~~Tea and Sympathy~~
Mac's Apartment
1435 local time
The entire drive home Mac felt guilty for leaving the party just because Harm was being an ass. However as much as she wanted to stay for Bud and Harriet's sake, she couldn't bear another run-in with him. She didn't want the chasm in her friendship with Harm and all the baggage it brought to ruin their friends' party. Bud and Harriet deserved some happiness after all that has happened this year.
Happiness was fleeting in her life. As quickly as she found it, there was always something there to shoo it away. It seemed that it almost always involved Harm, in some respect. She should have known the smooth waters they encountered earlier in the year were just a precursor to an inevitable storm that fed on their insecurities; building in strength until it consumed them. They had always weathered these moments before. At least they eventually did. The difference this time was the umbrella of trust and faith they took refuge under was tattered and torn, offering very little in the way of a safe harbor.
Entering her apartment, Mac felt lost. It was like a part of her was missing, but she couldn't place what it was. She took off her jacket and tossed it on the chair along with her purse, and set off toward the kitchen to make tea. Pulling the canister from its resting place in the cabinet, Mac selected a tea bag from inside. She topped off the kettle with water, placed it on the burner and quickly cranked the heat. She needed something to drive the chill from her desperately and real boiling water was the only way to make tea; microwaved water was, well, just microwaved water.
While the kettle was simmering, Mac retrieved her files from her briefcase and laid them out on the dining room table; consuming herself in work might be just the distraction needed right now. Picking up the file on the War Games trial, she thumbed through the documents, looking for the notes she collected. She skimmed over them, remembering the obvious tension and the sarcasm from Harm.
The comments she had written jarred her memory, but not in a good way. Mac remembered how Harm had just voiced his first objection of the trial with just enough of a hint of arrogance to make her bristle. If she didn't know before, she most certainly knew now she was in for a ride. She had listened intently as Sturgis argued his rationale. After carefully absorbing Sturgis' remarks, she clearly and calmly sided with reason and said "Overruled". An indignant Harm stood immediately and said, "You've got to be kidding". He belatedly added, "Your Honor" sarcastically, only after she gave him a distinct non-verbal "get-it-together-Rabb" look.
Sturgis completed his examination of the witness with a "Nothing further, your Honor". Mac addressed Harm, asking if the defense wished to cross-examine the witness. Harm stood rigidly, his voice dripping with insolence, said "Not at this time, your Honor. I do reserve my right to question the witness at a later time." The whole trial was beginning to take the shape of a nightmare.
The kettle was now hissing and whistling, calling for attention. It was enough to break Mac's trance and snap her back to the present. She set the file back on the table amongst the others and padded off to the kitchen to tend to more pressing matters.
Mac quickly poured the boiling water over the chamomile tea bag to steep and returned to the files in the dining room. Deciding that she wasn't in the mood to work anymore, she gathered all the folders and placed them back in the briefcase before heading to the bookshelf for another means of diversion.
*****
Harm's apartment
1455 local time
Harm's drive home was likewise filled with the regret of deserting his friends' housewarming party. He tried hard to forget the little scene in the dining room but it kept replaying in his head like a broken record, and the radio was doing nothing to help him silence these thoughts so he turned it off.
Maybe making an issue of it at Bud and Harriet's wasn't the way to handle things, he thought. "But, I had to get it off my chest," Harm said aloud, not realizing he was talking to himself. "She needs to know where I stand; since she's obviously not listening to what I'm saying in the courtroom-not that it had any impact today, either. Damn stubborn Jarhead. Wonder how she'll feel when it's my turn behind the bench; maybe it'll become crystal clear to her then."
Pulling up in front of his apartment, he turned the car off and sat there for a moment wondering what to do with the rest of his day, now that his schedule was clear. Any other time he'd call Mac and they'd find something to do together. "No point in doing that," he thought, "she's probably plotting the demise of my case right now. Besides, I'd rather be alone anyway. No one to judge me, no one to tell me I'm handling things poorly. There is only one thing I can do that doesn't require human interaction-go running."
He got out of his SUV and quickly entered the building. Once in his apartment, he checked the machine for messages, silently hoping that there might be one from Mac, for whatever reason. "No new messages." The electronic voice told him what he already knew.
Changing his clothes, he grabbed his keys and left for the park to pour his frustrations into something physical.
Mac's Apartment
1435 local time
The entire drive home Mac felt guilty for leaving the party just because Harm was being an ass. However as much as she wanted to stay for Bud and Harriet's sake, she couldn't bear another run-in with him. She didn't want the chasm in her friendship with Harm and all the baggage it brought to ruin their friends' party. Bud and Harriet deserved some happiness after all that has happened this year.
Happiness was fleeting in her life. As quickly as she found it, there was always something there to shoo it away. It seemed that it almost always involved Harm, in some respect. She should have known the smooth waters they encountered earlier in the year were just a precursor to an inevitable storm that fed on their insecurities; building in strength until it consumed them. They had always weathered these moments before. At least they eventually did. The difference this time was the umbrella of trust and faith they took refuge under was tattered and torn, offering very little in the way of a safe harbor.
Entering her apartment, Mac felt lost. It was like a part of her was missing, but she couldn't place what it was. She took off her jacket and tossed it on the chair along with her purse, and set off toward the kitchen to make tea. Pulling the canister from its resting place in the cabinet, Mac selected a tea bag from inside. She topped off the kettle with water, placed it on the burner and quickly cranked the heat. She needed something to drive the chill from her desperately and real boiling water was the only way to make tea; microwaved water was, well, just microwaved water.
While the kettle was simmering, Mac retrieved her files from her briefcase and laid them out on the dining room table; consuming herself in work might be just the distraction needed right now. Picking up the file on the War Games trial, she thumbed through the documents, looking for the notes she collected. She skimmed over them, remembering the obvious tension and the sarcasm from Harm.
The comments she had written jarred her memory, but not in a good way. Mac remembered how Harm had just voiced his first objection of the trial with just enough of a hint of arrogance to make her bristle. If she didn't know before, she most certainly knew now she was in for a ride. She had listened intently as Sturgis argued his rationale. After carefully absorbing Sturgis' remarks, she clearly and calmly sided with reason and said "Overruled". An indignant Harm stood immediately and said, "You've got to be kidding". He belatedly added, "Your Honor" sarcastically, only after she gave him a distinct non-verbal "get-it-together-Rabb" look.
Sturgis completed his examination of the witness with a "Nothing further, your Honor". Mac addressed Harm, asking if the defense wished to cross-examine the witness. Harm stood rigidly, his voice dripping with insolence, said "Not at this time, your Honor. I do reserve my right to question the witness at a later time." The whole trial was beginning to take the shape of a nightmare.
The kettle was now hissing and whistling, calling for attention. It was enough to break Mac's trance and snap her back to the present. She set the file back on the table amongst the others and padded off to the kitchen to tend to more pressing matters.
Mac quickly poured the boiling water over the chamomile tea bag to steep and returned to the files in the dining room. Deciding that she wasn't in the mood to work anymore, she gathered all the folders and placed them back in the briefcase before heading to the bookshelf for another means of diversion.
*****
Harm's apartment
1455 local time
Harm's drive home was likewise filled with the regret of deserting his friends' housewarming party. He tried hard to forget the little scene in the dining room but it kept replaying in his head like a broken record, and the radio was doing nothing to help him silence these thoughts so he turned it off.
Maybe making an issue of it at Bud and Harriet's wasn't the way to handle things, he thought. "But, I had to get it off my chest," Harm said aloud, not realizing he was talking to himself. "She needs to know where I stand; since she's obviously not listening to what I'm saying in the courtroom-not that it had any impact today, either. Damn stubborn Jarhead. Wonder how she'll feel when it's my turn behind the bench; maybe it'll become crystal clear to her then."
Pulling up in front of his apartment, he turned the car off and sat there for a moment wondering what to do with the rest of his day, now that his schedule was clear. Any other time he'd call Mac and they'd find something to do together. "No point in doing that," he thought, "she's probably plotting the demise of my case right now. Besides, I'd rather be alone anyway. No one to judge me, no one to tell me I'm handling things poorly. There is only one thing I can do that doesn't require human interaction-go running."
He got out of his SUV and quickly entered the building. Once in his apartment, he checked the machine for messages, silently hoping that there might be one from Mac, for whatever reason. "No new messages." The electronic voice told him what he already knew.
Changing his clothes, he grabbed his keys and left for the park to pour his frustrations into something physical.