"You can't manufacture a miracle
the silence was pitiful that day.
A love is getting too cynical
Passion's just physical these days
You analyse everyone you meet
But get no sign, love ain't kind
every night you admit defeat
and cry yourself blind…
If you can't wake up in the morning
Cause your bed lies vacant at night
If you're lost, hurt, tired or lonely
Can't control it, try as you might
May you find that love that won't leave you
May you find it by the end of the day
You won't be lost, hurt, tired and lonely
Something beautiful will come your way…" – Something Beautiful, Robbie
Williams.
-------
LIFE FOR RENT CHAPTER SEVEN: TWISTING THE KNIFE
WEDNESDAY 1200 HRS
A COFFEE SHOP IN WASHINGTON
The sapphire blue eyes of Jennifer Gallagher swept across the recent edition of the Washington Post. Nothing of pure interest jumped out at her but she continued skimming for the sake of keeping her mind busy.
It had been one day, Washington time, since Mic had returned to Australia flanked by his so called saviours, Colonel Sarah MacKenzie and Commander Harmon Rabb, and Jennifer was finding it hard to concentrate on her work at hand. Originally, her trip to Washington had been to accompany Mic over and return home to work as soon as possible. Only those plans had changed when a new travel article had come up and Jennifer had jumped at the chance to do a three-page spread in Getaway on Washington and surrounding sites.
She had heard about the job through a colleague who had brought it up during a little tête-à-tête in the break room. This had become the chance of a lifetime for Jennifer, who was rather limited in her currently writing job at the local community newspaper in Callahan. Doing the Washington story may have just been the thing that helped her 'get back into' the wide world of journalism.
'Get back into' being the operative phrase. Some years ago, after graduating from the University of Melbourne, Jennifer had packed up her things and moved to Sydney to work at Australia's wide read newspaper The Australian. Her career at The Australian was short lived, and 10 months after taking the position Jennifer found herself living in a rundown one bedroom apartment in Sydney, working as a photographic assistance to a freelance photographer.
It wasn't until three years later, after going home to a small country town on the outskirts on Melbourne, Jennifer started writing again. Some time after that, while holidaying in Sydney, Jennifer had met (at that time) Lieutenant Commander Michael Brumby and everything in her life had changed again.
Eighteen months later, she was sitting in a coffee shop in Washington writing the story to re-launch her writing career while back on the other side of the world, in a different hemisphere, her fiancé was being investigated of murder.
Jennifer felt something stir inside of her at the thought of Megan O'Neil's death. She had known Megan and her murder had taken an uneasy toll on her, Mic, their relationship and the community of Callahan. Truth be told, Jen wanted to stay as far away as possible from Callahan until Mic's hearing in 2 weeks. There were many people in Callahan who supported Mic over the alligations but there were also some who had decided that Mic was down right guilty and should be locked up and the key thrown away. That's what Jennifer had put her running away down to – the fact that she couldn't deal with the gossip of a country town like Callahan.
She let a low exasperated sigh escape her lips, as the young raven haired waitress delivered her third cup of coffee. She gently smiled a thank you, folded up the Washington Post and pulled her cell phone from her coat pocket. Jennifer keyed 2 on speed dial and waited for the equally Australian accent to answer.
Across the world, Mic Brumby's motel room alarm clock ticked over to 3 am. His quite snores filled the room and at his beside table his Nokia cell phone began to flash and buzz. Mic woke and dived for the cell. He stifled a yawn as he answered.
"'Ello?"
Jennifer frowned. The 15-hour time difference had slipped her mind. She winced inwardly. "Mic?" She said apologetically. "Sorry, I totally forgot what time it would be there. It must be-" she stole a glance at her watch, "close to 3 am."
Mic sighed tiredly. "It is 3 am. Anyway luv, you know it's ok. How are you? How's Washington?" He asked lying back against his pillow and rubbing his eyes.
Jennifer shrugged. "You know how things are. Busy, busy, busy. I've spent this morning working and I'm sitting down for a coffee and lunch. How was your flight?"
"Remind me to never fly back and forth in the same week. I'm a bit disorientated to tell the truth. The flight was ok though. We got here about midday and then I spent most of the afternoon sleeping. I went out, had a bite to eat and then sat down with Mac and Harm this evening and went through a few necessaries before we fly home tomorrow."
Jennifer nodded and sat forward in her seat while absentmindedly stirring her coffee.
"So you are heading up there tomorrow? Have you spoken to the Admiral? Are you going back to work yet?"
"I spoke to him before I left Washington on Tuesday. He basically suggested that if I walk back into base I'd be shoved into a corner in the administration office where I'll be sat under a tonne of paperwork, filing and admin duties. If that's what you call work, well then yes I am." He said bitterly, scratching at the doona cover. "Apparently Detective Matthews wants another 'word' with me too. I can see how that's going to turn out."
Jennifer quietly chewed her lip trying to think of a subject change. Obviously going back to work was still a touchy subject with Mic. He'd been denied access to the base since Major O'Neil death and that had basically killed him. He was the only suspect and therefore his name in Callahan and basically those who knew him in other places meant mud.
"So…" She said hastily, "Are you going to check Harm and Mac into the Majestic?"
The Majestic was the only hotel/motel that Callahan had to offer.
Mic grimaced and lifted himself up onto one elbow. "Actually I was meaning to chat to you about that." He said calmly.
Jennifer took a small sip at her coffee. "Why do I have a feeling you're going to tell me something I don't want to hear?" She asked, raising an eyebrow into her cell.
"Jen, I just don't think that it's an entirely good idea for Mac and Harm to bunk at the Majestic. Not after everything, it's a little too ironic. I think that it would be much easier and more convenient if we pulled out the sofa in the office and threw a fresh set of sheets on the spare bed."
"Easier?" Jennifer snorted. "Convenient? For who Mic? Us or them?" She said slightly put out. "Wouldn't that start World War three under our roof?"
"We survived the plane trip over didn't we?" He replied. "Jen … Jennifer… please understand. I want to be involved in this. I want to have a part to play in my future."
Jen sighed. "I'm sorry, but I really don't think I could handle coming home to have my house invaded with two people from your past." She frowned. "I don't want to have to share my house with your ex-finance, Mic."
Mic frowned. "Don't be like that, Jen." He checked the time on his wristwatch. "Listen luv, I'm sorry but I have to go. I have to catch a plane in a few hours and I'm completely buggered. I love you."
Jennifer bit her lip angrily. "Love you too." She said strictly, disconnecting the call.
Mic turned off his cell phone and tossed it onto the floor beside his bed. The conversation and the goodbye that followed did not go how he had intended. He was sure that Jen would come around and eventually warm to the idea of sharing the same roof as Mac and Harm – if she didn't they'd have to check in at a motel in Rockhampton – some 50 km's away from Callahan. Either way, accommodation arrangements could wait until the following morning. Mic was too tired to care what anyone's opinion on the issue was. He flopped back against his pillow and pulled the doona tightly around him. In minutes he had drifted into a dream filled sleep – the thought of Megan O'Neil's death and his hearing laying heavily on the mind.
***
THURSDAY 0630 HRSCHRYSLER MOTEL, ROOM 457
: HARM'S MOTEL ROOMMac purposely let the motel door slam as she entered Harm's room. He was still sound asleep - or had been before Mac had showed up. He groaned from beneath the doona and a spare pillow.
"Go away Mac." He said exhausted. "It's too early."
Mac grinned and dropped her jacket on the table. "It's 0630." She said happily. "If most of Sydney is up, you can be too." She added, walking towards Harm's side of the bed and resting her hands on her hips. "Get up, Harm."
The pillow shook its head. "I'm not liking your chances of getting me out of bed before 0730. You can sit and watch me sleep if you want or you could climb in bed with me."
Mac could imagine the smile on his face but shook it off. "Not likely sailor. Get your six up, have a shower and join me for breakfast before Brumby graces us with his presence." She said, moving towards the window in on the far side of the room and pulling back the curtains to allow the sun of Sydney to flow through.
Harm peeked his head out from the pillow, squinting from the light. "How long have you been up?" he said, silently admitting defeat and moving to get up.
Mac shrugged and sat down beside him on the bed. "A couple of hours. I've already rung Harriet and had a bit of a chat, I've run 6km, and I've showered and checked out of my room. I decided I'd let you sleep in until six thirty and then you could have some breaky with me. I'm not too enthused with having breakfast with Mic. I think I've already had enough."
Harm smiled flyboy style and sat up to give Mac a quick kiss. "I think we may have bitten off more that we could chew." He said decisively.
"Don't we always?" She asked, cocking a brow at him. "It always seems to be the way we operate."
Harm grinned. "I love the way you refer to it as 'we'. What context does that come in exactly?"
"You should be more concerned when I start referring to us as an 'us'."
Harm's smiled deflated. He had taken Mac's comment as an insult. "I should be concerned that you're not referring to us as an 'us'. I thought that's what got us into this mess in the first place." Harm's tone showed the comments effect.
Mac studied him carefully, trying to read his piercing eyes. "It's just gone six thirty and we're already at this stage of the day." She said, staring at him squarely.
Harm frowned thoughtfully. "What stage would that be?"
Mac let an exasperated sigh escape her lips. "The stage where you and I battle it out. We say words in the heat of the moment wanting to make the other pay for the emotions they sparked. Then we walk away, lick our wounds and apologise either when something comes up or we're forced to." She ran a hand through her hair. "Timing never has been on our side."
Harm's jaw clenched, anger slowly beginning to burn as Mac spoke. It seemed that once things began to happen either one of Mac's speeches or his own cockiness and arrogance got in the way. This time it wasn't his fault. She had brought up 'timing' and that was a signal for disaster. "The only reason time is never on our side is because it's convenient for you to convince us both that it isn't. I don't want the 'timing speech' Mac and I certainly don't want the guilt of having a fight and knowing that what has or hasn't been said can ruin everything. The only reason things never work out between us is because of all the pressure associated with us becoming an 'us'." He replied angrily. "I'm sick of waiting for a world wide signal for us to get together. It's like waiting for everyone's approval before we can make the decision for ourselves. Then the timing speech comes up and we end back at square one."
Mac moved from the bed, her arms folded tightly against her chest. She was angered by Harm's blame – angered that he had the nerve to blame everything on her. The statement she had made had been simple, had been a joke and certainly wasn't meant to affect the mood as it did. She had to admit, in certain context she did agree with Harm. They would suffer needlessly with the pressure of becoming more than friends. It was how they operated – it was how they worked and it was why it had taken so long for them to reach the next level. The pressure wasn't put on by anyone else in the world, it was entirely their own.
"You're right." She said softly. "Like you always are Harm. I'm the problem – my speeches and me. I should just throw all my values out the window so that everything is convenient for you. I mean how inconsiderate am I that I deprive you from your needs?" She looked at him angry. "How inconsiderate am I Harm?"
He tossed back the covers of his bed and got out. "I don't know Mac, why don't we fight about it for a change?" He replied smartly.
She frowned. "Go to hell. Sometimes you can be such a jerk and I have to wonder why the hell I put myself through this!"
Harm's eyes flashed. "Well that makes too of us! Now if you'll excuse me, I 'm going to shower." He said, pushing past Mac and grabbing some clothes from his suitcase.
Mac's eyes followed his movements. "Last night, at the Quay, you said this time you weren't walking away. Is this you not walking away?"
Harm stopped in his steps and turned around slowly to face her. "Last night, I said I wouldn't back away. There is a difference."
"Is there? Because to me the meaning is still clear."
"At least something is Mac. Be thankful there is no 'pushing away'."
Mac frowned. "I said it once and I'll say it again. Go to hell Harm."
Harm nodded, even though he didn't agree with the situation. "Fine." He said ignorantly. "Now if you excuse me, I think I'll go and 'lick my wounds'." And with that, he stormed into the bathroom and slammed the door closed.
Tears trickled down Mac's face, joining others that had been there for a while. She hadn't noticed during the fight that she had been crying. Taking a deep breath, she calmed herself, dried her eyes with the back of her hand and grabbed her jacket from the table. The words said it was over – the emotions and the reality didn't. She guessed that the first fight would sting and feel like salt being rubbed into deep wounds – she had been right. Mac wanted to storm into Harm's bathroom and kick his six but she felt drained and she felt broken. Broken like the many promises they had made each other in the past 6 days of their relationship. Promises of love, life and never walking away. They were broken yes, but they were neither beyond repair nor resurrection and for the time being they would stay hanging in the balance while Mac, like Harm, walked away and licked her wounds from the fight. Harm and Mac would make up or so she hoped.
Mac's stomach grumbled and the thought of her breakfast plan returned to her. She gathered Mic's case file from the table and walked towards the door. A working breakfast would make a change from one with Harm – not a nice change she had to admit, but at least the work wouldn't fight back nor make her cry.
***
THURSDAY 0715 HRS
CHRYSLER MOTEL, SYDNEY
RESTAURANT, FLOOR ONE
Mac took a bite out of her third slice of toast and flipped over to the second page of the Callahan Police Department crime scene report. Megan O'Neil had been found strangled to death, brutally enough with her own belt. There had been a sign of a struggle, broken ornaments in the motel room and her possessions scattered everywhere. Apparently no one had heard much, it had been Fight Night down stairs and most locals and the motel residents had been down there cheering on the amateur fighters in the first night of competition. Mac wondered if Mic had attended after leaving Megan's room – maybe that could prove as an alibi, someone would have seen him there. She left the folder, and turned back to her breakfast of orange juice, toast and cereal. Her fight with Harm played in her mind. Her cell phone began to chime in her jacket pocket. She dropped the toast to the plate and reached for it.
"MacKenzie." She answered curtly.
There was a brief silence of the other line. "Mac? Sorry, is this a bad time?" It was the Admiral.
"Admiral? Sorry sir. No, the timing is good." For once, she thought angrily. "I was just finishing my breakfast. What can I do for you sir?"
A.J glanced around his office. "I was just hoping for a chat." He said obviously bored with what work he was doing at JAG.
Mac smiled. "A chat sir? Are things that dull at headquarters?"
A.J frowned momentarily. Truth be told, he was extremely bored. Bored of no explosions in the bullpen involving Mac and Harm arguing over another case and completely bored that everything seemed to be normal. Normality was something he liked, something he used craved but that was thrown out the window when he met Harmon Rabb and it never was the same when Sarah Mackenzie came to work at JAG. "Like you wouldn't believe," he chuckled. "I'm trusting you TAD with Rabb and Brumby isn't so uneventful."
"You can say that again. We haven't even arrived in Callahan and I want to come home. Give me dull headquarters any day – it beats slogging it out day after day with Harm and Mic."
"Thing's aren't going smoothly?" A.J questioned, frowning. "Between you and Brumby?"
Mac chuckled. "It seems sir, between me and anyone. It started with me sleeping in on Monday morning and arriving late for work. The week hasn't been right since."
"I'm sorry to hear that Colonel. Hopefully you assignment will pick up. Have Commander Brumby and Commander Rabb managed to damage each other yet?"
"Damage sir?"
"I was going to say 'kill' but found it a little inappropriate give the situation." He said, secretly hoping for a tale of disturbance.
Mac smiled. "I see. No, there hasn't been any punch throwing, yet. There was a close incident last night but that was fuel by too much to drink in Mic's case and too much ignorance in Harm's. It's going to be a long couple of weeks."
"Sure sounds like it. How are you handling the logistics of the case?" he asked, picking up a pen from his desk and twirling it in between his fingers.
Mac glanced at the file of paperwork on the table. There were still statements, police and investigation reports, an autopsy report and furthermore background information on Major Megan O'Neil and her rocky life to go through. There seemed to be so much red tape and paperwork the file could be mistaken for a collection of hearings. "I'm getting there. I've yet to sit down and go through everything but I'm sure as soon as I get away from the sights of Sydney I should be fine. The Callahan police have put together a very comprehensive file. The only thing I don't understand is there willingness to give up Mic's Investigation so easily. Why would they suddenly relinquish all power in the case over to JAG?"
"They didn't." A.J replied quickly. "Or in a matter of speaking they did but they didn't. I think you'll find that when you get to Callahan you'll both be competing for the same information. Only from what I've heard from Brumby, their hopeful outcome isn't the same as yours."
Mac sighed. "Something to look forward to." She said, disheartened. "Here I was thinking that we could do all the dirty work ourselves and expect co-operation from the authorities there."
"You probably can – depending on which authorities your talking about Mac. The reason that you and Harm are there to investigate is that Admiral McManus is funding all your expenses. I just approved the TAD – JAG isn't signing for anything. The only role I have in this assignment is to deliver your orders as your CO. Those orders are to investigate the murder of Major Megan O'Neil and prove the innocent of Commander Michael Brumby."
Mac nodded. "So Mic does have strong support from Admiral McManus?" She asked intrigued as to why Mic's CO would be funding an independent investigation.
"Strong support isn't the word. He is giving Brumby financial support and emotional support. He believes in Brumby as a good honest officer and a good honest man." He paused. "He's also Ms. Jennifer Gallagher's step father."
Mac's mouth dropped accordingly. "I certainly didn't see that coming." She stunned. "Mic didn't mention a thing."
"Did you expect him to?" he replied, growing bored with the pen and throwing it onto his desk. "Would a revelation like that have made a difference?"
"No, I guess not." Mac replied honestly, thinking it over. "But it does put things into perspective. How are things really going at JAG?"
A.J grimaced. "Slow. Turner won a case against Manetti. It sparked a mêlée between them. Had to haul them both into my office." He smiled impertinently. "It rather felt like reprimanding yourself and Harm."
Mac grinned. "Good to see that we haven't let you down then." Her grinned deflated. "How's Harriet? I spoke to her this morning. She sounded tired and she sounded depressed. Is everything alright?"
"I'm guessing so, nothing has been mentioned. Meredith had dinner with her last night – I think Harriet needs a shoulder. Considering you're not here – she's trying to make do."
"I see. Well sir, I think I'd better go and round up Mic and Harm considering we have flight to catch and an airport to check in at. Is there anything you want me to pass onto the Commander?" Maybe a beating, she thought to herself.
"Just that I hope you and he know what you're doing." He said vaguely, although the comment made perfect sense to both of them. "I would hate for things to get nasty, out of hand and extremely unprofessional."
Mac gripped the cell tightly in her hand, feeling a case of irony. "More nasty, out of hand and unprofessional than they already are?"
A.J frowned. "Is there something I should know about you and Harm? Have you had a fight?"
"A fight?" Mac repeated briskly. "Something along the lines of a confrontation, sir. We're not speaking."
Silence filled the conversation. A.J cleared his throat, and leaned back against his chair. "That could make a rather hard investigation. Hopefully you and the Commander can work that out. I have to go myself, Mac. Good luck Colonel." And he hung up, leaving Mac to her cold and lonely breakfast.
***