Once More Into the Breach

Disclaimer: Same as before. A little AU-ish in terms of Harm/Mac.

~ ~ ~ ~

3 March 2002

Dear Rusty,

Enclosed is the picture you asked for. I hope you don't mind that it's my service portrait. My friend, Tiner, said it brings out my eyes and therefore I should send it to you. I was most certainly flattered by your presumptions of me. I'm twenty-three years old on the 12th of March, I'm about 5'7", and fairly slim figured. So I'd guess you were right on the money.

Anyway, tell Sid I'd have sent him an ice pack in the mail but it'd melt by the time it reached Afghanistan. Tell him not to be so sour, people have clumsy moments all the time. Some more than others. Such as Lieutenant Roberts, he's a lawyer who works at my office. Some days I swear he was born without an inner ear, yesterday he tripped over an extension cord (we're doing some minor reconstruction in the building so the contractors are everywhere), while reading a file and he literally somersaulted across the floor end over end. It was hilarious.

He's the biggest sweetheart, next to Tiner of course, but he can be a bit clumsy at times. Before you accuse me of frat, he has a wife he loves, a two-year-old son, and a suburban house complete with minivan and white picket fence. I'm not the sort to go chasing around a married man.

I totally forgot to answer your question about why I went into the Navy. (Blame that on a combination of a term paper, an upcoming exam, and a hectic week at the office). I enlisted because it was either the US Navy or a jail cell. I had a juvenile record (an embarrassment for a minister's daughter, certainly). Since I had no desire to wind up being fresh meat for a big obnoxious cellmate named Rina who probably can bench press the body weight of most men I chose the Navy. Anyway, my term paper still beckons.

Sincerely,

Jennifer

~ ~ ~ ~

Shar-I-Kot, Afghanistan

Rusty Puckett put the letter into his belt kit as he lugged over a hundred pounds of gear on his back over the mountains. In a bit of American/Canadian cooperation, Gus, one of the Marine snipers armed with an M82A1 .50 sniper rifle, accompanied him and Sid. Rusty carried his bolt action C3A1 and eight spare clips of six rounds apiece together with a 9mm pistol and seven magazines. Sid lugged the radio as well as his own pack and a telescope sighted M-16 as well as the spotter scope.

Jennifer was certainly cute, even in uniform, and he was willing to bet she was absolutely beautiful when she was in civvies. He had enjoyed showing the picture to the guys in the bivouac who'd thought otherwise. But he nearly lost a stripe for beating up some jerk off Marine named Bailey who'd tried to take it from him. That picture was laminated and attached by a bit of paracord to his webbing, right next to his spare magazines.

The snipers were hunting Taliban and al Qaeda mortar units that were becoming a problem for the 101st Airborne operating in Afghanistan. No sooner had they built their hide and camouflaged it then a radio call came in. Sid got on the spotter scope and said, "I've got a couple mortar tubes, 81mm, near the mouth of that cave we marked last week. They're about 2026 meters off."

"I've got the guy with the mortar rounds." Gus said.

"Right, I'll go drop the guy doing the firing calculations." Rusty replied.

"Fire on my mark." Sid said, "Rusty, correct for a 5 mph wind, coming due east."

"Right." Rusty replied, making the clicks on his telescopic sight.

"Gus, make sure you're correcting for that too. Your guy's stationary at 2025 meters. Rusty, yours is also stationary. Ready? Fire." Sid replied.

Both men squeezed the triggers slowly, exhaling evenly, remaining calm and detached and surprising themselves with the trigger break of their weapons, being relaxed enough to absorb the recoil. Simultaneously two al-Qaeda fighters dropped. The first, the one Gus shot, literally lost his head as the heavy bullet tore it off. The second fell with a smaller, but no less deadly, hole through his forehead as Rusty's 7.62mm bullet struck home.

The third mortar man picked up his RPK machinegun and fired wildly downrange hoping to kill whoever just bushwhacked two of his mates. He caught two bullets, one from Gus and the other from Rusty. Rusty's bullet struck him solidly in the head, causing him to spin in a pirouette of death. A half-second later Gus' round arrived, completely obliterating his heart and most of his torso with the half-inch bullet.

The two more men manning the 81mm turned to flee, only to run right into the path of a 101st Airborne Division patrol that was about to rush their position. One of the two surrendered, the other was killed trying to resist.

Rusty didn't rejoice in killing the two he had shot. He knew it was necessary to save the lives of allied forces, but he didn't relish it. He was a sniper, a soldier that was his trade, to kill hostile forces. He still felt a sense of satisfaction that he had saved the lives of more than a few of the 101st Airborne who were transporting their captive back to a waiting Chinook.

It had been a long, hard fought ten days, and Rusty smiled tiredly when he saw another three man sniper team, from his own unit, coming stealthily up the hill. Rusty put the half-finished reply to Jennifer into one of his magazine pouches and humped back down the hill.

~ ~ ~ ~

12 March 2002

Dear Jennifer,

Belated happy birthday, because I'm not sure when I can send this. I can't exactly say what I've been up to, but let's just say I've been very busy. Sid says, 'Thanks for your sympathy'.

I laminated that picture you sent when I took our maps in for lamination at HQ. I burnt a hole through the corner and tied it to my belt kit with a length of paracord. Hopefully Tiner doesn't mind. He was right though, that picture does bring out your eyes. A bunch of the guys in the bivouac were put in place when they realized you weren't some 'older bat with reading specs hunched over a computer'. I hope you don't mind me doing that either.

Anyway, I've got a lot more observation to do training to keep up and the like. I again wish you a happy birthday.

Sincerely,

Rusty

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McMurphy's

Jennifer Coates, at the behest of practically everyone at JAG, walked into McMurphy's pub and towards the table that the JAG staff typically reserved on their get togethers at the place. She originally had told Tiner she couldn't come, because of that term paper. Not ten minutes later, Colonel Mackenzie had insisted she come along. Five minutes later Commander Rabb said the same thing. Then Sturgis stopped by and made the offer again. Followed by Gunny, Lieutenant Roberts, Tiner again, and then Harriet. It finally was cemented that she would make a brief appearance when the Admiral suggested she come by.

"SURPRISE!" came the shout, "Happy Birthday Jen."

Jennifer smiled, as her eyes widened in surprise. It was her birthday. She totally forgot. Between the term paper, an upcoming exam in her class, work, and watching news reports on the Afghanistan situation she'd forgotten her own birthday.

A birthday cake came out with a big twenty three in candles lit atop it. Tears of joy filled her eyes as she blew out the cake, which had the scrolling, "Happy Birthday and Welcome to JAG Jennifer Coates" upon it.

Harm and Mac had stopped their latest bickering in order to plan this surprise party. Harm chose the location and Mac picked the cake. Jennifer had noticed that throughout the week they would often go into each other's offices, close the door, and argue about something. The tension between them was so thick that you could cut it with a knife. Jennifer also noticed they'd stop arguing whenever she'd get too close to them. Then it hit her like a ton of bricks, they were involved, largely, in planning this whole thing.

"Very well done, if I must say." Admiral Chegwidden began.

"Thank you sir." Harm replied.

"Harm, for the last time, outside of the office, in civvies it's AJ."

"No thanks to somebody almost compromising us." Mac began.

"Mac." Harm began, dragging out the 'a' in the middle whenever they were in the midst of an argument of sorts.

"Harm, I need to talk to you." Mac replied, as they both walked outside.

"I don't get it." Sturgis began, "He's interested, she's interested. What's wrong with them?"

"You've got me, sir," Bud began, "I've been trying to figure that out for years."

Jennifer decided she needed some fresh air, all this surprise was just too much to take. She walked outside to clear her head only to find Harm and Mac engaged in a passionate kiss outside.

After about a minute, Tiner, worried about where his friend might have gone off too, excused himself and walked out front to witness the same scene. He and Jen stood there with their jaws hanging down.

"Jennifer, Jason, are you guys...?" Harriet began, and shocked and delighted, she saw Harm and Mac part lips finally.

"Mac, I honestly didn't know we drew an audience." Harm began.

Mac playfully punched him on the arm, saying sweetly, "Harm, what do you expect when you kiss a girl in public?"

"A little privacy." Harm replied.

"You're an idiot, a cute idiot, but an idiot nonetheless." Mac began as they walked back inside.

Everyone saw Harm take Mac's hand at one point during the evening. The tension between them seemed gone, replaced by something new.

"I guess they worked it out." Sturgis began.

"Harm," Chegwidden sternly began, "you and Mac had best keep this out of the office."

His tone softened as he said, "I'm happy for you."

~ ~ ~ ~

TBC