Disclaimer: Don't own JAG; just borrowing the characters

A/N: We've been given very little information about Lt. Vukovic's background so I decided to "run with it" and fill in the gaps. He hasn't gotten much of a "break" with other fans, apparently, and while understandable, it is just a trifle unfair. There's a reason I put him in New York before his transfer to HQ JAG, Washington D.C. See my other "current" story: "All's Fair in Love and War", a crossover between "JAG " and "Law and Order -Original Series" where he's going to make a brief appearance as a fresh, bran-new attorney. I also think the way the professional writers ended the series, there's tremendous potential for a whole slew of new stories about both the old and new members of our "JAG".

AFTERBURNERS

0900 (Military Time) (Local Time)

HQ JAG

Falls Church, VA

Assuming the get-together at McMurphy's was on a Friday night, this takes place the following Monday

As Greg stepped out of the elevator leading to the bullpen of JAG Ops, he immediately noticed an unusual buzz of activity for that early in the morning. Mystified, he walked into the break room to get his first cup of coffee and discovered Commanders Roberts and Turner sipping from their first cups of coffee.

"Good morning, Commanders." He nodded as he "pulled his coffee" from the coffee maker. He turned around and noted a change in their attitudes. When he first walked in, they had been casual and friendly. When he turned to face them, there was a noticeable coolness—or was it reserve? —or a certain aura of curiosity—Yes, that was it. They were curious about—what? "So, how are we this morning?" He noticed the glances the two older men exchanged.

"You don't know, do you?" It was Commander Turner's voice that broke the strange silence. "Of course. You wouldn't have any way of knowing, would you?"

Greg shook his head. "Know what?" He looked at both men, watched the silent communications between them. Inwardly, he sighed. There had been a certain "inner group"—some would call it "cliquish"—that was as tight as the knots the U.S. Navy traditionally (and mythically) taught all sailors within the first year of enlistment. It hadn't taken much to notice that 1) the center of this group had been then-Commander Rabb (with his legendary reputation—and Greg couldn't help wonder just how many of the stories he had heard through the JAG scuttlebutt was true) and Colonel MacKenzie. Two: somehow, Commander Roberts was a part of that. Somewhere, Greg had heard, under the command of retired Admiral Chedwiggen, the scuttlebutt had called them "the three Musketeers" of JAG. Just where Commander Turner fit into this "tight little circle" had been unclear to him. There was also the perception, fair or unfair—again, Greg had no way of judging whether this was truth either—this little "inner circle" had been Admiral Chedwiggen's "favorites."

Ambitious as he was, he was anxious to break into this "inner circle", especially given the reputation that both Commander Rabb and Colonel MacKenzie had established for themselves on their own abilities. When he had heard Admiral Chegwidden was going to retire, he had immediately put in for a transfer from the New York JAG office to Headquarters. In his most private moments, he admitted this was a very nervy thing to do, given he had been a "real" lawyer for just two years before the retirement of the Admiral—usually headquarter billets were reserved for attorneys with much more experience. Captain Rabb's rather snide comment about being a real attorney for "a minute and half" wasn't, figuratively, too far off the mark—which was something he would admit to nobody else but himself. But it was part of the Rabb legend that he had been one of the youngest attorneys ever to be assigned to JAG those many years ago and Greg was not shy about being competitive and to try to establish a new record.

Again, the two older men exchanged looks, and it was Commander Turner who shrugged, as if to say to Commander Roberts, "Go ahead. Tell him."

"Colonel MacKenzie resigned her commission." Commander Roberts took another sip of coffee and, if Greg had really paid attention, he could have seen a silent chuckle shaking Commander Turner's shoulders. Looking back on the scene, Greg would have sworn Commander Turner was teasing Commander Roberts by silently communicating—"You're not going to make this easy for him, are you?"

Greg almost dropped his coffee cup. As it was, a considerable amount of hot, black liquid landed on the floor—and all over his summer whites. If the heat from the liquid hadn't jerked his attention, at least momentarily, to the pool on the floor and the brown stain on his white pants, his jaw would have followed the coffee to the floor. Commander Turner chuckled but said no more.

"Ow!" He moved to the paper towels to clean up both his pants (as best he could) and the mess on the floor, especially before the General came in. "What?" His mind was spinning. "What about the assignment in San Diego? And—for God's sake, why?"

This time, Greg heard both men chuckle as he bent down with the paper towels to clean up the mess on the floor. There was a "pregnant" pause before the answer came. Because Greg was busy wiping up the mess, he missed still another silent visual exchange between the two older men. This time, it was Commander Turner who replied.

"She and Captain Rabb are getting married."

That did it. Greg flopped down on the floor and looked up at the two older men in pure astonishment. It was Commander Roberts, pit bull in the courtroom that he was (and Greg was learning that to his dismay), but didn't really have it in him to be really malicious, who brought Greg back to earth.

"Lieutenant, you'd better get off the floor before the General—"

Too late. The next thing Greg knew, he was hearing General Cresswell's dry voice commenting, "Lieutenant, I suggest you get off the floor before you become a doormat." Greg could just feel the heat from the General's stare at the brown stain (now settling into permanent status) on his summer whites. "I also suggest you do something about your uniform." This time, Greg heard three chuckles as he felt his face turning red.

"Uh, yes sir."

Talk about a bad start to what had looked to be a relatively good, quiet day!

1230 Military Time (Local Time)

HQ JAG

Falls Church, VA

Same Day

It was just as well, Greg thought as he carried his lunch tray to the table where the two older men were eating their lunches, neither having court hearings underway at the moment, it was a relatively "quiet" day—and no wonder the bullpen had been abuzz with news. (It was news, too—there was no "rumor" element about the Colonel's impending marriage with Captain Rabb—although, in the meantime, he had heard other scuttlebutt about the current upheaval taking place in JAG Ops.) He had been forced to go back home and change clothes (muttering under his breath about the necessity for either 1) soaking the stained whites or 2) taking them to the dry cleaners to see what they could do.) In the end, he had decided to soak them and then come back and take them to the dry cleaners after work. Damn them, anyway, for disrupting his world like this anyway. While changing uniforms, he had decided he really needed to talk to the two older men to get a clearer picture of just exactly what was going on. Hence, the beeline to where the two older officers were sitting.

"Gentlemen, mind if I join you?" Greg figured it wouldn't hurt to be on his best behavior, especially with the two most senior officers (after the General) now in the office. It was Commander Roberts, munching on a sandwich, who waved him towards a seat by Commander Turner.

Commander Turner responded vocally. "Of course not." He looked at Greg's uniform. "I take it you went home to change."

"Damn it, anyway. There was no way I was going to get all that coffee out of the pants." He sat down, shook out his napkin. "I should send the dry cleaning bill to Captain Rabb for shocking me like that."

Commander Roberts chuckled. "I can't blame you for being shocked." The chuckle grew into a small laugh. "For the two of them, that's a minor disruption." Greg glanced at Commander Turner and saw an answering grin.

Ah—what a nice seguay into what he wanted to discuss with the two older associates of Captain Rabb and Colonel MacKenzie. He took a bit of the rather hapless-looking meat loaf, chewed, and swallowed. "Ah—yes." He decided a humble approach was called for, especially with these two. "Can I ask you some questions?" For some reason he couldn't identify, he looked at Commander Roberts.

The friendly-outside-the-courtroom attorney got a reserved look to him. "You can ask. I can't promise I will answer."

Inwardly, Greg gave out a big sigh of relief. He had gotten the impression in his few weeks at JAG Ops, both Captain Rabb and Colonel MacKenzie were very private individuals and, while quite helpful in assisting new personnel find their way around the office, tried hard to keep their personal lives very, very private. He wasn't sure how much information he was going to get from Commander Roberts, but at least he wasn't shut out.

"I had heard Captain Rabb and Colonel MacKenzie were quite close. I just didn't realize how close they were—unless this was a sudden thing." He peered closely at Commander Roberts, wanting desperately to not miss even the subtlest signal. To his surprise, both men burst out laughing—to the point where Commander Roberts started choking.

"Bud, are you okay?" Commander Turner had immediately turned serious and "Bud" waved him off.

"Yeah. I'll be okay. A sudden thing? I should email Captain Rabb that there are some people who couldn't/didn't see this coming. I think he would be very, very surprised." A thought crossed Commander Robert's face (despite his professional training at keeping a "poker" face in the courtroom, Bud was rather transparent outside the courtroom). His eyebrows raised. "You know, Captain Rabb may very well pay that dry cleaning bill after all. You know, as a 'thank you'."

Greg personally thought that if Captain Rabb did pay his dry cleaning bill, it would be a slap in the face for being such a dummy. But was he such a dummy, really?

Commander Turner apparently took pity on the younger officer. He set his water glass back down on the table after taking a sip and turned his head in Greg's direction. "Somewhere along the way, in a partnership that started nine years ago, they both fell in love with each other. It was frustrating, both to them and to the office." There was that secretative little smile directed towards Commander Roberts again. "Bud, here's a thought: you know the rule against fraternization?" Bud nodded. "You know that rule was established for the purpose of 'keeping good order and discipline', right?" Commander Roberts choked again as he caught Commander Turner's gist. Roberts spoke directly to the younger attorney, who, by this time, was thoroughly confused. "The tension between the two of them was so thick at times, you could have cut it with a knife. And they would fight continuously in the office. When they were adversaries in the courtroom, you never knew what would happen." He turned to Commander Turner. "Did you know Captain Rabb actually shot up the courtroom ceiling in the first case he opposed Colonel MacKenzie?"

Greg's eyes popped wide as saucers at hearing that while Commander Turner nodded. "I had heard that but I just thought it was rumor. . ."

Damn! Greg thought. It made Colonel MacKenzie's scolding over the victory of the trial in San Diego inexplicable. . That was another question to be followed up on. He almost wished he had brought a notebook to take notes.

Commander Roberts chuckled again. "That little stunt haunted Commander—uh—Captain Rabb for years. Every time he picked up a weapon in front of Admiral Morris, Admiral Morris would quiver just a little." Commander Roberts got serious again. "Anyway, I digress." He looked at Greg. "They should have gotten together a long time ago and things would have been a lot quieter in the office, hang the rule against fraternization. So far as I know, they never violated the 'letter' of that particular 'law', but their relationship sure wasn't condusive to 'good order and discipline."

Commander Turner was really getting into the discussion. "You don't think Admiral Chedwiggen could have done something for them like he did with you and Harriet?"

Commander Roberts shrugged his shoulders. "I don't know. They never tried."

Greg sat there, stunned. This was a lot of information to absorb. He played with his fork. It was Commander Turner who picked up the proverbial conversational ball.

"As long as we're clearing away the gossip, what's this I heard about her following him to Russia to look for his father—not just once, but twice? Is that true or is that gist for the rumor mill?"

Greg's massive ego was shrinking by the foot. Commander Roberts shook his head.

"All I know about that is they somehow because the 'pets' of the CIA and tumbled into some information concerning Captain Rabb's father. I do know he seemed to be a lot more at peace after that second trip. And I would suspect no one really knows the full story except for the two of them—being CIA, I would bet most of the story behind those two trips are classified."

CIA? Greg's head was spinning. "What about Captain Rabb's father? "

Commander Turner's voice was very quiet. "Harm's father was a fighter pilot flying over Vietnam in the late 1960s and went MIA on Christmas Eve." He shook his head remembering. "Harm was obsessed. I was astonished when he let it drop at the Academy one time he actually went to Vietnam when he was 16 to look for his father."

Something nagged at Gregory's brain. He straightened his back and leaned into the older men's conversation. "I've seen his chest—those awards and medals. How does an attorney get those?"

Commander Roberts shook his head. "Those are a results of working with the CIA and his status as a part-time naval aviator." He looked rather sternly at Greg. "You should know he's still on flight status on a part-time basis. Why else do you think he wasn't in the office during Christmas last year?"

Greg gave himself a little shake. "I had just assumed he was out in the field investigating a case."

Commander Turner took another drink of water and set his glass back down on the table shaking his head. "There's a lot you don't know, lieutenant."

By this time, the cafeteria had empties and the three men became aware it was time to get back to the office. By this time, Greg's ego had shrunk to a considerable smaller size and it was all he could do to remember to thank the two older gentlemen. Not all of his questions had been answered, but there was more than enough to chew on until the next opportunity to ask either of them more questions.