Disclaimer: Do not own JAG, etc., etc., etc.
A/N: As far as Brumby/Bugme is concerned, I've never swallowed the theories of physically abusive behavior on his part, especially since there's an episode (don't remember which one) in which he apologies to Mac for behavior during his courtship that could have been construed in others' perspectives as "sexual harassment." Abusive men are not nearly that sensitive. Frankly, "been there, done that"—and absolutely no fun. He was a decent man who got in the wrong place at the wrong time with the wrong person. That's it. He is not necessarily a "bad" guy—and, from what I have observed from watching old episodes, a competent, if conventional, attorney. I think, other than interfering with the relationship between Harm and Mac, his conventional approach to the law was one of two major "sins" from the fans' points of view.
A/N: Thanks for the patience in waiting for new postings. I think I finally got it figured out—only took me 7 chapters! Many, many thanks for the reviews, etc. Sit back and enjoy the ride—we're a long way from being finished!
A/N: Be patient! I'm not sure it's going to be this chapter or the next, but issues surrounding the colonel will be cleared up. I'm trying to build this up to some extent. Also, please be aware that rank is sometimes used, even after a person leaves the military, especially after a long period of service, as in this case. In addition, there is also the matter of not confusing readers. I'm taking advantage of that "long-service rank retention habit" of people to keep the different speakers clear and unconfusing to readers, so the use of "colonel" in this case, is both normal usage in "real" life and a literary devise. It's nice when "things come together" (thank you, vaguely, to George Peppard and the writers of "The A Team" for that little phrase, by the way.)
Chapter 8: Into the Hurricane!
1600 Military Time (4:00 p.m. Civilian Time)
Roberts' Residence
Saturday Afternoon
JAG picnic
"Rabb!" Greg swore he saw the Captain's arms stiffen, tense up, and then relax all in a matter of seconds as the new voice with the Aussie accent yelled out. He also thought he saw the Captain take a deep breath as he put his godson on the ground gently, whisper something to him—whereas A.J. ran somewhere else in pursuit of something else—and turn around to meet the speaker of the voice. Greg did likewise. He saw a medium-size man, broad shoulders, brown hair, and a very round face—and a funny, twisted grin on his face, his left hand holding an open can of beer. Greg glanced back at the Captain and saw him let loose of the deep breath he had taken. "I understand congratulations are warranted on two counts!"
"Brumby! What are you doing here?" There was an even keel to the Captain's voice, but Greg saw a glint of steel in the eyes and his face was inscrutable.
Greg saw the Australian shrug his shoulders. "I was in town on business—the Australian Navy wanted consultations on joint NATO legal procedures and, before I go to London to NATO JAG headquarters, I thought I would check in with the Pentagon to get the U.S. perspective. I didn't realize the NATO JAG himself would be here." He grinned and then looked around. "Where's Sarah? I would have thought she would have been here to welcome back the 'conquering hero' himself." Greg thought he heard a sardonic quality to the last.
Greg would swear up and down for years afterwards, he heard the Captain's teeth grind. "Mrs. Rabb is in London with our daughter. She couldn't make this trip." It was the very first time he had heard the Captain use her married name. Furthermore, it was the very first time he had heard the Captain refer to his ward as "their daughter". Did that mean legal proceedings advancing the adoption were complete? He blinked. Years afterwards, he would also swear he saw the 6'4" captain grow another inch or two and his considerable bulk fill out even more. Even more interesting was the absolutely feral smile on the Captain's face. There clearly was a story here. "Answer the question, Brumby. What are you doing here?"
Just then, Captain Krennick came over. Greg had seen her coolly surveying the situation and he could almost swear she had decided the situation had the potential to get out of hand. For himself, he was fascinated: definitely two alpha males staking claims of some type. He shivered in anticipation. "Commander Brumby is with me. He came over to JAG the other day and I invited him for my date, Captain." Her look at Captain Rabb was nothing short of a challenge and her voice was ice itself.
"Mrs. Rabb? You finally woke up, then, did you?" There was a hint of scorn in the Aussie's voice. "Took you long enough." There was another pause, then, "Do I understand she gave up her career to go with you?" There was a tad touch of bitterness in that voice.
The Captain's wolfish grin only got wider, and he placed his hands at his hips, a normally feminine move, but somehow, not effeminate the way Captain Rabb did it. "Yeah." There was a skipped beat. "What's it to you?" Greg thought he heard Captain Rabb's mental thoughts add "—loser!" He shook his head. He did not want to miss any of this "tom cat" fight he thought he could see brewing.
Brumby held up his free hand as if to stop traffic. "Power down, Rabb. I really only wanted to say 'congratulations' for your promotion." His voice took on a serious note. "I'm going to be in London for a week or so in the near future, and I really would like 'bygones' to be just that—'bygones'—although I honestly didn't know about Sarah." Again, Greg thought he heard Captain Rabb's jaw grind his teeth, although he wouldn't have bet his life on it. Captain Rabb turned to Captain Krennick.
"You didn't tell him?"
Captain Krennick's gaze never faltered. She just shrugged her shoulders in all innocence. "I don't know the colonel." Greg almost snorted into his beer. Captain Rabb's marriage to the colonel had been the main topic of JAG scuttlebutt for the entire month following the astounding news. The promotion itself—along with the transfer to London—was handled as "business"—they were military, after all, and were used to transfers and promotions. "Didn't know, my ass!" was Greg's thought.
Captain Rabb dropped his hands from his hips and Greg felt a minor flash of disappointment go through his body. A cell phone rang, and Greg saw Captain Rabb reach into his shirt pocket, pull it out, look to see who was calling, and punched the "open" button. "Hey." There was a pause, then the captain's voice become low and husky, and he walked away from the group. "You'd never guess who showed up. . ." All members of the little group that had gathered around the gathering confrontation glanced at each other. Nobody needed to be told to know absolutely, for sure, who it was at the other end of the line, not the way the Captain's voice had dropped, not from the unconventional greeting of "hey", nor from the fact he walked away from the group and a confrontation.
Just then, he became aware of Admiral Boone and Admiral Chedwiggen's presence—they had joined the small group surrounding the Captain and the newcomer. Admiral Chedwiggen was popping open the flip-top of his beer. "So, Brumby. How are things going with you?" He held out his hand and Brumby shook it. Greg didn't miss the glance both admirals had tossed the captain's way as he answered his phone and the silent agreement between the two of them whatever crisis they had seen coming was now over—or at least postponed for the moment. Greg had the impression Admiral Chedwiggen had been "standing by" on alert, fully prepared to jump in if need be, to prevent a physical altercation—until the timely phone call interrupted. He also had the sense Admiral Boone was providing backup. Obviously, there was a history here. What was it?
"Never better, sir." There was what Greg would have called a "pregnant pause". Then the newcomer added, "My own promotion comes through in another six months or so."
Just then, the captain walked back to the group, still listening in on his cell phone. He noticed a complete change in the captain's attitude—one of relaxed security. Greg had the impression nothing could phase the man, not even the arrival of an unexpected—and apparently, unwelcome from some parties' points of view, guest. He hung up the phone and closed it back up, placing it back in his shirt pocket. He glanced at the newcomer and held his stance. His voice held the same even keel it had before, except with an additional element: there was both a question and a challenge: "So, are you married?"
Out of the corner of his eye, Greg saw Admiral Chedwiggen's eyes roll, as if in exasperation. Other than that, both admirals stood by, along with Captain Krennick, watching the scene as it played out. The newcomer surprised everybody. His face broke out in a sideways grin that covered the entire lower half of his face. "Oh, I got lucky, too. Rabb. Met someone once I got back to Australia. In fact," and he reached to his back pocket to pull out his wallet, "we've been married for some time. I have pictures." He opened his wallet, and Greg immediately felt everyone in the small group, including Captain Rabb, relax—although he thought he perceived a flash of both sadness and resentment march across the captain's face for a couple of seconds. He wasn't sure, though, as the captain relaxed even further and even displayed a degree of openness that surprised Greg, as tense as the initial few seconds of the meeting between the two men was. Captain Krennick edged closer to the admirals and Greg trailed along side her. He noticed Captain Rabb started looking around for A.J. Roberts just as the little sprint crashed into his legs.
"Uncle Harm, couldn't find the lizard. Can we play 'airplane' again?" The adults continued to walk away as the Captain began to indulge the little one in his favorite game—Greg heard the Captain tell him, "A couple more times, A.J. Your 'uncle' is getting too old for much more of this. But, first, why don't you go find your daddy? I need to tell him something. Okay?" The youngster stopped clamoring and immediately went to find his father, yelling over his shoulder, "Kay!"
Captain Krennick caught Greg's attention. She was standing extremely close to Admiral Chedwiggen and he heard her hiss into his ear, "What was that all about?"
Greg saw the admirals exchange glances and then Chedwiggen almost giggled. "Rivals." There was a skipped beat, then, "In more ways than one."
"Oh."
Admiral Boone continued by way of further explanation. "Harm dunked an F-14 into the ocean for her the night before the colonel and Commander Brumby were supposed to be married." He grinned. "It wasn't too funny then—they had a hell of a time finding him, but now. . ."
Greg saw Admiral Chedwiggen snort. "It goes beyond competition over a woman, Tom." Admiral Boone's eyebrows rose, and the former JAG continued, "Commanders Rabb and Brumby could never get along, even when working on the same side of the fence on a case." He chuckled. "I can't tell you how many times Mac had to step in to mediate." He turned to the now-furiously blushing Captain. Greg had a hard time with that. In his brief experience with the Captain, he had found a tough, exterior shell that would permit no expression of any emotion whatsoever. Now, it seemed as though the Captain was blushing over every other word the admiral was saying. "Mac told me about a pre-trial conference they had one time defending an aviator over action that took place over Kosovo. It was frustrating for the prosecution—no matter what Mac and Bud proposed, there was opposing opinions coming from the other side. Mac said if the subject weren't so grim, it would have been funny. There was one time when it was funny—although I don't think either man really appreciates it, to this day." His chuckle grew into an outright laugh. Out of the corner of his eye, Greg saw Commander Roberts approach the group. He watched as the commander's face opened up in glad surprise.
"Commander Brumby! What a surprise to see you!" Greg watched as the commander turned to shake Roberts' hand.
"It's good to see you too, again, Bud. Lieutenant Commander! Congratulations!"
Greg saw a blush going over Commander Roberts' face. "Thank you." He saw the look of gratitude the commander shot Admiral Chedwiggen. "It was all due to the admiral, here."
"Ah, Bud. You would have gotten the promotion regardless of what the Admiral did."
All of a sudden, there was an uncomfortable silence among what Greg classified in his mind as "the old group"—including Captain Rabb. He saw the captain's lips grow thin (in distaste, maybe?) and was surprised to see an answering blush in the admiral's face. It was Bud who put everyone at ease. "Maybe so, but Admiral Chedwiggen made sure it happened in spite of my missing leg."
Greg saw the look of shock come onto Commander Brumby's face. "Missing leg, Bud? Why? When did that happen?" Greg silently noticed the arrival of the general to the group, beer in hand.
It was Admiral Chedwiggen who answered. He sighed. "That was a week in which two of my officers decided to play 'hero', in their own inimitable ways!" He tossed a mock glare in the direction of both Commander Roberts and Captain Rabb, and Greg saw both men wince. "You know them both, Brumby. Roberts stepped on a land mind thinking he was protecting a child and Rabb—well, Rabb's stunt is right up there with the downright spectacular. He let a dirty nuke chase his F-14 until it ran out of fuel." He turned to the Australian. "Most of both episodes are classified, as I'm sure you're aware. However, the Navy's grapevine had a lot of material to work with that week." He raised his hand with his beer up, in salute, to the two men who had been under his command. He turned to the general. "I never thought, when I took command of JAG, I would have to consider the possibly of writing the same kinds of letters home to families that I did as a SEAL commander. Be glad this new restructuring takes that kind of strain out of the office."
Greg couldn't help himself. He burst out, "You were going to tell a funny story about the competition between these two." Chedwiggen's response was to laugh uproariously, much to the discomfort of Rabb. "Bud, you remember when little A.J. was born?" Greg saw looks of guilt and embarrassment exchanged between the Captain and the Australian. As for Bud, there was only a look of wonder and awe, as he looked like he was going down memory lane.
Greg saw the Admiral glance at him. "I walked into my office to discover Lieutenant Simms laying on my office floor in hard labor. Nobody knew where Bud was. Harriet was hanging onto Harm's hand for dear life and panting like a mad dog." He cast an amused glance at Captain Rabb. "Mac told me later she tried to convince Harm into delivering a baby, since he had done it once before—under less than ideal conditions." Greg saw the general's hand, on its way up to deliver a swig of beer to his mouth, pause. There was an expectant look on his face. "Brumby here stepped into the fire, so to speak, when he volunteered to delivery the baby, if necessary. Despite the urgency, these two managed to get into something of a 'pissin' contest' then and there." He shrugged his shoulders. "I ended up delivering little A.J." He sipped his beer and Greg saw the general sputter.
"Really, Admiral." Then Greg saw a twinkle of mischief come into the general's eyes and noted the general's mouth was twitching. "Frankly, sir, I think that's becoming a 'might' too 'up front and personal', don't you think?"
Greg was on high alert. Still another "alpha-male" confrontation, this time between two two-stars—albeit, Chedwiggen was retired. Chedwiggen just stared at the general blandly. "I did what was necessary at the time, General. Nobody thought her baby would come at that time—she was due in another week, or so—and," Chedwiggen gave as good as he got, Greg thought, "this was a first baby, after all."
Captain Rabb chuckled, joining the conversation for the first time. "Yeah. Harriet's always been an 'overachiever'—she outdid herself that time!" He sipped his beer.
"You wanted to see me, sir," Bud's voice brought them all back into the present day.
Rabb waved his beer can at Brumby. "Only to tell you he was here." The Captain straightened up and looked at Brumby, and turned sober. "Look, Brumby, I've never cared for you, period. I don't understand what Bud and Harriet sees in you, nor have I ever understood Mac's attraction to you. But Mac is in your past, and I know you're friends with the Roberts. I just figured it was a 'nice' thing to let him know you were here." He paused. "It looks like we're going to be 'working' together, at least to some extent in the near future. So shall we be 'professional' about it, okay?"
"Fine by me, mate."
The small group started breaking up.
The two admirals drifted towards the ice cooler for more beer, and Captain Krennick "drifted" with them. Greg made a point of trailing along behind the three. In the meantime, he took another, more thorough look at the Aussie. So this was "the other man"—or could it be said Rabb was "the other man"? Which was it? It was Captain Krennick who saved him the necessity of asking his question. "Uh, Admiral Chedwiggen, about Rabb and MacKenzie—sounds like a case for fraternization, sir?" Did Greg detect a tiny touch of jealousy in Captain Krennick's voice? He decided he needed to "check it out" later.
Admiral Chedwiggen stood up straight and stared at his former aid. "Alyson, there wasn't anything physical going on between Commander Rabb and Colonel Mackenzie. What could I do? They lived up to the letter of the law, if not the spirit." He got a thoughtful look on his face. "Sarah Mackenzie has an allure that is damned near impossible to ignore, if you're male, that is. She got under Harm's radar early—except neither one of them recognized it for what it was until recently. It took an Act of Congress, literally, to pry their mutual lack of understanding open." Greg knew he was referring to the new restructuring of JAG that was now taking place. All of that takes money, and Congress funded it.
Captain Krennick snorted, taking a sip from her own beer. "I don't know the colonel, but I am familiar with Rabb. His damned 'boy scout' sense of 'honor' and 'duty'. . ." Greg decided he wanted to ask Captain Krennick about that remark, in private and away from the crowd.
Admiral Boone chuckled. "That about sums it up. But he wasn't the only one. She possesses that in equally full measure—part of that allure, I think." He guzzled his beer. "A lot of people got hurt along the way."
Admiral Chedwiggen looked at his beer can. "Tom, I need another beer. How 'bout you?" Greg saw Admiral Boone shake his own can and nodded. "Let's go find some more." The two admirals moved off, topic of conversation had moved onto other naval subjects of male-oriented gossip, leaving Captain Krennick and Greg standing alone.
Greg became aware of Captain Krennick's gaze on him. "Well, how 'bout you, Lieutenant? Need another drink." Greg lifted his own nearly-full can of beer.
"I'm fine, Captain. If you need another one. . ."
She shook her head. "Let's go find some shade. I'd like to continue a discussion we had a while back about you." Greg swore he saw a faint change in her face—a change that went from "curiosity" to that of faint "seductiveness'. He shivered, partly out of fear and partly out of anticipation. He followed her to a tree in the back of the yard that had a "ring bench" going around it. He waited for her to sit down, and then sat down beside her. He looked at her.
"You've known Captain Rabb a long time, haven't you?"
She leaned forward, putting her forearms on her thighs and tilted her head forward, keeping her eyes on the Captain as he reached to pick up little A.J. for another one of those "airplane" games the youngster liked so much. "Ten years." She paused. "I was chief of staff then. MacKenzie, Simms, Roberts, Turner—none of them were here when I was. Only Rabb—and Austin, of course."
"Well, what's Rabb to you?" He leaned back, put both hands up, palms out as if to block something coming his way, and smiled his most charming smile, as she turned her head and looked at him sharply. "I got the impression there was a history, there, that's all."
She turned her head back to stare at the Captain. "I thought he was a threat to my career." She glanced at Greg again, the corners of her mouth turning downward, and continued. "He was JAG's 'golden boy' at the time." Greg had to lean forward to hear the next words. "Damn! He's still a handsome man, after all this time."
Greg was fascinated. "So what did you do?"
She sat up and tossed her head in a very casual manner. "I propositioned him." There was a grim smile on her face. "Time after time."
Greg gasped. "Weren't you worried about fraternization charges?"
She shrugged her shoulders. "No. It was an effort to compromise him, in more ways than one." Greg thought about that. If they had had an affair—and kept it out of the office, in all likelihood, nothing would have been said or done. However, if said affair threatened the workings of the office, then charges would have been brought—against her, as the senior officer involved, and a note would have been made in his service jacket. He was beginning to understand the references to "honor", "boy scout code", etc. His curiosity got the better of him.
"Wouldn't those possible charges—," he purposefully inserted the word "possible"—"have damaged your career more than his?"
She shrugged. "Possibly. But keep in mind, I was the senior officer—and who's word do you think they've would have taken, given there would have been no proof?"
He pursued the subject. "But everybody knows about Col. MacKenzie's 'indiscretion'—and apparently, it didn't hurt her career any."
She looked at him. "I don't know the colonel, except by sight and only then once, but—apparently she kept her record clean after that. That became public knowledge only because of the court martial." She didn't have to add the entire Naval grapevine had worked overtime on that juicy little bit of "news". " And her work, from all accounts, has apparently been outstanding." She glanced at Greg. "Don't forget, if, in the long run, the positive contributions are more than the negative distractions, then promotion boards are apt to overlook such 'indiscretions', especially if the said 'indiscretions' are well into the past and it's apparent the 'perpetrator' has learned their lesson." She sat up and, this time, looked directly into Greg's eyes. "Besides, look where she's at—married without a career." She leaned forward. "The key to all of this is 'discretion'. If you're going to have an affair inside the office, then by all means, be discrete. Most COs don't want the hassle of even an Article 32 hearing over stuff like this—too embarrassing for everybody, too much paperwork, AND most COs don't really care about what happens in private lives."
Greg leaned back against the tree and thought about that. It was true, he decided upon reflection—as long as there was no office "scuttlebutt", affairs didn't often come to light. Reflecting upon his own experience at handling such cases, he was annoyed with himself that he hadn't made that conclusion himself. Nodding in the direction of the Captain, he asked her, "Do you know why he's back in town? It's only been a month or so."
She shook her head. "I had heard he had a couple of appointments up on the Hill. If I didn't know better, I'd swear he was lobbying for some kind of appointment for the colonel."
He stared at her. "Even though she's not in the service anymore." That earned him an annoyed glance from her.
"She's got skills and experience that would be a shame to let go to waste. I would be she stands a very good chance at getting something." She leaned up, stretched her arms full length as if to emphasize a very-well endowed chest, and turned to him. He gulped as he thought he saw the beginning of desire flare up in those steel-blue eyes. "So, what about you? Where do you see yourself going in five, ten years?"
"Eventually, all the way to the JAG himself," was his blunt answer.
"Any idea of how you're going to get there?" She was amused.
"Work hard. Keep my nose clean." He shrugged. "What else is there to know?"
She snorted. "There's a lot more to it than that, I can tell you." She paused, glanced at Captain Rabb again. "There was once upon a time when I thought I would get there myself—first female JAG." She shook her head. "But obviously, he's still as big a threat as he ever was to anyone who wants it while he's around." Greg heard the bitterness and the loneliness in her voice. A sense of compassion led him to drape an arm around her.
"Well, he's not there yet."
She leaned back into his draped arm and glanced at him. "You think there's still a chance for me?" He nodded. Abruptly, she got up. "Let's go talk about this somewhere else—in private."
They both got up from the ring seat and separately made their goodbyes to the Roberts. He was so intent on following her, he missed the four or five sets of eyes that followed them out the door. Among those eyes were those of Captain Rabb, Admiral Chedwiggen, General Cresswell, and Commander Roberts. At that time, Commander Roberts was standing by Captain Rabb. Greg would have been interested in hearing Commander Roberts' voice mutter to Captain Rabb, "I warned him."
Greg would have been astonished by Captain Rabb's response, as he took a sip of his near-empty beer can. "So did I, Bud. I think you'll be dealing with that sooner or later."
TO BE CONTINUED, obviously. . .