0223 ZULU
JAG HQ
Falls Church, VA
"About time, Commander," the admiral barks irritably. I feel my annoyance at him—and the world in general—increase. I'm still irked about my interrupted evening with Mac, so excuse me if I didn't get the lead out to get here—but I'm here, and even without breaking any land speed records, I still made it in good time. I can't say any of the retorts that bounce around in my head to the admiral, though.
So, naturally, I take it out on Webb.
"Well, Webb, you sure go all out. It wasn't enough that the information you gave us before nearly wiped out any hope of nailing Sorenson's ass to the wall."
"I'm surprised at you, Rabb. I thought you enjoyed a challenge. I find it hard to believe that JAG's poster boy can't convict this sleazebag."
"Well, you could make the job easier if you actually find some useful evidence, instead of just digging up more and more—"
"Commander!" The admiral interjects. I fall silent as I turn my attention back to him. He stares at me for a long moment, his brows knitted together in annoyance. His upper lip curls as he considers what he wants to say next. "Commander, I'm about as thrilled with this new development as you are, but let's give Mr. Webb a chance to explain."
I carefully take a calming breath. "Yes, sir."
"Good. Continue, Mr. Webb," he directs, picking up his coffee mug and taking a long, slow sip.
"As I was about to say," Webb resumes haughtily, "I've found some—wait a minute. Where's the colonel? Shouldn't she be here for this?"
Both he and the admiral look at me. "Were you unable to reach Colonel Mackenzie, Commander?"
"Uh, no, sir, I wasn't able to reach her on her cell phone." Well, I suppose it's true, considering I didn't even try.
"Is she avoiding your calls?" Webb asks, with the barest hint of a smile.
"No," I reply testily. "She's on a date."
"I wasn't aware that she was seeing anyone."
"Well, obviously you're out of touch, Webb. Maybe you'd better get some new sources to keep tabs on the colonel. I'm sure she'll appreciate your 'big brother' concern," I remark sarcastically. "I wasn't aware that it was any of your business who Mac dates."
"My source is you, Rabb. It's been my experience you can generally tell when Mac's got a new love interest because you start acting like an ass."
I open my mouth to rebut, registering with indignation the snort of agreement that comes from the vicinity of the admiral's desk, while Webb smoothly continues.
"However, the only thing I've noticed is that you've managed to keep a low profile—for you, at any rate—so one can only infer that you've been in good spirits lately—and, ergo, you and Mac have been getting along."
"'Ergo'?"
"So, what's this guy like?" Webb chugs on, without missing a beat.
"What do you mean 'what is he like'?"
"You haven't met him?"
"No." Fear of being found out is taking away any hesitation about walking the fine line between honesty and dishonesty. Right now, denial is everything.
"But you know she's on a date?"
"Yes."
"She told you?"
"Yes."
"And you didn't ask questions?" Webb asks, clearly surprised.
"What would you have liked me to ask?" I retort.
"You don't know where he works, what he does for a living? How they met?"
I need to change the subject. Fast. "What's with the third degree, Webb? I thought we were here to discuss the wonderful development you've dug up."
"So you don't know anything at all about this guy?"
"No, geez, does it really matter?"
Both Webb and the admiral stare at me incredulously.
"Harm, this is Mac we're talking about here. Whatever else she is, she's your partner and friend. You're not the least bit concerned after everything she's been through with her ex-husband, and Detective Connors, and Brumby, and--well, let's face it, you--?
"Webb, Mac is a big girl. And I respect her privacy," I emphasize, hoping he'll back off. "And why are you so concerned about who she's seeing anyway. It's a date. One date. It doesn't mean she's going to marry the guy."
I take a minute to regroup while Webb digests this.
"True," he concedes. "I'm just concerned about her."
"We all are," the admiral agrees, "but the commander is right. The colonel has the right to see anyone she chooses, and it's none of our business who she spends her afterhours with. Although, if she starts seeing whoever the hell this guy is and he does something stupid and hurts her I can't guarantee I won't kick his ass from here to Norfolk and back."
Well, didn't I say that there would be people lining up to kick my six if I screw this thing up with Mac? This declaration also reminds me why I'm loathe to piss off SEALs, too.
I manage a weak laugh. "I'm sure Mac won't spare him any considerations either, Admiral."
"Hmph."
"You could try to be a little more supportive though, Rabb," Webb pipes up.
"Supportive?!" What is this? Have I done something recently that's set off the sensors?
"Sorry, I'm late, sir," Mac interrupts before I can admit the truth of that to myself. Her eyes flick cautiously over each occupant in the room, taking in the ever-present smirk on Webb and my equally ever-present (whenever Webb's around) annoyance, before settling on the admiral. "Commander Rabb didn't get a hold of me until about twenty minutes ago."
The admiral fixes me with a suspicious stare. "I thought you said you were unable to get a hold of the colonel, Commander."
"Uh, not on her cell phone, Admiral," I reply, recollecting what, exactly, I admitted to the admiral and thanking my quick memory. Mac tries to cover her worry by twisting her hands over her purse. I notice she's thrown a thick sweater on over her dress. It's buttoned nearly all the way to the top. I'm not certain, but I think she's also changed shoes. They don't look nearly as high or uncomfortable as the ones before.
"Well, if you were able to get a hold of her, why didn't you just say so?" he grumbles. He turns his attention to Mac, and his demeanor softens just noticeably. "Evening, Colonel. Sorry to ruin your date. We have news." He indicates Webb, who resumes his debriefing. Mac flashes me a brief look of contrition before focusing on Webb.
By the time he's done explaining, Mac's look of sympathy and compassion (for me, of course) has faded away and the statement on her face surely reflects my own annoyance and irritation at our favorite spy.
"You really know how to make my life hell, Clay," Mac remarks sourly, crossing her arms over her chest. "We're going to be here all night trying to sort this out!"
"Sorry about your date, Mac," Webb offers.
"'Sorry?' 'Sorry' doesn't cut it. My evening is shot."
"Must be some guy," Webb comments casually. His eyes flicker expressionlessly to mine.
"Yes, well, duty is duty," she sighs resolutely.
"Let's just hope he understands that," the admiral remarks kindly.
"He does," she returns softly.
TBC