Title: Just to talk Part X
Author: Nan
Rating: PG-13
Classification: Mac/Harm
Spoilers: Take It Like a Man
Authors Notes
******************************************************************
1006 Zulu
Croydon, England
It was her erect bearing that caught Daniel's attention. He watched as the attractive woman crouched down and touched a card tucked into a small floral arrangement. She was painstaking, slowly reading each card and testimonial. Daniel's forehead wrinkled in puzzlement as he studied her. She moved next to a weathered teddy, careful not to disturb it's position. If she were attempting to read the entire lot, it would take hours. There were literally thousands of notes at the memorial.
Daniel Wood was a man for routine. At precisely 10 am each day, he took his break, sitting in one of the sale loungers in front of his thrift shop. Cup of tea in hand, it was from this vantage point he would watch the church across the street.
When the word of the couple's brutal murder at the hand of political extremists leaked out last June; flowers, candles, balloons, cards, teddy bears appeared overnight on the steps of the Baptist Union of Great Britain Church on Oak Street in Croydon. That in its self wasn't unusual. In England today, there were makeshift memorials commemorating everything from car accidents to royalty.
But the story of Warren and Karla Robinson drew nationwide attention. The impromptu cenotaph grew, as the death of the missionaries became a touch point. Anti-war activists tried to link their murder to the Labour Government's resolution to join the American-led coalition. Others defended the decision not to negotiate with international terrorists. The church itself became divided over the issue.
He hated the political storm. It diminished the heartbreaking tragedy of the couple's fate. It was this Daniel had in mind when he became the unofficial guardian of the ad hoc commemorative. Everyday the dead flowers were carefully picked out. When a posted letter or card was slanderous or disrespectful, he would remove it. He relit spent candles. And twice a week, he bought a bouquet of fresh flowers from the discount pail at the florist shop to place in the churchyard.
Sipping the hot beverage, he tried to guess where she was from. Not local he speculated. She was stylish but not trendy, professional but not stuffy. There was an air of quiet authority around her. London? No... He mentally shook his head. 'Karla,' he thought. 'It attracts all types.'
His attention was drawn away from the woman. Two young men in their early twenties were approaching the church. Decorated with tattoos and body piercing, Daniel thought of them as skinheads. Reality was, even that was too complimentary for these local hooligans. Bent on mindless destruction, he suspected they were the ones who had vandalized the site two weeks ago. Daniel stood up to gain a better view.
They opened the low rot iron gate to the church. Walking through the yard, they started to kick at the bundles of flowers with their heavy boots. Shouting and yelling profanities, they dared bystanders to stop as they plowed a path of ruin in broad daylight.
Daniel ran across the street. He watched in horror as they ground the little stuffed animals beneath their heels. He was twenty years their senior and middle age had taken its toll on his physique. But outrage fueled him and he ran to intercept.
He staked his claim ten feet in front of the pair. He stopped and turned, glaring at them both. "Stop this!" he said.
Simultaneously both men laughed. "Stop what, Pops?" they said and continue to kick over the flowers and cards.
"Stop what you're doing. You're destroying it!" Daniel was getting desperate. He was aware of a growing crowd outside the fence.
"And you think you're going to stop us?" said one.
Daniel was aware of a figure approaching from the side. To his dismay, it was not the police. Just the woman he had watched earlier. "Stay away," he warned.
She ignored him, instead taking a position between him and the two thugs. "Excuse me, sirs," she said politely, her voice even. "I think you better do as the man said. You are ruining this beautiful place."
"You think so, lady?" said the first man. "My, you're a fine looking chippy."
"What do you think, mate?" said the second. They laugh and started to walk slowly toward the woman. Daniel's feet felt paralyzed as his eyes darted around unsure where to move next.
The first man lunged suddenly, making a move for the woman's arm as if to twist it behind her back for control.
Daniel was not sure exactly what happened next. In a blur of movement, the woman's foot came and knocked the skinhead's chin upward. Caught unaware, he fell backward heavily, his head striking the ground. He lay stunned.
In an instant she turned her attention to the second thug. Taking a step backward, he was surprised by the turn of events.
She watched him intently. "Don't you think it's time to go?" she asked calmly. Both hands were up in front of her chest. She reminded Daniel of the people at the martial arts studio down the street.
The man on the ground was groaning and rubbing his chin. The second one grabbed him and helped him up. "Let's go, man,"
Daniel heard the wail of a police siren. The two men backed up slowly. At twenty feet, they turned and ran.
Daniel watched them disappear down an alley. "That was bloody amazing," he said turning to the woman. "Thank you, my name is Daniel."
She smiled and took the hand he was holding out. "I'm Sarah Mackenzie," she said. "My friends call me Mac."
1735 Zulu
JAG Headquarters
Falls Church, Virginia
Harriet made her way through the courtyard. She had seen him from Bud's office window. He was sitting alone, on a stone bench, in the JAG early spring garden. Long legs in front, elbows on knees, head bowed. His cover shaded his eyes, hindering her attempts to read him.
"Commander?" she said, slowing her approach.
He turned to look at her. There was something about his demeanor... Harriet's eyebrows wrinkled together.
"Everything okay?" she asked. He had been like this for twenty minutes. No paper, no book, no files, and no lunch. Just sitting on the bench on a warm March day. Harriet tried to think. Was there an important case?
He straightened his posture and scooted down the bench, making room. "Yes," he said. "Just enjoying the sunshine." He waved a hand, inviting her to sit down.
"Are you sure, sir?" Harriet was still puzzled. Maybe Bud would know. "It isn't like you to just sit here.
His face was forward, eyes focused on the horizon. He smiled and said, "And wishing."
"Wishing?"
"Wishing."
"Wishing what, sir?" Harriet puzzled.
"Commander's privilege, Harriet," indicated to her that he wasn't going to tell.
"You want me to get Bud, sir?" said Harriet. Maybe it was a guy thing.
"There's nothing wrong, Harriet," he insisted.
"I'd get Colonel Mackenzie but she is on leave, sir"
"Too bad," he said, still focused on the horizon.
"Too bad, sir?" quizzed Harriet.
"Yeah, too bad," he said. Reluctantly, he stood up. "Lunch is almost over."
"No more wishing, sir?" Harriet stood up beside him.
"I'll never stop wishing, Harriet."
"Maybe she's wishing too, sir," said Harriet.
Harm looked at her, surprised. "Maybe you're right," he said. They walked back in silence.
Author: Nan
Rating: PG-13
Classification: Mac/Harm
Spoilers: Take It Like a Man
Authors Notes
******************************************************************
1006 Zulu
Croydon, England
It was her erect bearing that caught Daniel's attention. He watched as the attractive woman crouched down and touched a card tucked into a small floral arrangement. She was painstaking, slowly reading each card and testimonial. Daniel's forehead wrinkled in puzzlement as he studied her. She moved next to a weathered teddy, careful not to disturb it's position. If she were attempting to read the entire lot, it would take hours. There were literally thousands of notes at the memorial.
Daniel Wood was a man for routine. At precisely 10 am each day, he took his break, sitting in one of the sale loungers in front of his thrift shop. Cup of tea in hand, it was from this vantage point he would watch the church across the street.
When the word of the couple's brutal murder at the hand of political extremists leaked out last June; flowers, candles, balloons, cards, teddy bears appeared overnight on the steps of the Baptist Union of Great Britain Church on Oak Street in Croydon. That in its self wasn't unusual. In England today, there were makeshift memorials commemorating everything from car accidents to royalty.
But the story of Warren and Karla Robinson drew nationwide attention. The impromptu cenotaph grew, as the death of the missionaries became a touch point. Anti-war activists tried to link their murder to the Labour Government's resolution to join the American-led coalition. Others defended the decision not to negotiate with international terrorists. The church itself became divided over the issue.
He hated the political storm. It diminished the heartbreaking tragedy of the couple's fate. It was this Daniel had in mind when he became the unofficial guardian of the ad hoc commemorative. Everyday the dead flowers were carefully picked out. When a posted letter or card was slanderous or disrespectful, he would remove it. He relit spent candles. And twice a week, he bought a bouquet of fresh flowers from the discount pail at the florist shop to place in the churchyard.
Sipping the hot beverage, he tried to guess where she was from. Not local he speculated. She was stylish but not trendy, professional but not stuffy. There was an air of quiet authority around her. London? No... He mentally shook his head. 'Karla,' he thought. 'It attracts all types.'
His attention was drawn away from the woman. Two young men in their early twenties were approaching the church. Decorated with tattoos and body piercing, Daniel thought of them as skinheads. Reality was, even that was too complimentary for these local hooligans. Bent on mindless destruction, he suspected they were the ones who had vandalized the site two weeks ago. Daniel stood up to gain a better view.
They opened the low rot iron gate to the church. Walking through the yard, they started to kick at the bundles of flowers with their heavy boots. Shouting and yelling profanities, they dared bystanders to stop as they plowed a path of ruin in broad daylight.
Daniel ran across the street. He watched in horror as they ground the little stuffed animals beneath their heels. He was twenty years their senior and middle age had taken its toll on his physique. But outrage fueled him and he ran to intercept.
He staked his claim ten feet in front of the pair. He stopped and turned, glaring at them both. "Stop this!" he said.
Simultaneously both men laughed. "Stop what, Pops?" they said and continue to kick over the flowers and cards.
"Stop what you're doing. You're destroying it!" Daniel was getting desperate. He was aware of a growing crowd outside the fence.
"And you think you're going to stop us?" said one.
Daniel was aware of a figure approaching from the side. To his dismay, it was not the police. Just the woman he had watched earlier. "Stay away," he warned.
She ignored him, instead taking a position between him and the two thugs. "Excuse me, sirs," she said politely, her voice even. "I think you better do as the man said. You are ruining this beautiful place."
"You think so, lady?" said the first man. "My, you're a fine looking chippy."
"What do you think, mate?" said the second. They laugh and started to walk slowly toward the woman. Daniel's feet felt paralyzed as his eyes darted around unsure where to move next.
The first man lunged suddenly, making a move for the woman's arm as if to twist it behind her back for control.
Daniel was not sure exactly what happened next. In a blur of movement, the woman's foot came and knocked the skinhead's chin upward. Caught unaware, he fell backward heavily, his head striking the ground. He lay stunned.
In an instant she turned her attention to the second thug. Taking a step backward, he was surprised by the turn of events.
She watched him intently. "Don't you think it's time to go?" she asked calmly. Both hands were up in front of her chest. She reminded Daniel of the people at the martial arts studio down the street.
The man on the ground was groaning and rubbing his chin. The second one grabbed him and helped him up. "Let's go, man,"
Daniel heard the wail of a police siren. The two men backed up slowly. At twenty feet, they turned and ran.
Daniel watched them disappear down an alley. "That was bloody amazing," he said turning to the woman. "Thank you, my name is Daniel."
She smiled and took the hand he was holding out. "I'm Sarah Mackenzie," she said. "My friends call me Mac."
1735 Zulu
JAG Headquarters
Falls Church, Virginia
Harriet made her way through the courtyard. She had seen him from Bud's office window. He was sitting alone, on a stone bench, in the JAG early spring garden. Long legs in front, elbows on knees, head bowed. His cover shaded his eyes, hindering her attempts to read him.
"Commander?" she said, slowing her approach.
He turned to look at her. There was something about his demeanor... Harriet's eyebrows wrinkled together.
"Everything okay?" she asked. He had been like this for twenty minutes. No paper, no book, no files, and no lunch. Just sitting on the bench on a warm March day. Harriet tried to think. Was there an important case?
He straightened his posture and scooted down the bench, making room. "Yes," he said. "Just enjoying the sunshine." He waved a hand, inviting her to sit down.
"Are you sure, sir?" Harriet was still puzzled. Maybe Bud would know. "It isn't like you to just sit here.
His face was forward, eyes focused on the horizon. He smiled and said, "And wishing."
"Wishing?"
"Wishing."
"Wishing what, sir?" Harriet puzzled.
"Commander's privilege, Harriet," indicated to her that he wasn't going to tell.
"You want me to get Bud, sir?" said Harriet. Maybe it was a guy thing.
"There's nothing wrong, Harriet," he insisted.
"I'd get Colonel Mackenzie but she is on leave, sir"
"Too bad," he said, still focused on the horizon.
"Too bad, sir?" quizzed Harriet.
"Yeah, too bad," he said. Reluctantly, he stood up. "Lunch is almost over."
"No more wishing, sir?" Harriet stood up beside him.
"I'll never stop wishing, Harriet."
"Maybe she's wishing too, sir," said Harriet.
Harm looked at her, surprised. "Maybe you're right," he said. They walked back in silence.