Summary: Mac gets a visitor on Christmas day…
Disclaimer: JAG and its main characters belong to DPB and to CBS. I don't make any profit from writing any of these fics, but simply get to exercise my overactive imagination every now and then. Please don't sue me, as I'm just a student with no money!
Rating: M.
Category: H/M shipper.
Spoilers: Not really. Set sometime after the arrival of the Roberts twins. Mattie isn't really mentioned, so disregard her character. The idea just worked better without her around.
Part 1…
Light snow fell on the greater DC area during the early hours of Christmas day. Because she didn't have anything else to do that day, apart from her afternoon call to her Uncle Matt, Mac decided to just stay in bed later than she normally would. But as her ever efficient nature usually predicted, her legs became twitchy and her mood impatient before too long. But what did she have to be impatient about? She had no plans with anyone, she had seen all of her friends at a Christmas party the night before, had given out all of the gifts she had bought for them. Why wouldn't her mind let her take a morning off?
"Argh! It's no use," she thought to herself, "Got to get up…"
Mac had no idea what, but she had to do something. Visiting her friends at this hour was out of the question. They would be spending important time with their families; something that she would never dare encroach upon. Without any other ideas in mind, she hopped into the shower anyway. Seven minutes and thirteen seconds later, she emerged, wrapped in a towel. Opening the wardrobe door to pick out something to wear, she caught sight of her gym bag and inspiration struck…
"That's it!" she smiled in satisfaction, "A couple of hours on a treadmill, with a punch-bag and finishing up in the steam-room should banish all of this angst."
Once dressed and with her gym bag, Mac headed out. Grabbing her purse and keys, she switched on her answer machine before heading for the front door. With her own voice, her message on the answer machine, ringing in her ears, she yanked open the front door and stepped out into the hallway. But this is where Sarah MacKenzie's semi-routine day ended. At first she didn't recognise the small figure on the floor for what it was. She thought that her eyes must be playing tricks on her. After standing stock-still for a full minute, Mac determined that, yes, this little bundle of clothes on the floor did indeed seem to be a child. It was the rosy little cheeks that gave the game away. The little body was swamped in warm clothes; the head in a woollen hat, the neck and face in a thick scarf and the rest of the body in a warm duffel coat and quilted blanket. But there was no mistaking the blond, delicate lashes that rested on the pale but none-the-less vibrant skin. Unsure of what to do first, Mac looked right and then left, looking for any apartment with a door open. She couldn't even hear, let alone see anything, nothing to indicate that anybody had noticed that their child was missing. Slowly, she took a few steps closer, then stooped down to the little figure slumped peacefully against the wall. Even from where she had been standing, she had seen the gentle rise and fall of the tiny chest beneath the blanket. In that moment, a maternal instinct took over within Mac. She gently tickled one of the soft cheeks with her gloved hand and this proved sufficient to rouse the sleeping little stranger. The light lashes fluttered open and the sleepy, blue eyes regarded her, non-chalantly.
"Hello there," she greeted the child, softly, "What are you doing here?"
The child didn't answer and Mac silently appraised that he or she was probably only about three or four years old.
"Did you wander away from home, sweetheart?" Mac persisted, "Somebody's bound to be missing you, right now."
"Home…" the child suddenly spoke up, out of the blue.
"Yeah, that's right," Mac gently lifted the child into her arms, "Let's get you back home…"
The next half-hour was spent knocking on the doors of all of her neighbours. The best hope that she got was when she came upon a large family just leaving home to go visiting.
"Uh…Nobody here is missing a child, are they?" she asked, hopefully.
Everyone checked their children were present, turning back to Mac and shaking their heads in the negative.
"I take it the child isn't yours," a little old lady, presumably the family's Granny, asked.
"No…" Mac regarded the child, "Um…"
She pulled the woollen hat off the child's head to discover a head of white-blond hair, cut in a little boy's style.
"I just found him sleeping in the hallway outside my apartment…"
After a fruitless search, Mac gave up with a sigh.
"Oh, well," she conceded to the child, "I guess that we'd better get you inside and get you something to eat and drink."
Once back in her apartment, Mac set about divesting him of his winter woollens, because her place was quite warm.
"There we go," she eased him out of his coat, "That's better, isn't it?"
The boy was dressed in a pair of worn blue denim jeans and a tatty grey sweater. Second or third hand, Mac supposed. But his sneakers looked good quality, she noted. How strange! Now that she could get a good look at him, she concluded that the boy was probably actually around four, although he was on the small side. His peaceful blue eyes regarded her, silently, taking in everything he saw, no doubt.
Mac suddenly had a thought and checked in the little boy's pockets but found nothing. Next, she checked in the blanket that had been outside, but again found nothing. At last, she made some headway when she checked the pockets of his coat and her fingers closed around a folded sheet of paper. Her heart pounding, she pulled it out and unfolded it.
Lines of small, well-penned writing greeted her.
"Dear Colonel,
I know enough about you to know that you are a well-respected person with a fondness for children. I have seen you with that little boy who I am told is your godson. Please believe that I wouldn't ever consider leaving my son unless I thought that it was the best thing for him. I love my son more than life itself and this is why I must give him up, so that he will have a chance at a better life. Please cherish my son as your own; he is yours, now. Please give him the happy life that he deserves. That is my greatest wish in the world. His name is Calum."
Mac let out a deep breath, her mind-boggling. She looked up and locked eyes with the little boy still watching her.
"The poor little mite," she thought, her heart bleeding for him. The irony of the situation was not lost to Mac. How strange that this should be happening to her, when her own mother had walked out on her.
"Hey there, Calum," she spoke up, "How about we get you something to eat?"
The little boy took the hand she offered him and followed her into the kitchen. Once he was finally settled with his cheese-spread sandwiches and his apple juice, Mac picked up the phone, to call the police. Frustratingly, she was told to contact social services, which she did, only to be told that nobody was available that day and to call back the next day.
"Fat lot of help they were," she muttered to herself, putting the phone down.
Calum just regarded her, from the carpet where he was quietly munching on a sandwich.
"What are we going to do now?" she asked, herself more than the little boy.
She picked up the phone again and called Harm, but found that he was out.
"Uh, hey Harm…just wanted to ask your advice on something…never mind, just give me a call back once you get this message. Bye…"
Mac put the phone back in its cradle again and gave another sigh.
"Oh well, I guess it's just you and me, buddy."
She got no answer from Calum.
Mac was suddenly struck by a thought.
"Oh!" she uttered, then pondered to herself…
"Hey," she told the child, softly, "If you need to go potty, you just tell me, okay?"
The little boy nodded his head and continued munching his sandwich.
"Well, that's one thing taken care of…"
After that, Mac set about 'baby-proofing' the rest of her apartment.
She had never really thought about it, because she always went to Bud and Harriet's house to take care of their children and there were never really any kids in her house…not until now, that is! While she was sorting out the kitchen, moving everything hazardous out of a child's reach, she kept checking on Calum in the living room, but the little boy stayed sitting where he was, behaving as good as gold. Mac was feeling quite proud of the remarkable job she had managed to do, despite her lack of experience with children, when her doorbell sounded. She hurried to answer it and first looked through the peep-hole, to discover it was Harm.