A/N: Chapter 15. Only like . . . I think seven more to go, before I can start writing more. Yeyah.
The Rules of S
To: Sarah Mackenzie (sarah(dot)mackenzie(at)theJAGoffice(dot)com)
From: Harriet Sims (harriet(dot)sims(at)theJAGoffice(dot)com)
Subject: Knock 'em dead
Now, the art of creating the infamous catch is a dream that women have long since perfected over the ages, and now it is my turn as the teacher. I am obligated to divulge the cardinal rules of boyfriend stealing. And knowing you, Mac, you would not like me to title said talent as such, so therefore we'll just call it The Rules of S. And they are as following:
Sight – you must never release yourself from his vision unless impossible to part ways. Do not come within close proximity, stray. Do not be afraid to communicate with others. It is better if you do so. Most important rule: Never let HIM out of your eye sight. One of the most brilliant and intimate forms of communication is eyesight. Never take it for granted.
Speech – one of the key elements to getting your man is inside jokes, private things that only you and him know. It creates a bond that cannot be broken by any clothing-named hussy. Converse amongst yourselves, use that great golden tongue of yours, relive your personal history – it's the greatest weapon you have.
Sense – if you have it, USE IT! Make the call on what to do. Be perceived as witty, but not so exceptionally smart that you make your man feel inferior. Be charming and cunning, and keep your wits about you!
Skin – when wearing t-shirts or tank tops, keep them low enough to just meet belt level. Stretch, bend, twist in any which way in front of your target, exposing a healthy amount of waist. Make an art form out of what would usually be a normal task
Seduction – use all of the above. Be there, but stray. Always available, but hard to get. Tempt, charm, but don't make the first step. Let HIM come to YOU.
And those, my friend, are The Rules of S.
Harriet
To: Harriet Sims (harriet(dot)sims(at)theJAGoffice(dot)com)
From: Sarah Mackenzie (sarah(dot)mackenzie(at)theJAGoffice(dot)com)
Re: Knock 'em dead
Firstissue - Harriet, you scare me.Secondissue -I don't even GET it! What am I supposed to do? How the hell am I supposed to lure him away from Jean? You've given me nothing here! Nothing!
To: Sarah Mackenzie (sarah(dot)mackenzie(at)theJAGoffice(dot)com)
From: Harriet Sims (harriet(dot)sims(at)theJAGoffice(dot)com)
Re: Knock 'em dead
Mac, if it's one thing that I've learned through The Rules of S is that IT TAKES TIME. Start with small things like . . . in the conference after lunch, sit next to Harm. You haven't sat next to him once all conference.
Harriet
To: Harriet Sims (harriet(dot)sims(at)theJAGoffice(dot)com)
From: Sarah Mackenzie (sarah(dot)mackenzie(at)theJAGoffice(dot)com)
Re: Knock 'em dead
And what will sitting next to him prove?
Mac
To: Sarah Mackenzie (sarah(dot)mackenzie(at)theJAGoffice(dot)com)
From: Harriet Sims (harriet(dot)sims(at)theJAGoffice(dot)com)
Re: Knock 'em dead
Mac, it's not about PROVING anything. Take notes, brush your arm against his, ask if you can borrow a pencil – no, nix that – WHISPER in his ear, if you can borrow a pencil. Intimate gestures that suggest a little more than friendship, but that is not enough to neither confirm nor deny.
Harriet
To: Harriet Sims (harriet(dot)sims(at)theJAGoffice(dot)com)
From: Sarah Mackenzie (sarah(dot)mackenzie(at)theJAGoffice(dot)com)
Re: Knock 'em dead
Harriet, that'll never work! I have touched his arm a million times, I've probably borrowed as many pencils from him as t-shirts – I need a different plan! What are my other options?
Mac
To: Sarah Mackenzie (sarah(dot)mackenzie(at)theJAGoffice(dot)com)
From: Harriet Sims (harriet(dot)sims(at)theJAGoffice(dot)com)
Re: Knock 'em dead
You tell him that you're truly madly deeply in love with him.
Harriet
To: Harriet Sims (harriet(dot)sims(at)theJAGoffice(dot)com)
From: Sarah Mackenzie (sarah(dot)mackenzie(at)theJAGoffice(dot)com)
Re: Knock 'em dead
. . . So . . . Rules of S, huh?
To: Sarah Mackenzie (sarah(dot)mackenzie(at)theJAGoffice(dot)com)
From: Harriet Sims (harriet(dot)sims(at)theJAGoffice(dot)com)
Re: Knock 'em dead
Yep.
To: Bud Roberts (bud(dot)roberts(at)theJAGoffice(dot)com), Sturgis Turner (sturgis(dot)turner(at)theJAGoffice(dot)com)
From: Harmon Rabb (harmon(dot)rabb(at)theJAGoffice(dot)com)
Re: Busted
Look at the Admiral – he's staring right at Mac who's undoubtedly typing away to Harriet on her blackberry. THE GIRLS ARE GETTING BUSTED!
Harm
To: Harmon Rabb (harmon(dot)rabb(at)theJAGoffice(dot)com), Sarah Mackenzie (sarah(dot)mackenzie(at)theJAGoffice(dot)com)
From: Admiral AJ Chegwidden (aj(dot)chegwidden(at)theJAGoffice(dot)com)
Subject: seminars
Well, Colonel and Captain,
Seeing as you have found it so obviously below your fountain of knowledge to submerge yourselves in topics of supposed utter boredom that your fellow JAG officers are now engaging, I am pleased to announce that due to your confidence in each other and yourselves, you two will now be heading the JAG Partnership Building Program. The first meeting of the PBP is tonight at seven o'clock in Courtroom number 4.
You will be leading your class through a number of exercises as suggested in the pamphlet that will be delivered to you at the end of this seminar. I suggest that you two familiarize yourselves with the work that is to be completed at the end of this class, where you will be competing with other classes of the PBP.
Best of luck,
Retired Admiral AJ Chegwidden
P.S: NOW PAY ATTENTION!
To: Harmon Rabb (harmon(dot)rabb(at)theJAGoffice(dot)com)
From: Sturgis Turner (sturgis(dot)turner(at)theJAGoffice(dot)com)
Subject: good job
Nice going, Hammer. GIRLS ARE GETTING BUSTED!
To: Sturgis Turner (sturgis(dot)turner(at)theJAGoffice(dot)com)
From: Harmon Rabb (harmon(dot)rabb(at)theJAGoffice(dot)com)
Re: good job
Shut up.
1739
Subway (A/N: as in, the restaurant – for all of you who don't know what Subway is)
Harm's POV
"So what did you want to talk to me about?" I asked Bud as we sit down in one of those cramped little yellow booths, with subs a foot long, mine spurting out vegetables and Bud a mixture of ham and cucumber.
"Sir . . ." Bud trails, looking almost anxiously from side to side as though the old lady treating her four-year old grandson to a sandwich is a possible eavesdropper. "Sir, I think Harriet might be pregnant."
My jaw hangs open in mid-chew, making for a slightly distasteful picture. "You THINK?"
"Well, I don't know!" Bud defended. "She hasn't said anything – but she didn't have coffee with breakfast this morning, she had tea, AND she was sick last night!"
"Pardon me, Bud," I said, leaning forward in my chair a little, "but isn't it called MORNING sickness, not NIGHT sickness?"
"Harriet's always had her morning sickness at night," Bud muttered faintly. "Sir, what am I going to do with a fifth?"
I shrugged my shoulders. "You'll become the Huxtables." Bud stared at me. "You know . . ." I slowly elaborated. "Like from the Cosby show?"
"And why isn't she telling me?" Bud ploughed on, deaf to my last comment. "Don't we have a trusting relationship? You'd think she would tell me if I was about to become a father again!"
"Hey, Bud!" I hollered over the younger man's excitable rant. "Here's a thought: YOU DON'T KNOW SHE'S PREGNANT!"
By now we're attracting a little attention, as you can probably imagine. Bud stared at me and then seemed to deflate slightly. "I just don't want things to be . . . you know, I want things to be good between Harriet and I."
I exhaled slightly. "They are, Bud. If she's pregnant, then she's waiting for the right moment to tell you. And if she's not, then you're worrying yourself over nothing."
Bud looked up at me with imploring eyes. "Do you think you could talk to her, sir?"
I sighed. "Come on, Bud, she's your wife . . . besides," I added quickly, "I've got to go do that Partnership Program with Mac."
"You have any idea what you've got to do?" Bud asked me.
I sighed, "Mac's got the pamphlet. But it doesn't sound TOO bad . . ."
Same Time
Deli across the street
Mac's POV
"Oh. My. God," I punctuate every word with a slap of my hand. Harriet stares at me from across the table, a fat greasy burger already making its way into her mouth.
She looked over at me in concern, "what does it say you have to do?"
"Everything," I muttered. "Quizzes, partnership stances, you know those stupid things where one person has to fall backwards and the other has to catch them? That sort of stuff!"
"It doesn't sound that bad," Harriet replied frowning.
"Harriet, considering Harm and I can't investigate one case without arguing, I doubt we'll be able to –" my eyes flip down to an open page and read "build a fort in less than a minute using the supplies listed below . . ." I roll my eyes. "Good god."
"Look at this in the positive," Harriet said, taking a handful of my fries after finishing hers. "You get to spend more time with Harm."
"Leading a bunch of kids through activities we used to do when we were twelve," I argued. "And we'll be doing this every night for the rest of the time we're here. We'll never get any alone time."
Harriet sighed, squeezing out a whole bottle of ketchup onto her onion rings (ew, gross), "oh well, Mac. You'll just have to flash your charm then. Maybe go out for dinner after your classes." Harriet shrugged, "Oh, I'm not feeling too good."
"Well, no offense, Harriet," I replied, looking on in concern as Harriet put her hand to her stomach. "But you did just now eat rather a lot."
"I know," Harriet replied with the look of someone completely nauseated. "I think I'm having cravings."
"Cravings?"
Harriet rolled her eyes. "You know . . ." her voice dropped low. "Pregnancy cravings."
I shot up, "Harriet!" I exclaimed.
"Shh!" She shot me a panicked look while desperately trying to dampen my rising voice.
"I thought you didn't know yet!" I whispered. I cast a look down at her stomach, "is it confirmed?"
"Not yet," Harriet whispered in return, relieved that I had lowered my voice. "There've been some . . . things standing in the way."
"What kind of things?" I interrogated, pushing away my fries as though suddenly not hungry.
"Things like . . . I haven't taken the test yet," Harriet replied guiltily. I cast her a panicked look. "Oh, it's not as bad as it seems, okay? There was no sense in taking one until I felt sure there was a . . . you know, possibility."
"Well, is there a possibility?" I asked through gritted teeth.
Harriet was silent for a moment, and then slowly nodded.
"Have you told Bud yet?"
Harriet shrugged, "there's no use telling him only a suspicion!"
"Harriet, that's his CHILD you might be carrying!" I whisper yelled. "You don't think he has a right to know?"
"Of course he has a right to know," Harriet's whisper overpowered mine. "I'm waiting for the right moment!"
"When?" I cried incredulously. "When the kid pops out?"
"Mac," Harriet stretched in desperation. "I need to be sure first!"
"Then take the test."
"Now?"
"Yes, now!"
Harriet's exasperation was clear. "Mac, we don't have a test!"
"Then we'll get one!"
"Now?"
"Yes now!"
"Mac," Harriet stretches. "It's lucky Bud and I got a baby sitter on such short notice – and her hours expire in approximately twenty-five minutes."
"For god's sake, she's not a parking meter," I replied rolling my eyes. "And anyways, how long does it take to pee on a stick?"
"That's not the point . . ." Harriet trailed, smiling at me wild-eyed. "Look, I'll pee on the damn stick later."
"Tonight!"
"I can't."
I flashed her an incredulous look. "Why not?"
Harriet stared at me. "Well, I suppose I could, but you have that Partnership Yada Yada Yada thing tonight with Harm. Don't you want to be there to find out?"
"That shouldn't stop you!" I ploughed on. "Just . . . email me with the findings!"
"What findings?"
Harriet and I whipped around to see Harm and Bud behind us, having just entered the deli. For one minute, I'm completely panic stricken, but the next second turns over into a cool passive response. "You know . . . the seminar . . ."
Smooth, Mackenzie.
Harm grinned at me. "I wasn't aware you were paying attention to it."
I mockingly glared at him. "And how would you know? It's not like you were either."
"Honey, why don't we go?" Bud asked, extending a hand to Harriet who promptly took it.
"We'll see you guys . . . later?" Harriet asked, looking at her watch. "You have to go prepare for that . . . class, right?"
"Yeah," Harm replied shortly. "Fun fun fun."
"Okay, well – see you," Harriet said, flashing me a look that very clearly said 'Take Advantage over your non Pants filled time together and make your move'. I responded with a 'How very subtle of you' look.
"So . . ." Harm trailed as Bud and Harriet disappeared along the street. "Do you want to head back to my place?" I stared at him. "You know," he muttered quickly, "to get a good look at that pamphlet. We should kind of know what we're teaching before we actually start . . ." Harm fumbles with his words.
"Teaching?" I suggested, one eyebrow raised.
Harm flashed me an annoyed frown which was almost immediately replaced with the Flyboy grin. "Smart aleck."
"Yeah, every so often I get this flash of your personality," I grinned back at him, putting my hand to my forehead in mock temperature-checking. "Oh, cruel God."
"Funny," Harm replied sarcastically, grasping my arm and pulling me across the street as we made a break through a traffic light that was just about to change. Just as I thought he was about to let go of my hand he pulled me up to an apartment building situated right at the corner of the street. I looked up at it. It was definitely in better condition than his old place.
"What floor?" I asked breezily as he typed in a code to get into the building. The door opened.
"Top," Harm replied as we filed into the elevator. "Took me forever to get it, though."
"Oh yeah?"
Harm nodded. "Uh huh. I had to outbid like five people."
The elevator door opened and Harm led me down a hallway to room 24, opening up the door with his key. "Welcome to my humble abode," he grinned and opened the door.
I smiled as I entered the room. "Harm, this is really beautiful."
"I hoped you'd think so," Harm said, throwing his jacket on the coat hanger and motioning for me to do the same. "Want the grand tour?"
"I'd love it," I replied, as Harm led me into the living room. Somewhere at the back of my mind Harriet's Rules of S played back in my head. Sight – I sighed as I watched him bend over to movie the coffee table a little closer to the couch, catching a great view of his rear end. Oh yeah, definitely got sight covered . . . Speech – conversation was going pretty well. I hadn't said anything stupid or embarrassing yet. Sense – I had that, didn't I? Skin – my t-shirt was short, and without my jacket I had exposed an albeit very fine line of flesh. Seduction - . . . working on it.
"This is the living room," Harm replied, gesturing towards the room that actually had a TV!
"I'm impressed," I said, smiling at him. "You've gone all out and got surround sound on top of buying yourself a TV."
"What can I say?" Harm shrugged. "Without my friends around suddenly evenings became a lot more dull and CSI started seeming a lot more appealing."
"CSI, eh?" I asked, as we moved onto the kitchen. "Nick's hot."
Harm winced. "Ew, Mac . . ."
"What?" I trailed innocently. "He is . . ."
"I'm not going there with you," Harm warded me off grinning.
"Very nice," I said quickly as Harm motioned to the kitchen. "But why can't we go there?"
"Because it's weird," Harm replied stiffly. "I mean, how would you like it if I started telling you about the women I thought were hot?"
"Who DO you think is hot?" I challenged, ignoring his question.
"Red light."
"Oh come on," I protested. "We're passed the green light, yellow light, red light stage!"
"Are we?" Harm's question hangs in the air.
"I can take anything you dish out," I said, walking forward so I was close and in front of him. "Shoot."
Harm cocks up his eyebrow. "YOU can take anything I dish out?"
An annoyed expression overtook my features. "You don't think I can?"
"Nah," Harm replied, grinning at me lazily as he flopped down onto a couch and I took the seat across from him – the house tour momentarily forgotten. "I'm afraid I'd make you blush. And you know what they say about Marine's blushing." Harm shook his head. "Not a pretty thing."
My eyebrow soars up to the sky. "You think you can make me blush?"
"I'm certain I can make you blush."
I scoff at him. "I have more chance of making YOU blush than you do ME."
Harm stands up. "Alright, you're on."
He extends a hand and I shake it firmly. "What does the loser have to do?"
Harm paused thoughtfully. "The winner . . . tells the loser what to do. One thing – " He winked at me. "All out."
"All out," I agreed, as I opened up the pamphlet. There was a moment of stifling silence that fell between us, daring the other to say something and then –
"So what does that pamphlet actually say we have to do?" Harm asked, leaning over to catch a glimpse of the text. I edged over next to him, showing him the page.
"Lots of stuff," I replied. "Getting to know your partner, familiarizing styles, trust games, compatibility, team work exercises." I rolled my eyes. "What do you want to start off with?"
Harm frowned. "No quizzes. Not yet. They haven't even been assigned partners yet."
I nodded, "yeah, give them a few days to get to know each other before we bring out those questions."
"So what do you think?" Harm asked. "Trust games?"
I shrugged my shoulders. "They sound like the easiest."
Harm nodded, suddenly checking his watch. "You know, if we want to have everything set up in the courtroom we should probably get going. You know, be a little early."
I checked my watch, and then nodded. "You're right. Move the benches and chairs out of the way to give us a clear floor."
Harm grabbed his coat while putting mine over my shoulders in a very gentlemanly like way. "Alright, let's get moving."
We moved quickly along the streets, minimal talking but a lot of smiling. I'm suddenly struck by how . . . normal this feels. You know, the friendly banter, the challenges, the general closeness. Do I really want to risk this for a slim shot at intimacy? I immediately push the thought to the back of my mind. This is no time to get cold feet.
"Here we are," Harm said slowly, jogging me out of my reverie. I looked around as he led me into a large rather circular room. It was empty, with white light slowly creeping in through the bare windows, shining upon unused chairs and of course – the bench. "Kinda creepy in the evening, huh?"
"It's not that dark," I rebutted, though now that Harm had mentioned it, the sky was beginning to deepen in color, faint traces of moon slightly detectable against the fading light form the sun. I shivered a little. "Where's the light switch?"
Harm grinned at me from across the room. "I thought it wasn't that dark."
"I can't read," I said in defense, getting up and walking near the door. "Now where is it?"
"Further along," Harm replied lazily, beginning to move the chairs to the side of the room. "Open the door and the switch is out beside it in the hall."
I opened the door, stepping into the now dark hall. How come it wasn't dark when we came through it? Because Harm had turned on the lights then.
Idiot, I chided myself as I looked around the hallway, almost eerily dark with only slight rays of natural light seeping in from the corners. You're not afraid of the dark. Just find the damn switch.
I groped around, my hands sliding against the wall. Honestly, it's not that dark – you can see! Why the hell is my own personal voice always against me? I ran my hand along the edge near the door and then –
"BOO!"
I screamed as a pair of strong hands wrapped themselves around my waist. I twisted around ready to strike and then my pounding heart suddenly relented. "Harm!" I screamed hoarsely, untangling myself from his awkward embrace. "What the hell!"
"I got you scared," Harm grinned, finding the switch easily and turning on the courtroom lights. "And that doesn't happen every day."
"That's because you're not suicidal every day," I snarled in return. "That wasn't funny."
"I don't know about that," Harm replied, picking up one side of the table and motioning for me to pick up the other. "Seeing you jump when I held you was pretty entertaining."
"You're twisted," I said, rolling my eyes. "And anyways, I wasn't scared."
Harm's face displays mild shock. "You were so scared."
"Was not," I replied breezily, setting the table down by the side and picking up another chair. "Besides, the challenge was to get me to blush – not get me scared."
Harm shrugged. "Call it a bonus."
As the chairs were cleared away to reveal a large circular floor I sighed, flopping myself down on the ground. "Okay, what exercises are we going to start off with?"
"Weren't we going to do those trust activities?" Harm asked, lying down beside me.
"Well, yeah," I replied. "But we'll probably have to demonstrate, and we should pick out which ones we're doing first."
"Okay . . ." Harm trailed, picking up the pamphlet and scrolling down the list. "Um, we can always do that – one person falls and the other catches one."
"This is a rather hard floor for someone to hit their head on," I replied. "You know, if they fall."
"No one will fall," Harm replied. "Besides, these are future members of the Judge Advocate General Corp. They should toughen up a little."
"Oh god, please do not turn this into a military drill," I said, rolling my eyes. "Okay, how about this – the partner support thingy?"
"What is that?" Harm asked, flipping to the back where they gave the definition. "Oh, okay – this is really easy. We can start off with it."
"What do you do?"
"Um, okay, one person lies on the floor like . . . well, I'm doing," Harm motioned to himself. "And then I put my feet up vertically, and I balance my partner."
I looked at Harm incredulously. "That's it?"
"Yup," Harm said shortly. "Apparently it gives one a feeling of support and assistance, the creation of the bondage of a team. Or so the pamphlet says."
"Well we could do that," I replied rolling my eyes.
"And we'll have to," Harm agreed, "you know – as an example."
"Right," I agreed, "I mean, it's not as if it's hard."
"And sure, these exercises are meant for younger people . . ."
"Not that we're not young."
"Of course, and the fact that we've never really done this . . ."
"Not that there's any reason it should be hard . . ."
We stared at each other.
"Wanna give it a practice run?" I asked weakly.
"Yeah, sure," Harm replied, lying flatter on his back. "Okay, get on."
I raised my eyebrow as laid my stomach flat onto his feet, reaching my hands out to grab Harm's to straighten myself out. "Kinky."
"Red light, Colonel," Harm grinned from below me.
"I thought we agreed not to use those any more," I muttered, shifting a little so that Harm's feet were now holding my waste as our hands looped to keep me from falling.
"Yeah, well . . ." Harm began but I was interrupted by the ring from my blackberry.
I flashed him an apologetic look, "one sec."
"Wait, Mac, you're not going to . . ." Harm began, but I was already removing my blackberry from my jean pocket, still balancing myself on Harm's legs, one arm still holding onto his.
"Oh, it's from Harriet," I replied faintly, opening up the email.
"What does it say?" Harm asked, shifting a little and causing me to shake.
"It says . . ." I replied scrolling down the email . . . and then my mouth dropped open. "She's pregnant!"
CRASH!
I fell on top of Harm as his legs came tumbling down from the shock of it all. My hands flew out to stop myself from hitting the floor but instead managed to wind themselves around Harm's shoulders. Our head banged together sharply and painfully. Harm turned to twist me off him but instead managed to catch my legs within his and then –
The door opened and students began filling in. I looked up to see at least twenty pairs of eyes zoning in on Harm and I laying in a tangled heap on the floor, limbs locked to one another – blackberry and pamphlet be damned. Harm grinned guiltily as he efficiently untangled himself from my body. "Well . . . welcome to the JAG Partnership Building Program, kids."
A/N: Damn. I can't think of anything for this pole . . . ooh wait, nevermind. VOTE! Roberts child: girl or boy? Ooooohh. lol