2300 Local Time
New Year's Eve
Except for General Gordon Cresswell, the vital members of one court proceeding, and Commander Harmon Rabb, the Judge Advocate General's office was completely empty. The quiet was a sudden change from the usual bustling halls and corridors.
Sarah Mackenzie was about the join the party, and whistled softly as she climbed up the stairs into HQ. She reached the elevator, held all her bags in one hand as she pressed for the button and waited patiently as it came towards her. She stepped inside and after the short journey to her floor, she exited and started towards Harm's office to hear a gentle tune float towards her.
The odd buzzing of some trumpets would sometimes over overpower the sounds of the jazzy rhythm of a drum set, and a set of strings gently sat beneath the low but unmistakable voice of Frank Sinatra.
I've got you under my skin
I've got you deep in the heart of me
So deep in my heart, that you're really a part of me
I've got you under my skin
The lights were dimmed in the bullpen, and all offices, save one, were bathed in darkness. The crescendo of violins and cellos lulled her closer, as she closed her eyes and took a step forward. Her eyes opened abruptly as the trumpets blared, and she quickened her pace to the light. The warm lamplight flickered slightly as Harm, who leaned over a paper on his desk and drummed his fingers on its surface.
"Hey," she whispered, not wanting to totally disrupt his trail of thought. "I brought some food. Unless you have work."
His eyebrows were raised as his head snapped up instinctively. "Come on in. Still no verdict."
"I see," she said, "and if you're lying, there are subtler ways to tell a person you don't want to go out." She spotted the F-14/clock on his desk, sitting safely across from him and plain in sight at all times.
He crossed his arms behind his head and leaned back in the chair. "You've got to be kidding. Why the hell would I stay here of all places if I tried to avoid a date? Give me some credit."
"I don't know…" she felt a smile playing on her lips as she dropped off a plastic bag on the only empty spot on his normally spotless desk. The d-word. She had the overwhelming sensation to giggle, but drowned the thought.
"Why'd you come here? It's New Years Eve."
"It was either this or," she sighed, swaying slightly to the music, "a night in with Ben and Jerry. I think I've spent enough time with them as it is. We needed a break in our relationship."
The song faded out into another classic. Fly Me To The Moon echoed through the small office, beginning initially as the instruments twittered in the background, complimenting Sinatra's smooth voice.
"I never pegged you as an Ol' Blue Eyes fan, Harm," she smiled, eyeing the stereo that he had pilfered from Sturgis' office earlier in the evening.
"It's 'cause I'm not, really," he admitted, getting up and putting the music slightly louder as he turned the volume knob. "I found it in my CD collection last week. I think my mother left it here when she last visited. It's catchy, though."
Mac tapped her toe in beat with the music, startled as Harm grabbed her hand. He pulled her close without a word and moved gently to the music, wrapping one arm around her waist and kept the fingers of his free hand firmly hooked with hers.
"Would you like to?" he murmured quietly into her hair as he led them around in their spot.
She could barely hear his words, but managed to whisper a response into the lapels of his jacket. "Don't have much of a choice now, huh?"
"No, you don't," he chuckled. She could feel the vibrations from his low laugh as she nested her head next to his neck. "If the General sees us now…"
"Let him," she said. Her own words surprised her immensely. "I don't care."
She decided that if an onlooker were to pass, they would look a bit silly, considering they were both still in uniform and quite disheveled. It had been a long day. She could imagine a junior officer walking in on them as they stood, wrapped up in one another. Sir, I have your reports on the Ray court martial…oh…I'll come back later. And Mac would just laugh and kiss Harm forgetting all about the encounter. Yeah right.
Dancing certainly wasn't the most intimate thing she could think of being caught doing in the office. Her face flushed slightly. She hadn't had thoughts like those in a time, mostly because she would feel guilty about thinking of him in such a way, because of the battering their relationship had taken. Because of Webb.
Harm pulled back and arched a skeptical brow. "You were scared of a messy desk, but have no concerns about actions that clearly suggest fraternization?"
"A messy desk is inexcusable," she nodded. "You can't help who you fall in love with."
He stopped moving suddenly. Sinatra's music became white noise in his mind as he tried to sort out the thoughts in his head. "Really?" he managed to croak out. His mouth was dry, and he licked his lips impatiently.
He needed badly to believe her, whisk her off in his arms, and make love to her until she was bored of him; it would all be worth it. He had waited so long, and wanted so much to do just that. He needed to make sure she had said what he had just heard. After all, he couldn't be sure. Those words had shown up an awful lot in his dreams.
Mac nodded slowly. "Yes," she breathed.
Harm leaned down and captured her lips in his, but just as she had begun to respond, the phone rung from his desk. He pulled back suddenly and untangled their limbs, scrambling towards it and motioning her to turn down the music. She acquiesced and watched with interest, leaning back with nonchalance against the bookshelf as she tried to push the kiss and her words to the back of her mind.
"Rabb," Harm breathed into the receiver. "I'll meet you there, Captain."
"Done?"
He nodded, put one finger up, and started in a jog out the office. "I'll be right back."
"Alright," she sighed, strolled to his chair and flopped down.
Gordon Cresswell watched the snow float down outside from his office with the heart of JAG. He was to stay until Rabb's verdict came in, and report to SecNav; thankfully, he had just been notified by the Judge in the trial that the jury had come to a decision. It was only a matter of minutes until he too would get to go home.
He decided to leave the confines of his office and head out into the bullpen, perhaps to get a leg-up on the verdict, rather than hearing the news by phone ten-minutes after it had been issued. His sharp ears picked up on Sinatra the minute he opened to door, although it took him a moment to recognize the song: the singer was putting his own spin Nat King Cole's Unforgettable.
The door from which the music emanated had been left slightly ajar, and he could see a form hunched forward in the chair within. Cresswell's curiosity got the better of him. He gently nudged the door open to reveal Colonel Mackenzie peering at Rabb's bookshelf as she propped her head up on the desk above her folded arms. She rocked back and forth in her seat to the music and her eyes lingered in that direction until she noticed him standing at the door.
"Sir!" she snapped up to attention. "I didn't see you there-" Go away, was her initial reaction. She bit her bottom lip and tried to shush the thoughts that raged in her mind.
"At ease, Colonel," he frowned. "Why are you here?"
Her mind spun for a plausible excuse, and she blurted one out before another thought could cross her mind. "I decided to give Commander Rabb some company, Sir. I didn't really have anything to do, so…"
"I see," Cresswell replied, deciding not to voice his doubts of her actions and thus saving her from fabricating a lengthy explanation. "He's still at the courtroom?"
"Verdict's ready." I think the JAG would know before you, Mackenzie, teased a little voice in her head.
He nodded and stepped inside, shooting her a look that she couldn't quite recognize. It wasn't anger or disappointment – more like confusion. "Music."
"Commander Rabb's, Sir."
"Nice music."
"The Commander has good taste," Mac said, her response ringing blandly in the room. But his mother's is better, came that inane buzzing again.
Reminiscent of those old psychological thriller movies she had seen growing up, she fought the urge to pound the side of her head and knock the voices out; she didn't though – it would probably look schizophrenic. Looking mentally unstable in front of the new boss was even worse than messy desks. It just wouldn't do.
Harm's footsteps echoed outside as he swung the slightly closed door of his office open with irritation. "Mac, I cannot believe-"
"Rabb," Cresswell nodded, "how did it turn out?"
"General." Harm stood up straight and eyed the loud stereo on the side of the room with embarrassment. "We lost, Sir. That civilian attorney, Alexander, he really knew his stuff."
It seemed the case, although she didn't know many specifics, was one that aroused interests on Capitol Hill. Lieutenant Chase was linked to more than one murder involving civilians; he was believed to commit the crimes while on liberty. Congress was interested in seeing that the defendant burned, and it seemed they would get just that.
"Sentencing continues when?"
"Four days from now."
"Go home, both of you. Work is done, and there's no reason for you to stay behind," Cresswell turned around to leave.
"What about you, Sir?" Mac asked, unsure of why she was showing such concern.
Cresswell continued without looking back. "Finishing up, Colonel. Goodnight."
Once they could no longer hear his feet clicking against the floor, Harm turned to her and ran his fingers through his hair. "Didn't have much to work with."
"Best you can do now is mitigate the sentence," she nodded. "You were the best lawyer Chase could get."
The corners of his lips perked up slightly. "Was it really necessary to leave the music blaring?"
"It was eerily quiet," she said in a hushed tone and brought her finger to her lips.
He glanced behind him to ensure Cresswell wasn't going to make a surprise appearance and closed the door. "I liked the dancing more."
"To each his own," she waved her hand about spuriously and turned off the stereo.
"We still have twenty-five minutes until 2005 sets upon us," he glanced at his watch.
"Actually, it's-"
Harm grabbed her discarded coat and wrapped it around her, pulling them out together as they went. "Let me guess, Twenty-three minutes and 36 seconds, or-"
Mac clicked her tongue with mock disappointment. "Twenty-seven and ten. Really, Harm, that was way off."
"Whatever it is, let's not spend it here."
"Whatever you say," she agreed as he nudged her into the elevator, but she didn't know where they could go in so little time. After a moment, she realized she didn't care.
TBC...