Chapter Five
Close to Closure

TWO WEEKS LATER

1930 EST
SINGER'S APARTMENT
WASHINGTON DC

It was a frigid night in early December when Mac found herself ringing the buzzer on the stoop of Singer's apartment building. Something Mac would never get used to about Virginia weather was how unpredictable it was. This time last week the lows had been in the fifties, and now, as Mac waited for Singer to come get the door, blowing air into her hands to keep them warm, it was twenty-nine degrees outside.

She was out of uniform, wearing a lavender cable knit sweater and a gray peacoat. She'd felt the intense chill the moment she started walking to her car after leaving her apartment, but hadn't felt like doubling back to grab her scarf.

Now she really wished she had that scarf.

Just as Mac was beginning to hit the buzzer again out of desperation, the door to the complex opened. Singer was standing before her, wearing a black turtleneck and jeans. She looked tired, but less exhausted than the time Mac saw her out of uniform.

They stood there for a moment, staring at each other for a few moments before laughing awkwardly. Oddly it had been Singer's idea to have Mac over for dinner, and Mac had accepted more out of curiosity than anything else.

She and Singer had barely talked since the night in Mac's apartment, other than Singer informing Mac that there had been no complications. She'd returned to her icy personality in the office, acting as though nothing had transpired between them. In a way, that return to Singer's previous demeanor had been a relief, Mac taking it as a sign that things were on their way to becoming normal again.

Singer lived on the third story of the complex. There was no elevator, not even a rickety one that looked terrifying like there was in Harm's building. Mac chose not to complain about it - her apartment in Georgetown was the nicest one she'd ever lived in, the ones she'd had before it had been nothing to write home about.

"We're thinking about moving soon," Singer explained when they finally reached her floor. "This was this uh…this was the only place we could afford after law school."

"I'm not judging Lieutenant, I promise," Mac told her, assuming the "we" was referring to Singer and her friend from Georgetown.

"It's kind of a dump ma'am, so you can," Singer replied with a rueful grin as she reached for her key from her pocket.

Regardless of the building's unsavory exterior, the interior was cozy. It was small - Mac had been shocked to hear that there was more than one bedroom - but it looked nice. Mismatched furniture was paired together and arranged with a certain love that only a woman in her twenties could have for her first "big-girl" place. There were also potted plants scattered throughout the small living area and even smaller kitchen area.

"They're not mine," Singer explained as Mac hung up her jacket. "They're Isabel's."

"Is Isabel your roommate?"

Singer nodded. "Whenever she goes out of town, she always has to replace at least one because I end up killing it somehow."

Mac laughed. She looked over at the kitchen counter. There wasn't room for any kind of table, unless Mac and Singer wanted to eat dinner sitting on the floor at the coffee table, but on the counter was a steaming casserole and a freshly tossed salad.

"You can cook?" Mac turned around to look at Singer in surprise.

"Casseroles, ma'am. That's about it."

Each of the four stools that lined the counter were different, so Mac chose the one that looked the most comfortable. As Singer was pulling plates and glasses down from one of the cabinets, Mac heard one of the bedroom doors bang shut and footsteps approaching. A young woman came rushing out, ostensibly the mysterious Isabel. She had a mass of dark brown hair piled on top of her head in a ponytail. Her makeup was done and she was wearing a sleek navy blue skirt with a pair of black tights.

"Is he outside?" Singer asked.

Isabel nodded, pausing to check in the small mirror that was hanging above the telephone for lipstick in her teeth. "I'm meeting him at the corner."

"Okay," Singer sat two plates and glasses down on the counter, one set in front of Mac and the other set two stools down, for Singer. "If he's weird or some serial killer or something, call me."

"Loren, you worry too much," she turned to Mac. "Doesn't she worry too much?"

Mac shrugged, not feeling the need to point out that she didn't know Singer as well as Isabel did. "I guess she does," she turned to look at Singer, who was blushing.

"I'll be back by ten, I promise!" Isabel said as she grabbed her coat and left the apartment, letting the front door swing shut behind her in a similar manner she'd done with her bedroom door.

"First date?" Mac asked as Singer opened a drawer for the silverware.

"Second," Singer replied.

"Is Isabel military too?"

"No. Civilian paralegal," Singer said, finally joining Mac on the stools. "Her type is military guys though. I've been trying my best to steer her in the opposite direction."

Mac laughed. "You're a good friend for that," she took a sip of the sparkling cider Singer had poured before she'd arrived, pleased that Singer had cared enough to remember Mac didn't drink. "Is the guy she's out with right now military?"

"No. He's a dentist. They met at the grocery store."

Mac and Singer spent most of the dinner talking shop - talking about certain cases and investigations that had recently been completed and were still underway. Mac had a feeling that Singer hadn't invited her over to talk about work, but she didn't want to press. Finally, once their plates were cleared, Mac felt an opening to steer things in a personal direction.

"So, how long have you and Isabel been friends?" she asked. It was nearing 2100 by that point.

"Since undergrad. We met at George Washington and then both got into Georgetown."

Mac's eyebrows raised in surprise, something she immediately felt guilty about. Sure Singer wasn't the most warm and fuzzy person, but the fact that she was able to foster long term friendships shouldn't have been so surprising. Mac was one to talk - she hadn't kept in touch with any friends from undergrad or law school.

"That's a long time," Mac said.

"Yeah, about ten years, ma'am," Singer replied, the surprise that it had really been that long evident in her voice. "You know, we met when we rushed the same sorority."

That was something that made Mac's jaw drop. Singer having friends was something she could believe, but Singer being a sorority was something she couldn't quite wrap her head around.

"You were in a sorority?" Mac found herself asking before she could stop herself.

"Uh-huh," Singer pushed her stool back from the counter and walked over to a shelf sitting in the living room. She walked back with a picture frame and handed it to Mac. "I was a Kappa Alpha Theta at GW."

The picture wasn't stellar quality, something that could be expected of a picture that had aged ten years. In the photograph was a much younger Singer hugging a much younger Isabel. They were wearing matching hot pink t-shirts, and while some of the words on the banner were blocked out, Mac could make out the words "Bid Day 1992."

1992. Mac wondered if that year would ever not mean something to her.

"That was the bid day we joined," Singer explained, thinking that must've been the reason for Mac's expression, but that wasn't it.

Singer had been a freshman in college the year Mac had been in Okinawa. The year Mac had been pregnant, Singer in many ways had been a baby herself.

"That's a good picture," Mac said, handing the frame back to Singer.

The other woman smirked. "I was president of the chapter my senior year."

"Why does that not surprise me?"

Singer laughed as she took the frame and sat it down on the counter. Sh remained standing. "You know, ma'am…." she paused, closed her mouth, then opened it again. "I wanted you to come over so I could say…thank you. I felt weird doing it in the office."

Even though Mac was a little touched, she felt a little confused. "Thank me for what, Singer?"

Singer shrugged. "Listening, I guess. Sharing your own…whatever you had going on. I guess it - it meant a lot."

Mac sighed. "Anything to make you feel a little less alone, Loren," she said because that had definitely been what Mac had been feeling in that unbearable hot summer in Durham.

"The guy - he hasn't called me," Singer said, moving on from the personal moment as quickly as she'd come to it. "Emailed me, nothing. I guess he's already moved on to the next junior female officer, huh?"

Singer gave her a humorless grin, but Mac found herself unable to smile in return. Instead she felt her stomach twist with a sick feeling she got every time she thought of the mystery surrounding the father of Singer's baby. Singer wasn't a person who scared easily - if she balked at the idea of revealing the father's identity, something couldn't be right.

But at the same time, Mac understood her secrecy. Farrow hadn't necessarily been dangerous himself, but if anyone had asked Mac about him, she would've shut it down immediately. So when Mac had questioned Singer about the father's identity to the point where it could've been considered badgering, and Singer had shut her down every time, Mac couldn't help but see where she was coming from.

Still, Mac couldn't shake the bad feeling she had.

"I guess so," Mac finally agreed, finishing off her second glass of cider.

"Just how things are."

"I shouldn't be that way."

"But it's still like that."

Mac knew Singer was right. Mac hadn't been the first junior officer to be invited to her CO's personal quarters after dark, and she certainly wouldn't be the last. Just like Singer wasn't the first junior officer to get pregnant by a senior officer, and she wouldn't be last either. It was a crock of bullshit, but it was just how things were. Even out of the military in the civilian world, it was just the way things were.

It made Mac unspeakably angry, but the problem was bigger than her, bigger than any one person. And that made her even angrier.

Singer offered to walk Mac back down to the first floor after Mac helped her do the dishes. On the way down they met Isabel staggering back up the stairs, a little tipsy but still over the moon with how well her date had gone. She promised to tell both of them everything once they got back up, too distracted to realize Mac was leaving. However, by the way her lipstick was smudged at the edges, Mac could guess that things had gone well with the dentist.

"Thanks for the dinner," Mac said once they reached the bottom floor. She had her coat pulled tightly around her, preparing for whatever the cold had in store for her as she hustled to her car. "It was good."

"No problem. It was nice having you."

A beat of silence passed between them, and Mac found herself willing to skate out onto thin ice. "I think you should come to Harriet's Christmas Eve party."

Singer immediately frowned. "I wasn't invited to that."

"It was an open invitation to the whole office, you were invited. Just not directly."

"That may be the case, ma'am, but I doubt she would want me there," Singer replied. "Especially after…everything."

Mac nodded. "Understandable, but I still think - you could have friends at JAG, if you wanted to."

"I'm not sure I want to, ma'am," Singer replied, the ice that she was known for returning to her voice. "What do you think would happen? Me and Harriet will have a heart-to-heart over smoked ham and cranberry sauce, and then next thing you know we'll be braiding each other's hair?"

Mac pursed her lips, knowing Singer was right. "Still," she said. "I think you should consider it. I can be the referee between you and Harriet if it comes to that."

"I'll think about it ma'am, but I'm not making any promises."

"You don't have to promise me anything, Singer. Just think about it."

CHRISTMAS EVE

Singer flip-flopped on whether or not she wanted to go or not, until she finally gave Mac a call the day before the party saying she didn't think it would be for the best. Instead, Singer was spending Christmas in Baltimore with Isabel's family. Even though Mac was disappointed she wouldn't be showing at the party, she was glad Singer wasn't spending the holiday alone.

Mac decided to go into the belly of the beast by herself, walking up the front steps of the Roberts' home approximately ninety-seven minutes before the party was set to start. She knew she shouldn't be nervous, but she was. This was her and Harriet's first major fight, yes, but…at her core, Harriet was still Harriet. She was understanding. She was caring. She was Mac's friend.

But still, this felt different. Maybe because it was because Mac felt…judged by Harriet for the first time in their five year friendship. Harriet had never passed judgment against Mac before, not about anything else Mac had ever told her. She hadn't judged Mac for her drinking, or for her marriage to Chris, or for her engagement to Mic falling apart - she hadn't even judged her for her affair with Farrow, for Christ's sake.

So, why this?

Mac was lost in thought as she walked up the driveway to the yard. It was early in the evening, but frost was already crunching beneath Mac's feet. Harm would be arriving as soon as the party started, at Mac's request in case things went south with her and Harriet and Mac needed back up - or a buffer.

He just needed to visit The Wall first, but Mac had anticipated that. He'd given her a call while he was driving to the National Mall, having sensed her nerves in that way he always could.

"It'll be fine," Harm had said to her. "Just talk to her. If she doesn't want to try and understand, that's on her. It's not on you."

Mac knew he was right, but she still couldn't shake her nerves. What if Harriet didn't try and understand? She hadn't even let Mac explain the first time she'd told her several weeks ago. Harriet didn't know the circumstances; when it had happened, where it had happened, what stage of life Mac had been at the time. For all Harriet knew, Mic could've been the one to get Mac pregnant.

Harriet had seemed so…shut off, and Mac had been too hurt by her reaction to stick around and explain. Not that Mac owed anyone an explanation, but Harriet was the closest thing Mac had to a best friend.

As soon as the words "I had an abortion" left Mac's lips, something had switched off in Harriet. And Mac was determined to figure out why, and fix it. If their friendship was truly going to end over this, Mac wasn't going to go down without a fight.

She rang the doorbell, and it took several seconds for Harriet to answer. She looked frazzled, obviously irritated that someone would choose to show up that early to her Christmas Eve party. She had her hair pushed back with a headband and an apron was tied over her dress.

When she saw it was Mac though, Harriet froze.

Mac took a deep breath. "Hey," she offered Harriet a small smile. "Can we talk?"

Mac watched as several emotions seemed to pass over Harriet's eyes at once. For a fleeting moment, Mac thought she was getting the door slammed in her face until Harriet finally opened it wider, stepping to the side so Mac could enter.

"Sure," Harriet said. "I'd like that."

One more chapter! I promise a resolution between Harriet and Mac is coming! I just had one of those thrilling writing sessions where I kept coming up with additional ideas the more I wrote, and I had a feeling this chapter would get a little too long if I didn't cut it off here.

Also, I realize that this is my second update where I mention a sorority - I promise that was merely a coincidence. I don't have some strange agenda to incorporate Greek Life into every story I have on here, I promise. Singer being the president of something, especially a sorority, just seemed fitting for her character.

I wanted to take this chapter as a chance to humanize Singer in a way that she wasn't on the show. I guess you could argue that's the point of this whole story, but I wanted this chapter to specifically focus on that.

Hope you guys enjoyed!

-Harper