TITLE: Pall
DEFINITION: PALL
Pronunciation: 'pol
Function: verb
Etymology: Middle English, short for appallen, to become pale
1 to lose strength or effectiveness
2 to lose in interest or attraction his humor began to pall on us
3 to become tired of something
4 to cause to become insipid
5 to deprive of pleasure in something by satiating
(Merriam-Webster Online Dictionary
RATING: PG-13 or R. R to be safe. Mostly for language to begin with, maybe for... other things... later on.
SUMMERY: After an attack on a graduation ceremony at Annapolis the JAG office is thrown into a state of flux.
SPOILERS/TIMELINE/ALTERATIONS I'VE MADE:
-A little AU. Please see previous chapters for more details.
DEDICATION: To my readers. I'm writing this for you.
NOTES: I realize that there hasn't been much Harm/Meg time, but, believe me, their time is coming up fast. There is a true method to my madness, even if no one else has been able to spot it.
NORFOLK NAVAL BASE
NORFOLK, VIRGINIA
0140 (EST)
WEDNESDAY, JULY 21
The pounding on the door that roused Meg from her restless slumber was almost welcome, as it pulled her out of a nightmare of Exorcist proportions. She reached over and flipped on the lamp beside the bed and threw back the covers. Not bothering to search for her robe, Meg went to the door and glanced out through a crack in the curtains over the window beside the door.
"Damn it, Brumby, it's two in the freaking morning," Meg groused as she pulled the door open. "This had better be good."
"It is," Mic said, pushing his way into her room.
"Come on in," Meg said sourly. She closed the door but didn't lock it. Her USN sweater was sitting on the top of her bag and she pulled it over the tank top she had been wearing to sleep in. Her flannel pants covered her right down to her toes, but, somehow, she felt like a suit of armour wouldn't cover enough of her body. If she were in uniform she would have probably felt stronger, but there was no way she was getting changed with Mic in the room. "What is it?" she asked, crossing her arms over her chest and staring the man down.
"The weapons that were stolen were recovered by local PD two and a half an hours ago in a warehouse they got an anonymous tip on," Mic said.
"Case closed?" Meg asked dubiously.
"Well, we still don't have any suspects," Mic said, "but NCIS thinks that whoever took the stuff got nervous and turned it back in. They're gonna investigate further but we're off the hook."
"Off the hook?" Meg echoed. Mic nodded. "On whose orders?"
"Don't know, don't care. All I know is that it's a long drive back to DC and the office is drowning in backlogged cases," Mic said. He held out a file. "Prelim report from the NCIS agent on scene. Everything seems to be accounted for. The weapons specialist on base is on liberty, but he should be back tomorrow night."
Meg scanned the file and cringed. Even from the crime scene photos printed out on regular computer paper she could see that not everything was fully intact.
"Call NCIS and let them know that I'm on my way," Meg said, dropping the file onto her bed and grabbing her uniform off the chair on her way to the bathroom. "Whoever left those weapons there stripped them before making that call," she explained through the door as she quickly changed her clothes.
Mic frowned and studied the photos while making the call. He couldn't see anything missing.
But he knew Meg was a weapons expert, and he didn't think she was the type to prolong an investigation just for the hellofit, so he didn't argue with her.
HARM'S APARTMENT
NORTH OF UNION STATION
0150 (EST)
WEDNESDAY, July 21
"This had better be good," Harm growled into the phone that had woken him from a somewhat restful sleep.
"Sorry for waking you, but there's been a revelation and I'm not sure how you want us to play it out," Meg said.
Harm sat up and turned on the lights. "What happened? Are you alright?" he asked, automatically thinking the worst. Norfolk didn't hold the best memories for him.
"I'm fine. Tired, but fine," Meg assured him. "The weapons were recovered in a warehouse. Anonymous tip to the local PD. We're just pulling up now, and it looks like half the Navy is already inside."
"Idiots," Harm muttered.
"Yeah, well, they want this over with," Meg said, though it was clear she had the same thoughts as Harm did on the subject. "Apparently the weapons expert is on Liberty and won't be back until late tomorrow. I was looking at the crime scene photos and… well, they were pretty poor quality, but there are things missing."
"Things?" Harm echoed.
"Pieces of the weapons… I couldn't tell much from the photos, but it looks like parts from everything were taken… maybe to create something new," Meg said. "I have a feeling that this isn't going to be as open and shut as Brumby wants it to be."
Harm took that in and then said, "Okay. Talk to the person in charge and find out what they know so far. Get every non-essential out of there to keep contamination of the evidence to a minimum. Assess the situation and call me as soon as you know anything new."
"Alright," Meg said.
"And Meg?"
"Yeah?"
"Be careful," Harm said gently. "If there is any sign of immediate danger, call in the specialist and get out of there." He looked over at a picture of Meg that he'd found and put on his nightstand. "I need you to come back from this," he said.
His voice was so filled with emotion that it brought tears to Meg's eyes. "I always will, Harm. Because I've got something to come back to," Meg replied softly, praying Brumby didn't overhear but not really caring if he did. "I've gotta go. I'll talk to you soon, okay?"
"Okay. Be safe," Harm said.
"Always," Meg replied before hanging up.
Harm ended the call and sighed heavily. Looking Heavenward he started speaking. "Dad, I know you're bust keeping my six out of trouble all the time, but Meg is dealing with dangerous people right now and… and I can't lose her," he said. Normally he went to the Wall to talk to his father, but he didn't want to leave and miss Meg's call. "Please bring her back to me," Harm pleaded.
WAREHOUSE THREE MILES WEST OF NORFOLK NAVAL BASE
NORFOLK, VIRGINIA
0200 (EST)
WEDNESDAY, JULY 21
After flashing their ID's to the Staff Sergeant standing at the door, Meg led Mic through the busy warehouse. Navy personnel and NCIS agents in suits in varying states of wrinkled-ness were photographing and tagging everything, making careful notes and not touching a thing lest they disturb evidence.
"There are too many people here," Meg said to Mic who nodded his agreement. Even for a warehouse of that size there were too many people trying to process the scene. The more people on scene the higher the chance of contamination of evidence.
"Who is in charge here?" Mic asked a suit.
"Agent McGill," the suit replied, pointing in a vague direction.
"Thanks," Meg said before heading off in a set direction. Mic followed her, confused by how she knew where she was going. "I know McGill. We've worked some cases together in the past," she explained.
Mic nodded and followed her over to a man wearing a starched white shirt with the sleeves rolled halfway up his arms, and a pair of dress pants, no tie, and a pair of latex gloves. He was in his late thirties, maybe early forties, withblack hair that was cut short and gelled back neatly. He was crouching down in front of a bomb, scrutinizing it as if he couldn't quite place what was wrong with it.
"Timer's gone, and so is the secondary core," Meg said, crouching down next to him.
"I figured the secondary core," McGill replied. "When'd you get back Stateside?" he asked without looking away from the device.
"Few days ago," Meg said. "You got any suspects yet?"
"Nah," McGill said, standing up and shifting his weight a little to get the blood flowing again. "Doubt we'll find the doer, anyway. Guy probably got scared, dropped a dime to PD and headed God knows where."
"If they're so scared, mate,why would they take parts of the weaponry before leaving the rest behind?" Mic asked.
McGill raised an eyebrow. "He with you?" he asked Meg in disbelief.
"Commander Mic Brumby, RAN," Meg said. "And his question is valid. I don't think whoever did this got scared. If that were the case everything would be intact. I'm thinking that the plan wasn't to get all this stuff but to get certain parts, maybe to make a new weapon that can't be as easily traced."
"I'll take that into consideration," McGill said, jotting down her theory in his notepad.
"Who owns this place?" Meg asked.
"The city. It's been up for sale for about four years but no one wants it," McGill said. "Any clue what someone could build from what's missing?"
"I'd need a full list before I answer that," Meg said.
McGill nodded. "Alright. Since the base weapons specialist is unreachable I want you to take care of cataloguing and determining what is missing. I'll be working gumshoe on this one, so anything you need… my staff is at your beck."
"Once CSI is done here get this stuff back to the base. I'm going to make some calls and head back there myself. I need anyone on base with advanced weapons training as well as assistants for everyone. I also want this evidence guarded 24/7," Meg said. Guards were a given, but she wanted more than just the usual Marine at every door. "Oh, and you might want to check the base weapons ex. He went on liberty the same time this stuff was taken and he hasn't been heard from since. I'm thinking there might be more than a coincidence there."
"Until we track him down he's suspect number one," McGill nodded.
"Good," Meg said. "Mic why don't you work with Agent McGill on this one. Harm told me your investigation skills are a little rusty… this might be a good time to give 'em a good polish."
Mic glared at Meg, longing to object on the grounds that he was the senior attorney on the case and he didn't have to take orders from her, but he knew that her plan was the best one so he didn't say a word. Passing his lack of energy to fight on the fact he'd gotten about half an hour of sleep before getting the call, Mic agreed to go with McGill without a fight.
"Call if you find anything," McGill said as Meg headed for the door.
"You too," she replied without turning around.
HARM'S APARTMENT
NORTH OF UNION STATION
0215 (EST)
WEDNESDAY, July 21
Harm answered the phone before the first ring had had time to finish. He couldn't explain why he was so worried about Meg—she had been on more dangerous investigations before—but there was just something that wasn't right about the whole situation.
"What's happening?" he asked, unable to keep the undertone of panic out of his voice.
"Parts are missing. Agent McGill is in charge of the investigation," Meg said. "Brumby went with him and I'm on my way back to the base to wait for the team McGill promised me."
Sighing, Harm dragged his hand down his face. "Okay. Stick with the investigation and keep me updated," he said.
"Harm, are you okay?" Meg asked. "Is it Bud? Is he worse?"
"No, as far as I know he's fine," Harm assured her. "I'm just… worried about you. You have a tendency to get yourself in trouble."
"No, you have a tendency of getting me into trouble," Meg replied good-naturedly. "I'm fine, I promise," she said seriously when she realized Harm wasn't joking. "I'm just pulling up to the base now, so I should go, but I'll call you in a few hours and give you an update, alright?"
Harm nodded and waited a moment before realizing that Meg couldn't see him. "Alright," Harm said, clearly not reassured. "I'll talk to you in a few hours. Call my cell so you don't miss me."
"Okay," Meg said. "And when I get back we're gonna have a talk about you worrying about me all the time."
"I just don't want to lose you, Meg," Harm said softly.
Meg smiled, her heart speeding up a little at his declaration. "You won't. I promise. Now go get some sleep. I'll talk to you later."
They said a quick goodbye and hung up, and Harm put the phone down on the table beside him. His cell phone sat next to it, fully charged. Next to that sat his pager, then his keys. Harm knew he was being paranoid and that Meg could take care of herself, but he needed to know that he could leave at a moments notice if she needed him.
Once he was sure that he was ready to leave without any warning, Harm moved toward the kitchen to make a pot of coffee.
It was going to be a long day.
NORFOLK NAVAL BASE
NORFOLK, VIRGINIA
0230 (EST)
WEDNESDAY, JULY 21
Impressed by how fast McGill had put her requests into action, Meg looked over the officers and enlisted who were in front of her. Even though they were all in uniform and were giving off the illusion that they were wide awake and ready for anything, it was clear that none of them was all that happy to be dragged from their beds in the middle of the night for no other reason than the fact that they all had weapons training.
There was no one there over the rank of Lieutenant, making Meg the senior officer in the room. But there were also men and women with upwards of ten years more experience with weaponry than she had and, normally she would have tried to learn some new things, but there wasn't time.
After outlining what was going on, Meg pointed to the cafeteria that had set up tables with bottled water, hot coffee, tea, and some food to tide the sleepless over until morning chow. The room emptied and Meg stayed put, waiting for the arrival of the weapons.
"This is going to be a long night," Meg muttered before taking a seat at a workstation by the loading bay doors.