"According Ziggy there's a ninety nine percent probability, that you're here to hook up with that Colonel Mackenzie."
Sam's jaw dropped.
"What do you mean?"
"Well apparently in the original timeline, Colonel Mackenzie goes on a mission for the CIA, the records of which are now declassified in our time. Anyways While on this mission, she and her CIA partner, a 'Clayton Webb' are captured and tortured at the hands of a terrorist named Sadik Fahd. Before the mission Harm and Mac were getting along pretty well, but after he resigned his commission to rescue her…"
"Wait, hold up. He resigned his commission to rescue her?" Sam was getting overwhelmed.
"Yeah, they wouldn't give him leave or anything so he up and resigned. Now is that devotion or what. Anyway after the mission, their relationship took a turn for the worse, which they would eventually recover from. Anyway if the timeline remains unchanged, then Harm and Mac eventually get married, but Ziggy says that for some reason we have to speed up the process."
Sam got up from his seat with a horror-stricken look on his face.
"You said if the timeline remains unaffected."
Al puffed his cigar, "Yeah, so?"
"What if it was affected?"
Al looked at Sam for a moment, "What do you mean?" He asked cautiously.
Sam rubbed his forehead, "You said, you got this data an hour ago. Have you checked it since then?"
"No." Al began pressing buttons on the panel in his hand. His eyes widened and his jaw dropped causing the cigar to fall to the ground. "My God. What have you done Sam?"
Sam shrugged helplessly, "She came by a few minutes ago. Apparently she wasn't too happy about the surprise that we pulled in court. We argued and she left."
"You argued?" Al looked Sam over suspiciously. Sam was a rather even-tempered guy. If he had managed an argument of that much severity, then something was up.
Again Sam shrugged. "This Harm person seems to have a bit of a temper. It made me lose control."
Al sighed, "Yeah, we've become acquainted with Mr. Rabb's temper. He tried to knock the door of the waiting area down to escape. He's spent the last few days pacing around the room like a tiger in a cage. Muttering threats against some guys named Webb and Palmer."
"Okay, so what happens in the timeline now?"
"Well according to Ziggy, after Harm gets out of jail he does go and rescue Mac in Paraguay, and their relationship still takes a hit; but unlike in the original timeline, this little incident proves to be the last straw. Not only don't they get married and have kids, they don't speak to each other again. Whatever they were going to say to each other in Paraguay then isn't half as bad as what they're going to say now. Harm leaves the United States and his last known whereabouts are reported to be somewhere in Siberia. Mac ends up marrying Clayton Webb and both are killed soon after in revenge by a terrorist named Sadik Fahd."
Sam shook his head in disbelief, "So what do I do now?"
"I have no idea, no that the timeline has been altered we're in uncharted waters. One thing is for certain, you better fix things between each other or we're done for."
Sam walked into JAG HQ with caution. If the slap was anything to go by, he was certain that she so chose, Mac could inflict serious bodily harm on him. When he saw her sitting at her desk in her office her took a deep breath and prepared to approach her, when he was caught by Bud Roberts.
"Good morning, sir." Bud greeted him cheerfully.
"Good morning, Bud. Is the Colonel busy?"
Bud looked over his shoulder, "I don't believe so sir," He turned back to face Sam, "Sir, she seems to be in a bad mood this morning. Do you have any idea what's bothering her?"
Sam laughed ruefully, "Well, it seems that the Colonel didn't take kindly to the little 'stunt' that we pulled in court, dismantling her client's alibi."
Bud raised his eyebrows, "Boy, I hope she doesn't blame me for this."
Sam laughed again, "Don't worry, from the little rant she gave me, I'd say that she's blaming me for most of it."
"Is there anything I can do to help sir?"
"If you hear any screaming, assume it's too late and prepare to make funeral arrangements for whatever remains of mine she leaves behind."
Again Sam took a deep breath and made his way to Mac's office. He knocked tentatively. A curt 'Enter' came from the other side of the door. He quietly opened the door and stepped inside. Mac still hadn't looked up from the papers on her desk.
"Hi." He greeted her.
At the sound of his voice, she stopped reading and looked up at him.
"Well." She asked in the same curt tone she had ushered him in with.
Suddenly uncomfortable in the spotlight, Sam self-consciously raised his hand to scratch the back of his head. "I…" He searched for the right words; Mac looked at him intently, with barely concealed irritation, "I wanted to apologize. I know that this wasn't about your career. I should know better."
"Yeah you should have." She snapped.
Sam shut his eyes. He knew this wasn't going to be easy. "Look Mac. I said I was sorry and I meant it. I'm trying to make peace here. If you don't want to hear I'll just leave." He made a move to the door, hoping she still cared enough about Harm to take the bait.
"Wait."
Sam turned around and looked at Mac. Mac shook her head. She got up from her desk and walked over to him. She sighed theatrically. "Look," She said, "I know you didn't mean to humiliate me. I want to move past this. It's just going to take a little time."
'Time I don't have.' Sam thought.
"How about we reconcile over some dinner?" He asked.
Mac appeared to hesitate.
"Come on," Sam coaxed, "What have you got to lose?"
Mac shook her head, "With you cooking, Flyboy? Plenty."
Sam wasn't sure how to take that remark until he saw the glint in her eyes that told him that he was being teased. He smiled.
"So, my place at eight?" He suggested.
"Sure."
As Sam turned to leave, Mac called after him. "There's just one condition. No meatless meatloaf."
Sam looked at her, "I promise. No meatless meatloaf."
He turned and, after having opened the door, headed back to Harm's office.
'Meatless meatloaf? What the hell is that?' he wondered.