Disclaimers: See Chapter 1
Who Is He This Time? 6/? Author: Another Tracy
Chapter 6
George Mason University Parking lot Wednesday, 3 December 2003 21:00 Eastern
Their feet crunched in the gravel and snow on the pavement as they left the building. Snow had fallen while they were indoors and the ground had a light covering. It was still coming down, albeit lightly. Neither one spoke. They didn't touch. They weren't very close together as they walked. Their heads were down; they were lost in thought. Their friends had all left earlier; Harm and Mac stayed briefly to talk to Meredith and the Admiral.
'What happened tonight?' Harm asked himself, lost in his thoughts of Mac and the words that had passed between them. Someone else's words. He hadn't given much thought to the reading, truth be told. He was unprepared for a "performance" and, obviously, unprepared for how the lines would mirror his own feelings. 'I do love nothing in the world so well as Sarah,' he thought.
"Can I talk you into a cup of cocoa at Starbucks?" He asked Mac without looking at her.
She looked over to see his head down as he walked. "Sure, that sounds great," she smiled. She knew that the reading had affected him much as it had her. And, like him, she didn't know what to do about it.
While Harm stood at the bar getting their cocoa, Mac settled into a chair and unzipped her jacket, loosened her scarf and pulled off her mittens. She looked up at him, standing in profile to her. God, he was so beautiful. He was gorgeous every minute of every day, but if there was ever a man to wear a uniform, it was Harmon Rabb, Jr. 'I love him with so much of my heart . . . ' she thought of the words she had spoken earlier in the evening.
Harm was back in the same place he'd been immediately after the reading. It was so easy when they were someone else's words, spoken while playing a part. Mac obviously loved this stuff. She got all mushy during the "Romeo & Juliet" reading. He always knew she liked Shakespeare, but he hadn't realized how much. He hadn't read much of the classics since his days in English Lit at the Academy. Maybe it was time to crack open one of those books again?
Harm brought their drinks to the table, looking at Mac with a warm smile. She looked up at him with the same twinkle in her eye. "Thanks, Harm," she said. They settled in comfortably, chatting about Meredith and the Admiral, Sturgis and Bobbie, and even Tiner and Coates. Every couple or potential couple . . . except themselves.
JAG HQ Falls Church, VA Friday, 5 December 2003 11:00 Eastern
The delivery boy stopped at Harriet's desk to ask directions. "Sarah Mackenzie?" Harriet questioned, looking at the bouquet in his hands. "The Colonel's office is right there." She pointed to Mac's office, which was empty. "She's in court right now, if you need me to sign for the flowers." The delivery boy left the form for Harriet to sign, put the flowers in the office, and picked up the form from Harriet on his way out.
A half hour later the elevator bell signaled its arrival and Harriet turned to see Mac get off the elevator. She stood quickly and excitedly waited for Mac to enter the bullpen. "You got flowers, ma'am!" She bubbled.
Mac raised an eyebrow, wondering if Harriet could be mistaken. Sure enough, there were flowers on her desk. It was a large, lovely arrangement in a vase. A mixture of several types of flowers, noticeably with red roses sprinkled throughout the bouquet. She bent to sniff their delicate fragrance. Harriet stood at the door, practically bouncing up and down. "Is there a card, ma'am?"
Mac picked the card out of the center of the bouquet and saw her name on the front 'Sarah Mackenzie'. She looked up at Harriet. "That will be all, Lt."
Harriet's face fell. Mac felt a little guilty disappointing her, but until she read the card herself, she wouldn't want to chance someone else seeing her reaction. Mac stepped around the desk as Harriet left her office, shoulders slumped. She'd make it up to her later, she thought, as she closed the door. She looked over at her partner's empty office. He was in Norfolk for the day.
She opened the card, but it wasn't the usual florist note card. It was a folded up piece of paper, like a letter. She opened it and found a typewritten message with no signature.
"I cannot speak enough of this content. It stops me here; it is too much joy. And this, and this, the greatest discords be That e'er our hearts did make!"
What was that from? It was familiar, definitely Shakespeare. More importantly, WHO was it from? 'Harm?' she wondered. If so, WHY? Well, if it was him, it was very sweet. Should she question him? Or should she wait to see if he reacts? Mmmmhhhhh . . . choices, choices. Oh, hell, better not to step out onto that emotional limb with him again. If he has something to say, it's up to him to say it.
She put the note in her purse, and went to lunch.
Mac's Apartment Georgetown Saturday, 6 December 2003 14:00 Eastern
A knock at the door pulled her away from the book she was reading about fossils. She looked through the peephole to see a delivery man, a kid, really, standing outside with a box. She pulled the door open.
"Sarah Mackenzie?" the young man queried.
"Yes, I'm Sarah," Mac responded with a curious tone in her voice.
"Sign here," he held out a pen and clipboard for her to sign. As she signed she said, "I'm not expecting anything, what is it?"
"I don't know lady; I just deliver 'em."
"Thank you," Mac said as she took the box from him. "Oh, wait!" She hurried back to her purse, grabbed a couple of ones and gave them to the kid.
"Thanks," and he disappeared down the hallway to the stairs.
The box was marked "Jann's Sweet Shop" and it was square but somewhat flat. It didn't weigh much, but Mac didn't shake it, since she wasn't sure what was in it. She took it to the kitchen table and set it down. She picked up the scissors and proceeded to cut the string holding the box shut. As she lifted the lid, she gasped, and then smiled.
It was a chocolate cake, her favorite thing in the world. Written on top were the words "A rose by any other name." Well, that was an easy one to trace. As she started to lift the cake she noticed there was a white envelope underneath the cardboard plate which held the cake. She set the cake aside and picked out the envelope. It wasn't sealed, and her name was written on the front. The handwriting looked suspiciously familiar. The message inside was in the same hand:
"So are you to my thoughts as food to life, Or as sweet-season'd showers are to the ground; And for the peace of you I hold such strife As 'twixt a miser and his wealth is found; Now proud as an enjoyer, and anon Doubting the filching age will steal his treasure; Now counting best to be with you alone, Then better'd that the world may see my pleasure; Sometimes all full with feasting on your sight, And by and by clean starved for a look; Possessing or pursuing no delight, Save what is had or must from you be took. Thus do I pine and surfeit day by day . . ."
Mac dropped the page to the table, the blush creeping up her neck to her face. Her eyes stung with tears for just a moment, and she rubbed her nose with the back of her hand. What had gotten into him?
Of course it was Harm. She'd know the handwriting anywhere. Of course it was Will, although she wasn't sure which of his sonnets it was. Whichever one it was, WOW, he picked a good one! Setting aside the effort that he had taken to find the sonnet, to write it out, to get the cake, to have the 'rose' sentiment put on the cake, and to send it to her, she was overwhelmed by the intimacy of it. It was something you did for someone that you . . . loved? So this means . . . what?
She didn't really talk about her love of literature. She knew that he knew she liked to read, but she had really only started getting interested in the classics in the last few years. So he picked up on her reaction to the play readings, which was so sweet. And now he was using this information to woo her? Could it actually get any better than this?
Her eyes filled again. 'What should I do? Should I call him to thank him? Am I supposed to know it's him? Will I just scare him away again? God knows, the man's like a skittish horse about to be broken to saddle. Do I play it cool?' The answer was postponed with another knock on the door.
This time, the peephole revealed the man himself. 'Damn! I didn't even get a chance to formulate a strategy, develop a plan, establish an escape route, shave my legs! OK, Mackenzie, now you are babbling in your own head.' She pushed her hair back from her face, threw her shoulders back, and opened the door with a show of considerably more confidence than she actually felt.
To be continued . . .
Who Is He This Time? 6/? Author: Another Tracy
Chapter 6
George Mason University Parking lot Wednesday, 3 December 2003 21:00 Eastern
Their feet crunched in the gravel and snow on the pavement as they left the building. Snow had fallen while they were indoors and the ground had a light covering. It was still coming down, albeit lightly. Neither one spoke. They didn't touch. They weren't very close together as they walked. Their heads were down; they were lost in thought. Their friends had all left earlier; Harm and Mac stayed briefly to talk to Meredith and the Admiral.
'What happened tonight?' Harm asked himself, lost in his thoughts of Mac and the words that had passed between them. Someone else's words. He hadn't given much thought to the reading, truth be told. He was unprepared for a "performance" and, obviously, unprepared for how the lines would mirror his own feelings. 'I do love nothing in the world so well as Sarah,' he thought.
"Can I talk you into a cup of cocoa at Starbucks?" He asked Mac without looking at her.
She looked over to see his head down as he walked. "Sure, that sounds great," she smiled. She knew that the reading had affected him much as it had her. And, like him, she didn't know what to do about it.
While Harm stood at the bar getting their cocoa, Mac settled into a chair and unzipped her jacket, loosened her scarf and pulled off her mittens. She looked up at him, standing in profile to her. God, he was so beautiful. He was gorgeous every minute of every day, but if there was ever a man to wear a uniform, it was Harmon Rabb, Jr. 'I love him with so much of my heart . . . ' she thought of the words she had spoken earlier in the evening.
Harm was back in the same place he'd been immediately after the reading. It was so easy when they were someone else's words, spoken while playing a part. Mac obviously loved this stuff. She got all mushy during the "Romeo & Juliet" reading. He always knew she liked Shakespeare, but he hadn't realized how much. He hadn't read much of the classics since his days in English Lit at the Academy. Maybe it was time to crack open one of those books again?
Harm brought their drinks to the table, looking at Mac with a warm smile. She looked up at him with the same twinkle in her eye. "Thanks, Harm," she said. They settled in comfortably, chatting about Meredith and the Admiral, Sturgis and Bobbie, and even Tiner and Coates. Every couple or potential couple . . . except themselves.
JAG HQ Falls Church, VA Friday, 5 December 2003 11:00 Eastern
The delivery boy stopped at Harriet's desk to ask directions. "Sarah Mackenzie?" Harriet questioned, looking at the bouquet in his hands. "The Colonel's office is right there." She pointed to Mac's office, which was empty. "She's in court right now, if you need me to sign for the flowers." The delivery boy left the form for Harriet to sign, put the flowers in the office, and picked up the form from Harriet on his way out.
A half hour later the elevator bell signaled its arrival and Harriet turned to see Mac get off the elevator. She stood quickly and excitedly waited for Mac to enter the bullpen. "You got flowers, ma'am!" She bubbled.
Mac raised an eyebrow, wondering if Harriet could be mistaken. Sure enough, there were flowers on her desk. It was a large, lovely arrangement in a vase. A mixture of several types of flowers, noticeably with red roses sprinkled throughout the bouquet. She bent to sniff their delicate fragrance. Harriet stood at the door, practically bouncing up and down. "Is there a card, ma'am?"
Mac picked the card out of the center of the bouquet and saw her name on the front 'Sarah Mackenzie'. She looked up at Harriet. "That will be all, Lt."
Harriet's face fell. Mac felt a little guilty disappointing her, but until she read the card herself, she wouldn't want to chance someone else seeing her reaction. Mac stepped around the desk as Harriet left her office, shoulders slumped. She'd make it up to her later, she thought, as she closed the door. She looked over at her partner's empty office. He was in Norfolk for the day.
She opened the card, but it wasn't the usual florist note card. It was a folded up piece of paper, like a letter. She opened it and found a typewritten message with no signature.
"I cannot speak enough of this content. It stops me here; it is too much joy. And this, and this, the greatest discords be That e'er our hearts did make!"
What was that from? It was familiar, definitely Shakespeare. More importantly, WHO was it from? 'Harm?' she wondered. If so, WHY? Well, if it was him, it was very sweet. Should she question him? Or should she wait to see if he reacts? Mmmmhhhhh . . . choices, choices. Oh, hell, better not to step out onto that emotional limb with him again. If he has something to say, it's up to him to say it.
She put the note in her purse, and went to lunch.
Mac's Apartment Georgetown Saturday, 6 December 2003 14:00 Eastern
A knock at the door pulled her away from the book she was reading about fossils. She looked through the peephole to see a delivery man, a kid, really, standing outside with a box. She pulled the door open.
"Sarah Mackenzie?" the young man queried.
"Yes, I'm Sarah," Mac responded with a curious tone in her voice.
"Sign here," he held out a pen and clipboard for her to sign. As she signed she said, "I'm not expecting anything, what is it?"
"I don't know lady; I just deliver 'em."
"Thank you," Mac said as she took the box from him. "Oh, wait!" She hurried back to her purse, grabbed a couple of ones and gave them to the kid.
"Thanks," and he disappeared down the hallway to the stairs.
The box was marked "Jann's Sweet Shop" and it was square but somewhat flat. It didn't weigh much, but Mac didn't shake it, since she wasn't sure what was in it. She took it to the kitchen table and set it down. She picked up the scissors and proceeded to cut the string holding the box shut. As she lifted the lid, she gasped, and then smiled.
It was a chocolate cake, her favorite thing in the world. Written on top were the words "A rose by any other name." Well, that was an easy one to trace. As she started to lift the cake she noticed there was a white envelope underneath the cardboard plate which held the cake. She set the cake aside and picked out the envelope. It wasn't sealed, and her name was written on the front. The handwriting looked suspiciously familiar. The message inside was in the same hand:
"So are you to my thoughts as food to life, Or as sweet-season'd showers are to the ground; And for the peace of you I hold such strife As 'twixt a miser and his wealth is found; Now proud as an enjoyer, and anon Doubting the filching age will steal his treasure; Now counting best to be with you alone, Then better'd that the world may see my pleasure; Sometimes all full with feasting on your sight, And by and by clean starved for a look; Possessing or pursuing no delight, Save what is had or must from you be took. Thus do I pine and surfeit day by day . . ."
Mac dropped the page to the table, the blush creeping up her neck to her face. Her eyes stung with tears for just a moment, and she rubbed her nose with the back of her hand. What had gotten into him?
Of course it was Harm. She'd know the handwriting anywhere. Of course it was Will, although she wasn't sure which of his sonnets it was. Whichever one it was, WOW, he picked a good one! Setting aside the effort that he had taken to find the sonnet, to write it out, to get the cake, to have the 'rose' sentiment put on the cake, and to send it to her, she was overwhelmed by the intimacy of it. It was something you did for someone that you . . . loved? So this means . . . what?
She didn't really talk about her love of literature. She knew that he knew she liked to read, but she had really only started getting interested in the classics in the last few years. So he picked up on her reaction to the play readings, which was so sweet. And now he was using this information to woo her? Could it actually get any better than this?
Her eyes filled again. 'What should I do? Should I call him to thank him? Am I supposed to know it's him? Will I just scare him away again? God knows, the man's like a skittish horse about to be broken to saddle. Do I play it cool?' The answer was postponed with another knock on the door.
This time, the peephole revealed the man himself. 'Damn! I didn't even get a chance to formulate a strategy, develop a plan, establish an escape route, shave my legs! OK, Mackenzie, now you are babbling in your own head.' She pushed her hair back from her face, threw her shoulders back, and opened the door with a show of considerably more confidence than she actually felt.
To be continued . . .