A/N: You remember that trust that we asked for in Chapter 1? You're really going to need it for this chapter. By the way you guys really came through with the reviews and we're elated to have such devoted readers.
Harmon Rabb was panicking. It had been a long week at the Pentagon. At 1550 on Monday, the first news on Yassir Faraz came in from Langley. The entire week had been spent trying to gather whatever intelligence they could on Faraz. Of the 'three wise men' as they were known, Harm was putting in less hours then Mike or Nate were. If Harm had to guess, he'd say that Nate had spent the better part of fifty hours on the phone this week with contacts all over the Middle East and North Africa. By the end of the week, the three of them had compiled over three hundred pages of intelligence on Faraz.
What they knew was simple. Faraz was a French-Algerian who was well educated and had an established terrorist network that extended from Algiers to Afghanistan. He was co-operating with Al-Qaeda, he had contacts inside the Moubarak and Qaddafi governments and he had private bank accounts numbering into nine figures in Switzerland, Luxembourg and Grand Cayman. Late last night, Nate had struck a deal to shut down the accounts and had even managed to have the accounts brought under the jurisdiction of the Treasury Department, a strategy that Harm had developed. Soon after, Langley found out that Faraz had gone to ground.
None of this had Harmon Rabb panicking. No, it was Friday night and tomorrow was the State Department reception at the White House and he needed a date. That was what had Harmon Rabb panicking. So, now he was back at his old stomping grounds at JAG Headquarters. There were certain ego boosts that came with being an O-6, like the fact that now, whenever he strode into the bullpen, the sergeant at arms would call "Attention on deck" which gave Harm the privilege to put everyone at ease.
"Bud!" Harm called across the bullpen.
"Captain, sir." Bud returned with a smile as he moved toward his office.
"Bud, is Colonel MacKenzie around?" Harm asked looking around the bullpen.
"Sorry, sir. The Colonel and Commander Turner are on investigation at Camp LeJeune and they aren't expected back until tomorrow." Bud explained somewhat sombrely.
"Oh, well at least Mac will have the consolation of having been with Marines this weekend." Harm joked.
"Yes, sir." Bud smiled and chuckled. "Why are you asking for the Colonel, sir?"
"Oh, I have to go to this fancy formal reception for the State Department tomorrow and for appearances sake I'm supposed to show up with a date. Mac hates these things anyway; she used to bitch about going to them with Lowne all the time." Harm smiled.
"Are you talking about the President's reception tomorrow night, sir?" Bud inquired.
"Yeah, I suppose so, Bud." Harm looked confused.
"I guess you're really rubbing elbows with the big brass now, sir." Bud admitted solemnly, thinking that maybe Captain Harmon Rabb was too busy or too important to hang out with the people that Commander Harmon Rabb cherished.
"So Bud, how are things going around here? How's Harriet getting along with Meg?" Harm inquired, loving the opportunity to talk with his friend.
"You know, sir, it's really weird. They get along like sisters. Commander Turner thinks that they giggle too much. I'm not entirely sure what he means by that, sometimes I think he doesn't like it when people smile." Bud stated which caused Harm to chuckle.
"You know what, Bud? Keeter used to complain about the same thing at the Academy." Harm joked. "Doesn't change the fact that I need a date for tomorrow night, though."
"Why don't you ask Commander Austin, sir?" Bud questioned.
"Bud, that's genius! Thanks!" Harm gave Bud a friendly pat on the shoulder before sprinting across the bullpen to Meg's office.
"Why do I have a bad feeling about what I just did?" Bud mused aloud.
Harm walked over to Meg's office and stood in the doorframe. She looked so serious, so anti-Meg, sitting there, hunched over a desk trying to furiously work through a stack of paperwork. Harm reached into his pocket and produced the invitation to the reception that had crossed his desk on Monday afternoon. "The President of the United States extends an invitation to Captain Harmon Rabb Jr. and a guest of his choosing, to attend the State Department reception to be held at the White House on January 29th." Harm read the invitation out loud. Meg looked up to see Harm standing in her doorway.
"Now, Captain, you wouldn't perhaps be hinting that you would like me to accompany you." Meg toyed.
"You said it, Commander, not me. I merely read the invitation." Harm flirted right back.
"What a shame, I was just wondering what I was going to do tomorrow night, I guess I'll just have to wash my hair then." Meg smiled cutely.
"Well, what would you say if I said that I knew this Navy Captain, who has this new job and needs someone to accompany him to a fancy reception for that new job and he just happened to know this pretty Navy Lieutenant Commander that he wouldn't mind having accompany him?" Harm moved into the office.
"I'd say that your friend should just come out and ask this girl." Meg replied.
"Good advice." Harm turned to head out of the office. He got to the door and turned around to face Meg. "Hey Meg, how'd you like to go to the President's party with me tomorrow night?"
"I'd be delighted, sir." Meg replied.
"On the condition that you call me Harm." Harm added.
"Sure, Harm." Meg was trying to hold in exactly how thrilled she was.
It was late that night when Sarah MacKenzie and Sturgis Turner pulled into JAG. The investigation at LeJeune had been a nightmare but it had been one that they were able to sort through ahead of schedule. The whole way home, all Sturgis had been able to talk about was this big function that Bobbi was dragging him to at the White House tomorrow night. She couldn't help but have her mind wander to Harm. Her best friend was now a very vital part of the American War on Terror. So, Mac went into her office at JAG to collect a few things before heading home. She noticed a note that Harm had left on her desk.
Hey Mac, stopped by earlier to see if you wanted to go to this stuffy reception I have to attend tomorrow night at the White House. Hell, I don't know why I'd even ask, I remember how much you hated going to these things with Lowne. Talk to you later!
Mac went walking with a great determination out into the bullpen; colliding with Bud halfway to the elevator. "Oh, sorry, ma'am." Bud scrambled.
"That's okay, Bud. Bud, can you tell me when Captain Rabb stopped by earlier?" Mac asked.
"It was only about two or three hours ago, ma'am. He was talking about this thing tomorrow night at the White House. When you weren't here, he was really worried that he wouldn't find a date. I suggested that he take Lieutenant Commander Austin and he must have asked her because she went home with a very big smile on her face, ma'am." Bud stated innocently. Mac felt her heart sink. At least Harm would have asked her first, right? That had to count for something. Not much though. Now Harm was going with Meg.
"Thank you, Lieutenant." Mac forced a smile. "Bud, what are you doing here so late?"
"I have the Hewitson case, ma'am. It's a Capital case so I figured I should make sure that there are no avenues left unexplored." Bud remarked as he moved off toward his office.
"Lieutenant, it's Friday night. Work on it at home, I'm sure your wife and son would like to see you before they forget what you look like." Mac forced a joke as she made for the elevator.
She drove to Harm's apartment, she wasn't sure why. She knew that Harm would never back out on Meg, not after he'd already asked her. She just wanted Harm to know that she wasn't avoiding him after what happened at McMurphy's. Or rather, what didn't happen at McMurphy's. Eventually she made her way to the hallway in front of Harm's door. She stopped for a second before knocking on the door. A few seconds later, Harm opened the door for her.
"Hey Mac." Harm stated somewhat surprised. "I thought you were wading through the backwaters of North Carolina with Sturgis?"
"I was, but we wrapped up early so we headed back tonight. All Sturgis was talking about the whole way home was this gala at the White House tomorrow that Bobbi's dragging him to." Mac commented.
"Yeah, I got an invite to that too." Harm commented.
"I know, I read your note. I also heard that you were taking Meg." Mac tried not to let any emotions seep into her words.
"You weren't in the office and I needed to find a date." Harm protested.
"You could have waited." Mac pointed out.
"Mac, let's not get on to the subject of waiting, it won't end well." Harm shook his head in disbelief.
"You're still pissed about Sydney? Excuse me for not clinging to faint hope attached to some cryptic phrase or falling at your feet like Meg Austin or any of your other bimbos." Mac couldn't contain her emotions any longer. Harm had thrown down the gauntlet with that last little phrase.
"First off, Meg is no bimbo, in fact Mac, you may have to deal with the fact that she may be your equal in everything but rank. It's not about falling at my feet; it's about making me feel good." Harm gritted his teeth and prepared to have this one out.
"Yeah, I bet she makes parts of you feel really good." Mac shot back with an obvious insinuation.
"That's the difference between you and Meg. I feel good about myself because Meg makes me feel that way. You, on the other hand, never miss an opportunity to cut me up." Harm returned fire, taking obvious offence at what Mac was suggesting.
"So what, you're pissed off because I don't faun all over you or fall at your feet?" Mac challenged again.
"It's not about falling at my feet. I wouldn't like that from you because I know that's not who you are. It's about you being that same person who sat scared on my couch because she thought Clayton Webb was dead and Clark Palmer was after me. Or that same playful woman who ate dinner with me on my bed because it was the only available place. Or even that woman who smiled like she had been tickled the first time that she pulled her new corvette into JAG. I miss that Sarah, hell, once upon a time I was madly in love with her but I haven't seen her in a long time." Harm explained, calming his tone and demeanour in the process.
"Harm, I just…" Mac tried to back-pedal, the strength of some of the words he was using wasn't lost on her.
"No, Mac, you're just making excuses and that's another thing that Sarah wouldn't have done." Harm walked over and opened the door, signalling that he wanted Mac to leave. "Tell me when you find her, I miss her an awful lot." With that Mac walked out of the apartment and Harm closed the door behind her.
Mac needed someone to talk to. Things with Harm had hardly gone to plan but he had started it with that waiting comment. God, why could they never just be on the same page at the same time. Now, with all the professional obstacles out of the way, it should have theoretically been easier, but things were never easy between them. What she needed right now was someone she could talk to, someone who could answer questions; a wise man. Mac went to look for phonebook.
0145 ZULU
NATE ROSS' APARTMENT
PENTAGON CITY, VIRGINIA
Mac didn't know why she was standing here. Outside of a week earlier at McMurphy's, she had only spoken to Nate Ross a few times and that was via email but he seemed like nice guy. Well, she hoped he was nice enough to not mind a discussion about her and Harm at this hour. He said he wanted to be her friend, he was a fellow Marine, and they never left anyone behind. So, bravely, Mac knocked on the door to the apartment.
"Coming! Coming! Wait up!" The voice called from inside the apartment. Nate opened the door wide wearing only a fluffy peach towel that covered the area from his waist to his knees. "Mac?" He inquired in a state of shock.
"Do you always answer the door like that or am I special case?" Mac replied with a laugh, trying to come to terms with the fact that an attractive man was mere inches from her and his integrity was being maintained by only a few inches of cotton.
"Do you really want me to answer that question or are you going to tell me how you found my apartment?" Nate questioned as he invited her in.
"You're listed in the phonebook. I needed a friend to talk to, I was hoping that you wouldn't mind." Mac sat down in the big recliner in the living room.
"No, I was actually kind of bored sitting around watching TV alone. So, I took a shower and ordered in. It should be nice to have someone to talk to. I should probably change first." Nate walked back off toward his bedroom before emerging a few minutes later in a USMC t-shirt and PRINCETON jogging pants. "So, what's up, Mac?" After a few seconds of observing her hesitant body language, Nate put his skills to work. "Alright, it's about a guy, because if it wasn't, you wouldn't be this hesitant about telling me. It's about Harm, because your thumb twiddling tells me that your nervous about telling me and the only reason that would be is that it would be someone we both know. The only person we both know is Harm."
"You're going to have to tell me how you do that." Mac commented lightly.
"It's a gift." Nate smiled. "This has something to do with the woman from last Friday doesn't it?"
"Yeah, um, Harm and I got into it because he's taking her to that White House gala that you all are invited to tomorrow night." Mac explained.
"Ah, I see. Even though you're not dating him, the green-eyed monster came through and you two fought. Amazing how jealousy can override logic, isn't it?" Nate chuckled slightly.
"Alright smart guy, if you know everything, what am I supposed to do now?" Mac sounded sarcastic.
"Nothing. The emotions are too fresh, let them settle and then attack the issue with a clearer head at a later point. I may have no idea how many issues there really are between you and Harm but there seems to be a lot. You're not going to get anywhere trying to tackle them all while you're running on misguided rage." Nate explained as he leapt over the back of his couch, landing firmly on his six.
"And until then?" Mac questioned.
"Well, we could sit here eating chips and watching movies on cable?" Nate suggested.
"Sounds good." Mac laughed lightly.
"Hey Mac, if you really want to go to that White House gala tomorrow, I can get you in." Nate cautiously brought up the subject, not wanting to let her get the wrong idea.
"Explain." Mac stated pointedly.
"Technically, you would be accompanying me. However, I probably hate these things more than anyone on the planet. So, I'll be hobnobbing most of the night with high officials. It would give you the chance to get in a few dances with Harm and start talking in a more conducive atmosphere. Besides, you get to wear a nice dress." Nate chuckled slightly as he tossed the bag of potato chips at her.
"You really expect me to believe that you don't have a date?" Mac questioned incredulously.
"Listen, I don't get out of the Pentagon most nights until 2300. I rewarded myself with an early night tonight because I really cleaned up this week. I don't have time for a social life. Besides, I've been told I can wear my dress uniform tomorrow, which means you get to order me around." Nate chuckled.
"You're on. But don't get any ideas." Mac warned with a mock stern tone.
"Me? Ideas? Wouldn't dream of it." Nate tossed back as the two of them channel surfed for a decent movie.
"I did some checking into you, you know? You were a decorated sniper before you left the Corps. I'm not sure I buy that 'no room for idealists' spiel." Mac's investigator instincts were kicking in.
"I should have known better then to make friends with someone who investigates for a living." Nate toyed. "The simple fact is that I picked the wrong side of the political fence to play on for a Marine. I'm a Democrat, a card-carrying, proud Democrat, most of my COs saw that as a weakness and rather than be persecuted for my political beliefs, I scrapped the discrimination and went for a career where it didn't matter."
"Are you trying to tell me that no one at the State Department plays politics?" Mac sounded caustic.
"No, I'm telling you that the time I spent at State, I got promoted for my skills and my political affiliation. With the new Republican administration, I have to keep my personal political beliefs to myself and just do the job. Something I must be doing rather well to get the assignment that they just gave me." Nate explained.
"I don't understand how a Marine can be a Democrat." Mac commented absently.
"Socially, I'm not really. I mean, I'm Pro-Life but I'm Anti-Capital Punishment, my economic and foreign policy beliefs favour to the Democratic. The only thing Republican about me is my social concerns but those don't hold up against the other two." Nate concluded.
"I bet the General really likes that." Mac joked.
"I was waiting for you to bring up my dad. Yeah, well the day I left the Corps was the day we kind of stopped talking." Nate grimaced slightly.
"There's a lot of story to you, Nate Ross." Mac said.
2330 ZULU
THE WHITE HOUSE
WASHINGTON, DC
"Well, at least I get to sit with you and Bobbi." Harm spotted Sturgis at the same table that he and Meg had been assigned to.
"Harm, I'm here too." Mike Bradley walked over in his tux.
"Yeah, but I have to look at your ugly mug every day." Harm commented. "Oh, where are my manners? Mike, this is Lieutenant Commander Meg Austin, my date for this evening."
"Nice to meet you, Meg." Mike shook Meg's hand. "Becky's around here some place. I think she cornered Senator Benton over by the punch. They're old college friends."
"That explains it." Harm joked. Harm, Meg, Bobbi, Sturgis and Mike participated in some friendly conversation for a few minutes until a crowd was gathering near the back of the room. The second Sturgis saw Mac, he didn't have to see whose arm she was on, he just knew that her being here would mean that there would be fireworks playing out tonight. As Mac and her date made their way over, Sturgis prayed that they weren't seated at the same table as Harm and Meg.
His prayer fell on deaf ears. Mac and her date made their way over to the one table that would be able to hold Sturgis' attention longer than the President's table. It was then that Sturgis realized that Harm had obviously seen Mac. "Mac, nice to see you." Harm stated pleasantly enough. "Nate, I didn't know that you and Mac were acquainted."
"We're friends. As you're aware, Nate doesn't get out much with all the work he's doing so he figured he could call in a favour with one of his friends to accompany him tonight." Mac jumped right in, to intervene.
"I didn't realize that you had been promoted to Major, Nate. When you resigned you were only a first Lieutenant, isn't that right?" Harm was pushing the rank card.
"Even reservists get promoted. It just takes us a little longer." Nate returned and snapped off a salute which Harm returned. "I apologize; my indoctrination has slipped slightly after years in the State Department."
There were a few laughs exchanged at Nate's joke. "We can sit, folks, I believe that's what these lovely inventions called chairs are for." Mike Bradley pointed out as he sat in his chair. The other seven people standing around the table decided to take their own seats and wait for the festivities to start. Harm found himself sitting between Mac and Meg, something of a less then enviable position. Mac was wearing a wine coloured dress that clung to every curve, dipped low enough to present but not show off her cleavage and with slit that ran up the side to her mid thigh. Meg was on the other side of him in a midnight blue dress that did wonders for her own curves and drew attention to her legs.
"I'll go get us some punch, huh?" Nate suggested and Mac nodded her assent. Harm asked Meg a similar question and both men headed over to the table at the side of the ballroom to retrieve the drinks.
"What the hell do you think you're doing, Nate?" Harm asked in an accusatory tone.
"Listen, Harm, I'm not doing anything. Mac is here as my friend, because she came over to my apartment last night and I helped her talk out whatever cluster-fuck situation happened between the two of you last night. Don't try and superimpose some kind of alternate relationship on this. Mac and I are friends; it is actually completely possible to have a woman as a friend without wanting to get into her pants. Harm, you and I work together, I don't leave the office until 2300 almost every night and when I do leave the office I'm dog tired. Hell, at the height of the Faraz thing last week, I spent two nights at the office waiting on phone calls from Tehran. When oh when, would I have had the time to have any kind of relationship during that period?" Nate questioned with more than just a hint of an edge to his voice.
"Listen, alright I'm sorry, I jumped the gun." Harm explained.
"You're goddamn right you did. Now, we're here to have fun. Actually we're not; we're here to make the big time politicians think we're having fun. Now, can you look me in the eye and honestly tell me that you truly believe that Mac is here tonight as my friend only?" Nate questioned, not letting Harm avert his eyes.
"Yes." Harm replied quietly.
"Good. Now I believe the ladies are waiting on some punch." Nate nodded back toward the table and he and Harm moved back over with two glasses of punch each.
"You boys were gone an awful long time." Meg questioned.
"Work stuff, you know how it is." Harm replied as he took his seat. The President delivered his address at the front of the room. Most of the cabinet was there, all but for the Secretary of State, which was odd, considering that this was a State Department function. The President was witty and composed, not delving too deeply into the details.
"And now, I'd like to call up our keynote speaker for this evening. Since, Malcolm Anderson, the Secretary of State couldn't be here tonight, I have the pleasure of introducing his Assistant Secretary of State for North Africa and the Middle East, Nathan Ross." The President stepped away from the podium and Nate made his way up.
"You'll have to forgive me, I just found out last night that I'd be delivering this speech so the language is probably a little rough. As we all know, September 11th changed everything. I'm not going to stand here and tell you that we can't live in a September 10th world. You already know that and my repeating it is pointless. There has been a lot of jargon tossed around that says that terrorism is a stateless enemy. Terrorism is the state, people. It's inhabitants live in the same world of violence and hate, their methods are furthered by complacency and indifference. We do not have the ability to be either.
When I talk to foreign diplomats, especially those with whom our country's relations are slightly strained, they tell me that America must see itself as the policeman on the world stage. The simple fact is that all responsible nations must be policemen in the new world order. In 1946, America stood shoulder to shoulder with our allies after the war to bring 21 Nazi criminals to justice at Nuremberg. In that one act, we were able to put aside our own personal political differences to show the world that violence and hate and aggressive war were intolerable acts and that those persons who perpetrated those acts would have death served upon them.
We must face the fact that terrorists are the National Socialists of the twenty-first century. In many cases, they are worse. Osama Bin Laden has access to methods by which to broadcast his message, that Adolf Hitler could only have dreamed of. Simple facts people. Those preaching fundamentalist terrorism, such as those enemies we have engaged in Afghanistan, engage in the same race hatred that has plagued the world for countless millennia. All September 11th was, was an act of aggressive war.
The question remains; what can we do? The answer is simple. We must stand together. As our fathers and grandfathers did on the battlefields of Europe before us. We must crack down and crack down hard on activities within our own borders and we must be ruthless in our pursuit of terrorism abroad because make no mistake, they are ruthless in their assault on us. We must make the call of liberty and justice the anthem of the twenty-first century and we must be zealous in our attempts to make it so, for if we are not, the anthem of our century will be the explosions of car bombs and the cries of innocent bystanders." Nate looked down the table at the Canadian Ambassador, whose government had recently grown tentative in its support of parts of the American led war effort and a poetic phrase came to mind.
"Canadian poet John McCrae wrote a poem, upon viewing the carnage of the First World War. McCrae wrote "Take up our quarrel with the foe: To you from failing hands we throw; The torch; be yours to hold it high. If ye break faith with us who die. We shall not sleep, though poppies grow; In Flanders fields." And though the ground may churn over ground zero, as the poppies return every year to Flanders Fields, we owe it to the 9/11 victims to never forget their sacrifice. Thank you." Nate returned his speech to the pocket of his uniform trousers, shook the President's hand and returned to his seat amidst a thunder of applause that was loud enough to produced ripples in the glasses of water on the table.
"Alright, that's enough with the politics. I'm sure you all would like to dance and mingle and eat." The President encouraged.
"Impressive speech, Mr. Ross, shades of a young John Kennedy." Bobbi commented.
"Senator Latham, that's high praise and I'm certain that I'm not worthy of it." Nate replied. The group at the table enjoyed the meals that had been provided for the evening and after an hour exchanging light conversation, the party seemed to shift to the dance floor. Sturgis and Mike led by taking their respective dates out on to the open dance floor while Nate laughed silently to himself as he watched Harm debate over whether to ask Mac or Meg. Eventually Harm guided Meg out to dance and Nate did the same thing with Mac. "I suppose I'd be a complete clod if I didn't dance with you at least once."
Mac and Nate were both cautious. Their hands joined that same spirit of hesitance. Mac raised her other hand to Nate's shoulder as he placed his hand at her waist only after multiple assurances from her that it was alright. "I don't think I've been this nervous since High School." Nate joked lightly.
"Yeah, I know, both of us seem to have the impression that there are eyes on us." Mac commented.
"Well in that dress, what did you expect?" Nate returned with a smile.
"A compliment? Really? I think you're letting the success of that speech go to your head." Mac played in her normal manner.
"Me? Never." Nate retorted, smiling from ear to ear. After a few minutes of moving rather graciously across the dance floor, Mac was very impressed at the fact that Nate not only hadn't stepped on her feet, he had been secure enough to let her lead on occasion.
Harm was across the dance floor with Meg, doing his best to give her his full attention and all things considered, he was doing a very good job of it. But there was no hiding the glances that he was stealing over in Mac's direction every once in a while. One look at Meg told the average observer that she was absolutely delighted to be where she was. Even Harm, a man who was admittedly dense when it came to reading subtle female signs, as are most single men, could tell that she was really enjoying herself. Despite zealous reassurances from a man that Harm had judged to be honourable, Harm was still unsure of exactly what if anything was going on between Mac and Nate.
Back across the dance floor, Nate and Mac had moved closer to the First Couple who were very evidently enjoying themselves. "Mr. Ross, I enjoyed your speech. I should have you on my staff." The President commented.
"Technically you do, sir. We all work for you, right?" Nate returned.
"I suppose so." The President admitted. He and the First Lady stopped dancing for a second and the President tapped Nate on the shoulder. "May I cut in?" Both Nate and Mac were surprised.
"That okay with you, Mac?" Nate questioned.
"Sure, I mean, I'd be delighted, sir." Mac was flabbergasted, she was sure that she'd never have this honour again. The President led Mac off and Nate smiled at how completely joyous Mac looked.
"What do you say, Madame First Lady, shall we give them some competition?" Nate inquired.
"I've heard about you Marines." The First Lady replied cutely as she extended her hand to Nate who led her out next to where the President and Mac were dancing. After a few minutes, the song ended and everyone clapped for the band. Mac and Nate stood around talking with the President and the First Lady, mostly about Nate's speech, something even Nate himself was rolling his eyes at sometimes. Eventually, Harm made his way over and asked Mac for a dance and Mac accepted. The First Lady had something to attend to with the caterers and the President led Nate over to talk with some Ambassadors from Allied countries.
"So, how are you and State Department Boy doing this evening?" Harm questioned with a notably jealous air.
"Harm, we're just friends. We're here having a good time, would you have referred to him by job if you'd run into us at a bowling alley or in the corridors at the Pentagon?" Mac questioned.
"He said the same thing." Harm muttered under his breath.
"See, now are you going to let go of it?" Mac's tolerance for the jealousy routine was wearing a little thin.
"Excuse me for looking out for you." Harm fired back. "You're my friend and I care for you."
"Really? What happened to the Sarah that you miss? The one that, how did you say it? Smiled like she'd been tickled pink the first time she pulled her car into JAG. Face it, Harm. Those words really hurt." Mac shot back.
"I was just stating that you haven't seemed like yourself lately." Harm protested.
"Lately as in the last two years, Harm? As I recall you seemed to like me just fine one night on the Admiral's porch. Or were you just caught up reminiscing about that Sarah?" Mac questioned.
"Hey, you're not the only one with any right to claim being hurt by words, you basically accused me of hopping into bed with any blonde that looked at me the right way." Harm fired back.
"Jordan, Renee and now you're giving Meg goo-goo eyes. I've got some proof to back up my claim, Harm. Maybe my tone was a little sharp, but one look at the evidence shows that my evaluation of the evidence is correct." Mac stated in a calm tone.
"You want to talk about evidence? Let's talk about Nate. He's a Marine. So there's the Farrow quota. He's a high end educated type. So there's the Lowne quota. And, he's chasing your skirt, there's the Brumby quota." Harm's argumentative skills were at full gear.
"For your information, counsellor, Nate has gone to every conceivable length short of telling me he's gay, to assure me that he wants nothing but to be my friend. Or is that you're opinion of me? Do you think so low of me that no man would just want me for a friend when they could just have me for a fuck? That is, except for you, the illustrious, noble Harmon Rabb." Mac was pursing her lips to fight tears.
"Mac, you know I don't look at you that way." Harm's voice got tender.
"Maybe, but after last night, I have no idea how you do look at me any more." Mac pulled away as the music ended. "Goodnight, Harm." Mac went running out on to the balcony to get some air and let her tears flow.
Bobbi and Sturgis, who had witnessed the whole scene, decided to spring into action. Bobbi went running after Mac and Sturgis stopped to talk to Harm. "Well, I don't know what you said, but I think I can say that you made her cry."
"I don't need grief, Sturgis." Harm laboured over toward their table.
"No, what you need, is to learn to talk to Mac like a woman. Mac's not your colleague and co-worker any more, Harm. You work at the Pentagon now, so if you want to talk to Mac any more, you have to learn to talk to her as a friend and a woman." Sturgis pointed out.
"Your point being?" Harm questioned.
"Too elaborate to explain here. How about a game of one on one this week?" Sturgis asked.
"You're on. I've got enough pent up emotion that I might actually beat you this week." Harm joked.
"Keep dreaming." Sturgis replied.
Out on the balcony, Mac was sobbing quietly when Bobbi came up behind her and put a hand on her shoulder. "Listen, Mac, I know that we haven't always gotten along, but I do respect you……a lot. If you want someone to talk to, well, I'm here."
Mac turned to face Bobbi and Bobbi could see the tearstains on Mac's face. "Thanks, Bobbi, but right now I'm trying to figure out why every time I talk to my best friend we manage to do nothing but hurt each other."
"You seemed to be on the worse end of the exchange from what I just saw." Bobbi remarked.
"I don't know. I think that the only difference between my words and Harm's was that I was dispassionate in my delivery." Mac responded, shaking her head.
"Well what all happened?" Bobbi leaned on the railing next to Mac.
"Harm accused me of, I don't know I guess basically being a traitor to who I am. I accused him of getting involved with the blondes who cross his wake and he accused Nathan of chasing my skirt. Which I only found offensive because both Nathan and I have gone out of our way to assure Harm that we're only here as friends and I took Harm's implication to mean that a man like Nathan couldn't possibly want me simply as a friend without wanting something more." Mac explained.
"You two really don't make anything easy." Bobbi commented lightly. "First off, criticizing his choice in women was probably not the best move. That having been said, if I had been forced to listen to the same load of bellicose bullshit that you had to listen to, I probably would have bared my teeth a little too. As for Nathan Ross, Harm may have something of a point. Only something, I have no doubt that Nathan wants to get to know you as a friend. That doesn't mean he won't ask you out in the future but knowing Nathan's reputation, that could be a good year or two down the line."
"Nathan's reputation?" Mac questioned, suddenly interested.
"He's not the typical State Department playboy. That's the personal skinny. You want to hear the professional skinny?" Bobbi had turned on her gossip mode.
"Sure, I could use the rumour mill for entertainment right now." Mac smiled weakly.
"Next time the Democrats take the White House, he'll be at the Cabinet table. What chair depends on when the Democrats take the White House and what he does between now and then. At the current pace, if it's four years he could be the National Security Advisor or even the Secretary of State. If it's eight years, conservative estimates put him in the Secretary of State's chair for sure." Bobbi was actually 'dishing'.
"What about the liberal estimates?" Mac questioned.
"Too out there to have any merit." Bobbi stated quickly and Mac's mouth went wide with shock. "It's not every day that the Democrats get a Marine with a war record like his and his foreign policy experience. His home state is Pennsylvania, which tends to swing; he'd be a good candidate for anything."
"What are you trying to tell me, Bobbi?" Mac eyed her friend quizzically.
"That boy is about to become Washington's hot ticket in a few years." Bobbi commented slyly.
"Sounds like you're trying to tell me to get in on the ground floor." Mac replied.
"I'm not stupid. You won't ever look at a man the way you look at Harm. I'm just giving you the Capitol Hill 411." Bobbi concluded as she walked out on the balcony as Nathan came walking out.
"You okay, Mac? I tried to get away when I saw you come running out here but I got trapped by Ambassador Rishkin and, well you know how the Russians can get." Nate smiled.
"Yeah, I guess I'm just a little tired. You mind taking me home for the night? I mean back to my apartment?" Mac corrected.
"I knew what you meant, Mac. Sure. If I'm being honest, another hour around these stuff-shirts and I'd probably hang myself anyway." Nate smiled as Mac offered him her arm and he escorted her into the ballroom, the foyer and eventually out to the car.