of silk strands? He smiles big. My eyes widen. What? Then he points to the base of his left ring finger. Why is there a ring...?
As soon as he sees I realize what it is, he digs through his bag and pulls out a velvet cube. He throws it at me. "You get two," he says.
What?
"A wedding band and an engagement ring. We're married, remember?"
I stop to analyze the situation - Harmon Rabb, Jr. has just reminded me that I am married to him. What an odd occurrance.
I take the two rings from the box and put them on.
"I'll tell you what, if I were really married to you, I wouldn't forget."
"What's that supposed to mean?"
"I don't know," I answer quickly and loudly without looking up. That's the biggest problem with being in my condition - all my thoughts leave my mouth. It sucks.
He laughs at my honesty. We both put our shoes back on and leave the hotel room, locking the door behind us.
As we walk down the hall to the elevator, I nervously finger the foreign objects on the fourth appendage of my left hand. "Was it absolutely necessary for us to be undercover as a married couple?"
"No, we didn't. That's just it. The Admiral probably thought it'd be funny if he forced us to pretend it."
Prob'ly did. Sick twisted freak. "Oh... And I'll bet Sturgis was in on it, too."
"Why do you say that?"
"He was 'originally' assigned this, but he requested a day of leave tomorrow. The Admiral granted it to him."
"So?"
"If you asked to have the next day off when you had just been given an immediate assignment, Chegwidden would yell at you til he was purple. And all he did was mumble a little."
"That is suspicious."
We both sigh. Okay, so now what?
Someone mentioned that ch.2 left off as they were heading off to lunch, and that they would like to know what happened then (which I totally didn't even think about and I may go back and fix). I know there are a lot of open holes, but it is meant to be that way. Mac is utterly in love and the story is meant to be confusing. This person also requested to be filled in about why they had to be undercover... Well, I don't have what you call creativity, so I kind of left it there, hoping it could be avoided. But now I see that it can't. If anyone has any suggestions, I would love them very much.
Disclaimer again: I own none of these characters, I just like to make Harm do hot things ('it wouldn't be prudent at this juncture' is from SNL, in case anyone caught that, that's not mine, either)
***
1027 LOCAL
JAG HEADQUARTERS
FALLS CHURCH, VIRGINIA
THURSDAY
Now I think he chooses the day's cologne at random. Curve for Men today. It's nice for him - a bit sweet, more blended and rounded than yesterday's Spice. It's a calm scent. [A/N: May I just say, damn, Harmon smells good...]
I breathe in as I walk past him. Oh, does he know just how attractive he is? I mean, he must. Everywhere he goes, women are always looking at him.
But I've just now realized it's never me. Until this week. But is has to stop sometime. It has to.
I hope this is all out of my system by next Monday. Tomorrow would be good, too. But I can't handle another week of this. I've been so restless. I can't sleep. I can't concentrate. And, like yesterday, my internal clock has been so out of sync that I can't even count seconds accurately.
I am sitting at my computer. For some reason, I can't remember how to work it. Oh yeah... Right. So.
I have an e-mail. Uh oh. It requires a reply. ::sigh:: Now I have to type, as well.
I sit behind the keyboard for a while, contemplating how to answer. Now I am typing. If I were speaking the way I am typing now, I would sound drunk as all get out. I have to hunt and peck the keys this morning.
This is really getting old.
Almost as soon as I hit 'send', Tiner comes in, content and freaking peppy as always. "The Admiral would like to see you in his office, Ma'am."
"Thank you, Tiner." He smiles, turns, and leaves. How does he do it? Exactly how much caffeine does this boy consume every day? Or is it natural? Lucky dog...
As I think this, I leave my office to weave through people and desks, not noticing that I've passed Harm until I get a whiff of his cologne. I nearly pass out, but I retain my cool head. 'It wouldn't be prudent at this juncture.'
I'm glad as I near the Admiral's open door. "Come in, Colonel," he says in his sharp, early morning tone. "Close the hatch behind you."
Sturgis is already inside. What is this about, I wonder?
"Commander Turner, Colonel, you two are going undercover. Plane leaves at noon."
Good! I finally will get a chance to escape Harm. But then again, I almost wish it was Harm going instead of Sturgis...
Be careful what you wish for. "But Admiral, may I request a day of leave tomorrow?" Sturgis asks. Uh oh. Guess who'll replace -
"No, Commander, did you hear me? You're going undercover and leaving today."
Yes!
"But it's for a funeral, Sir."
Damn!
"Well, that's a fact I wasn't aware of. I'm sorry Sturgis, granted. I wish you would have brought this to my attention sooner..." he added, mumbling.
"I'm sorry, Admiral, I will try to alert you sooner in the future. But I didn't find out about this until yesterday." What mumbo jumbo.
"Alright, you're dismissed. Mac, don't run away just yet, I still need you." Was I trying to sneak aw-, did I seem like I was gonna, gosh, I wasn't even trying to leave, Admiral, don't jump the gun on me, gee...
"Tiner!" he barks as Sturgis leaves. "Get Rabb in here, ASAP."
"Aye, Sir."
DAMMIT, now I have to be stuck on a plane next to this man for, what, hours?!
At least we're not questioning witnesses today.
I feel his aura enter and stand next to me. He doesn't seem at all surprised to see me.
"Yes, Sir?" he asks.
"Rabb, you'll be replacing Commander Turner. You and Mac are going undercover. Your plane leaves for Norfolk at twelve." Good. A short flight. But...
"Admiral, isn't Norfolk's Harborfest this weekend?" I ask. It'll be swamped.
"Yes it is, Colonel. That's why you're going. "
Harm and I give each other quizzical looks.
"You're undercover to look for a lost Petty Officer." He paused. "I can tell by the looks of confusion that you don't get it yet."
"No we don't, Sir." Aww. Harmon answered for me.
"A stowaway, almost." [I suck, I know, but I had to come up with something!]
He continues. "You two will be undercover as married civilians. Be near the port at 1500 tomorrow, when the ships dock. The Marines there know to look for you - they'll give you any clearance you may need."
"Uh, Sir, what exactly are we looking for?" I ask.
"Anyone suspicious." In my head, I'm rolling my eyes. Well duh. I glance at Harm and he gives me a look that says he's thinking the same thing. "You'll be briefed with better details when you land," Chegwidden adds. "Go home now and pack."
"How long will we be there, Sir?" Harm asks.
"As long as it takes." We think about rolling our eyes again. "Dismissed."
Our heels snap together simultaneously. "Aye aye, Sir," we say in unison. We both turn, but AJ calls me back.
After Harm exits, he says, "Mac, are you alright with this? You seemed to have a bit of a... a slump yesterday, in court."
Oh, man, he heard about that? "Yes, but I'll be fine." He narrows his eyes as if this alone will extract more information from me. Boy,it would take a lot more than that to tell you anything else about my thoughts.
His eyes seem to get smaller. He can feel the wheels turning in my head, wanting to say more. But he knows I won't.
He seems to sigh. "Alright." I think he says 'have it your way' under his breath.
***
1209 LOCAL
A PLANE SOMEWHERE OVER VIRGINIA
At least a D.C.-Norfolk flight isn't too terribly long.
***
Not as short as I thought, though.
He's sitting right next to me! What an injustice! His leg is touching mine! I can't handle this... I could have told the Admiral that I couldn't do it, but what would I tell him? That this week alone I am in love with Commander Rabb and cannot carry out my duties because of this in spite of my military training?
Actually, that's exactly what I should have told him.
No, no, I could never tell Chegwidden something like that. And anyway, who would he send to replace me? Coates?
At least we get to play married. I'll get to let out this week's weird feelings.
***
He seems to have been napping. "...Colonel..." he mumbles softly.
"Hm?" I ask.
He looks at me sleepily as though I began the conversation, not him. "Oh," he then says in realization. "I was just wondering why 'colonel' is pronounced the way it is." He closes his eyes to try to sleep again.
"We adopted many of our military grades from the British," I say matter-of-factly. I glance at him to see if he's still even awake. He's actually listening intently. So I go on. "When they were creating their grades, they took the French spelling, c-o-l-o-n-e-l, but the Spanish pronunciation, c-o-r-o-n-e-l, and then messed up its pronunciation." Did I just say that, messed it up?
He sits in thought a while. "Oh."
Then, after a few more minutes, he says, "I wonder what time it is..." He is thinking out loud. "Can you tell yet, Mac?"
Ah, I see what he's doing. At the beginning of the flight, I saw him slip his watch into his carry-on. On purpose, I can tell now. He wanted to know if I could do it yet, but didn't want to ask straight out. Sneaky. Well, I'm on to you.
"It's 1220," I say with closed eyes.
"I don't believe you," he says skeptically. I hear him claw through his bag for his watch. "...Oh... 1221... So you can tell time today?"
"No, I still can't."
"You can't?" He sounds confused. It's cute.
"I just estimated that it had been twenty minutes since we took off."
He pauses. "...Oh."
"You could have done that," I add. Why do I keep talking?
"No way, Mac. Telling time - you're magical about it."
I know. I know, really.
Did he just call me magical?
***
1625 LOCAL
A HOTEL IN NORFOLK
All of a sudden, my girlish moods have scurried away in fear of what is actually going on.
We have a hotel room. A. Singular.
At least there are two beds. JAG gave us that much.
As soon as he opens the door, I practically pounce on a bed and lay spread-eagled all over it.
"I need a shave," he says, thinking out loud again.
I'm still laying on my back when he comes out of the bathroom seven point four two minutes later and smelling like... Halston. His signature scent.
Great. I'll be freaking tipsy the rest of the day. I was practically giddy on Tuesday, and now again... Good. Just great.
I hyperventilate unnoticeably for a minute or so. He's sitting in a chair at the foot of the bed, reading or something weird like that.
I can't stand this. I'm just gonna have to say it.
"Halston?" I ask. I already feel better.
He looks up smilingly. "How'd you know?"
"Someone I used to date wore it all the time." That's how I know, right? I haven't been subconsciously sneaking into his apartment, have I? Sleep stalking, is that possible?
Anyway, he smiles again and goes back to his reading.
He's so irresistably attractive...
I am forced to slap my own forehead again. He looks up without making a face. "Really, Mac, what's been up this week?" He's reminding me of a school counselor. "You seem so distracted, like you're in some other world." I am. It's the Macfantasy Alternate Universe. "And what happened in court yesterday? That never happens." It does now, pal.
I sit up. "I'm not sure..." I answer, my voice completely lacking the sarcasm in my thoughts. He looks straight at me like I do know. "I haven't been drinking." That had to be ruled out. There has been a problem with that in the p-
"I know that, I can tell it's not alcohol."
Oh. Well.
"Really, Mac, you can tell me."
I am twelve again, talking to the boy in the front row who's never even seen me. That is the kind of nerve I have now, for some reason. ::sigh:: I know I can tell him. So I answer quietly and hesitantly, "Seriously..." He nods. "... I think it's you." But in my head I'm thinking I KNOW IT'S YOU YOU'VE BEEN FREAKING TAKING UP ALL MY THOUGHTS YOU'RE THE MOST ATTRACTIVE BEING ON THE FACE OF THIS EARTH AND I WANNA JUMP ON YOUR BACK EVERY TIME YOU WALK BY TAKE ME NOW OR KILL ME QUICKLY.
But that's all in my head.
Dammit, Mac, always the underachiever when it comes to words. Especially words that are synonymous with - eugh - feelings.
"Me?" he asks with a look of confusion that also happens to be very cute. "What am I doing?"
"I don't know why" liar "but you've been affecting me so differently" drr are you blind "in the past few days... I don't know why." YES I DO YOU'RE SEXY AND I WANT YOU AND YOU WANT ME SO LET'S JUST DO IT AND GET IT OVER WITH.
I shut my eyes tight to try to rid my mind of the evil words that have been plaguing my poor haunted head.
When I open my eyes, Harm is staring at me with a strange look. "Are you sure you're okay?" he asks cutely.
Yeah, and if I am to be okay, get out of my face so I'm not breathing your very air.
He sighs. "Let's go do something," he says in a very spur-of-of-the-moment manner.
"Like what? There won't be much to do until tomorrow." Am I retarded? He just asked to go somewhere with me, and all I can say is that there's nothing. I'm such an optimist.
"I don't know, just dinner."
"Harm, it's 1647." Why do I keep talking? He checks his watch and smiles.
"So it is."
"We can't eat at 4:47 in the afternoon." Why do I continue? "I mean, I know it's almost five, but still..."
"Mac, you knew the time."
I pause. "I did?"
"Are you feeling better?" he asks smilingly.
I hesitate. "I guess I am." I don't really feel better, but at least internally I'm back on track again.
Harm gets up. "Well, let's go."
I wrinkle my forehead at him. Why'd I do that? Am I blind? I just keep digging myself deeper and deeper into a hole I can't crawl out of.
Luckily, Harm has a ladder. He says mockingly, "Come on, honey." A ladder made of silk strands? He smiles big. My eyes widen. What? Then he points to the base of his left ring finger. Why is there a ring...?
As soon as he sees I realize what it is, he digs through his bag and pulls out a velvet cube. He throws it at me. "You get two," he says.
What?
"A wedding band and an engagement ring. We're married, remember?"
I stop to analyze the situation - Harmon Rabb, Jr. has just reminded me that I am married to him. What an odd occurrance.
I take the two rings from the box and put them on.
"I'll tell you what, if I were really married to you, I wouldn't forget."
"What's that supposed to mean?"
"I don't know," I answer quickly and loudly without looking up. That's the biggest problem with being in my condition - all my thoughts leave my mouth. It sucks.
He laughs at my honesty. We both put our shoes back on and leave the hotel room, locking the door behind us.
As we walk down the hall to the elevator, I nervously finger the foreign objects on the fourth appendage of my left hand. "Was it absolutely necessary for us to be undercover as a married couple?"
"No, we didn't. That's just it. The Admiral probably thought it'd be funny if he forced us to pretend it."
Prob'ly did. Sick twisted freak. "Oh... And I'll bet Sturgis was in on it, too."
"Why do you say that?"
"He was 'originally' assigned this, but he requested a day of leave tomorrow. The Admiral granted it to him."
"So?"
"If you asked to have the next day off when you had just been given an immediate assignment, Chegwidden would yell at you til he was purple. And all he did was mumble a little."
"That is suspicious."
We both sigh. Okay, so now what?
