PART TWENTY-SIX:
1311 ZULU (0811 EST)
JAG HQ
FALLS CHURCH, VA
"Morning ma'am," several people call as I burst through the double doors that lead into the bullpen of JAG headquarters. I nod in response and take a conscious effort to slow my hurried step. I also make the decision to take a deep breath and relax and put on the best smile I can muster this morning. I pray that it's adequate enough to stave off any concern and curiosity from any of my conscientious coworkers. My morning isn't going as smoothly as I would like.
I glance at Harm's dark office and note with relief and satisfaction that, late as I am this morning, I still beat the perennially tardy Commander Rabb. Good. Right now, I don't think I could handle seeing him. Not with the images of last night and this morning and this past weekend still fresh in mind. I have some grasp of my emotions but if I were to see him right now I know there'd be no way for me to hide my feelings.
I feel like I have "I had sex with Harmon Rabb, Jr." stamped in bold blue ink on my forehead.
I know it's a little late to be considering all this now, but I never thought I would have as much…concern over facing Harm at work after…after this weekend. I mean, when Harm and I face off now, I'm going to look at him and know what lies beyond that smug grin and the passion beyond his skills as an attorney. I'm going to see him in the courtroom and know every contour of that sculpted body that lies underneath his uniform. He's going to look at me and things that were once well-hidden and deeply buried are now going to be lying just under the surface, no longer quick enough to escape my notice. He's struggling to hide it—his feelings for me. Or maybe he's not struggling at all—maybe he's given up on hiding them at all. It seemed perfectly clear this weekend.
He loves me.
He hasn't said a word to that effect (or maybe he has, if I include our conversation on the Admiral's porch) but it seems so clear now with everything he does. And says, even without uttering those three little words. Still, knowing this as I do, it unnerves me just a little that after everything that has transpired between us, up to and including this weekend, I have yet to hear him proclaim it.
Plus, I can't find my Marine Corps ring. I've looked everywhere for it and the only thing I can think of is that I left it at the B-and-B in Nantucket. I tried calling Harm this morning, after he left my apartment, to see if it somehow got mixed in with his stuff, but I couldn't get a hold of him either at his home or on his cell. I don't remember having it on last night, either, when we got to my apartment. Of course, I don't remember wearing too much for too long once we reached my apartment…
I feel a wave of heat wash over me and feel my mouth start to curve up into a smile before I jar my hip against a desk and recollect where I am.
Stop drooling, Colonel. Or at least wait until you reach the safety of your office. I make a beeline to my office and shut the door, managing to sidestep most of my coworkers and especially avoid Harriett who seems to have a sixth sense for these sort of situations.
I toss my briefcase onto one of the chairs in front of my desk. Whew. Sa—
"Colonel! Just who I was looking for." I whirl around and see Sturgis standing in my doorway, a short pile of folders clutched in his hand. "Something wrong?"
"Huh? Oh, no, no, of course not." Take a deep breath and get a hold of yourself, MacKenzie! "What can I help you with, Sturgis?"
"Have you seen Harm?"
"What?" What, what, what?!
"I need to ask him some questions on this case and I was wondering if you knew where he was?"
"No. Why would I know where he is? I'm not his keeper." Sturgis gives me a strange look.
"Okaaay…just wondering if you had seen him."
"Well, I'm not."
"Are you all right, Mac?"
"Of course. I'm fine. Why do you ask?"
Okay, I know what I said to Harm about not lying to our friends about our new relationship, but that was before I was subjected to the third degree first thing in the morning. I'm beginning to see the logic behind Harm's claim that denial is everything. I cross my arms over my chest and lean against the edge of my desk. Cool, calm and collected—you are the epitome of these, MacKenzie.
"You seem…on edge."
"No," I manage a small titter, "I'm just…" what am I? What am I?! "Just tired. I had a busy weekend." Ah, good excuse. Excellent thinking, Colonel.
"Oh, what did you do?"
I experience a peculiarly interesting physiological response as I actually feel my heart seize up in my chest and all my organs shrink momentarily from the lack of blood flow. My brain, on the other hand, starts pounding forcibly within my skull.
"Uhh…"
"You and Harm do something this weekend?"
My mouth goes dry and I have to wet my lips several times before I can finally rasp out a question.
"Why do you ask that?"
"You both took off out of here early Friday."
"Oh, uh, that was, uh, that was so I could pick up my car," I reply, recollecting my predetermined response should anyone ask. "We—I—had to take it to the garage."
"Oh? Routine checkup, or something more?"
"Checkup."
Where the hell is Harm?!
"30,000 mile service?"
"Uh, yeah." What is with the third degree? "Um, so what case did you need help on?" I ask, hoping to distract him from all topics concerning me.
"Well, I needed to ask Harm about the Randall case."
"Randall case? I'm not familiar with it."
"I didn't think you were. You weren't listed as part of the defense or prosecution, so I didn't think you would know too much about it. I was hoping you had seen or knew where Harm was so I could ask him some questions. I think the way he handled the trial is similar to the approach I'm going to have to take with Seamen Alderez."
"Oh, well, I haven't—"
"Oh, there he is. Excuse me, Colonel?" He's gone before I can even nod. Thank God. Since when did Sturgis moonlight as an interrogator?
I watch as he and Harm converse for a moment, Harm not even glancing my way or giving any indication that he wants to see me…or that he is seeing me. Why does he have to be so good at hiding his feelings around everyone else? Harriet saunters over with a document that she hands to Harm. The three of them spend a couple minutes chatting before Harm gives Harriet his briefcase and cover and, chuckling at something one of them said, follows Sturgis into his office.
I quickly find something to busy myself with as Harriet passes by to deposit Harm's things into his office.
"Morning, ma'am," she calls as she breezes by again.
"Uh, yes, uh, morning, Harriet!" I call.
Okay. Enough of this. Get to work, MacKenzie.
**********
About forty-five minutes later, after three trips back and forth to either his or Sturgis's office (which I don't have to add is also three trips back and forth past mine), Harm saunters in.
"Hey Mac," he says by way of greeting.
"Harm," I reply, not taking my eyes off the deposition I'm reading.
"So…how was your weekend?" he asks with a very typical flyboy grin. "Do anything special?"
"Nothing too exciting," I answer, finding his cheerful mood hard to fight off. "You?" I ask with a small smile.
"Went flying," he replies with a mischievous twinkle.
"Oh? Anywhere special?"
"North a ways," he returns as Harriet raps on the door behind him. "Sorry sir, ma'am, but here are the names you were looking for, Commander."
"Thank you, Harriet," he says, flashing her that infamous smile before turning back to me.
"Catch you later, Colonel," he winks and saunters out, whistling a tune I don't recognize.
"The commander's sure in a good mood," Harriet comments.
"Yeah," I acknowledge, fighting to keep my expression neutral. "Flying always does that to him."
**********
"Colonel. Haven't seen you all morning," the admiral comments taking a sip of his coffee.
"Sir," I say, reaching for my mug. "I've been going through the Miller depositions."
"Ah."
"Commander," he greets and I almost splash coffee on my hand before said commander responds with Sturgis's baritone. "Sir. Mac."
"Commander," I reply taking a sip of my coffee while simultaneously trying to ignore the looks I feel directed towards me.
"Were you able to find Commander Rabb and get his input for the Alverez matter?" The admiral asks Sturgis.
"Yes, sir. Commander Rabb gave me his notes on the Randall case—I think it will help to build a good strategy for representing Seamen Alverez."
"Good."
There's a moment of silence while we all take a drink from our cups and mull over this information.
"What the hell is that noise?" The admiral asks suddenly, and we all pause mid-sip to listen. "Is that Rabb again?"
It's then I realize the noise he refers to is Harm whistling. Quite cheerfully and tunelessly.
Sturgis chuckles. "Sounds like him. He's in a pretty good mood this morning."
"On a Monday? That's unusual." The admiral mutters. Then he looks at me and raises an eyebrow. "You wouldn't know anything about this, would you, colonel?"
"Hello sirs, ma'am," Harriet chirps before I barely open my mouth. Sturgis hands her a coffee mug and the admiral fills it. I hope that Harriet's appearance has distracted the admiral from this topic, but it's all in vain. You can't sway a two-star. Especially a SEAL.
Harriet finally notices their scrutiny of me and asks, "Um, am I interrupting something?"
"No, not at all, Lieutenant. I was just asking the colonel here if she had any idea why Rabb is in such good humor this Monday morning."
Harriet giggles and announces with a smile, "He's been whistling all morning."
I flush with embarrassment, knowing full well the reasons for his happy mood. He was quite a bustle of activity in my apartment early this morning. Knowing him as well as I do I'd say he enjoyed every harried second. Or the reason for every harried second. I have a feeling that Harmon Rabb was in his element when he dashed out of there with a fleeting kiss this morning.
"Didn't you say he went flying, colonel?" Harriet asks, taking a sip of her coffee and wrinkling her nose. She looks at me questioningly as to who made it before noticing Sturgis's discreet gesture to the admiral. I hand her the sugar. "Oh!"
"What?" I ask, looking at her inquisitively.
"Where's your ring?" Three pairs of eyes zero in on my naked hand. It's all I can do not to drop my coffee and tuck both hands behind me.
"Lose something, colonel?"
"Ah, no, sir, I just misplaced it."
"Rather unlike you, colonel."
"Well, I, uh, was pretty busy over the weekend and I must have misplaced it, but I'm sure I'll find it soon," I add with more confidence than I feel. I spent a good hour or so alternately debating about calling the B-and-B in Nantucket and seeing if anyone has found it, or cornering Harm to see if maybe he's seen it. Cornering Harm, though, means stepping out of my office and into his, attracting the attention of every coworker I have—and that's if I'm lucky to find him in his office and not out in the bullpen. He's been bouncing all over headquarters.
I tried emailing him a couple hours ago, but I still haven't heard back from him.
"Oh, do anything special?" The admiral asks taking another sip of his coffee and leaning against the counter.
"Sir?"
"This weekend. Did you do anything special?"
"Oh, no, no. Just the usual chores and errands and such. Kind of boring, really. Actually, that's probably how I misplaced my ring. I was cleaning and I took it off, you know, because I didn't want the chemicals in the cleaning agents to ruin the finish and now I just don't remember where I put it and Harriet did you cut your hair?"
Just shut up, shut up, MacKenzie. You're babbling.
"Uh, no ma'am."
"Oh. Well. It looks good, Harriet."
"Thank you, colonel."
"I just thought you might have had something special planned seeing as you and Rabb decided to start your weekend early Friday."
Goddammit! I knew it! I knew it! When I see Harm I will kill him! We should have just told everyone we were seeing each other. Did I not tell him that!? And did I not also mention that the two of us leaving early would attract everyone's—especially our CO's—attention?!
And speaking of that slippery bastard where the hell is he? He should be getting his fair share of the grilling.
"Oh, um, sorry about that, Admiral. I had to take my car in earlier…at lunch, and Harm offered to give me a ride to pick it up, and then they called later on, so Harm took me to pick it up, and traffic was kind of heavy and by the time we got done with…everything…it was almost 1630 and Harm, er, I just--well we--I suppose…"
"Decided to call it a day?"
"Um, yes, sir."
Damn him, damn him, damn him.
I'm saved from further explanation by the ever-increasing volume of Harm's whistling, and the sudden cease of the noise when Harm appears in the doorway and sees the scowls directed at him. I need not say whom from.
"Commander, do I have to remind you, again, that, despite, perhaps, the boost in solidarity and morale if may offer, we don't whistle while we work in JAG ops?"
"No, sir. Sorry, sir. Won't happen again."
"See to it that it doesn't."
"Aye-aye, sir."
Harriet and Sturgis attempt to hide their smiles behind their mugs. I just attempt to hide, period, but it's kind of hard for obvious reasons.
"Harriet, Sturgis," he says nodding to each in turn. Sturgis raises his eyebrows and Harriet smiles. "Mac." He reaches past me for his mug and the carafe. I try not to focus on the feel of his body as his shoulder brushes against mine. Instead, looking around the kitchenette I find three pairs of curious eyes focused on us. Well, two pairs of curious and one pair suspicious.
"Well, back to work people." The admiral directs gruffly. He takes one last swallow of his coffee before bidding us adieu with a curt nod.
"Thanks again on those notes, Harm," Sturgis says, pausing long enough to refill his mug and Harriet's.
"No problem, Sturg."
"Let me know if you need anything else, Commander," Harriet adds before following Sturgis out.
"Will do, Harriet, thanks."
We both watch them leave before turning to the other.
"Alone at las—Ow! Hey, what was that for?!" He rubs the spot on his arm where the back of my hand just connected.
That question seems so ridiculously stupid that I can't help but hit him again.
"What is with all the whistling?!" I hiss.
"What is with you hitting me? Not enough kick in your coffee?" He takes a gulp before spitting it out again.
"Scratch that. I see the admiral made his special brew. Maybe there's too much kick. And what do you mean what's with my whistling? Nothing. I'm just in a good mood."
"I know. Everybody knows, Harm. They've all noticed."
"So?"
"So!?"
"Is it a crime for me to be in a positive frame of mind?"
"No," I reply a bit defensively, "just…tone it down a little."
"Tone it down?" he repeats with a frown.
"They're all…suspicious!"
"Who's 'they'?"
"The admiral. Harriet. Sturgis. They all keep…looking at me…and asking me all these questions…"
"Will you listen to yourself," Harm says with a smile.
"I'm serious, Harm!"
"So am I. You sound like you're paranoid."
Oh, how typical. The 'it's-all-in-your-imagination' response. I feel like hitting him again and he must notice because he leans against the counter and crosses his ankles and says, in a tone that mostly hides his amusement, "What kinds of questions did they ask?"
"Just…you know what. Forget it."
"No, no, Mac. I'm serious. I want to know. What did they ask?"
"Look, this is not the place to be having this discussion," I hiss.
Harm dips his head close to mine and whispers just as quietly, but far more breathily against my ear, "Well, where do you suggest we continue it? I think the maintenance closet just might be free…"
Oh, fine. Fine! Don't take me seriously. He lets out a chuckle as he straightens.
"I have work to do. If you'll excuse me, Commander."
***********