1352 ZULU

JAG HEADQUARTERS

FALLS CHURCH, VA

It's with a decided spring in my step that I enter the office Wednesday, unable to keep any telltale signs of happiness and utter contentment out of my expression even if I wanted to.

Two days from today I'll be standing on a sandy beach, the waves lapping at our feet, the sun setting beautifully behind us as Mac and I recite our vows of love and commitment to one another.  Hard to believe that after nearly forty years of single living in only two days I'll be a very happily wedded man. 

Wow. 

Married. 

Husband.

And one day, hopefully, Father.

Married to Mac.

Mr. And Mrs. Harmon Rabb, Jr.

Sarah Rabb.

Yup, definitely has a nice ring to it.  I hope Mac thinks so, too. 

"Morning, sir!" Harriet chirps cheerfully, jostling me out of my thoughts.  She flashes me a big smile, as though she knows what has me so up in spirits today.  Well, maybe she does have an idea.  Sturgis, damn him, asked a few nosy, pointed questions, after he walked in on some important phone calls regarding my plans for the weekend, and I don't think I dropped chaff fast enough to escape damage.  As a result, a good portion of the staff may or may not think I'm planning to surprise Mac with a romantic dinner.

I must say the change the news brought about in the lonely Lieutenant Sims is almost comical.   She's been quite obvious about dropping hints in anything she thinks might make my date easier, more enjoyable, or more romantic.  Actually, some of her suggestions have been quite good, not that I'll tell her.  I'd hate to confirm any rumors, no matter how entirely—or not entirely—accurate they are. 

Although, after this weekend the smoke and mirrors will be wasted effort, anyway.

Until then…

"Good morning, Lieutenant," I reply easily, flashing her a conspiratorial wink which only brightens her smile.  "How's Bud?"

"Fine, sir.  He's settling back into sea duty easily, sir."

"That's good to hear," I say, taking note of Mac's darkened office.

"The colonel's not in, yet," Harriet supplies helpfully.

"I can see that, lieutenant."

"Yes, sir."  She grins impishly and I decide I'd better take my self—and my interest in the colonel—into the relative safety of my office.  I flash a brief smile and make my escape, but not before I see Lieutenant Sims flash another knowing look before taking a seat at her desk.

*********

Let's see what's on the agenda for today.  I set my briefcase down on my desk and toss my cover onto the bookshelf behind it.

Staff call at 9:00

Court at 10:00

Lunch with my fiancé 12:00 (I know I'm smiling that stupid grin that often accompanies me when I think of Mac).

Court at 1:00

Skip out of work if at all possible by 3:00, so that I can take care of wedding matters, such as plane tickets, wedding bands, and pick up marriage license.

Dinner at 7:00 with said fiancé, and going over the Rothschild case and wedding details.

A busy day, in other words.

My blushing bride-to-be stomps into the bullpen and into her office, sloshing snow off her overcoat and hair, looking rather upset.  This notion is reinforced when she swings her door shut with vehemence.  The resounding slam scatters people from her office, most sidling away quickly for the safety of the break room or copier, which is a safer distance away from the free fire zone than, say, the duty roster board, or Harriet's desk.  Well, I suppose I should go over there and find out what she's so upset about.

I'm rather comfortable in my office though.  Safe. 

Suck it up, Harm. 

Ah, Sturgis.

"Looks like the colonel's in a mood," he comments.

"Yeah," I agree.

"What did you do?"

"Me?  Nothing."  He raises a disbelieving eyebrow. 

"If you're so sure I did something wrong, why don't you ask her."  And thus save me from her ire if I did do something wrong.  But I don't think I did.  We seemed okay last night.

"You do your own dirty work, buddy.  I'm staying out of it."

"Right."  I don't know why Sturgis even bothers saying that.  He's been in the middle of everything here at JAG since he arrived.  It's like me insisting Mac and I are just friends.  No truth to it whatsoever.

"Besides," he continues, leveling his piercing gaze at me, "you two seem to be on very good terms lately."  A-ha.  Case in point.

I look away as I answer, "Mac and I swing like a pendulum.  One moment things are good, the next…" 

"Hmm…and you're sure she's not upset with you?"

Well, not really.  I mean, anything's possible.  I just don't recall doing anything that would even remotely piss her off from the time I asked her to marry me from the time she left this morning to get ready for work.  She seemed to be in excellent spirits when we kissed goodbye.

"It wasn't anything I did.  How are things with you and Bobbi?"

"Better.  I think we could have the start of something there.  We'll just have to wait and see how things go."

I nod in agreement, and both Sturgis and I turn to look at the source of what sounds like, through several layers of plaster and glass, muffled yelling.  Mac slaps her hand against the top of her computer monitor and mouths something, by the looks of it here, obscene.  Then she plops harshly down into her chair and I see her shoulders rise and fall in what I can guess is a very disgusted sigh. 

"Well, I'll leave you to it," Sturgis announces, pausing only to give me a sympathetic look before high tailing out of my office and out of sight. 

So much for your fellow brother in arms.

*********

"Hey, Mac," I begin cautiously, gently pressing the door forward as I step in, keeping it just close enough in contact with my hand so that, if need be, I can quickly pull it shut again in a mad dash to get out.  Or use it as a shield.

She looks disappointed about something, and yet glad to see me.  I breathe a sigh of relief as I surmise I'm not the one she's disappointed and/or angry with.  She motions for me to close the door.  Latch firmly in place, I take a seat in one of the chairs before her desk and give her an encouraging smile.

"Why the long face, marine?"

She laughs hoarsely, and I hear what suspiciously sounds like a sob trying to be smothered. 

"Sarah?"

There it is.  A sniffle.

"Have you looked at the weather?"

"No, not recently."  The last I recall hearing was that we were expecting snow today and tomorrow and judging by the flakes floating lazily down the sky it appears for once the forecaster was accurate.  That was Monday night, and with work and wedding plans, I haven't paid attention since.

"We're supposed to get six more inches of snow tonight."

"Yeah…"  I do recall hearing something about that as well.

"All thanks to Ana."

"Ana?"

"Yeah, Tropical Cyclone Ana."  She looks pointedly at me.  When I return her look with what I'm sure is a blank one, she sighs and adds, "The same tropical storm dropping snow all over us, the same tropical storm that will be hitting the Bahamas, and more specifically…Paradise Island in two days!"

"Oh," is all I can say once I see what she's getting at.  "So much for a beach front wedding."  Damn.

She makes a weird noise and rocks back into her chair.  "Harm!  The city's already received four inches with another six expected to all by next morning.  Do you know what that means?"  I shake my head no.  "Our flight could be delayed, Harm.  Our wedding could be delayed!  Worse, Tropical Cyclone Ana could hit as predicted and we won't even have a beach to have a wedding!"

"Mac, calm down."

She takes a deep breath and loosens her grip on her armrest.  I see the color return to her knuckles as it drains out of her cheeks.

"Look, we'll think of something.  We don't know for sure if we'll get ten inches of snow, if our flights will be delayed, or if our wedding will be cancelled.  There's a lot of ifs, Mac."

"But if it is?"

"What?  We get ten inches of snow?  A great excuse for you and I to stay in tonight and keep warm.  If the flight is delayed?  We take a later one.  If Ana does hit?  Well, it's a big disappointment, but we can always reschedule.  That ring," I indicate the diamond ring resting hidden with her dogtags beneath her blouse, "doesn't come with an expiration date, Mac.  I gave it to you with the full intention of someday making you my wife.  Now I admit I wish "someday" comes sooner, say Friday at 1930, than later, but so long as it comes."

She sniffles and gives me a watery smile. 

"Is that okay with you?" I ask, not sure if the tears bode well, as I think they do, or ill.

She gives a small laugh.  "It's more than okay."

**********

"No way, Tiner, he's taking her someplace romantic."

"With all do respect, ma'am, I think the commander—"

"The commander what?" Four bodies stiffen and snap to attention, the surreptitious hiding of a notepad and manila envelope not going unnoticed.

"Sir!" Tiner acknowledges, looking for all the world like the admiral just caught him with his feet kicked up in his chair.

"Tiner.  Harriet.  Sturgis, and you are…?"  I look at a young woman with lieutenant bars and a line officer's insignia.

"This is Lieutenant Zucker, sir," Harriet supplies, "She's an old friend of mine."

"Nice to meet you, lieutenant."  We shake hands and smile.  "So, what about the commander?"

"Uh, the lieutenant—"

"Tiner was just saying that—"

"Commander Turner has—"

Lieutenant Zucker displays keen intelligence and wisely stays silent.

"Yes?"  I cross my arms over my chest and hope my amusement doesn't show.

"Uh--"

"Well," Sturgis begins as two sets of eyes flash gratefully, "we were just trying to figure out, uh, what I mean is the lieutenant and the petty officer and I were…we were, well, we were wondering where the admiral's going to take Miss Cavanaugh on their first date."

I smirk inwardly.  Right.  "Ah.  Better keep your nose clean, Sturgis.  The admiral finds out you're speculating on his personal affairs he's liable to make good on the promise of shore duty in Keflavik.  He's still mad at you for trying to set him up."

"As I recall, I wouldn't be alone in my duties.  In fact, I wouldn't even be threatened with it if it wasn't for your botched attempt at matchmaking."

I grin.  "Still, I amazed at you Sturgis.  Partaking in speculation of a superior officer's affairs with junior personnel?  Tsk, tsk."  I give each party a sharp look.  "With the admiral, hmm, it probably is someplace romantic," I suggest gamely.

I turn as if to make for my office, before halting suddenly.  "Oh, wait, didn't you say the commander?"  I get the satisfaction of watching the relief that had settled on their faces when I turned away wash away as guilt and fear takes it place.

Four heads simultaneously shake their heads.

"No, sir."

"Uh-uh."

"I don't think so, Harm."

"You must have misheard, commander."

"Oh, well, my mistake."  I grin apologetically and disappear into my office, whistling all the way, despite the risk of a certain marine and navy SEAL hearing it.