"One night in Red Rock Mesa"
A/N: AU. This is a fictional story, in a fictional Alternative Universe, about fictional characters who entertained us in a fictional TV series between 1995 and 2005. Mike. Characters borrowed with love and appreciation for the great team who brought us "JAG"; may your following careers blossom.
A/N: AU: "they aren't mine: I'm just playing with them - apart from any fictional character created by myself". Feel free to PM me if you spot any typos - my goal is 100% error-free. Feedback and comments are also welcome. Your opinions, critiques (and requests as PMs) are always helpful - and welcomed.
A/N: Published 29-JUL-2023: Another short story in the "Don't get too comfortable - you're gonna be working together" Alternative Universe. As you will know if you read my stories, I don't usually "ship" Harm and Mac. This idea formed a while ago and I am now ready to push it out into the light of day for your enjoyment (well, I hope you will enjoy it!) *re-worked 31-07-2023*
A/N – link to Canon Episodes: "We the people" (S02Ep01, airdate 03JAN1997): "Full Engagement" (S02Ep08, airdate 21FEB1997): "Washington Holiday" (S02Ep09, airdate 28FEB1997)
Characters from FFNET – Harmon Rabb jr; Sarah "Mac" Mackenzie: Matt O'Hara; Meghan O'Hara: Diane Schonke.
RRMN-RRMN-RRMN-RRMN
Friday 3rd January 1997, 19:36hrs
Rattlesnake Café site, Red Rock Mesa AZ, USA
Night in the desert had fallen like a curtain. Although the stars were out in large numbers, the glow-worm lights of the rented truck had barely illuminated the road as she had driven across the drowned landscape with her new colleague in the passenger seat. They had finally reached the long-abandoned Rattlesnake Café site without incident - although the truck was now down to one wiper blade.
The moon was still hiding behind the clouds which marked the outgoing weather front. In the words of the old British poem: "The moon was a ghostly galleon, riding on storm-tossed seas."
It had been a long day, crossing the Continental USA for the case following their initial meeting in the White House Rose Garden.
Since she had first met Harm that morning on the edge of the Rose Garden with Roberts and the Admiral, she was still getting to know him. She was beginning to work out what made this tall, good-looking aviator tick.
She still wasn't sure why he had frozen when he had first caught sight of her, apart from the "No, she was Navy" response. "She who?" Mac had wondered, swiftly dismissing the thought as non-productive. He would obviously have had a past love-life - as did she (and she was careful about what she revealed and to whom).
From their time together in that wreck of a truck, barrelling across the storm-soaked night-time Arizona landscape, she still wasn't comforted by his reply - "not any more" - when she had asked "So I guess I have a twin out there?"
She had to admit that exhaustion was setting in, both physical and emotional. Her emotions were triggered by thoughts of her Uncle Matt - who had truly saved her as a 19-year-old, helping her to turn the corner after the alcoholic lifestyle established with Eddie and then the abusive life with Christopher Ragle. At least Chris Ragle hadn't nearly killed her – which was an improvement upon the car-crash with Eddie. Despite the marriage in Las Vegas, Ragle had been hauled off to jail before the marriage had been consummated.
Maybe her judgement was off - but the travel-rumpled bed in the load-space of the truck was beginning to look very attractive. In fairness, everything looked clean.
She needed to relieve herself, so she headed off into the desert with a small shovel which had been found behind the seats in the cab. Having finished, she discovered that the elastic in her panties had just failed - and the spare sets were in the other go-bag which was in the back of the Government rental car back at the gas station, waiting for Webb to track it (and their cell-phones) down.
Ho-hum! She looked at her white bicycle shorts, which had been part of her go-bag - then decided to keep them fresh until the morning.
She pulled her blue sun-dress back down in the desert darkness - hiding her assets and ready to address her colleague regarding the sleeping arrangements.
"OK, let's hunker down here and start on Uncle Matt at first light - I am bushed."
Harm nodded. "OK Major - left side or right side?"
"What? Sorry - you're not sleeping in the cab, Commander!"
His chuckle betrayed both cynicism and (slightly) hurt pride, then he launched into his well-considered reply.
"Major, I've punched out of a jet fighter at near-zero altitude and touch-down velocity; I've landed ass-first and bone-breakingly hard on the deck of an aircraft carrier and I was so god-damned lucky to be walking again after four months of painful traction and physical therapy. Long story short Major, I need a flat surface to lie on - and the desert floor won't cut it because of the rattle-snake advertisement that *you* brought me to: fair enough Major?"
She sensed, in his voice, the whine of a petulant eight-year-old boy!
He tried flashing his "Flyboy" smile. She shrugged, and for the first time since they met, Harm finally saw the smile that she had carefully hidden, during their introduction and the rain-washed drive across the desert. He sighed and looked deep into her eyes, with a re-assuring smile.
"Look Major, if our cover is that I'm your boyfriend, then sharing the bed area is logical - but please know that I have no intention of annoying a Marine with an unwanted advance. I am tired, not suicidal! To echo a comment from a Marine I met earlier - I barely know you."
He stood up - then paused: "Ah shoot!"
"What's wrong?"
"Sorry Major, I've just split the zipper on my only pair of shorts."
"Must be an omen" she thought, before audibly sighing and turning her back on him for a moment, as he struggled to adjust himself.
Then he spoke up again, with some measure of relief in his voice.
"OK Major, your modesty is safe again."
"Thank the Lord the wind isn't ruffling the hem of my dress."
"Oh brother! You know Commander, this could be a very long night."
His warped smile flashed again - and she felt a sudden unexpected stirring in the pit of her stomach. Suddenly, she realised that she had spoken the truth earlier whilst she was driving: "It's a nice smile and I'm sure that most of the time it gets you want you want, but I don't know you Commander."
RRMN-RRMN-RRMN-RRMN
"True - but we can work together and save your Uncle Matt any more pain. But frankly I would rather start tomorrow - around dawn - after a good night's sleep. Look Major, we've come a long way today across several time-zones (physically and emotionally) since we first met - and there is another day tomorrow. So, left or right side of this load-space?"
She decided to give in gracefully: "OK Commander: with a choice, I'll go in here on the left."
"Thanks Major - Mac. I'll step out to the side while you build your nest."
"Thanks Commander - Harm."
He allowed her a few minutes to settle, then she felt the truck sag to the right as his long body crawled into the load-space and he shut the rear hatch.
"Sleep well Mac; I hope for good things tomorrow."
She smiled to herself in the dark.
"Sleep well, Harm."
RRMN-RRMN-RRMN-RRMN
Friday 3rd January 1997, 23:59hrs
Rattlesnake Café site, Red Rock Mesa AZ, USA
Who in the HELL sets his digital watch to bleep at midnight?
At least he had adjusted the time-zone (otherwise they would have found out earlier in the night), but she had realised just how comfortable she had become - and how closely she had snuggled in to soak up his heat.
"Steady, Mackenzie!"
Two fit adult bodies in close proximity were bound to experience some kind of attraction. She propped herself up on one elbow, to look at him as the moonbeam illuminated his face.
Even in the depths of sleep, this was an attractive man - and Sarah Mackenzie's hormones were beginning to churn. By choice, she hadn't gotten laid since before leaving Okinawa some two years earlier, after that shit-shower of a relationship with John.
This was one hell of a dream!
Then he shifted in the bed, muttering in his sleep.
She realised that her sundress had ridden up - and that apart from her bra, she was naked beneath the clothing. Why was her bra feeling tight?
But he was sleeping, breathing softly.
The slightest hint of a gentle waft of warm air across the back of her neck had her thinking naughty non-USMC thoughts; then he turned and the tendrils of warmth across her neck ceased.
She fell asleep again.
RRMN-RRMN-RRMN-RRMN
Saturday 4th January 1997, 02:22hrs
Rattlesnake Cafe site, Red Rock Mesa AZ, USA
Some two hours later, she couldn't sleep. She looked across: he was on his back now, and his shorts had fallen open after he threw off the blanket sometime after midnight.
She was now considering her options. Those lips looked *so* kissable - and he *had* offered to act as her boyfriend...
Almost on autopilot in her dream, she hiked up her sun-dress once more, then rolled across and straddled him; unconsciously, his arousal grew - then his eyes opened.
"Well, one of us must be dreaming."
Then he apparently went back to sleep.
RRMN-RRMN-RRMN-RRMN
Saturday 4th January 1997, 02:24hrs
Rattlesnake Cafe site, Red Rock Mesa AZ, USA
His large hands stretched out behind her shoulders, then gently caressed her spine as the hands slid downwards, to firmly grasp her buttocks. She didn't even want to think what one of his long fingers was pressing against...
She sank onto him, rotating her hips to accommodate his swelling girth. She hadn't done this for a while, she realised. Still, they say it's like riding a bicycle: she gasped as he pushed further into her, forcing her open (in a very enjoyable way, she had to admit, because most of the "force" came from her submission to the force of gravity as she settled further, impaling herself willingly onto him as he lay flat on his back, the ruined shorts half-masted as he grew into her). She felt as though he was going to home in on her cervix!
"This Marine is going to heaven!"
This was one hell of a dream - *way* better than what she had been dreaming in her single rack in USMC quarters over the past two years. The dream was accompanied by sensations and aromas and - "OH GOD!" She shuddered for well over two minutes as the pleasant aftershocks of her orgasm subsided, then she raised herself on her elbows and moved down his body, feeling his length disengage from her hot core and slide out into the foggy atmosphere inside the truck.
She rolled onto her back, threw his blanket back over his softening flagpole and then she instantly fell asleep, with a satisfied smile playing on her lips.
"Wow, what a great dream."
Dawn would come soon enough!
RRMN-RRMN-RRMN-RRMN
Saturday 4th January 1997, "by dawn's early light"
Rattlesnake Cafe, Red Rock Mesa AZ, USA
They surfaced together, shivering - the temperature in the truck had dropped before dawn in the desert. Harm reached out and wiped away the condensation on the window on his side of the truck. Then they attended – separately – to latrine duty. The stock of wet-wipes and moist tissues from the gas station were a blessing, Sarah decided as she cleaned up. On went the bicycle shorts, thereby restoring and protecting her modesty beneath the sun-dress.
Using Morse code, the two JAG adventurers established contact with Uncle Matt and then several adventures ensued over the following hours.
The Declaration was recovered after an airborne adventure during which time Sarah Mackenzie learned that she could trust Harmon Rabb jr - and could probably work with him in the future.
Sarah Mackenzie did not give her trust easily – it had to be earned. On the helicopter, Harm had proven himself in her eyes: she would never consider herself a "damsel in distress" but was glad of his assistance as she got back into her stride as a "kick-ass" USMC Major.
She had a simple reply when her uncle Matt had asked her, as the dust was settling and Webb was beginning to relax - "So where did you find this sailor, Sarah?"
"In a rose garden, Uncle Matt!"
RRMN-RRMN-RRMN-RRMN
Monday 6th January 1997, 08:55hrs
Admiral Chegwidden's office, JAG HQ, Falls Church, VA, USA
They stood before the Admiral's desk, receiving his praise and his appreciation for a job well done.
She was growing closer to this tall JAG lawyer who wore his wings on his Winter Blues uniform (what was that about?, she wondered); how had this happened?
The grumpy Admiral had been very clear in his instructions, as he had assigned them together after introducing them to each other on that fateful day in the White House rose garden:
"Don't get too comfortable - you're gonna be working together."
But the case which arose from the hijacking of the Declaration of Independence - and their resulting dual role allocated to serve as defence counsel for Colonel Matthew O'Hara - had brought them together.
RRMN-RRMN-RRMN-RRMN
As two single and unattached officers in the JAG Corps, it was perhaps inevitable that she had visited his apartment again, following the initial meetings and the adventure in the Arizona desert.
RRMN-RRMN-RRMN-RRMN
The rest of January seemed to fly past. With the return to Washington - and Chegwidden's decision to offer her a permanent posting to JAG HQ - she had leaned on Harm as she began to search for a new apartment. Over the early weeks of 1997, they steadily grew closer as the cases exploited their skills and their success rate continued.
She was sure that he hadn't intended to dis-obey the Admiral's strictures, but that was what they *might* be deemed to be doing as he helped her with her accommodation problem.
"For F**k's sake, it's only dinner - he is cooking and I am assisting, whilst hanging around the apartment getting to know my new JAG work partner" she thought to herself.
Yeah, right!
RRMN-RRMN-RRMN-RRMN
Friday 31st January 1997, 19:15hrs
Home of Harmon Rabb, North of Union Square, Washington DC, USA
Four weeks later on the "last Friday of the month", Harm suggested that they should start a new tradition.
He cooked her a home-cooked meal at his apartment as they continued the "get to know your partner" process. She had become familiar with the collection of trophies and souvenirs scattered around his apartment.
Since their first meeting she had settled - by mutual agreement – into a routine of shedding her USMC uniform in his bedroom, slipping into something comfortable from her go-bag as he began the cooking, then swapping KP with him so that he could change out of his USN Winter Blues.
No-one ever seemed to comment about the wall of glass bricks!
The idea of a flight in his vintage Stearman trainer airplane began to sound attractive; they scheduled the flight for later in February.
As she turned to watch him cook, she slowly re-affirmed her earlier opinion that "this might go somewhere in time".
However, it would definitely need to be a slow burn. They both knew that they had to work together. The working relationship defined them – and they were building up a great team spirit and work ethic.
RRMN-RRMN-RRMN-RRMN
Friday 21st February 1997, 14:55hrs
Crash-landing point, National Forest, USA
She sure as hell had not expected to get shot - and the wound was debilitating. Harm looked after her and eventually overcame the bad guys.
Overnight, they worked together so that, by the end of Saturday, she was in the ER receiving medical care and a pharmacy-full of antibiotics.
Harm was beyond comforting at the turn of events; he took the shooting personally (as well as the failure of the fuel hose on his vintage Stearman bi-plane) but eventually she accepted his invitation to accompany her to the Gala Ball the following Saturday.
He collected her from the hospital the following day and carefully delivered her to her new apartment (she had only taken over the lease at the start of February). On Monday morning, she limped into the JAG HQ in a pair of USMC uniform trousers - the first time that Harm had seen her not wearing her uniform skirt. Even uniform pants outlined the incredible body which God had gifted to Sarah Mackenzie.
He was beginning to form a very strong impression that the stars were aligning in their favour.
By now, he could see more than enough evidence to show the distinctions between his late, slaughtered love Diane Schonke and the new, lively and alive, wonderful and engaging USMC colleague, Major Sarah Catherine Mackenzie.
RRMN-RRMN-RRMN-RRMN
Friday 28th February 1997, 18:25hrs
Apartment of Sarah Mackenzie, Georgetown, Washington DC, USA
As he walked around the corner of his SUV, Harm's jaw hit the floor as he opened the passenger door of the Lexus and turned to face Mac. He wished that he had chosen his Mess Dress trousers in a more-relaxed size!
This vision of feminine beauty, hair slicked back and dress painted on with "no visible evidence of support", advanced toward him on four-inch stiletto heels. She had sure transformed from his "devil-dog" USMC partner - demonstrating "fire and beauty" in one glorious package.
She provided Harm with a useful relief from the Webb-inspired task of squiring the young Romanian Princess Alexi around the Washington scene, which had occupied Harm for part of that working week when he would have preferred to be assisting his wounded partner. Alexi had even "broken out of the gilded cage" and made her way to his apartment. She had seemed somewhat confused to find Sarah Mackenzie stirring a cooking pot - and clearly entirely at home in Harm's kitchen in casual clothing - when she arrived.
Her plaintive hope that "I can be just Lexi" line fell on slightly deaf ears, but Lexi saw what Harm and Mac had barely begun to realise, much less acknowledge between themselves at that point. Frankly, Harm had been really keen for an evening of platonic companionship with Mac after two days of "Princess Pushy".
He also hadn't quite worked out what he was going to do with Meghan O'Hara, who had moved into the downstairs apartment and was clearly interested in seeing (and exploring!) more of him than just his coffee collection. The two of them seemed to have a natural attraction, but he couldn't work out why. He had wondered briefly whether Diane was "stirring the celestial pot of fortune".
Sometimes, you wait six months for a new woman, then three come along at once...
RRMN-RRMN-RRMN-RRMN
The attempted assassination developed quickly during the evening. One moment he was standing alongside her, hand gently placed upon her rump as they had finished dancing before the formalities. Some instinct had made him scan the upper balcony. His call of "GUN!" coincided with the first shot. Then he left her - rapidly.
In her heels, she was about ten feet away and behind the Secret Service agent who took the assassin's bullet, then she was piling in on top of Princess Alexi, looking into the young woman's terrified expression as she sought to reassure her.
"Don't worry, Harmon the Hero is on the case." Alexi looked up into her eyes, her expression filled with a wisdom beyond her young years. She had met Mac in Harm's apartment one evening earlier in the week.
"Major, I believe that his heart is already spoken for, because..."
The sound of three further shots interrupted the conversation - and marked Meghan O'Hara's exit from life.
She heard Harm's anguished howl: "She was about to give in!"
Alexi looked into her eyes once more - and Mac realised that the young Princess was looking into her open soul as they both heard the anguish in Harm's voice.
Mac had an epiphany, there on the dance floor as she protected the Princess. Somehow, she was bonded to Harm after less than two months - and Alexi had seen that connection in the moment that Mac had sensed the depth of Harm's anguish. But she had never formed a connection to anyone in her life before. So, what was it about this intriguing man?
"CLEAR!"
As the pile of protective bodies began to ease up and the Ambulance crew arrived to tend to the wounded Secret Service agent and certify Meghan O'Hara up on the balcony, Alexi reached across and gripped Mac's hand.
"Major, go to him - and don't you ever dare to lose him."
Mac was puzzled by the younger woman's certainty. "How can you be sure?"
Alexi simply smiled, raised her eyes to the balcony and pointed. "A woman knows, Sarah."
Following the Princess's out-stretched hand, Mac looked up - straight into Harm's expression of relief - and love?
"I don't think those blood splashes will wash out."
RRMN-RRMN-RRMN-RRMN
Friday 28th February 1997, 23:59hrs
Home of Harmon Rabb, North of Union Square, Washington DC, USA
Four hours later, Harm and Mac finally made it back to his apartment.
Alexi had been bundled away by her relief Secret Service team. Meghan O'Hara's corpse was still lying on the balcony, covered by a hastily-strewn blanket from her Housekeeping trolley as three law-enforcement agencies (plus Webb's "three-letter-acronym gang") argued the toss over jurisdiction into the early hours of the Saturday morning.
Harm set off a pot of coffee to brew, nodding Mac towards the familiar route towards his bedroom.
"Mac, please don't take this the wrong way, but please feel free to change and grab one of my sweatshirts."
She flashed him another of the smiles which were becoming more-frequent as the weeks passed and her ability to trust him had grown.
"Thanks Harm; I will."
Five minutes later, Harm nearly dropped the pot of coffee as he surveyed, once more, a vision of loveliness standing in his apartment as his eyes scanned slowly downwards from her shoulders, taking in her revised clothing.
He was right: that dress had held itself up at the Gala Ball – and he could see a pair of reasons why!
His old Raptors sweatshirt only drew attention to a pair of unrestrained nipples: the lower sweatshirt hemline was just grazing her healing wound from where the poacher had shot her the week before. Her "Saturday morning casual" ensemble was - somewhat bizarrely - finished off with her four-inch stiletto heels. She would have to be careful when (if!) she sat on the tall stool in the kitchen area!
The memory that Sarah Mackenzie stirred in him was just too powerful. He realised where he had seen that style of shoes before, on the night that he completed his recovery from his ramp-strike, with the assistance of...
The phrase sprang, uncontrolled, from the depths of his memory before he could stop himself.
"Jeez, Diane, that's one hell of a dress."
Mac looked at him, her face exhibiting a mixture of disgust, surprise, curiosity and horror.
One heel-tip stamped onto the floor. She crossed her arms, hiding the twin peaks beneath the F-14 image across her front.
"OK Harm, that does it! It's time to 'fess up, I think. Who is Diane - is she my twin that you spoke about?"
There was no easy way back from this.
Harm took the coffee tray to the small table, placed it gently then gestured for Mac to sit.
"Back in a minute Mac." He headed into the bedroom area, re-appearing a minute later with a small cigar box in his hand.
Opening the box, he extracted a small and old photograph about two inches square.
"Mac, there is part of my history that you need to know - and it takes us back to our first conversation on that rainy night in Arizona."
She nodded, taking the photograph and nodding him towards the coffee pot, distracting him so that she had a moment to process what she was looking at in her hand. He began to stir the coffee pot before preparing to pour, whilst she looked at the photograph:
"This could be me!"
She turned the photograph towards her partner as she digested the similarity.
"Lovely girl - but what is she doing with my face? What's with the Annapolis uniform?"
RRMN-RRMN-RRMN-RRMN
Harm outlined the beginning of the tale of Diane Schonke. Naturally, Sarah had questions.
"So, how did you meet?"
"Well, thereby hangs a story."
She chuckled and looked him in the eyes.
"Harm - one thing at a time; coffee first and then the story."
She settled onto the sofa and looked at him coolly: "I think I will be here for a while."
He nodded and began to pour.
Then he began to tell the story of his doomed love.
As the story went on, Harm saw more and more differences; this was definitely a different woman - and she might just save him from the trauma and guilt surrounding Diane's death and that terrible sight in the body-bag on the dockside that previous summer.
RRMN-RRMN-RRMN-RRMN
Two hours later, Mac accepted his offer to stay over; he was clearly emotional and, as his (work) partner, she felt obligated to support him after a very emotional evening. She settled in for the night.
"Mackenzie, sometimes you get into these situations..."
She fell asleep in his arms.
In his bed.
Wearing his sweatshirt.
Naked beneath - and still seriously aroused by his proximity.
Yet feeling totally safe, protected - and loved?
On the cusp of sleep, she was touched by a stray thought.
"This brings back memories of my dream in Red Rock Mesa."
That night was her second-best night's sleep of 1997 so far.
RRMN-RRMN-RRMN-RRMN
Saturday 1st March 1997, 08:37hrs
Home of Harmon Rabb, North of Union Square, Washington DC, USA
Sarah and Harm surfaced slowly at some point in the night. They were still in each other's arms after the shared support in the aftermath of their adventurous night with the Princess, followed by the Tale of Diane Schonke.
The next morning, still lying in Harm's arms, Sarah Mackenzie experienced her first bout of morning sickness.
RRMN-RRMN-RRMN-RRMN
Saturday 1st March 1997, 09:55hrs
Apartment of Sarah Mackenzie, Georgetown, Washington DC, USA
After a leisurely and light breakfast at Harm's, she made an incongruous sight, still dressed in her borrowed clothes as she sat in the taxi for the journey home. Upon arrival. she immediately realised that she needed to find a pharmacy, so she retrieved her car keys from the armoire. Driving in stiletto heels was definitely an acquired skill: fortunately she always carried a spare set of USMC uniform pumps in the trunk of her car.
The pharmacist enquired as to her symptoms and her general level of health. The standard Mac "I'm a US Marine" line was trotted out. The only conclusion that the pharmacist - and his wife who ran the dispensary - could arrive at was the need to eliminate a possible pregnancy. Mac scoffed - "as if!" - but even she could think of no other possible cause; the food at the Ball had been generous, sumptuous and well-served (not a finger buffet in sight!).
An hour later, she returned home from the pharmacy in Georgetown, having bought two different types of EPT.
This sickness wasn't normal.
She had - the day before - had absolutely no idea that she might be pregnant, but she had to eliminate the possibility of "Virgin Conception".
Three hours later - and after ANOTHER confirmatory trip to the pharmacy where the smiling pharmacist had run a test for her - she had to bow to the inevitable.
Three for three - "POSITIVE".
"This can not be happening!"
But how had this happened? She had been like a chaste, inviolate nun for over two years!
Then she remembered - her "first night with Harm" out in the desert - exactly eight weeks ago!
"Oh shit - but wasn't that a dream?"
There was no way around this - she had to call the only man that she had even been close to in more than two years.
She dialled the number - noting that her hands were remarkably stable considering the news that she had to impart to her colleague when he answered.
"Harm, there is something you need to know..."
RRMN-RRMN-RRMN-RRMN
Final A/N 29-JUL-2023: A one-off, sparked by a couple of early episodes in JAG canon chronology.
RRMN-RRMN-RRMN-RRMN
End of: "One night in Red Rock Mesa"
Mike: UK, 29-07-2023 *re-worked 31-07-2023*