A/N: Hey, guys. Long time no see. A few reviews kind of jogged me out of my updating coma. I've got to say. I've had like ... what ... seven reviews in the last week? After not updating for months? Is there some kind of forum you guys go to to decide which authors need updating alarm clocks? Because if so, link me.
A Sin of Anguish
To: Harriet Sims (ih8barney(at)hotmail(dot)com)
From: Sarah Mackenzie (sarah(dot)mackenzie(at)theJAGoffice(dot)com)
Subject: S'all fine
Hey,
I'm just emailing you to inform you everything's fine. Your children are bathed, clothed, fed, healthy, and definitely asleep. First day was a breeze. Had a blast. Hope you and Bud are doing well.
Mac
To: Sarah Mackenzie (sarah(dot)mackenzie(at)theJAGoffice(dot)com)
From: Harriet Sims (ih8barney(at)hotmail(dot)com)
Re: S'all fine
Hi,
Okay, that's good. I got a little worried when you hadn't emailed me by eight, but I'm sure you and Harm have it all under control.
Harriet
To: Harriet Sims (ih8barney(at)hotmail(dot)com)
From: Sarah Mackenzie (sarah(dot)mackenzie(at)theJAGoffice(dot)com)
Subject: ALL IS NOT FINE
Oh my god, I can not BELIEVE you. Harriet the LIE DETECTOR Sims did not pick up on the fact that I just lied through my teeth! All is NOT fine here, for your information. I am NOT okay. The first day was NOT a breeze. It was anything BUT it. I did NOT have a blast, and I REALLY NEED YOU HERE. WHERE ON EARTH ARE YOU?
Mac
To: Sarah Mackenzie (sarah(dot)mackenzie(at)theJAGoffice(dot)com)
From: Harriet Sims (ih8barney(at)hotmail(dot)com)
Re: ALL IS NOT FINE
Okay, Jesus, BREATHE. Remember how we talked about that? Well, it's not just a cliché, Mac. It does actually work from time to time. Now what's wrong? Is AJ hurt? Jimmy? Mitch? Nikki? Mac, you're scaring me here. What's wrong? Tell me what happened!
Harriet
To: Harriet Sims (ih8barney(at)hotmail(dot)com)
From: Sarah Mackenzie (sarah(dot)mackenzie(at)theJAGoffice(dot)com)
Re: ALL IS NOT FINE
You are such a hypocrite. You tell me to breathe and you practically had a verbal seizure. Well, it's none of the kids. The only part of my first message that was true is the part about them being bathed and clothed and asleep (though we did have this rather funny incident with Nikki . . . heheh, actually, you probably won't find it that funny. Best we skip over that . . .)
Anyways, I am DYING here, Harriet! It's Harm. You'll never believe what happened to us today. Oh god, it was cruel. It was embarrassing. It was the max of both worlds. And I'm not talking about the Nikki thing. Oh, Harriet, how am I supposed to face him again? I can't even LOOK him in the freaking eye. Right now I'm currently hiding out in the coat closet. Yes, that is how bad it is. I AM IN A CLOSET.
Mac
To: Sarah Mackenzie (sarah(dot)mackenzie(at)theJAGoffice(dot)com)
From: Harriet Sims (ih8barney(at)hotmail(dot)com)
Re: ALL IS NOT FINE
Uh huh. Well that's nice. You can tell me about it in the morning.
Harriet
To: Harriet Sims (ih8barney(at)hotmail(dot)com)
From: Sarah Mackenzie (sarah(dot)mackenzie(at)theJAGoffice(dot)com)
Re: ALL IS NOT FINE
HARRIET! You are soooooooooo not ditching me like this. Whatever happened to "I'll be there for you when you need me, Mac" or "don't worry, Mac, you can talk to me" or "it's going to be fine, Mac. If you have any troubles, e-mail me or call me or etc."? What happened to that? Harriet, I am having a CRISIS here! And you're IGNORING me. What in the WORLD could you be doing that is more important than the total and complete condemnation of my life as I know it?
Mac
To: Sarah Mackenzie (sarah(dot)mackenzie(at)theJAGoffice(dot)com)
From: Harriet Sims (ih8barney(at)hotmail(dot)com)
Re: ALL IS NOT FINE
Ohhhhhh, Mac, you have NO idea what you're interrupting. Think … honeymoon in London.
Harriet
To: Harriet Sims (ih8barney(at)hotmail(dot)com)
From: Sarah Mackenzie (sarah(dot)mackenzie(at)theJAGoffice(dot)com)
Re: ALL IS NOT FINE
Well consider this an act of God! The last thing you need is to impregnate yourself again. And besides, THIS IS SO MUCH MORE IMPORTANT. Do you hear me, Harriet? Do you hear the alarm in my voice? You yourself always said I had a tendency to downplay rather key issues in my life. THIS IS NO FREAKING FALSE ALARM: My life is OVER, Harriet, and here you are doing it with your husband while I sit in a smelly coat closet, my social life crumbling to dust around me!
Mac
To: Sarah Mackenzie (sarah(dot)mackenzie(at)theJAGoffice(dot)com)
From: Harriet Sims (ih8barney(at)hotmail(dot)com)
Re: ALL IS NOT FINE
Ughhhhhhh, well, I'm sure it'll please you to know you've officially ruined the mood. And by the way, I am pregnant. I can not further impregnate myself, thank you very much. Now what's the fuss?
Harriet
To: Harriet Sims (ih8barney(at)hotmail(dot)com)
From: Sarah Mackenzie (sarah(dot)mackenzie(at)theJAGoffice(dot)com)
Re: ALL IS NOT FINE
Now do you see? I am so out of my mind over this I forgot you were pregnant (oh yeah, and how's that going? Now that we're on the topic and everything). Oh god, I can't breathe, I can't breathe . . . these moldy old jackets are not helping either . . . Oh lord, they stink . . . they stink . . . I'm going to die in this closet.
Mac
To: Sarah Mackenzie (sarah(dot)mackenzie(at)theJAGoffice(dot)com)
From: Harriet Sims (ih8barney(at)hotmail(dot)com)
Re: ALL IS NOT FINE
GET OUT OF THE CLOSET, you stupid girl. God, you're reminding me more of Pants every second we spend talking. And the pregnancy is going fine, nothing much has changed since ... oh, nine o'clock this morning. Now, again, WHAT'S THE PROBLEM? (Sorry for shouting, if I was next to you right now I'd be slapping you. Hopefully the capslock has the same effect)
Harriet
To: Harriet Sims (ih8barney(at)hotmail(dot)com)
From: Sarah Mackenzie (sarah(dot)mackenzie(at)theJAGoffice(dot)com)
Re: ALL IS NOT FINE
You're cruel, you know? Cruel and unusual. Anyways . . . oh god, where do I begin? Hmm, okay, it started right after we found Nikki. No actually, it's better to start after dinner. That's when things really started happening. And besides, I think if I tell everything from the raw beginning I'll pass out from this closet smell before I make it halfway through. Anyways . . .
It was Jimmy who started to fuss first. At dinner, I mean. Harm had made spaghetti while I entertained the kids. To be fair, I think Harm got the harder job. Though certainly less noisy, he made dinner for six (true, the twins' dinners together still wouldn't amount to a one person's portion – but you're always on my case about how "they're individual people" … whatever) while I parked AJ and Jimmy in front of the television, turned on the Cartoon Network, and rocked Nikki and Mitch 'til they fell asleep. Everything was going smoothly until Jimmy kicked up a fuss midway through dinner.
He doesn't like spaghetti. Why didn't you tell me that? Or well, maybe he does. Maybe he just likes throwing it better. Either way, the latter is most definitely true. He picks up a very large meatball, squishes it in his fingers (it was then I should have seen what was going to happen, but what can I say, Harriet? I am just not good with kids) and he flung it at AJ. And let me tell you, you've got an expert marksman on your hands. It hits AJ square on the nose, and tomato sauce dribbles down his chin.
In AJ's defense, he did not throw anything back ... at first. But the twins were so encouraged by their older brother's messy antics they picked up their spaghetti and began to throw. Oh, AJ was having a riot. I grabbed Jimmy by his hands and in desperate attempts to ward off the onslaught of spaghetti but it was a classic case of monkey-see-monkey-do.
"Ghetti! Ghetti! Ghhheeeetttttiiii!" Mitch was hollering at the top of his lungs. He flung spaghetti up in the air, laughing shrilly as a split second later the wet noodles came tumbling back down on top of him.
"No, Mitchell, no!" Harm admonished, picking up the one-year old from his high chair, cutting him off the spaghetti-circle. "No!" he repeated sternly in desperate hopes that Mitch would understand.
Mitchell laughed.
"Maaaccccc," he moaned. I had no sympathy for him. I had Nikki planted firmly in one arm, and Jimmy by the waist in the other. Jimmy was hollering bloody murder. "It's okay, Jimmy," Harm did his best to console the three year old. "Hey, Jimbo, turn that frown upside down."
I rolled my eyes, "you actually think that's going to work?"
Harm scowled at me, "you got a better idea, Einstein?"
No. "Yes."
"And that is . . .?" Harm prompted, flipping Mitch up onto his shoulder as Mitchell screamed in pure delight.
Yes, and that is . . .? "We chain him to his chair and spoon feed him."
Harm rolled his eyes. "Oh yeah, that's much better. These kids will leave here ranting about child abuse."
"He's three, Harm," I replied bluntly. "He has no CLUE what abuse is."
"I'm hungry," Jimmy piped up smiling. Harm and I just glared at him.
"Hungy, hungy, hungy!" Nikki cooed.
"Of course they're hungy hungy hungy," Harm snarled, putting Mitchell back in his little seat (well away from whatever spaghetti remained). "They throw all their food and then they're hungy."
I deposited Jimmy and Nikki into their seats much the same way Harm had done with Mitch and then joined Harm in the kitchen in a desperate search for food. I opened up the cupboards. "Well, you've got bread and peanut butter. We could make sandwiches."
Harm perked up at this comment. "Hey kids, what about sandwiches?"
Jimmy made a face. Mitch and Nikki were absolutely clueless as to what sandwiches were. I turned back to Harm. "The last thing we need is them throwing sandwiches around," I said practically.
"Probably less messy than spaghetti," Harm muttered under his breath. He opened his next cupboard. "Hey, I've got soup!" He called joyfully. "How do you like that, Jimmy? Soup?"
Jimmy stuck out his tongue.
"Soup makes Jimmy barf," AJ supplied us factually. "Mom NEVER gives Jimmy soup."
"All kinds of soup?" Harm asked weakly. AJ nodded. Harm sighed in distress.
"Well, what DOES Jimmy like to eat?" I asked AJ who was still eating his spaghetti, he being the only one of the formidable four that hadn't thrown their food.
AJ thought long and hard before answering. "He likes caviar."
Harm was amazed. "That?" he asked, pointing a finger at AJ who sat in his chair licking his fingers. "The meat-ball-chucker likes caviar?"
AJ nodded. "Well, don't all three year olds?" I joked. Harm glared at me.
"Does he like ANYTHING else?" desperation seeps into Harm's voice, and then in a softer and quieter tone. "Anything vegetarian?"
I snorted loudly. If any family was the typical red blood carnivorous American family, it was the Roberts. I knelt down, picking up little Jimmy but careful to keep him at a distance – he was still covered in spaghetti sauce. "Is there anything you'd like for supper, James?" I asked to the three year old.
Jimmy paused a very long moment before answer with a nod. "McDonalds!"
Uh huh. Of course, you've got a fussy three year old so what do you give him? Burgers and fries. And not just any kind of burgers and fries. The ones that come with the ten cent piece of crap that every kid dies for. I turn to Harm with a satanically angelic smile on my face (yeah, an oxymoronic description – so sue me), "So, burger boy . . ." I drawl. "Are you going out, or should I?"
Harm cast me an annoyed frown. I know it made him disturbingly nauseous whenever he walked into some sort of greasy fast food join, but I also knew he didn't like me running around a city I didn't know at night by myself. As it turns out, the later reason won. "I'll go," he grumbled, grabbing his car keys off the counter top.
"Okay," I said agreeably. "Me and the boys'll just stay and clean up, I guess."
Harm sighed, "Okay. But if I'm not back in fifteen minutes, call 911." He shot me a pointed stare. "I probably fainted the moment I stepped into that grease house."
I rolled my eyes. "You know, there is such a thing as a drive through."
"Ngh."
He left the apartment. I turned back to Jimmy who was grinning at me, his fingers once again in the spaghetti sauce. I sighed, "Okay, Jimbo," I said, adapting Harm's nickname for Jimmy, "how about you go into the bathroom and take off your clothes while I run a bath, okay?"
Jimmy nodded and scrambled over to the bathroom leaving a trail of dripping tomato sauce in his wake. I sighed and picked up the twins who gurgled happily within my arms. AJ just kind of sat there, a pool of tomato sauce encircling his body but not a spot on his clothes. I'd ask how he managed that, but as I was constantly reminded every time I looked into those sky blue eyes of his – he IS your son, Harriet. And you are possibly the neatest, tidiest, most organized person I have ever met.
Anyways, the way I figured it – if I got the three of them into the tub, I could give them a quick scrub and get them into some fresh clothes before Harm arrived. I mean, the twins were certainly too big to be washed in the sink, but all three of them could fit into Harm's tub. I guessed it would take approximately ten minutes. Oh how very very wrong I was. It is now more than ever I am so deeply in awe of you, Harriet. You have the outstanding capability to wash your children AND email me at the same time. I couldn't do it if I had a thousand dollar incentive.
Well, I'd give you the blow by blow of their bath episode but I figure you can already pretty much guess how it went. I struggled to get all three in the tub, and by the time I did they splashed and splashed and splashed. Yes, Harriet, I suppose you are still in befuddlement over my angst at the beginning of these emails. Just wait, it is actually quite un-kid-related, but it is their fault. Not that I'm trying to place blame or anything. Kids will be kids, I know that. And James is three years old. But why can't life just give me a break?
Anyways . . . fastforward to basically the end of bath time . . .
"Aunt Mac?" Jimmy asked innocently, smiling at me as I toweled him dry on the bath mat. I had his rocket ship pyjamas in one hand and a dark green towel in the other. His hair is so short but it still takes a lot of work to dry it. "Aunt Mac, I'm hungry."
"Well, Harm's getting McDonalds for you, sweetie," I said affectionately and helped him struggle with his sleeping shirt (Elmo in an astronaut costume on the stomach – that's so cute). "Now, could you do me a favor and go get Nikki's and Mitch's pyjamas? I left them on top of the bed in your room."
"Okay," Jimmy said agreeably and scampered off. I turned back to the twins who were still joyfully splashing around in the bathtub. Though Nikki's hair was longer than Mitchell's, Mitch's was still long for a boy's. Maybe not a baby boy, babies could get away with anything, but Mitch's long blonde hair fell almost shag-like over his eyes. Nikki's was a fraction of an inch longer, but had a very feminine curl to it resulting in easy recognition of her gender. However, splashing in a large porcelain water-filled pot, both looked rather alike if not identical. Except, of course, for the very obvious difference.
"Okay, Mitchy," I took your pet name for him, Harriet. I scooped the toddler into my arms and struggled with him as he began to kick like a fish. I dabbed him all over with the towel as Jimmy walked in with their pyjamas.
"Here you go," he said dutifully and placed them on the counter for me. I thanked him and he departed, still damp but tomato-sauce-free.
"Okay guys," I said cheerfully as the twins were dried off. "You're done."
"Hey, I didn't know it was bath time," a voice interrupted me from the doorway. I swear, I'm losing my touch, Harriet. Before I could just sense it every time he came into the room. But now . . . I'm just so haywire. Is there a cure for this? I want to sense him again!
"Well, I just thought since you were getting the food, the least I could do was clean them," I said practically as the twins both scrambled off down the hall, tripping over their own feet as they did so. I kept one eye on them and the other on Harm. "So, you got the burgers?"
"Oh yeah, four happy meals," Harm nodded. "I know AJ technically still had spaghetti on his plate, but he's seven. I know he'd rather have the junk than the good stuff."
I smiled, getting up off the now water-splattered floor and stretched out to full height. "Don't be offended, he's not quite old enough to appreciate your fine culinary skills."
"Not like you are?" Harm grinned back, he edged closer to me . "So you and I can dine on the fruits of my "fine culinary skills"."
I try to grin – I really do. But I just keep seeing the Roberts' sitting down at the table and I'm souping up meatless pasta on a fork while they scarf down McDonalds burgers and top it off with those greasy fries. My mouth begins to water. Harm shook his head, laughing. "You're so bad." He cocks his head towards the kitchen. "I picked you up a Big Mac Meal."
I just stared at him.
"Yes, oh, the irony," Harm rolled his eyes and tugged almost playfully on my arm. "Come on, we can finally eat dinner.
"Just wait one sec," I said bending over to pick up Jimmy's damp sauce splattered shirt (I'm going to try my best to get the stain out, Harriet, but it was that white Dino t-shirt that Bud bought him at the Science Fair last year. So … no real loss if I have to chuck it out or anything …) and folded it on the counter. "I'll get to that later," I said.
Rrrriiiiinnnnggggg.
"Wait, what was that?" Harm asked suddenly from beside me. He turned back to me, "did you hear the telephone ring?"
"Yeah," I said semi-sarcastically. "That shrill piercing sound would be your telephone."
"Well – whoahhhh" Harm's foot lands in the puddle before him and his front foot slides out in front of him. In that split second before he comes tumbling to the ground a few images float perilously in front of my mind:
In the Sauna:
"Harm?" I ask, and upon receiving no answer, I open the door a little and take a peak in. But all I can see is steam swirling around thickly, fogging my sight and destroying any visual chances I have at all. Setting Mitch down on the ground, I open the door a little more, taking one step forward and then –
I fall.
I scream as I trip over something, or rather someone, and am sent hurtling to the ground. But luckily for me, there's already someone on the floor to break my fall. Harm.
PBP Headquarters:
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 filing 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 disentangled himself from my body. "Well . . . welcome to the JAG Partnership Building Program."
PBP Headquarters (Again):
From beside me I hear a sharp intake of breath as Terry sets her eyes on Vukovic, Zach momentarily forgotten. "Damn, he's sexy as sin . . ."
"What?" comes a startled comment from Zach, turning around so fast he and Harm collided.
CRASH!
Vukovic, Terry, and I all simultaneously whirl around to see Harm and Zach on the floor, struggling to get up but slipping on the objects strewn on the floor.
"Sir . . .?" Vukovic trails, walking forward with his arm out to pull Harm up.
"Wait, watch ou – !" I begin but –
Vukovic's foot hits the book that Harm had put in the center of the room and trips over it. His arm lunges out to grab anything or anyone to hold onto. That anyone or anything is me. He pulls me crashing down on top of him, who's on top of Zach, who ultimately is on top of Harm.
It is some sort of twisted act of God, Harriet. Every time we're together, something has to fall, collide, ram us in the face, get stuck in the hair, or something EXTREMELY EMBARASSING must happen. I did not realize as these images floated before my eyes, that the next one would cover most of the above bases.
"Harm!" I screech abnormally high. Harm slides to his knees on the wet soapy floor. In an utter act of complete desperation for balance, his hand launches out in front of him and grabs onto the only thing within reach. Me. He grabs onto my leg as he comes tumbling down. "Wait, don't!" I'm screaming frantically as I can feel his weight pull on my body. "Nooooooo . . ."
I throw myself backwards in attempts to slam myself against the wall. Mostly to keep myself up, hopefully to keep both of us up. And I'm sure this plan would have worked perfectly ... had there actually been a wall for me to slam onto …
SPLASH!
I'm hurtling through the water. From above me, there's this almost tidal wave reaction – though, of course smaller. My hair swirls around me. I can't breathe. The realization hits me most profoundly. I struggle to keep my head above the water. I AM IN A BATHTUB, IT IS NOT TERRIBLY DEEP. The twins could float in it, for god's sake! AND THEY'RE ONE. But that was just it, they had this childish buoyancy about them. I had Harm's thigh across my chest.
"Mgh," I gurgle from underneath the water. I fight Harm's leg off me. My nails scratch frantically against the porcelain walls of the bathtub. Damn, this bathtub's big. I'd admired it as I put all three kids in, but who knew it actually had room for both Harm and I? Oh wait, sorry, that wasn't what I was thinking at the time I was drowning in Harm's bathroom. It was more like GET THE EFF OFF, RABB!
I elbowed Harm in the gut. Yes, Harriet, I know that was mean, and probably painful to him, BUT I WAS DROWNING. Harm gasps in sudden spurt of pain and shifts his body completely. It's like the cap over my body was suddenly gone. I flung myself out of the water, gasping desperately for air. From beside me I can still hear Harm groaning. Our limbs are entangled. We are very little on top of each other. Me? I'm just so grateful to have a little oxygen in my lungs, I couldn't care if the Admiral was on top of us at the moment. Famous last words.
"I'll give him the phone," I can hear Jimmy say and then there's the sound of patted footsteps into the bathroom. Jimmy's still holding the phone to his ear. He looks at us, his eyes widened with childish ignorance. "I'm sorry, Mr. General Sir," Jimmy reported solemnly. "Aunt Mac and Uncle Harm are having a bath together. They're busy."
If ever there had been a more embarrassing moment, it was then. Clearly Harm felt much the same way. "Jimmy, GIVE ME THAT PHONE!" Harm tries his best to leap out of the tub but trips over my legs and falls back down hard. It hurts, and not just for him. He landed on top of me. "Jimmy, give it here!" Harm coughs out the water in his long. Jimmy's saying something else to the general but we can't hear him. "Jimmy!" Harm called again. "JIMMY!"
"Yes, sir, Uncle Harm and Aunt Mac are in the tub together," Jimmy reported matter-a-factually. "And mommy always tells me to never disturb her while Daddy and her are in the tub." (Yes, Harriet, you can at least share some of my pain). There's this long pause and then, "Yes, sir, I can see them." Another long and painful pause, and then –
"The bathroom's a mess. There are clothes ALL OVER THE FLOOR," Jimmy stretches. I look at Harm in crazed shock. Yes, there are clothes on the floor. JIMMY'S CLOTHES, to be precise. "Okay, I'll put him on. But Mommy said not … okay, if you say so … you'll tell my mommy it's okay right?" (Isn't that precious – NOT) "Alright, here's Uncle Harm."
He thrusts the phone into Harm's hand and then runs in the opposite direction as fast as he can. Which is good, because by the time Harm and I had untangled ourselves from each other in the bath tub, we were about ready to come after Jimmy with swords and cross bows (no, we didn't actually – Harm was short a few swords).
"Hello … yes, sir … no, I'm not having a bath with Ma – Colonel Mackenzie," Harm's stuttering terribly. "… Well, I mean, we're IN the tub, but that was entirely a mistake … no, we are not doing anything unbecoming of an enlisted officer … Jimmy was exaggerating …" Harm's rolling his eyes followed by, "Sir, do you honestly think when – IF, I meant IF – Colonel Mackenzie and I were doing something inappropriate we'd display ourselves in front of our godchildren … No, sir, THAT IS NOT WHAT HAPPENED."
I patted Harm on his knee, my skin flushed pink from top to bottom. Can someone actually die from embarrassment? Cuz if you can, I think I was pretty damn close. "You do your best, Harm," I said rather hollowly. Harm's lucky, he gets to stay in London. I go back to the US with the General. Yay.
I walk into the kids' room (Harm's guest bedroom) and dig through my bag until I find the pair of PJs I packed (plaid bottoms, Bugs Bunny t-shirt) and changed slowly. My clothes were soaking wet, so I stretched them out, and piled them in with Jimmy, Nikki, and Mitch's clothing. I figured I'd do a load for the five us that night as soon as Harm gave me his. Somewhere in the background, Harm finished debating with the General and hung up. I folded the remaining clothes I had (the dry ones) and put them back in my duffle bag.
And that was when I did a very stupid thing. When I committed the sin which is the cause of my present day anguish. I seemed to abandon all self and executed the highest act of idiocy I think I shall possibly ever do. And, leaving out the details I'd rather keep to myself (ALL to myself, thank you) here is the blow by blow:
"Hey, Harm, I'm gonna wash the kids' and my clothes in a load so if I can get yours –" I began, and I pushed open the door. I PUSHED OPEN THE DOOR, HARRIET. I PUSHED IT OPEN. WITHOUT KNOCKING, WITHOUT SOME FORM OF "HEY, YOU DECENT?" I PUSHED OPEN THE FREAKING DOOR.
Harm whirled around. To his credit, he was not completely naked. His boxers were about halfway up his legs – knee length, if I had to estimate. His blue eyes widened with like an electric shock. "Mac!"
"Harm!" I scream. And he just stands there, his hands trying to cover up his most precious possessions and that is when the embarrassment hit its ultimatum. I just stood there and gaped. I am not kidding. If I could have looked at myself in a mirror at that point, I was probably drooling. And then I did the most embarrassing thing I could possibly do. This even after I fell into a bathtub with him, the General thinking we're sleeping together (or at least bathing together), walking in on him naked, NOT LOOKING AWAY. Yes, that's right, even more embarrassing than all of that.
I squeaked.
I am not joking, it was a full fledged shrill female SQUEAK. And then, I turned brick red and fled. So now you know the reason behind my hide-out-in-the-closet. You can see why I can never look him in the eye again. You know why I think the smell of these moldy stinky old coats is better than the fresh air outside. MY LIFE IS OVER.
Mac
To: Sarah Mackenzie (sarah(dot)mackenzie(at)theJAGoffice(dot)com)
From: Harriet Sims (ih8barney(at)hotmail(dot)com)
Re: ALL IS NOT FINE
Oh my god. Oh my god. Oh my god. OH MY GOD … wait a minute, what do you mean "after you found Nikki?"
H
To: Harriet Sims (ih8barney(at)hotmail(dot)com)
From: Sarah Mackenzie (sarah(dot)mackenzie(at)theJAGoffice(dot)com)
Re: ALL IS NOT FINE
You just soooooooooo missed the point.
M
A/N: I'm serious about that author alert forum. Definitely link me if there is one (by email). Butttt if this is just all some strange coincidence, major thanks to everyone who reviewed me asking where the hell i was. I will try and get better at updating. Really. I know you've heard it all before but ... well ... this time's different.
And thanks for the reviews, guys. i love reviews. Great incentive to keep writing.