Disclaimer: 'TopGun' belongs to Paramount Pictures. The JAG-crew belongs to Donald Bellisario and his team. I'm just borrowing them because they fit together so well.
Spoiler: This happens way before the final of JAG. One week after the end of "The Long Goodbye" which took off from the 2004 X-Mas episode. Therefore neither Mattie's accident happened nor is there any Vukovic.
Author's notes: Big thanks to eridani. She's working hard to polish my grammar.
A new location does not change who you are. But
sometimes meeting new friends there helps you gain the right
perspective. This story has friendship, love and jealousy. Sequel of
„The Long Goodbye"
It is a crossover with 'Top Gun' as well, so let's pretend that there is no such movie in the JAG universe.
And as I promised there will be more Harm&Mac in this one, only not yet (but soon).
The Way You Make Me Feel
-Prologue-
Nothing.
I can feel nothing where there should be something.
Within seconds my already highly concentrated mind is thinking of the possibilities. What happened? There is nothing my mind comes up with though and still I do not feel anything.
I ponder the last moments. Moments when I flew above the clouds. Moments when everything was alright.
I know I have both my hands firmly placed on the stick between my knees. Only seconds after I pressed the button for the simulated release of my missiles and heard the announcement of a successful hit. Another set of full points. My hands must still be there.
But my fingertips feel nothing. I can tell the stick vibrates against the palms of my hands but there is no feeling in the fingertips. No contraction whatsoever.
I try to look down on my hands when all of a sudden my vision becomes blurry. Things begin to drift out of focus. I press my eyes shut for a second hoping to regain normal sight. But still it is like trying to look through the mist of an early autumn morning.
Maybe it is the flight suit I am wearing. Maybe it did fail for once. Only minutes before I was pulling G's. I have never before experienced something like this. Being clearly aware of what is happening, though I cannot figure it out all the same. Things are drifting in and out of focus as if I have just woken from a blackout. I cannot remember any blackout though. Up to this very moment I can clearly recall everything. And still, just in a moment's notice my fingertips went numb for no reason at all. I try to flex them but get no reaction. Panic is starting to creep up in my mind.
"Base, this is jockey 2. I've got a problem here. I'm coming in." I try to keep my voice even when radioing back to base while still keeping the instruments in focus.
"What is it jockey 2?" the air boss voice fills the cockpit.
"Don't know. But I'm on my way back. Instruments are normal."
Through the mist that is still clouding my eyes I can make out the airstrip of NAS Fallon. I wonder whether I can make it down in one piece without my fingers working properly. I see the ground getting closer while I cannot keep my mind from racing elsewhere. It is drawing up pictures, pictures that will do me no good now.
A voice is guiding me down and I force myself to follow his instructions. It is not easy extracting your wheels with your fingertips out of service. I try using the palm of my hand and finally manage. "Wheels out," I sigh once the sign tells me they adjusted into place.
The ground is pretty close when I start to shiver. I am cold. I realize I must have been for a while. The coldness is creeping through my whole body, starting from my fingertips, and I realize quite surprised, from my six as well.
I will myself to take a deep breath to calm myself – to clear my mind. However the moment I do the cold increases. The air is still as cold as if I am still up above the clouds. Like all of my surroundings are radiating the coldness they had gathered up there before.
Following the instructions I feel the wheels touch the ground followed by the change in momentum when I hit the break as I am told. I made it down. I am safe back on the ground.
"You're in jockey 2. Follow taxi back to parking." I can hear the relief in the man's voice.
I manage to taxi back all the while the cold is taking hold of more and more of my body. Never before did I so deeply wish to leave a cockpit.
-J-A-G-
-J-A-G-
"Petty Officer, send Colonel MacKenzie in as soon as she arrives."
"Aye sir." I hear her answer before I release my finger from the intercom button and focus back on the file I have been reading.
Barely three minutes later I hear a knock on my door. I check the clock to my right. 0855, five minutes early. A little smile forms on my lips. Marines, we're always the first.
My eyes follow her as she enters my office and comes to stand at attention in front of my desk. "Colonel MacKenzie reporting as ordered sir."
"Morning. Have a seat."
While she does as she was asked I shift through my papers to gather the contents of the file which made me call MacKenzie in immediately.
"I've got a new case for you."
She is reaching for the offered file and instantly checks through the first page that is holding the key facts.
"NAS Fallon sir? Isn't that where Top Gun is located?"
"Yes it is. They've..."
"Sorry to interrupt, but wouldn't that be something for the Commander?"
For a moment I am stunned on her question. "Are you arguing my choice of personnel?"
"No sir, I only thought that Commander Rabb would be..."
"Colonel, I am ordering you to take this case, not Commander Rabb, Commander Roberts or whomever else you would see fit for the job." My voice has risen considerably.
"I'm sorry sir. I didn't mean to." I realize she is not backing away though. And once again I realize how proud a Marine this woman I once knew, has become. She hardly is the same person I met back at Okinawa. However her rejection angered me to a point. This office might have been a request program with the Admiral but it is definitely not with me.
"So once again; they've had an incident with an oxygen mask during one of their training flights. I want you to determine whether it was a technical failure or the lack of attention by whomever should have noticed it."
"I see the pilot is a woman. Does this have to do anything with her sex?"
"I want you to check into that as well. You'll leave today at 1215 hours from Andrews. They'll get you directly on base. Dismissed."
The Colonel is rising from her chair but hesitates on her way to the door. For a moment it looks as if she is pondering her next move before she poses a last question. "Why did this come to Head Quarters, General?"
"Is there any special reason why you want to get out of this case? Do you think it's below you to investigate it?" I bark.
"No Sir, there isn't. I'm right on my way." With that she turns and hurries out of my office. This woman has some nerve.
-T-O-P-
-G-U-N-
There are times I really despise military flights. So while my back is still trying to recover from the last few hours I set my mind on going to the research lab first. I need something to do, to keep the jetlag at bay that would surely hit me some time soon. Changing time zones would do that to me, no matter how tiny the gap of hours. I never adjusted to this.
A Lieutenant Commander is walking me through the place until we reach a table where there is an oxygen mask displayed. I guess it is the one I came here for.
He asks me to have a look through the microscope. When I adjust the sight I can see part of the mask's hose. And even from my limited knowledge about these things I can tell that this mark I see is nothing natural. The clean edges suggest otherwise.
"The only thing I can clearly confirm is that the hose was cut. And I do assume that it was done with the knife every pilot has in his flight suit. Let me show you this."
I follow the man to a table pushed against the opposite wall. He hands me a small knife.
"This would leave the same cut."
"That's the knife?"
"No. That's a similar one. I use it for reference."
I feel my spirits fall. "So how many pilots do you have on this base?"
"Don't know. A lot I'd say." Him shrugging his shoulders is not helping me any.
"If I get you the knife could you determine whether it's the one?" That would mean finding the knife first.
"Might try but I'll doubt there will be much to come of it. The cut is pretty small and there's nothing apart from the ordinary. No scabs, no lines – just a clean cut."
So here I go with hundreds of suspects and no reassurance we could even link the knife to the cut if we find it.
"Did you find anything else on the mask or in the cockpit?" I am hoping against hope.
And he destroys it with a simple movement of his head.
-J-A-G-
-J-A-G-
Next on my list is visiting the pilot. So I climb into the car a Sergeant had provided me with the moment I stepped off the plane and drive towards the hospital.
I find the Lieutenant lying on her side staring out the window. Careful not to startle her I quietly address her. "Lieutenant Reese?"
She turns her head without turning her body. It makes the muscles in my neck scream in protest.
"Colonel?" She keeps staring at me all the while I am still facing her back.
I walk around her bed so she would no longer be forced to remain in that position. "I'm here to talk about your little incident."
"Sure, take a seat."
The moment I settle down in the chair beside her bed I understand I would have been better off not sitting, I feel the expected jetlag rushing through my system. However, standing back up does not hold much appeal either. So I make myself as uncomfortable as possible and immediately my back is reminded of the flight. I probably should have stood up. This day is getting better by the minute.
"What happened up there?"
"What happened is that I froze my butt and most of my fingertips off without me having any clue as to why." I can hear some resentment in her words. Was she holding anybody responsible for what happened up there?
"You mean nobody has told you yet?"
"Told me what?"
"There was a clean cut in the hose that provided the oxygen. And from what I understood the dispersing oxygen froze up there and resulted in your injuries."
"You telling me somebody wanted that to happen?" She is now watching me with what I can only place as childish disbelief like when you tell your kid that there is no such thing like Santa Claus. She does not believe a word I say.
"That's how it looks. Do you have any suspects?"
"No." She is stressing the word to make it sound as if she used at least ten o's.
Oh, how perfect. I had hoped that she could at least provide me with some names to choose from my bunch of suspects.
There is nothing more right now to learn from her so I slowly get up from the chair flexing the muscles of my back for a second before I speak.
"I might have to ask you some more questions once I find a concrete lead."
"I'll be here. They tell me it'll take at least two more days until I can use my six again."
There is no way misjudging the tone of her voice. "Guess you don't like staying here."
"No ma'am. I wanna be up in the air again as soon as possible."
"You will be." I head out of her room and down the corridor pondering my next actions.
I have yet to speak with her Commanding Officer who requested my presence but decide against it when I feel the fatigue hitting me once more. This could wait until tomorrow.
-T-O-P-
-G-U-N-
A sigh escapes my lips voicing my current state of mind. This investigation is not going very well so far. Everything I managed to come up with is a wagonload of suspects with no clue as to who could have tampered the Lieutenant's equipment. I am already tired of being here at all. The only good thing about this place is the weather. I have grown pretty tired of the rain in Washington. Still, I would rather be at home now. There are things to investigate there as well which are looking much more promising.
I have been to my hotel where I have reviewed the files once I found that sleep did not come, despite the jetlag. An occupied mind is not a good sleeping companion. I needed to see if I would find anything I had not considered yet when I realized my need to be among people. Sitting alone on my bed staring at the case facts made me wish to have Harm by my side to discuss things with. And thinking about Harm makes me remember the last two weeks. True, I have finally found some closure with Mic, made my peace so to speak. And still there is something occupying my mind every time I think back to that conference. Something did change that week. Something I have yet to go through with. That thing about taking a hold of the chances you are offered. I am still figuring out how to. Besides, Harm did not proceed any further either. We are still standing where Mic has left us. We keep circling around each other. While one takes a step forward the other retreats. Which is so typically like us. We are going nowhere fast, when all I want us to do is to be going somewhere slowly. Mind you, I do not complain. This is a better place than we were in before. And I am trying hard not to back away.
I focus my eyes on the liquid that is swiveling through the glass I am constantly rolling between my hands. Maybe coming to the O-Club was not the wisest choice I have made today. I try ignoring the people that surround me, try to block out the noise. A quiet hotel room seems more and more appealing to me. The more so as this place is crowded with young cocky Navy pilots.
"Hey lady. Why do you look so sad? It doesn't suit you well."
I turn my head to find a Lieutenant sitting on the empty seat to my right. He is about six or seven years my junior though he obviously does not mind. I register the golden wings on his chest just before I look into two astonishingly green eyes. He is not wearing his blue jacket anymore. His blond hair is trimmed short. His lips form an inviting smile. A smile slightly similar to the one I know so well. But one that does not even come close to radiating the same warmth and tenderness. I wonder whether they teach this at flight school to fit the dress whites and the gold wings. Nevertheless I cannot help but smile when I picture Harm sitting there smiling at me.
"See, I knew a smile would look much better on you." The moment I hear the words Harm's vision wavers and turns back into the blonde Lieutenant.
He is leaning in closer now – maybe I have encouraged him a bit too much.
"You want to dance?" My eyes follow his hand to a place at the other end of the room where there seem to be other people dancing as well.
Turning my head away from him I answer, "No thank you. I'll stay here and have my drink."
"Can I get you another then?"
I slightly shake my head, where has he been looking. "Still full." I lift my glass into his line of sight to make my point. I have only been nipping on the bitter lemon so far.
"Sure. If you don't want to." He shrugs his shoulders and turns to leave.
At least he is polite enough to understand a no. What the heck made me come here in civilian clothes anyway? But having changed for an evening at the hotel earlier that night I had not the energy to get my uniform back on. Bad choice. I would scare them all away with my uniform, I always do. It is probably better to go before long.
When my lips leave the glass after drinking half of the liquid I sense somebody else beside me.
"Hey sweetheart, wanna dance?"
I turn my head to repeat my earlier answer only to see another white uniform shirt, another pair of Gold Wings and the same two golden bars on the shoulder straps accompanied by a second smile. Only this time the hair is brown as are the eyes. I sigh inwardly before I open my mouth "no." I really should have left when I had the chance to.
He does not seem to care for my answer and leans much closer instead. Closer even than the one before. I can already feel his breath against my cheek. For a second my eyes follow his hand as it comes to rest on mine before they flick back to his face – an angry glare in them. He begins running his fingers over the back of my hand.
"We can go somewhere else. I know a nice hotel right out of base."
Even though I should have seen it coming I am still shocked when I hear the words. But I recover fast and easily switch into Marine mode. There is no place for Sarah now. This is not the time to be polite.
I grab his hand and slam it down onto the bar with all the might I can muster, and that is a lot I can tell. I twitch a smile when I see him wince once his hand makes forceful contact with the wood. Turning fully around to face him I ready myself for what is next to come. With the best DI's voice I can manage I bark at the perplexed Lieutenant, "NO I DON'T WANT TO DANCE, AND YOU'RE DEFINATELY LEAVING HERE ALONE!"
He nearly falls from his seat as he makes a hasty retreat.
I turn back for my glass, letting out another sigh. This just is not my day. After a while I hear soft laughter. Obviously somebody found my outburst funny. But there is nothing funny about it. There is no way I let something like this pass. Hopefully the good that comes from it would me being left alone.
-J-A-G-
-J-A-G-
I have been standing by the jukebox for a while now. Something I have done if I ever found myself within sight of a jukebox, ever since that day. So I have been standing at my favorite spot occupied with my first and last beer. I will go home after that, I always do. But I like coming here, watching all these young ones. I was once like them. They are my youth. I guess most of the senior officers in this place were like them once. But places and times made us grow up. They eventually will make them grow up as well. Time tends to do that.
I spot her the minute she enters the room. She is eye-catching in her black jeans and the maroon pullover that hugs her figure in all the right places. I have not seen her at this place before. She must be new to the base. My glance lingers on her back when she makes her way towards the bar and I notice other heads turn as well. It is not before long the first tries to make his move.
I still remember the times when I would have been the one. These have been happy times. It was before things started to change. Before my life got worse only to get better in the end.
Interested in modern techniques I follow their exchange, smiling when the young man leaves disappointed.
I only just press the buttons of the jukebox when I catch her words. Half of the room does for that matter. I find it kind of attractive that she can stand up for herself. And the way she does makes my head spin. This is one hell of a woman. Guess the one who finally gets through to her will be a lucky fellow. I am only happy that I have never been on the receiving end of something like that when I still pulled my stunts with women.
When the first strains of Van Morrison's 'Brown Eyed Girl' fill the room I start to move towards the seat that is now left empty beside her.
-T-O-P-
-G-U-N-
I hear somebody settling on the stool I had hoped would remain empty until I had finished the rest of my lime.
"I don't want to dance. I don't want to go somewhere else. And I sure don't want to talk," I snap to my right without even turning my head.
"And neither do I," I get the quiet response that makes me turn my head.
Immediately I feel the heat rise into my cheeks – they must have gained quite a shade of red. "Oh, I'm sorry… Sir," I add once I become aware of his insignia. This time four golden bars are displayed on the sleeves instead of two. I have just insulted a Captain.
"Never mind." He is now turning to face me, shooting me a warm smile.
'Oh my god.' Now I am sure that Navy flight school teaches this smile to each and every pilot over there. It is up to the men what they make of it though. This one is nearly perfect. I would have never thought any other smile could provoke a similar reaction than that of a certain JAG lawyer. But here I am feeling my knees go weak. I am only glad to be seated right now, or I would have slipped on the spot.
"How did you manage that commanding voice? It heavily reminded me of my time at the Academy."
"Must have stuck from my training." I can finally tear my eyes from his smile only to find his eyes. They are colored a light blue. I have to swallow some at this.
"You're Navy?"
I follow his eyes looking me up and down. I would like to know what he is thinking of me now. He is in for a surprise though.
"No Sir, Marine Corps. Lieutenant Colonel Sarah MacKenzie."
"A female Jarhead." I spot the slight disbelief in his eyes. But it vanishes instantly to be replaced by something else. Admiration maybe or simple approval.
"Captain Pete Mitchell." He holds out his hand for me to take. Which I do, glad to meet somebody I feel I can talk with.
"So what brings you here, Colonel?"
"It's Mac. I'm doing a JAGman-investigation on base."
"Okay, Mac. I'm Maverick then, or Mav or Pete, as you prefer. So it's because of the incident with Lieutenant Reese's oxygen mask you are here."
"How do you know?"
"I'm her CO for the time being. I requested the investigation. Did you find anything?"
"Yeah. But I would rather discuss this some place else."
"Didn't you just tell me you didn't wanna go somewhere else?" If it were possible I would say his smile got even wider when he recalled my embarrassing remark.
I do not know what is making me say it but I feel like I can without him hearing me wrong.
"That was because I did not expect it to be you." Something about this man makes me feel at ease. I blink my eyes at him for the pure fun of it.
He is not looking away, he is up to it. In fact it is me who breaks the eye contact first by taking another gulp of my drink.
"Can I talk you into another one Mac?"
For a moment I watch him. He is only half way through his beer. So I give in and order another glass of lime. Talking to him makes the hotel room seem less and less appealing now.
-J-A-G-
-J-A-G-
I am sitting in my car letting the last hour's conversation resound in my head. I do not recall most of the words but I clearly recall the feeling. The way she ran her fingers over the rim of her glass while we talked about… I do not know what we talked about. Some every day stuff, nothing personal yet. Our conversation turned there quite a time later. I remember starting it by telling her about how I used to get a woman by doing a little karaoke. She made me hum my favorite song. I softly performed the tune of 'You've lost that loving feeling'. I have too many memories of that song not to count it as one of my favorites. She was impressed, so my charm is still working.
As pleasant as our talk has been, it made me late. Nevertheless here I sit stretching the time some more.
Normal days would bring me to the 'Silver State Club' after work, where I have my beer, watch my youth, only to be home by no later than seven thirty. It's a routine I keep up every second day. Sometimes I just need it, no matter how happy I am. Sometimes I need to reminiscence about the days back at Miramar when Goose was still by my side. It is my way remembering him.
Today it was no longer been about my past. Mac turned it into the present. Talking to her feels like we have known each other for years. I am sure that in some ways she is like me or rather like I have been. I might have known from the way she sat at the counter. Desperate to be left alone but with the need to be among people. But I could clearly tell from her eyes. She has seen the hardship of life and is still standing. Which might be why we understood the other that well. We seem to share some experiences.
When I think about this day I see that it has not been about the present at all, it has been about the past. Like every other day I have previously spent there but still that much different because of her. I glance through the windshield at the house in front of me. Now this is the present – and the future.
-T-O-P-
-G-U-N-
I am lying in bed still waiting for sleep to come. I thought that I would be asleep as soon as my head hit the pillow, trying to sleep off the jet lag. But I keep staring into the darkness. Every now and then a car alights the ceiling and my eyes see the after image for a time after the darkness has returned.
Meanwhile my mind is making its own journey. A journey back in time and place. It still recalls the way Harm's body had been pressed against mine. It still recalls every nuance of that night's scents. The cinnamon perfume I was wearing, his aftershave, the remnants of the evenings meal that came drifting into the room every once in a while. I can almost feel his arm around me, his fingers pressed against my cheek. That night was the most peaceful in a while, counting the time before as well as the week thereafter. During the last week I have woken each night to search for the warmth of a body next to mine only to be reminded that there was none. I do miss him.
My mind suddenly conjures pictures of Pete Mitchell instead of Harmon Rabb.
We talked quite a lot through the 74 minutes at the bar. We talked like we were old friends meeting again after a long period of time. I feel at ease around him. Why is it I am that attracted to a man I have only just met? Am I again running to a man that is being nice instead of turning to the one I really want? Am I again making a mistake? When I ponder the question I find that I am not attracted to Mav in a physical way that much as in an emotional way. He is playing a chord few manage to find in me. Actually only one other man has so far.
Is that why I can think of him as a friend already? Because he is so much like Harm in some ways? While in others he is totally different.
They both have the same pride with which they wear their uniform and their gold wings. They even share the color of their eyes, though I remember Harm's being a little darker at times. Then again I do not know Maverick all that well. Maybe his eyes express his moods just the same as Harm's do.
However, in a way they are as different as they could possibly be. From the moment I met him I could tell that he was someone who goes for what he wants. Harm is only learning to do so, just as I am, when it comes to our relationship. Maverick radiates some – I do not know how to describe it – I can only guess that it comes from having found his place in life. A place Harm and I are still struggling to find.
With meeting Maverick it feels like I am meeting Harm for the first time all over again. I can feel the strength of our friendship again. The strength it held been before. Before what actually? Before I have left JAG for Dalton, before he left JAG for flying, before Australia? Through all of this our friendship has remained, not unharmed but still strong. And this reassuring thought finally lets my mind rest and the jetlag take over my body.
-J-A-G-
-J-A-G-
"Maverick, where is your flight plan?" I follow the finger of Tom, the instructor that would play prey with me today. He is gesturing to the place on my flight suit where there would normally be my instructions on who would be hunting me. They should have been neatly taped to my right thigh.
Great, I must have forgotten it in my office. "Go ahead Tom. I'll meet you there." Shaking my head I hurry back into our building. I am getting old. I swear someday I am going to forget my pants right next to the glass that is holding my teeth.
Walking back to my office I see a familiar figure coming towards me. I wait for her outside my door.
"Good morning Mac."
"Morning, Sir." She starts to salute me but I wave her off with a smile. "Could I talk to you?"
"I am expected at 0830 sharp."
"That leaves me 22 minutes and 18 seconds," she states matter-of-factly.
"Huh? How did you do that?" I am sure she has not glanced at any watch.
"Great timing."
I turn the key to unlock my office and let her go in first. "Have a seat." For a few minutes I search through the papers for my flight plan before I settle on the edge of my desk that is closest to her fixing the paper to their usual place.
"So did you find out what happened?"
"Not yet. All I can say is that this wasn't an accident."
Just what I need, some saboteur on my hands.
"I would like to speak to all of your pilots."
"Why only them?"
"The incision was made by a knife only provided to Navy pilots. The very same that you wear." She is pointing at the small pocket on my flight gear that I carry the knife in. She must know her way around pilots if she knows where to find it.
"So I'm a suspect."
"Right now sir? Yes you are." She is giving me an apologetic smile.
"Alright, ask Petty Officer Brown out there. He knows where all of the guys are or at least where they should be."
"Thank you."
"But you do realize that there are many more pilots on this base than those from Top Gun?"
"Afraid I do. But I gotta start somewhere." I get the strong impression that she is going to have to do a very tedious job here. Spending hours questioning people. I wonder if she really likes this part of her job.
"Let's talk about the Lieutenant. What do you think of her?"
"She's been one of the best. She could have made it for the trophy."
"You don't think she can anymore? She hasn't missed that many flights. Surely, she can catch up."
"No she hasn't but scuttlebutt has it that she is thinking of backing out. Getting a landlocked job somewhere. And once you think of quitting it is damn hard to get back on top." I sure know what I am talking about. It was the hardest time of my life when I did not know if I should continue flying or let it be.
"I guess scuttlebutt is wrong here. That girl couldn't wait to be back in the air when I talked to her yesterday."
"We'll see." I start rising from my desk thinking we are done now when Mac asks me another question after a moment's silence.
"Do you treat women differently, Captain?"
"Did you just ask what I thought I heard you ask?" I cannot believe she really asked me that. She cannot believe it, can she?
"Yes, Sir. I have to know."
"Back in the days when I first entered Top Gun as a Lieutenant, I would have said yes I did. I did misjudge one of our instructors only due to her being female." I clearly recall the day I was so mad at Charlie for telling everybody that I had been wrong doing what I did. That I had been just lucky. What did that woman know about flying an F-14 anyway? She has never been up there. "But the Navy has changed," and so have I. Everybody does in almost twenty years. I do know that Charlie knows her stuff. "Whoever gets a ticket to come here is one of the best. So as long as they can prove themselves up there, I don't care whether the pilot is female, male or neither at all. Does this answer your question?"
Mac nods at me while she scribbles something on the legal pad that has been lying on her knees ever since I turned back around after searching my desk.
"Have you got any other questions, Colonel?"
"None, Sir." She rises coming to stand a little taller than me. I never realized it before.
"How long are you going to stay in Fallon?" I would love to have the chance of talking to her in private once more.
"That depends on what I find today."
"Alright. The Petty's down that way."
"Good luck up there Mav." It is the first personal note she has let slip.
"How do you know?"
"Your flight gear Captain." With a last smile she turns and starts walking down the corridor.
I remain watching her for a second thinking about this woman that has made a momentary appearance in my life and yet still leaves a big impression. She is quite the girl. Focusing again I hurry out of the building towards the airfield to do what I love most.
-T-O-P-
-G-U-N-
Alright, coffee! I need another coffee. I have just spent five hours questioning a bunch of young pilots. And all I could come up with were these usual phrases like "I always liked her," "You can have a great time with her," "I think she's a great person," and the best of all "She's one of the guys." I doubt that there is any woman in the armed forces that is like one of the guys. We try to blend in, however we do remain women. There is no other female in the current group I could have asked about being in this team. I might search for someone who was here during previous courses.
Thank god, a coffee machine. Pressing the button for black coffee I return to my earlier thoughts.
There is always the chance the women will not talk about what happened here, that is, if there is anything bad about the way Mav runs this unit. Did I just think Mav? Great MacKenzie, he is one of the suspects and you think of him as a great guy. There is something telling me though, he is a nice guy.
So back to what I learned. Every time I asked about the performance of Lieutenant Reese I heard the very same, "She is doing okay." From what Captain Mitchell – see I can do it – has told me she must have been better than that. Though the other pilots might not be as objective as the instructors are. She must have pissed somebody off or the cut would not be there and I would still be in Washington, maybe having a nice dinner with Harm in a few hours. On that signal my stomach begins to growl. I need to eat something. I have had nothing for about six hours already. Painting a mental picture of the base grounds I decide on something else though. I would first visit the Lieutenant again before I head for the O-Club for a late lunch. So I take one of the donuts from the small table to my left to fill at least part of the emptiness in my stomach. Gosh, this donut is old, far too old. And I thought today might be better than yesterday. Swallowing the last bites of the sweet nonetheless and grabbing my coffee, which is hot at least and pitch black, I head out of the building that houses Top Gun.
This time I walk around the bed immediately to spare the Lieutenant the effort to look at me over her back.
"Ma'am, did you find anybody?"
"Let's get through some details first."
I question her about the men I already interviewed. She does not remember anything special about either of them. I should have expected this. Things are not getting any easier when she tells me that about everybody who entered the change room had access to the mask. This case is just a whole lot of possibilities and suspects without any solid leads. Right now I would even go on a vague feeling. But there simply is none.
When I pack the legal pad with the few notices back into my bag I remember something I wanted to ask her. "I have to know one last thing. Have you thought of ending your career as a pilot?"
"Who told you this?"
"Captain Mitchell mentioned scuttlebutt saying so."
"I am not thinking about not flying anymore, I never could. Do you know how it feels to be up there, ma'am?" Actually yes I do only I do not feel the need to do it ever again. My stomach still revolts every time I just so much as think about flying in a supersonic jet.
"No I don't."
"It literally feels like heaven." I see her eyes gain a dreamy look. A look I know from Harm whenever he gets the chance to fly. Thinking about it I suddenly remember other situations he has had this look, situations at my place, at his, when we have had dinner or when we have worked a case together. Would this mean that he is…?
"Ma'am, what are you going to do?" The Lieutenant's voice wakes me from my reverie.
"I'll check some more things but I doubt that much is going to come of it. So with the way things are presenting themselves now, my recommendation would be not to file any charges." I would not know against whom.
For a second I think I see an angry stare briefly flash in the Lieutenant's eyes, but a moment later I'm not so sure. I leave her room with my best wishes and good luck for her fight for the trophy.
Lunch, finally. It is a good thing the Club is not that far from the medical facility. I am nearly starved. Over lunch I think about these amazing blue eyes. So does he love me as much as his flying? Would he tell me one day or would it fade? I remember the night eleven days prior when he said, "I'm going nowhere. I'm right where I want to be." I do believe him. My head does and still my heart is struggling.
After a fat steak and lots of fries I cross the street for the Administration building that holds the JAG office. I still need to make a few phone calls before I can hopefully end this investigation today.
-J-A-G-
-J-A-G-
"Wouldn't have thought I would find you out here Colonel." Maverick steps up next to me letting the door fall shut behind him.
"You don't know me yet, Captain." I reported to the General about an hour ago and still have some time to spare before I can catch a flight back home. I will not be home before midnight but I will leave here today. I am counting the minutes. Having nothing else to do I stand here just enjoying the moment. Because, as I once told Harm, every now and then I miss the activity of a flight deck where you forget about everything else bothering you. And this is as close as it could get in a landlocked state like Nevada. "It is no carrier but it'll do."
"Amen to that." When I glance at the man beside me after that I find his eyes being focused into the distance and a smile lingering on his lips.
"Maverick, may I ask you something?" I focus back on the F-18 that is about to land.
"Go ahead."
"Why are you still out here? With all due respect, you seem a little old for this job."
For a moment he does not answer. He is obviously thinking about it. But when I see his eyes light up due to the perfect landing the next F-18 has just performed I know that is why.
"To say the truth, I am. But I'm probably only half as happy when I've got no roaring engine under my six, no hands on a stick and aren't able to pull some G's every once in a while. My CO knows that."
"That thing about being happy is something my partner at JAG could have said." Harm as well is happiest in the air.
Instantly he turns towards me, his eyes holding some confusion. "Your partner?"
"Harmon Rabb. He's a pilot turned lawyer and is now switching professions as needed."
"There is a story behind this man. I just know it."
"That there is." And I am still trying to figure it all out.
At that moment a group of pilots passes us. I am not paying much attention when returning their greeting. But one face captures my attention. It looks oddly familiar. A second later I know why and so does the Lieutenant. He goes incredibly pale the moment he spots me.
"Lieutenant." I am stressing every syllable of the word.
I watch the fight he is fighting over whether to greet me properly or trying to vanish into thin air like he did last night. He finally musters up the word "Colonel" before making another hasty retreat.
Mav and I erupt into hearty laughter the moment the door closes behind the pilots.
"You scared the hell out of that man," he tells me only barely managing not to double over because of his laughs.
"If only for the expression on his face, last night was worth it."
"Only for that?"
The approach of a Master Chief interrupts our conversation.
"Excuse me, Sir. Ma'am your flight will be leaving in about fifteen minutes."
"Thank you Master Chief." I can only guess what the Chief must be thinking. I turn back to Maverick to answer his last question. "And for talking to you. Thank you Mav. I loved meeting you."
"So did I."
I take the offered hand. For a moment I meet the eyes of a man that has become something like a friend very fast, but a man I am sure not to see again. I am glad to finally head back home.
-T-O-P-
-G-U-N-