"First Impressions"

*           *           *           *           *           *
 

Mac was trying to ignore the happenings of her surroundings. It was 1830 local time in DC and the sun was just starting to set in the West and the light cast a golden glow around the small expanse of parkland in suburban Georgetown. To the East, the mountains were shadowy and snow-capped, towering forebodingly in the dim light that surrounded them and looking like they had stepped directly out of a Tolkein novel. The concrete path beneath her feet was rough and warm, despite the relentless grasp of winter on the city, dirty slush that was once snow glistening in the late afternoon light, waiting to harden to ice as the night descended. She shivered, sliding her feet into her shoes again as the temperature lowered several degrees and the light lowered toward the horizon once more.

Across the path was a small pool, a thin layer of ice still covering most of the water. She had watched it grow thinner and thinner as the days wore on. The way the ducks honked, slipped, slid and stood on the ice always amused her. Today the birds were paddling around the pond, calling to each other in the same way. She smiled. She truly loved this time of year- before Spring when the snow started to melt and the temperature started to rise, the sunset got later, the days longer and weather all together more tolerable. The number of people in the park dwindled as children made their way home and late afternoon joggers took refuge from the evening air. Mac liked coming here. She liked to think about things- the surroundings always seemed to help her gain perspective. Shivering again, she tugged the zipper of her jacket upward and wrapped her arms around her sides, the paper on her lap shifting slightly in the light breeze.

She lowered her eyes to the papers again, the light making it difficult to read her notes, not that she couldn't remember what they contained. She was pondering the Article 32 investigation. It wasn't difficult to see that Sergeant Purdy didn't think what she had said was serious enough to warrant punishment. The Sergeant was hard and loud- exactly the way Mac remembered her own drill instructor from her training days. The drill sergeant screaming at her before their first parade was her clearest memory of her four weeks in the induction course. Her shoes had not been polished to a satisfactory standard and he had grown rather passionate in his speech about dress and bearing. The reason she remembered it was he had accidentally showered her with saliva and she had been forced to stand at attention for the entire duration of the parade with spit just above her cheekbone. At the time she had been disgusted, but now it did seem slightly funny- sort of like the time someone had laced her GPs together and when woken before dawn, she'd slipped them on without realising, ending up flat on her face in the middle of the dorm with everybody laughing at her. There had been revenge though she remembered- a little tanning oil on the ledge of her bunk and the culprit, her bunkmate, had ended up on the ground following an unsuccessful scramble to regain her balance on her climb to the top bed. Unfortunately for her the drill sergeant mentioned above had chosen that moment to enter the rooms and yell at them all for being late to mess, so the joy was short-lived. Yes, Sergeant Purdy was typical for a drill sergeant- very loud.

Captain Seraphine McGrath, on the other hand, was rather quiet. The woman was shorter than herself, and seemed altogether small. It wasn't her size, rather her manner. She was polite and well spoken and it had taken a lot to incense her in the slightest. She was a likeable person, with an agreeable demeanour. It was clear to Mac that the Captain was at least somewhat besotted by her CO but did not take her as the type to act on any such feelings. Even if she could bring herself to ignore the legal ramifications or implications to her otherwise successful career, McGrath was too shy to initiate or indeed respond to any sort of advance in that direction, especially by an older man and high-ranking officer. By his rank Mac could tell that Lt General McNeil had to be five years older than herself, and doing the calculations, she realised that there would be at least twenty years between the CO and his legal officer- another fact that made the pair an unlikely match.

Her first impressions were usually trustworthy.

The breeze grew stronger then, as the last light disappeared and the first stars became visible in the twilight. The pages of notes in her lap stirred, then floated onto the footpath, carried by the wind. Jumping up, she chased after them, sliding a little on the ice and laughing at herself. Gathering the now wet collection of paper one sheet at a time, she ended up staring over out over the pond, as the final page of her notes blew over the water, settling itself between two ducks and starting a series of ripples that travelled from the centre of the pond to meet her at the bank. Her hands, only covered by thin gloves meant to be worn under ski gloves in the snow, were numb with cold. Folding the paper and placing it inside her pockets along with her hands she watched the ducks pick at the paper in confusion, the light from half a silver orb reflected in the water. Turning her gaze to the moon, she watched as it peeked out at her from behind a cloud, still laughing quietly.

*           *           *           *           *           *

A/N: Uh yeah, I know it didn't contain all too much- will make more sense as the story progresses.