Before Chapter V, a jag fanfic

1248 ZULU

JAG Headquarters

I rub my eyes wearily and place the phone down. With a great sigh, I bury my face in my hands and examine the surface of my desk with more interest than I know is necessary. I see a tiny fleck, black against the light brown of the wood, and sweep it away abruptly.

I've been at it all morning, getting re-acquainted with all the fun paperwork I missed out on in Naples. I didn't get more than two hours of sleep, and my confrontation with Clay this morning was less than relaxing. He called me at home, jarring me awake and asking why I hadn't called him. I wasn't trying to be rude, but I thanked him for his help with the case and hung up. He called again about ten seconds later, and I nearly bit his head off over the phone; he yelled right back. I'll talk to him soon, just not now.

I close my eyes, resting my head on the palms of my hands, and doze off for a moment. A timorous knock makes me look up again, and I see Harriet standing at the doorway.

"Ma'am? Are you alright?"

I get up, tug at my shirt and get to her with a few steps. She hands me a file and I accept it, groaning inwardly, "I'm fine, Harriet."

Her dubious expression tells me she doesn't believe me, but she goes ahead, "The Admiral told me to bring these to you. They're on the Holmes case?"

"I'll get right on it," I lie. The man was arrested for stealing clothing when he set port in England – I'm prosecuting, and he's obviously guilty. Poor Sturgis has the ill fortune of defending him; at least I'll have the joy of beating the Commander after my discouraging defeat two weeks ago.

Harriet leaves with a smile. I get back to my chair, and nearly fall onto it, melting into the squishy fabric. I lean my head back and give out a sneeze quite forcefully. My head feels like it's been stuffed with cotton, and now my nose is congested. I'm getting a cold. I never get a cold, but now, just as my luck would have it, I have one.

"Too much time in the rain, Colonel?"

I don't need to look to know it's Harm. I put my fingers to the bridge of my nose, "Must've been that guy behind me on the plane, the one who kept on sniffling."

Within a second, he's standing beside me, "Hey, you okay?"

"I'm feeling wonderful. Just starving."

"Want to go out for lunch?" he asks.

"I have so much work," I say. He frowns, and I add, "but I think I'd die if I didn't."

I grab a tissue from the box on my desk and head towards the door. Harm leads the way, and I give out a great cough that reverberates in my small office. At the door, I hesitate, and head back to the desk, deciding to take the whole box instead.

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"Baby spinach," Harm says, his eyes twinkling as he digs into his salad.

I prod my pasta unenthusiastically with my head resting on my hand, "So?"

"I love baby spinach."

"I had it a few times in my salad. Now, I pick them out and put them aside," I glance at him, and he's eyeing me with skepticism.

Harm looks at my plate, on which I have been shifting the meal from one side to another, "Maybe you should eat, you'll feel better."

I take my fork and wave it in front of me, pointing with it accusingly at him, "Maybe you should…" I can't think of a suitable repartee, and it kills me inside.

Harm smiles, slyly, knowing he's won the battle before it has even started, "Eat some spinach, it'll get your gears turning."

I manage to get hold of one green leaf on the prongs of my fork from Harm's plate. I bring it to my mouth and chew slowly and frown, "Well, Popeye, it's not that bad. Can't taste much though," I say with a sniffle.

"Mac, are you sure you're up for work? I'm sure the Admiral will let you go back home for the day."

"Harm, I have too much work to do, I don't think I'd be able to rest with all that over my head, even if he let me go back."

He ponders for a moment, "Want to come over tonight? We can work on the Larson case."

The trial isn't weeks, possibly a month from now, there really isn't any need to work on it at this time. Regardless, I'm too surprised to reply at his offer. We haven't had working dinners in a long time.

He clears his throat, "Sorry, you're sick, and Webb-"

"I'd love to. 1900?"

Harm smiles, "I'll be ready before then. Can Mattie and Jen join us?"

I look at him with utter exasperation. Actually, having not been at Harm's place in quite some time, I think additional company would ease the tension, "Yes, Harm. I won't alienate your family at your home, why would you think I'd do that?" he's about to answer when I continue, "I can come over around 1830 and help out."

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I tug at my dark red sweater and push my hair out of my face and walk briskly towards Harm's apartment. I'm already late, and I'll never hear the end of it from Harm. In the elevator, there's a short women juggling bags of groceries. She leaves the elevator, quite slowly to my frustration, and a small humming is heard when it starts on its journey upwards again.

Finally, when I get to the correct floor, I raise my hand to knock at Harm's door when it opens, startling me. Mattie is revealed on the other side, and she smiles, "Hey, Mac. Harm's in the kitchen, wearing in apron," she glances back and snickers, "Don't say I didn't warn you. I'll be back in a second."

She trots over to the other apartment as I let myself in and put the Larson files on his coffee table. When I enter the kitchen, Harm is indeed, wearing a generic white apron. It is void of any slogans like 'Kiss the Cook', but amusing nonetheless. He's dressed in jeans and a gray T-shirt.

It's a rare treat to see him out of uniform and in his civvies, and I don't think I'll ever get tired of it. I take in the image of the steaming pots, and the heavenly scent of the meal he's preparing and decide that if I had the opportunity, I could easily adjust to life at home like this.

"Smells great," I say. Harm doesn't turn around, he obviously heard me enter.

"I think it needs more oregano."

My mind goes blank, I have no idea what he's making, "Are you sure you don't need any help?"

Finally, he whirls around, "It's done, no problems."

"I told you I came earlier so I could give a hand-"

"It's alright, Mac," Harm says. The man is certainly stubborn. He goes to the cupboard and starts pulling out plates, but before he can place the first one on the countertop, I go beside him and reach up, taking out some glasses. He turns his head and smiles with gratitude.

We set up the table in a matter of moments, when Mattie walks back in, grinning with delight, "I'm going to the movies. Bye."

She's spins around and shoots back to the door. She's almost out when Harm's voice stops her, "Mattie…"

"What? With Jen. We're seeing Troy. Brad Pitt sure looked good in that armor," she smiles devilishly, "I know you worked hard on dinner, Harm, but can I come by later and get a few leftovers?"

Harm nods in surrender. I can't resist, "Brad Pitt does look great."

He cocks his eyebrow and laughs. Mattie giggles and leaves the room with a wave.

We sit down at the table. As I expected, our first conversations are all about the office, about Bud's latest case, the Admiral's merciless attitude lately, and Harm's case on Major Allan Gray.

I make a desperate attempt at steering the conversation on to anything else, "Harm, this is about ten times better than your meatloaf."

"I beg to differ. That meatloaf had great nutritional quality, you know."

"Seriously, Harm. You've outdone yourself. I haven't been out in ages – it's been nothing but takeout for me the past few weeks."

He nods with a laugh, "I've been pretty sad myself lately. Mattie is great…but it seems that I just don't have anything else in my life. At least you have Webb."

"Clay…"

Harm stares at the center of the table thoughtfully, "My life is just so…I never dreamed years ago I'd still be at this stage. Thought I'd have kids, a wife, a family of my own. But now, it seems like there's a big hole in my life, and there's nothing I can do to fill it."

"My life hasn't been that fulfilling either, Harm. I have nothing that's solid, it all comes and goes. The only thing constant is my career," I say as I clean off all food on the corner of my plate. I want to say that he has been the other thing, that his unwavering support has been a cornerstone to my success, but I know it isn't appropriate at this time.

He's about to protest, but stops and changes the subject once again. He gets up, takes his empty plate and reaches for mine across the table, "How's your cold?"

"A bit better. I guess all that working just aggravated it," I follow him to the kitchen as he puts our plates in the sink, "Want to go over the case?"

Harm nods and ushers me to the couch. I open up the folder and glance over the notes we've accumulated over our trip to Italy.

"You know, Harm, regardless of his intentions, Larson did confess to killing the man," I say.

Harm leans back, he doesn't really look like he's going to do much work tonight, "I know, but we need to convince the jury that it wasn't premeditated. The least we can do is appeal, get a lesser sentence. We need to make them know that Larson felt both emotionally distressed upon seeing his colleague's body, and that he thought he was in danger when Rossi came at him with the knife."

"Do you even know if that's what Rossi thought, Harm? Have you asked him?"

Harm pauses and shuffles a few papers around on the desk, "I might be speculating-"

"Larson may have just shot him without warning. You can't just assume," I say. He knows I'm right.

"Fine, I'll go give him a visit, and ask him a few more things," he says, "but if it's true, it can be the basis of our argument, you know that."

I open my mouth to give him my seal of approval when unexpectedly, I sneeze, but not before grabbing my handkerchief from my skirt pocket. I know I look like a fool when I go into a fit of sniffles and wheezes. When I'm through with the little spasm, I look at Harm, my eyes watering.

"Mac, you don't look so great anymore…" he says with hesitation.

I wave it off, "Come on, let's just get this over with." I lean back and let my head rest on the back of the sofa. My whole body aches from fatigue, and my head pounds. It just came all of a sudden, I didn't feel the symptoms escalating for the past few hours until now, when it became too much.

"Want a ride home?"

"No," I groan as I shift my body slightly to the left, "Maybe."

He grabs my hand and pulls me to my feet, "Call me tomorrow, I'll bring you here and you can get your car later on, okay?"

Harm gets his keys and nudges me outside; at this point, I'm not very much aware of my surroundings and do whatever he wills me to do. I'd follow him into a wall and not notice.

"I'm sorry. You made dinner for nothing, the night was useless. We can work on the case on later?"

Harm presses for the elevator and shakes his head, "No, it was nice, Mac. It's a change from my usual days at home. And making dinner was easy, don't worry about it."

When we enter the elevator, I decide I need to let him know, "It was a change for me too. Thanks, Harm."

"Don't mention it."

I sniff softly and bring my handkerchief to my face once more with a sigh, "This is horrible, I feel like crap."

He hesitantly puts the back of his hand to my forehead, pulling away so quickly I can barely register the touch, "I think you have a fever, Mac."

"That's just great," I mutter.

We step outside and walk towards his car through the parking lot, "Your nose is all red. I knew we shouldn't have gotten rid of the umbrella in that downpour," after we're on the road, heading north towards my apartment, he adds, "it seems like I wasn't the one to get a sniffle, Colonel."

I nod, barely moving my head up and down. I close my eyes and before I know it, Harm gently nudges me. We're in the parking lot of my building, and as I come to my senses, a dull thudding starts once again in my head, "Hey, we're here."

"I'm sure a night of sleep will get this out of my system," I say with a yawn. I remember my manners and with a forced smile, I say, "Want to come up, for a bit?"

Harm opens the door of the car, "Maybe just a bit. Didn't get much sleep last night."

"Me neither – I haven't been able to do anything at work." I chuckle, "as you probably noticed today."

I groan loudly as I step out of the vehicle, I'm feeling increasingly dizzy. I grab hold of the car roof and shake my head, and my sight clears.

Harm is quickly on my side of the car, concerned, but not yet bold or confident enough to come too close to me. His fingers brush the knuckles of my hand that is firmly resting on the roof of his car.

"Come on, I'll get you some tea when we're up there," he whispers, "You shouldn't have come over, Mac. You could've just stayed home and rested."

I concentrate on walking in a straight line, but acknowledge Harm's remark, "I'm just tired. Sleepiness and fever are not a great combination."

Once safely upstairs in my apartment, I slump onto the couch after kicking off my shoes nonchalantly at the door. Harm safely closes it behind him and walks into the kitchen after glancing at me falling onto the sofa. I can barely register the sound of the water running; I suppose he knows where I keep the tea bags, or he found it by chance. A few moments later, he comes back in, greeting me with a small 'hey'.

I take the steaming cup gratefully. My mouth is all dry and salty, despite Harm's appetizing dinner, and I'm relieved when the sensation gets washed out by the light earl gray tea.

I sigh with contentment, "Do you want anything?"

Harm shakes his head. His hands are together in front of him and he looks at them with the faintest smile on his face, "I'd better go, you need your rest."

As much as I know I need the sleep, my feelings get the best of me, "You don't have to go. I mean, unless you need to get some sleep too…or you want to leave."

"I'll stay," then as if to test me, he adds, "if you want me to."

Our little conversation now sounds like an argument unto itself. Over the teacup, I look right into his eyes, something I haven't done in some time, "Stay. For a while, at least."

Harm nods. He sees I'm finished with the drink and takes it from my hands slowly. He goes back into the kitchen, and I can hear the gentle tinkling as the mugs and glasses clink together.

When he comes back in, he has his hands shoved in his pockets. Harm's done so much for me the past few days so I say the only thing that seems appropriate at this time, "Thank you, for everything."

He shrugs and sits down, "You're going to stay in that skirt all night? It doesn't seem very comfortable."

I get up hesitantly, "I'll be back."

I change as fast as humanly possible, managing to find something relatively light and thin in the tempest that is my bedroom. After coming back from the trip, I haven't been bothered to rearrange my room. It was extremely disorganized when I had to do the impromptu packing before getting on the flight. I grab my robe and let it hand loosely around my shoulders.

Back outside, Harm is looking at my very small, very sorry movie collection. There's a sudden flash of light outside, which is soon accompanied by the low rumble of thunder. He looks at the window, startled, and then back at me.

"It's raining," he says with a grin.

I tie the robe closed, shivering slightly, "This time, I'm staying in here."

"Learned your lesson?"

I sit on the couch and stretch out my legs. I close my eyes, "Definitely." Harm sits beside me. He keeps looking outside, through the window, as the rain starts hitting the pane with more force.

I'm faintly aware of his hand on mine as he squeezes it gently. Although I struggle to keep my eyes open, my body betrays me, and I am unable to do anything but sleep.

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When I awake, I find that the blanket, previously in my bedroom has been put loosely over me. I decide that Harm has gone home, but I look down to the floor, shocked but strangely delighted, to see his sleeping form. He's leaning his back against the bottom of the sofa, and his head is tilted back. I can barely make out his chest moving up an down slowly as he breathes in. I can't help but snicker when I hear him snoring lightly. My internal clock tells me it's 0934, I've had many hours of well needed and well deserved sleep and it feels great.

I get up. My body is aching slightly because I slept in such an odd position through the night, but once I move about, the pain subsides. I go the kitchen and search the cupboards. I desperately want to make something special for Harm when he wakes up, but to my dismay, the room is void of all breakfast foods except a box of Frosted Flakes. I turn around when I see Harm, his hair ruffled, and his eyes squinting.

"What's the time?" he asks, his speech slightly slurred.

I pull two bowls from the cupboard, "0937. The breakfast menu today is Frosted Flakes or…" I spy another cereal box on the counter top, "Froot Loops? When the hell did I get these?" I eye the box doubtfully, hoping that it's not old enough to cause medical problems.

Harm snatches the Frosted Flakes from my left hand, "I think I'll play it safe and stick with Tony the Tiger. They are ggrrreat after all."

At the table, I find myself looking at Harm more than eating my breakfast. The flakes are getting soggy and breaking apart in the milk, but I don't care. I don't really remember the last time Clay and I had breakfast together; the domestic experience is so alien and surreal, but very attractive. I want this so much.

With much difficulty, I manage to swallow the last spoonful of the cereal and I get up, grabbing Harm's bowl and mine to take to the sink. I place them inside and I smile as he rubs his eyes and yawns, "Tired?"

"No, Ma'am. Good as new. That was the best sleep I've had in a long time, Mac."

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END CHAPTER V