This story is sooooo damned fun to write, I swear. . . I keep coming up with these ideas that will probably screw me over (seeing as I'll have to resolve them) and will have you guys gawking, screaming, doing a few 'I knew it!' and hating Vic even more. ;) Sorry for the Vic fans. . .Wait, no I am not. . .This Vic isn't even slightly amusing.
And yes, all of those e-mailing me with their wishes to kill the man. . .Keep them objects of mass destruction handy, your want will grow in spades.
Alright, so those that care about my personal life. . .I PASSED! All of the classes, for sure. I am 33 hours and 22 patients away from finishing though we still HAVE to stick around until March 24th. WTF! Yea, well, it's the way it goes. I've been enjoying my time in clinic though it is brutal sometimes. We often work 4-5 hours massaging a person per hour non-stop. As in, no pee break, no lunch break, nada. Yes, we are THAT full. We participated in a Chinese New Year festival, gave free 10 min chair massages and even gave away some free hour massages at the clinic, so we'll be busy. Whew And that's only twice a week. Weds and Saturdays.
Wish me luck, whip out the prayer beads, books, mats, palm trees, Buddahs, holy water, crosses, etc. On Thursday (Obviously not THIS Thursday) I'll go take my Comprehensive 3 hour, 5 subject (Traditional Chinese Medicine, Anatomy, Musculoskeletal, Pathology, Hydrotherapy) test. Which, once I pass, I can semi-officially (that's because our full graduation with the gowns and shit, is in August) graduate and then go for my State exam. Then, off to the races. Woo Hoo! I am super stoked and, unfortunately, over confident.
Ah, we'll see. I have a week to really buckle down the studies. Musculoskeletal and Traditional Chinese Medicine being the more tricky of the studies. Okay, so enough about me. . .Seeing as you guys HAVE been patient (I'm impressed), here's another part to wet your whistle and give you an idea as to what Vickie is planning. ;)
Also, a bit more in the Couple's Therapy Hughes story. :D
Enjoy!
Jackie
PART 5 – Trying To Play God
December 5, 2010
2152 Zulu
USS Patrick Henry
Location Undisclosed
The USS Patrick Henry hadn't been at their current location for more than a day before things started a turn for the worst. The higher ranking Navy officials had received orders about a certain hotspot nestled right between South American and Africa. The carrier battle group was told to head towards the area and await further instruction all the while training their pilots for a potential bombing run. In the span of hours an unidentified plane was spotted on the radar, closing in to the vessel. Attempts to contact the plane fell through, either they couldn't hear the Henry or they were ignoring the carrier all together. When verbal warnings didn't work, Loftness sent up two Hornets in hopes of rattling the other fighter out of the zone.
Major Robin Stephens (callsign: Biloxi) and his wingman, Lieutenant j.g. Theodore Burke (callsign: Matchbox) were the first to be shot off of the ship while two other Hornets were prepared, just in case. "Matchbox, do you have a visual?" Biloxi asked the moment they hit cruising altitude.
"Negative, don't even see 'em on our radar." He hoped that meant the plane was bugging out, that the US Navy inspired the type of fear that meant no one else would mess with them. Truth be told, as much as he loved his job, today wasn't the day for a dogfight. In today's Navy, it never was the right day for it.
Biloxi glanced backward and around. "Alright, let's just cruise up here for a moment and go around the ship, I want to make sure we're completely clear."
On board, the moment a potential battled ensued, the course was to call the JAG up on the bridge. Thankfully, Loftness noted, Vukovic seemed to have regained his sea legs. It would be one hell of a long day if the man was puking all over his bridge while trying to formulate the proper rules of engagement. "Skipper, the rules haven't change. . .they can't fire unless fired upon." It was almost becoming SOP and the idea nauseated the commanding officers that had to adhere to such a suicidal law. It was the way of the modern, educated world – the need to ask questions first and then shoot. Problem was that several times members of your own team would perish before they had a chance to shoot back.
Loftness, for the moment, was too busy and concerned to play on the disdain he felt for the younger man. "We've never forgotten that, Commander. . .but if those SOBs come closer. . ."
"Shoot to kill." Vic said, verbally agreeing. He didn't want to die, especially in the middle of the damned ocean on a massive ship which was supposed to protect its crew. All of that superiority seemed miniscule when a hunk of flying steel carrying several missiles was following a trajectory towards your end of the world.
"I thought I would get some sort of argument from you."
Normally, he would have, but in this case, "I really do not want to die out here, Skipper. . .Call me a coward."
"You're not. . .There'd be something wrong with you if you wanted to die like this." Warnings on the onboard computers rang out, stifling any other conversation. "XO, find out what's going on."
Over the speakers the disembodied voices were calling out in distress. "Confirmation, two more bogies!" Matchbox's voice, which normally oozed of confidence, said with a shred of despair. "Damnit! They have a lock on my six!"
"Hornet Two-Zero-One, can you get a visual on the country of origin?" The Airboss asked over the line, hoping to get a clue as to which country the US was going to have a beef with now.
A scratchy, "Negative," was all that came through as the dreary sound of static filled the air.
Something about the situation reminded Vukovic of the opening scenes from Top Gun. The two pilots go out when bogies start coming at them from all angles. It was insane and extremely overwhelming.
"Hornet Two-Zero-One, do you copy?" The Airboss tried again, hoping that their worst fears were not confirmed. "Hornet Two-Zero-One, over." But the static remained present. He tried again, this time calling out to Biloxi. "Hornet Two-Niner-Niner, this is Wonderland, do you have a visual on Hornet Two-Zero-One? Over." Nothing. Nothing at all.
The men on the bridge shared looks of remorse, anger and shock. The tension had suddenly become so thick that it reverberated against the steel of the ship and intensified as each second passed by. And now, it was at its crux, churning and burning, nearly choking the lives of everyone on board. Tension had been high, since the crew had been chosen to head into enemy territory. But this time, things were much different – two of their own were gone for good.
A petty officer who was watching the radar closely, let out a sigh of relief. "Skipper, the bogies are heading out. . .It doesn't appear they are headed towards us."
Loftness sighed, then lowered his head in a quick prayer. In a shaky raspy voice he commanded the Airboss to send out a SAR crew. The end result wasn't looking very good and when search and rescue reported back, an already grim situation turned worse. "Skipper, this is Angel. . .We found some wreckage. . .it's not looking good at all."
"Both planes?"
"Yes, sir."
"Chutes?"
The line became silent for what appeared to be minutes as the well trained team combed the area. Nothing. . .Nothing at all. "No, sir. . .No chutes, there's nothing. They're gone."
1825 Local
Dr. Jeffery Hughes' Office
Mission Valley, California
Just the thought of having the Lawless' in the office put Hughes on edge. Damn, he'd never had a couple do that to him before. Today though, instead of the war scene in the parking lot, he had a whole different take. They were making out inside of a big SUV and from his own personal adventures, he figured it would be quite a while before they'd actually made it in the building.
He was right. . .it took them twenty minutes. "Not bad." He said out loud, grinning at the lewd and lascivious ideas he was starting to get about Angie. She was sexy and though conservative, if there was one thing that ran true was that those buttoned up, conservative types were wild women in bed.
Taking his phone he put in a quick call to Brad Stevens, a lawyer in the same complex. "Brad, it's Jeff. . .I think we have another couple to contend with. . .Yup, I'll send you all of the details when I am done." With a conspiring smirk, he hung up the phone and stood to welcome the couple as they walked in through the open door. To his surprise, the woman wasn't basking in the afterglow of sex. Hmmm, he thought, they have to be doing pretty bad then. Good!
Yes, Dr. Hughes was a man on a mission, but it wasn't a particularly good one. "Hello Angie, Jessie, how are we this afternoon?" One would figure the two would loosen up some, especially if they'd done that in the SUV. But, no. 'Jessie' was wearing a Mr. Rodgers outfit complete with penny loafers (people still wore those!) and 'Angie' had on a lime green power suit that came down bellow her knees.
Mac turned away as Harm made to look at her. Another sign in Hughes' mind that Angie Lawless was definitely going to be easy to break. He'll start by phoning her the next day, asking about the sessions and how she likes them. Next, he'd move on to lunch and drinks. Lastly, clubbing, more drinks, some dancing and then he'd take her to his place in order to show the soon-to-be-ex Mrs. Lawless, what a real man is like. Sometime after, he'll break up with her, something about conflict of interest or. . .yes! That's right! He'll play the marriage card. . .It had worked twice before. In fact, after knowing he was married (he wasn't, but who knew?) most of his newly acquired mistresses would head for the hills and he and his partner would rake in the benefits. "Good. . .Can we get down to the session? I am eager to start." Mac chattered away, removing her hand 'discreetly' from Harm's as they took a seat on the sofa. This time, they did sit on separate sides.
Hughes made a note in his notebook, then glanced up. "Alright. . .So, today we're going to talk about pet peeves. . .Jessie, we'll start with you. Is there anything that Angie does which really gets under your skin?"
Once again, though some specific things were discussed, winging it seemed to work better. It would have the desired effect and seem more natural than spitting out practiced answers. He just hoped Mac wouldn't start laughing hysterically. "Yes, her. . .Health nut craze."
To her credit, Mac didn't laugh out loud, but her eyes were wide as saucers. It wasn't shock though, it was pure amusement. Now she just had to figure out a doozy to zing him with. "I am not a health nut, Jessie. . .I am just concerned about all of the crap you eat."
Harm raised his hands in surrender. "Alright, so I like junk food. . .I can't live without a good burger. . .You know what she made, Doc? This thing called Meatless Meatloaf. . .It was. . .disgusting."
"It was not! You're just pissed because I didn't let you have second helpings!" She yelled at him. "And then you call ME fat. You stupid piece of. . ."
"Woah! Stop." Hughes had immediate control of the situation and opted for something that he only used twice before, on his worst clients. Standing, he ventured to his desk, took a small, wooden rod and brought it back. "Okay, we're going set some new rules." He handed the rod over to Harm. "The person holding this talks, the other, doesn't. . .You can't talk if you don't have the rod. . .If you talk out of turn, the session is over and I'll still bill you as if you've been here for the full hour." He wasn't joking and it was a stipulation which he outlined in the terms of service they had to fill out to become patients. "Now, Jessie. . .Have you done anything which you wish you'd have done differently?"
Now, Harm played stupid. "Differently, how?"
Hughes bit back the urge to groan. "Said something. . .Acted a certain way. . .Forgot something." Yes, that was a good one! Men usually forgot things – he did.
Pretending to be annoyed (and really she was) Mac sat at her end with her arms crossed and eyes constantly rolling away from the men folk. She snorted loudly, and when the two boys turned to her she mouthed out an inaudible 'sorry' followed by an unrepentant smirk.
"Ah, yes. . .I tend to stick my foot in my mouth. . .a lot. . .Like ummm. . .saying that she needs to work out more." Harm turned over to Mac who was looking off in the opposite direction. Hughes also glanced at Mac, his eyes taking in her athletic calves and the tiny bit of thigh he saw when her skirt road up slightly. "Angie is fit. . .I mean, she could be fitter, but."
She whipped her head towards him with such a force it was a miracle she didn't have whiplash. Reaching towards Harm, Mac yanked the rod away and turned to Hughes. "I am fit. . .And this. . .this. . ." She sniffled then turned on the waterworks, once again using a hanky to hide the small bottle of artificial tears. "You don't love me, Jessie! All you want is a trophy wife and I will not be that! I won't."
Harm took that moment to snatch the rod away and slide closer to Mac. "Baby, I do love you. . . I'm enamored with you. . .Don't be like that." The more he tried to console her, the worse Mac got. "Angie. . .stop it. . .You're not five, stop crying."
Mac did the chest heaving thing, wiped at her tears and then took the rod away. "I will try to get through this, but let me tell you right now, Jess. . .It's not going to work. . .I don't love you the way I used to anymore."
Christ, if Hughes ever saw dollar signs it was with that one statement. Every time one half (especially the females) admitted that the love was gone, he could bank on them hitting a divorce lawyer within less than a month. "Angie, if the love was gone, you wouldn't be here." Yes, she would, it was a desperate attempt to remain normal when that was the last thing they were. He'd seen it before, many times, it was pathetic.
The rod slipped out of Mac's hand as she passed it over to Harm. He played the perfect part of the hurt and angered husband so well that the next words came out easily. "I cheated on you. . .twice. . ." He turned towards Hughes and shook his head in remorse. "Angie was being. . . well, HERSELF and I couldn't take it anymore. . .I needed a release. . .I'm sorry I did it."
The fact that she was trying to prevent herself from laughing out loud made it seem like Mac was crying uncontrollably. Cheat on her? Yea, right, Harm would be a dead man and he knew that. "How. . .Could. . .You?" She punctuated between sobs/laughs, then stood up and practically ran out of the office.
As Harm made to run after her, Hughes stopped him and headed off himself. "Angie. . .Angie." He caught up with her just as she was attacking (literally) the elevator. Tentatively, he reached a hand out and stilled her movements. "Hey, it's alright, I'll help you get. ." He stopped mid sentence as Mac thrust herself into his arms, her artificial tears wetting Hughes' nicely pressed blue dress shirt. "I'll. ..umm. . .help you get through. . .this." He placed his fingers under her chin and lifted up, smiling brightly as those beautiful eyes met his own. Had it been a different location, he would have kissed her. As it was, other parts of his body were feeling the effects of being so close to her. Damn, he had to have her and soon.
Releasing herself out of his grasp, she stepped back shyly, then turned towards his office. "Thank you Doctor Hughes."
"You can call me Jeff." He called after her, groaning when she disappeared back into his office. "Damnit, get a grip." But, the type of 'grip' he was interested in, couldn't be done at that present place and time.
1305 Zulu
USS Patrick Henry
Undisclosed Location
Captain Loftness, XO Newhart and Airboss Sheridan sat along with Vukovic in the wardroom as a video conference was going on with the wartime experts on the mainland. "We didn't want to give you too much information. . .This is all classified."
Loftness was furious. Not only was his crew being sent on a secret mission, it was quite probable that the US Military was letting them be targeted in hopes that they would figure out who was gunning for their squadrons. "Just how many planes have we lost to the Bandits?"
Admiral James Klein didn't seem the least bit shaken, war was war. Men like him thrived at times like these. "Including yours. . .six in the last four months alone. . .That's a rather high number."
"Rather high? Sir, that's astronomical!" It wasn't that they had bad pilots, God only knew the US was notorious for having the best, it was that things had become rather antiquated. Everyone favored battling it out from far away so much that the precise art of dog fighting had become a last resort. All pilots needed to be proficient in their skills when they trained but those skills diminished, especially if the enemy was an unknown with mysterious planes. "Did the other crews get a visual on the planes, Admiral? Maybe that would help."
"We were hoping you did." For months it had been a losing battle. Each and every carrier that was sent to the area had casualties. It was then that a Marine General suggested giving the Patrick Henry a run seeing as they had the best squadrons in all of the Navy and Marine Corps. From what little information the ship had sent back to him, at least it appeared that the boys on the Henry held their own for longer than the rest. That was a feat on its own. "I want you to back off slightly, skipper. . .But stay near the area. . .This is all top secret, but we're planning on bringing the Tomcats back into action."
Now Loftness was truly surprised. He was one of the many Navy men who didn't approve of the government's decision to bring aboard the F-18 Hornet and scrap the F-14 Tomcat. There was nothing sexy about the Hornet, unlike the Tomcat with its swept back wing design. Aesthetics aside, the plane just handled better and it was able to take on any plane in the sky, including the Hornet. True, it was the pilot that made the plane, but to former flyers like Loftness, the plane was an extension of the pilot. "That would be a good start, sir."
"We had several veteran F-14 pilots re-training our Hornet pilots in Pensacola during the last few months. . . former RIOs were also called in and, as of now, we have two full squadrons of mixed Navy and Marine pilots. . .I'm going to hand select a few to join your crew."
Vic seemed to be hit by a sudden lightning bolt. Pieces were starting to fall into place and things were now making sense. That's why Rabb was in Pensacola. He was training pilots to fly the F-14. The only problem was that squadron leaders and trainers were rarely sent off to fly at times like these. People like Harm were needed to stay behind and teach their craft to a new crew. Not this time, Vic thought, a malevolent smile appearing on his lips. His plan was devilish at best, but it would end his problems with Mac indefinitely by getting rid of Rabb. "Admiral, have you chosen someone to lead the squadron?"
Admiral Klein stared at the camera in confusion, usually the person to ask that question would be the Captain and the officers around him at the bridge, not the onboard JAG. "Not yet, Commander. . .Did you have someone in mind?"
"Yes sir, Captain Harmon Rabb Junior. . .He was the one that played tag with a dirty nuke to keep it away from the Carrier back in 2002. . . To date he's one of the best pilots around." Vic knew he'd be a shoe in, holding various ship flying records. "Or so I hear." Hell, just that little game of tag with a nuke would be a good reason why Harm should be up there.
"Captain Rabb? Wasn't he involved with JAG Ops? I remember ready something about him in the Navy Times."
"Yes, sir. . .He was appointed to head up JAG in London, however, he stepped down after a few years and is currently on Reserve status. . .He's been training a squadron in San Diego and was also in Pensacola not too long ago."
The Admiral seemed to be slightly perturbed by this. As much as he wanted 'the best,' there were certain stipulations he adhered to. "If he's training the squadron, it would be a bit foolish to use his talents and then have everything go awry, don't you think?" The Admiral was mocking Vukovic, he enjoyed and always used those privileges. "I'll have to think about it. . . The SECNAV also has to approve."
Once again, Vic was trying to play God and unfortunately, this time it would work. See, to Vukovic, the best way to get to your enemy was to take away something they really cared about. With Mac, the one thing that could break her was losing Harm. It was a gamble, but one that he was willing to take. "I'm one hundred percent certain that SECNAV Hewitt will approve."
December 7th, 2010
2015 Local
Mac and Harm's House
San Diego, California
"I hate stairs!" Mac yelled, standing at the bottom of the steps which went up to the second story of their house. She was tired. Exhausted, in fact. Doing this dual job thing between JLSS and playing Harm's emotional wife was getting rather tiresome. Her weary composure wasn't quite in the mood to handle the steps, perhaps the only thing that got her up to the landing was the knowledge that Harm was upstairs and in her current state he'd give her a good massage.
Grinning, she trudged up the rest of the steps and headed into the office. Sure enough, there he was, staring at his laptop's screen while frantically clicking away at the mouse. "Hey, babe." He said with a smile, which was completely wiped off the moment he saw her disheveled look. "That bad a day, huh?" Turning to the side, he got a good grip on a large armchair and pulled it next to him. With a smirk, he patted the seat and beckoned her to join. "C'mere, I'll make it worth your while."
Mac snorted. "It better not be sex, mister. . .At the moment, I can't handle it."
"Even if I do all the work?" He laughed, then stood and helped her remove the drab green jacket and gave her a shoulder to lean onto while she – literally – kicked off her heels.
"Damned things were definitely made by men." She allowed Harm to take her by the hand towards the armchair and then plopped into it with a delighted sigh. "I am so tired, the stairs up here were a challenge that rivaled the Crucible." Harm glanced at her and shook his head in amusement. Marines! They always had some analogy which referred back to boot camp. "What are you working on?" Mac asked, straightening up to look at the screen, the act itself sent a lovely little head rush and, instead of peaking, she decided to settle back into her chair.
Hmmm. Harm scrubbed a hand over his face and took a look at all he'd typed up. "I'm brain storming, actually. . .My client who's after Hughes said something that had me thinking." He trailed off, reached over to the side and pulled Mac's feet onto his lap. His fingers started running circles all over the right places, eliciting a few moans from her which had him breathing rather rapidly. He turned to Mac to find her leaning completely into the chair, eyes closed, with a look of pleasure on her face and a silly little smile. It was doing things to him. "Erm, could you tone those noises those down, please?"
Propping one eye open, she looked at him and chuckled. "Sorry." She remembered a time, way back when, that they always shared things – secrets, stories, back rubs. Back then, Mac had to fight to keep her emotions at bay. She'd sworn to herself that Harmon Rabb Junior was just a friend and not some conquest. That the love she felt for him was a friendly type. Of course, her heart kept saying just the opposite. During those times, all of the moans and groans were the quiet type. Now, she didn't even realize how uninhibited she was around him and him around her. She liked it – a lot. It was cute actually. Sighing, she closed her eyes again as his hands went up her calves. "Sailor, if you go up any higher I'll red light you."
"Just relax." He chuckled, all the while careful not to pass the boundary she set. They were good about respecting the other's boundaries, especially on days when either he or she were a little worse for wear.
"Mmm hmm." True to form, Harm stopped at her calves. Such a boy scout, she thought with a giggle. Peaking again with one eye, she found him engrossed with the computer screen. Miraculously, those fabulous hands of his didn't stop their magic. "Always knew you were good at multitasking. . .What were you saying about your client? You just sorta. . .trailed off."
"Hmmm? Oh! Yes. . .My client said something. . . about the luck of having a couple's therapist under the same shingle with a lawyer who handles divorces."
Mac raised a brow, now that was certainly something, especially if you believed in conspiracy theories. Which, if you were a lawyer, your head was already there. "I did see a divorce lawyer in the building. . .we pass their door when we go to Hughes' office." She thought for a moment, visualizing the path they take from the elevators and down the hall.
"How many offices do you think are in that building?"
"Judging from the size?" She shrugged, mentally calculating. "I say about four offices per floor, five floors to the building, minus the lobby."
"Eighteen, twenty?"
"Sixteen, maybe? Some of the offices are probably larger, like Hughes'. He has two offices, one of them is the reception area." She always found it amusing when high paid lawyers and therapists felt the need to have such a massive office when they only saw a few clients a day. "It might be nothing, but it's kinda interesting that Hughes is just down the hall from a divorce lawyer. . ."
"There's nothing illegal about a therapist and a lawyer suggesting each other's services to their clients, though."
Feeling her second wind, Mac sat up in the chair. "Thing is, it is illegal to give someone else your client's information. . .Patient doctor privilege. . .That alone is an avenue to pursue."
Harm sighed. It would have been an avenue if it was a law case, but it wasn't. "I'm not a lawyer, Mac. . .I'm a private investigator. . .I find out the details and pass them along. . .Although, I will admit that there's something there."
"I want to look into it." At his 'you got to be kidding me' look, she raised her hands in surrender. "Hey, I just want to help. . .and it's interesting. . .Besides, chances are, if the lawyer and Hughes are in cahoots, he's going to tell me anyway."
Well, no one could tell Mac that she wasn't self assured. "Awfully sure of yourself, MacKenzie." Reaching for her, he tugged her up and then positioned her body so that she could sit on his lap. "What makes you think Hughes will tell you anything?"
"Mmmm. . .well." She licked her lower lip slowly, then bit down letting her lips slide between her teeth. Almost immediately, Harm's eyes started darkening with a fiery passion. Mac hated toying with him, but she was trying to make a point. "Sex sells." In the past, the notion of using her as sexual bait seemed preposterous. To Mac, there wasn't anything special about her looks, she was just. . .average looking. Harm though, made her feel womanly, sexy, beautiful. Sometimes it made her feel like she could conquer the world.
Sighing dramatically, Harm arched his head up. "Mac, would you at least kiss me?"
Mac placed a finger on her chin, pretending to think about his proposal. "Yea. . .well. . .why not?" She placed her hands on either side of his face and leaned in. Her lips just barely touched his. "I. Love. You." The words were punctuated between three short kisses. "So much." Never had she felt a rush at telling a man she loved him. With Harm, it was like flying. She sealed his lips with her own taking and giving her feelings with each touch and each caress. When his lips trailed down to her neck, all thoughts of not making love were becoming quite distant. "Take me to bed?"
Sneakily, between kisses, Harm had managed to slip his hands under the right parts of her body, making it easy to stand with Mac in his arms. "I knew you'd see it my way."
