Title: Just to talk Part V
Author: Nan
Rating: PG-13
Classification: Mac/Harm
Spoilers: Take It Like a Man
Authors Notes - This seems to be progressing slowly. I'm not sure why...
******************************************************************
0020 Zulu
Sarah Mackenzie's Apartment
Georgetown
Harm paused for a minute second. His hand was raised, knuckles forward, ready to rap on the apartment door of Sarah Mackenzie. He mentally reviewed the reason he was here, unannounced in the early evening of a weeknight. Okay, so he really didn't have a reason.
It took a minute or two before she answered, long enough for Harm to wonder if she might not be there.
"Harm?" She had a puzzled smile on her face. He loved that particular smile. Out of the vast number of smiles that Sarah Mackenzie had in her arsenal, he was certain this subset was reserved for only him. This was the smile she gave when he made an outrageous statement in court. It often appeared on her face during investigations, when he pursued that unanticipated lead. Whenever he did the unexpected, like now. If the smile were words, he knew what it would say. "Are you trying to sandbag me, Harm?"
"I just dropped Mattie off at a volleyball wrap-up party," he said, watching her reaction as he followed her into the living room. "I have something for you. Am I interrupting?"
"No," she said. "I was just puttering."
"Puttering?" he said.
"You know, puttering. Organizing a drawer, folding the laundry, that kind of stuff. Puttering."
"Okay," he said. His eyes wandered around the apartment. He saw her clothes, still on the hangers, piled on the couch. A dresser was positioned in front of the fireplace and bedside lamps decorated the hearth.
He raised his eyebrows at her. "Having a lawn sale?"
"No," she said, removing a stack of books from one of the chairs. "Redoing the bedroom."
"Redoing the bedroom?" he repeated, trying to remember how it was decorated before. A rich Moroccan style in reds, browns and golds, he thought. "Now what?"
"I'm going modern. Blacks, whites, chrome. Minimalist."
"Okay," he said. He liked the Moroccan better. It suited Mac. But he closed his mouth quickly without commenting. Something in her manner said 'Back off.'
"Would you like something to drink?" she asked, weaving her way through the piles to the kitchen. "I think Clay left some wine here last time."
"Nice guy," Harm muttered.
"Pardon?" she said.
"Nothing," he said. "How about water?"
He heard the fizz coming off as a bottle of sparkling water was opened. Then there was the clink of ice cubes.
"What do you have for me?" she asked, handing him a tall glass.
"Oh," he had forgotten the newspaper wrapped bundle in one hand. He held it out to her. "For you."
There was that puzzled smile again. She looked at him then down at the bundle. She unfolded the paper. Inside, there was a splash of yellow. Small flowers decorated four willowy brown branches.
She looked up at him.
"Forsythia," he explained. "First of the season. I've been watching that hedge by the grove of trees on the JAG property. They started to bloom today."
Her smile became wider. "You ripped these off the bushes at JAG? What are the groundskeepers going to say?"
"They'll thank me. They needed to be trimmed back." He grinned.
She picked them up and held them at arms length. Grabbing a vase off the mantle she went to the sink to fill it with water. When she returned, her hands were still busy re-arranging the graceful branches in the vase.
"My mother use to cut forsythia in February. Bring them inside to force them to bloom. It was beautiful. Sunny yellow when all around was the gloom of winter," she remembered. "You knew those bushes at JAG were forsythia?"
"I've worked there for nine years. On and off."
She looked at him in a strange way, like she was discovering something new.
He wandered over to her bedroom door. Sheets of plastic covered the bed. "What color are you painting the walls?"
"White."
"You hate painting, I thought."
She shrugged.
Harm said. "Me? I enjoy painting. It's a good distraction. Why don't I paint the bedroom for you?"
She looked at him in disbelief. "Aren't you busy enough?"
"It won't take long. One evening to tape. One evening to edge. One evening to roll the walls. Then a second coat. I'll bring Mattie."
"Okay," she said slowly. She looked at him again, puzzled.
1305 Zulu
JAG Headquarters
Falls Church, Virginia
"...monthly staff report, expense reports, weekly case progress sheets and finally, summary of first quarter travel expenditures. Have I missed anything, Petty Officer?" said Sarah Mackenzie, handing over a stack of rainbow-colored files to Jennifer Coates.
"That's it, Colonel," she said. "I'll distribute and file."
Whap! Jennifer and Mac looked at one another. The sound came through the open door of the admiral's outer office from the bullpen. Someone was having problems with the photocopier.
"Can I help you with that, Commander?" They heard Harriet's voice. Harm's reply was indistinct but the frustrated tone was clear.
"The commander is having a bad day," commented Coates.
"So it seems," said Mac. "He yelled at the coffee pot earlier. Did I miss something?"
"Not something, ma'am. Someone. Mattie."
"Mattie?"
"She had this party last night, ma'am. Volleyball party. The commander was pleased that she was going out with some girls from her school. But when he picked her up at midnight? Seems she had a couple of drinks at the party. A few seniors had brought some Jack Daniels."
"She was drunk?" asked Mac, alarmed.
"Oh no. It was more like she had a drink or two. Just to fit in. But with everything that has gone on with her father, well, the commander had a fit."
"Oh," said Mac. She was watching the bullpen, trying to get a glimpse of Harm. All this talk about Alateen, Al-anon, addiction, it was easy to believe that Harm would be upset. "How mad was he?"
"He lost it. Nothing physical. He's not like that. But he tore a strip off her hide verbally. He's pretty good at that. This morning? He and Mattie barely spoke to one another. He's furious. And she's hurt. And now I bet he feels guilty."
"Sounds like you got a front row seat," said Mac.
"Yes, unfortunately. I don't know what to think. It's not like she committed a murder. It was just a drink or two. She looks tough, ma'am, but underneath? She just wants to fit in like everyone."
"What are the girls on the volleyball team like?"
"Cheerleader types. Except now a day, they don't want to be cheerleaders; they want to be volleyball, basketball, field hockey or lacrosse stars. Nice clothes, boyfriends, nice cars."
"That doesn't sound like Mattie," said Mac.
"No. But you can't blame her for wanting to be accepted by them."
"You're so right." Mac was lost in thought.
Jennifer cut in. "Do you know what I think, ma'am?"
"What?"
"Mattie has two men in her life. Her father, who she doesn't respect and Harm, who she respects, but has no clue how to help. You know what she needs?"
"What?"
"A mother."
"I thought that's what you were, Jen." smiled Mac.
"Noooo, not me. I can barely balance my checkbook. I have enough problems of my own."
Mac turned thoughtful. "I've never known him to pick on the photocopier before. Or the coffee machine."
"Yes ma'am," said Coates. "Maybe you could help,"
Mac gave her a withering look. "I'm no expert, Petty Officer."
"Yes ma'am."
TBC
Author: Nan
Rating: PG-13
Classification: Mac/Harm
Spoilers: Take It Like a Man
Authors Notes - This seems to be progressing slowly. I'm not sure why...
******************************************************************
0020 Zulu
Sarah Mackenzie's Apartment
Georgetown
Harm paused for a minute second. His hand was raised, knuckles forward, ready to rap on the apartment door of Sarah Mackenzie. He mentally reviewed the reason he was here, unannounced in the early evening of a weeknight. Okay, so he really didn't have a reason.
It took a minute or two before she answered, long enough for Harm to wonder if she might not be there.
"Harm?" She had a puzzled smile on her face. He loved that particular smile. Out of the vast number of smiles that Sarah Mackenzie had in her arsenal, he was certain this subset was reserved for only him. This was the smile she gave when he made an outrageous statement in court. It often appeared on her face during investigations, when he pursued that unanticipated lead. Whenever he did the unexpected, like now. If the smile were words, he knew what it would say. "Are you trying to sandbag me, Harm?"
"I just dropped Mattie off at a volleyball wrap-up party," he said, watching her reaction as he followed her into the living room. "I have something for you. Am I interrupting?"
"No," she said. "I was just puttering."
"Puttering?" he said.
"You know, puttering. Organizing a drawer, folding the laundry, that kind of stuff. Puttering."
"Okay," he said. His eyes wandered around the apartment. He saw her clothes, still on the hangers, piled on the couch. A dresser was positioned in front of the fireplace and bedside lamps decorated the hearth.
He raised his eyebrows at her. "Having a lawn sale?"
"No," she said, removing a stack of books from one of the chairs. "Redoing the bedroom."
"Redoing the bedroom?" he repeated, trying to remember how it was decorated before. A rich Moroccan style in reds, browns and golds, he thought. "Now what?"
"I'm going modern. Blacks, whites, chrome. Minimalist."
"Okay," he said. He liked the Moroccan better. It suited Mac. But he closed his mouth quickly without commenting. Something in her manner said 'Back off.'
"Would you like something to drink?" she asked, weaving her way through the piles to the kitchen. "I think Clay left some wine here last time."
"Nice guy," Harm muttered.
"Pardon?" she said.
"Nothing," he said. "How about water?"
He heard the fizz coming off as a bottle of sparkling water was opened. Then there was the clink of ice cubes.
"What do you have for me?" she asked, handing him a tall glass.
"Oh," he had forgotten the newspaper wrapped bundle in one hand. He held it out to her. "For you."
There was that puzzled smile again. She looked at him then down at the bundle. She unfolded the paper. Inside, there was a splash of yellow. Small flowers decorated four willowy brown branches.
She looked up at him.
"Forsythia," he explained. "First of the season. I've been watching that hedge by the grove of trees on the JAG property. They started to bloom today."
Her smile became wider. "You ripped these off the bushes at JAG? What are the groundskeepers going to say?"
"They'll thank me. They needed to be trimmed back." He grinned.
She picked them up and held them at arms length. Grabbing a vase off the mantle she went to the sink to fill it with water. When she returned, her hands were still busy re-arranging the graceful branches in the vase.
"My mother use to cut forsythia in February. Bring them inside to force them to bloom. It was beautiful. Sunny yellow when all around was the gloom of winter," she remembered. "You knew those bushes at JAG were forsythia?"
"I've worked there for nine years. On and off."
She looked at him in a strange way, like she was discovering something new.
He wandered over to her bedroom door. Sheets of plastic covered the bed. "What color are you painting the walls?"
"White."
"You hate painting, I thought."
She shrugged.
Harm said. "Me? I enjoy painting. It's a good distraction. Why don't I paint the bedroom for you?"
She looked at him in disbelief. "Aren't you busy enough?"
"It won't take long. One evening to tape. One evening to edge. One evening to roll the walls. Then a second coat. I'll bring Mattie."
"Okay," she said slowly. She looked at him again, puzzled.
1305 Zulu
JAG Headquarters
Falls Church, Virginia
"...monthly staff report, expense reports, weekly case progress sheets and finally, summary of first quarter travel expenditures. Have I missed anything, Petty Officer?" said Sarah Mackenzie, handing over a stack of rainbow-colored files to Jennifer Coates.
"That's it, Colonel," she said. "I'll distribute and file."
Whap! Jennifer and Mac looked at one another. The sound came through the open door of the admiral's outer office from the bullpen. Someone was having problems with the photocopier.
"Can I help you with that, Commander?" They heard Harriet's voice. Harm's reply was indistinct but the frustrated tone was clear.
"The commander is having a bad day," commented Coates.
"So it seems," said Mac. "He yelled at the coffee pot earlier. Did I miss something?"
"Not something, ma'am. Someone. Mattie."
"Mattie?"
"She had this party last night, ma'am. Volleyball party. The commander was pleased that she was going out with some girls from her school. But when he picked her up at midnight? Seems she had a couple of drinks at the party. A few seniors had brought some Jack Daniels."
"She was drunk?" asked Mac, alarmed.
"Oh no. It was more like she had a drink or two. Just to fit in. But with everything that has gone on with her father, well, the commander had a fit."
"Oh," said Mac. She was watching the bullpen, trying to get a glimpse of Harm. All this talk about Alateen, Al-anon, addiction, it was easy to believe that Harm would be upset. "How mad was he?"
"He lost it. Nothing physical. He's not like that. But he tore a strip off her hide verbally. He's pretty good at that. This morning? He and Mattie barely spoke to one another. He's furious. And she's hurt. And now I bet he feels guilty."
"Sounds like you got a front row seat," said Mac.
"Yes, unfortunately. I don't know what to think. It's not like she committed a murder. It was just a drink or two. She looks tough, ma'am, but underneath? She just wants to fit in like everyone."
"What are the girls on the volleyball team like?"
"Cheerleader types. Except now a day, they don't want to be cheerleaders; they want to be volleyball, basketball, field hockey or lacrosse stars. Nice clothes, boyfriends, nice cars."
"That doesn't sound like Mattie," said Mac.
"No. But you can't blame her for wanting to be accepted by them."
"You're so right." Mac was lost in thought.
Jennifer cut in. "Do you know what I think, ma'am?"
"What?"
"Mattie has two men in her life. Her father, who she doesn't respect and Harm, who she respects, but has no clue how to help. You know what she needs?"
"What?"
"A mother."
"I thought that's what you were, Jen." smiled Mac.
"Noooo, not me. I can barely balance my checkbook. I have enough problems of my own."
Mac turned thoughtful. "I've never known him to pick on the photocopier before. Or the coffee machine."
"Yes ma'am," said Coates. "Maybe you could help,"
Mac gave her a withering look. "I'm no expert, Petty Officer."
"Yes ma'am."
TBC