Chapter Seven:
Nosey Neighbors

APRIL 29TH, 1998

After making a very large purchase at the local pet store on the CIA credit card, the majority of Goldie's nighttime accidents were now limited to the puppy pad in her crate, and the established routine of Harm taking her out before he left for his morning run left them with no other bed accidents to clean up, either.

Progress was being made, but Goldie was still off to a rough start with house training.

"See? Look at all this grass. Oooh, isn't this such lovely grass? Honey, this is where you go potty, not on the carpet."

Mac gave Goldie's pink leash an encouraging shake, gesturing around them at the lush green grass in the front yard. The puppy lifted her nose out of one of the lilac bushes, looking at Mac with curiosity.

"Come on, girl," Mac patted her thighs encouragingly. "Go potty! I know you can do it, you just did it in the living room."

Mac watched as Goldie sprawled out in the grass, rolling over onto her back to bite at her leash.

"Young lady, can you please cooperate?"

Goldie stared at Mac while still upside down, tail swishing gently through the grass. Mac placed a hand on her hip and looked down at her.

"You're just like your father. Come on, let's walk."

Mac developed a system, finding that neighborhood walks were the best way to get to know her new neighbors, and thus gather intel. Being inside that blue house started making Mac itch after day three, especially with Harm leaving to go to…whatever he did for work, so her solution was to go on walks through the neighborhood. Goldie got the most exercise a puppy could ask for, and Mac got to keep herself sane - well, as sane as humanly possible, given the circumstances.

With Goldie scooped under one arm, Mac made her way down the block. She tried to study the lawns, the exteriors of the homes, trying to see if anything looked amiss. It was the typical suburban street; mass-produced cookie cutter houses devoid of anything that could be an HOA violation. The only variation between the houses were the colors of the shutters and the bushes of plants blooming outside. Some houses had beige shutters, whereas others had light brown or light gray. Some houses had well trimmed rose bushes out front, others, like Harm and Mac's house, had lilac.

Mac had to hand it to them, there were just enough differences to keep things from looking completely identical, but it wasn't a lot.

It had been a little over a week in the neighborhood and very little progress had been made. It was making Mac antsy. She needed to get inside of some of these houses; she needed to see what these people were about.

Lucky for her, the Suburb Gods were about to grant her wish.

"Hey, neighbor!"

Mac turned around. Goldie cocked her head to one side. Neither of them could understand why everyone insisted on calling each other "neighbor," here; they were positive there were other, less absurd-sounding, ways to be neighborly. Mac bent down, plopping Goldie down onto the sidewalk below, frowning at the stray yellow hairs dotting her teal blouse. Her frown deepened when she realized the stray yellow hairs were actually from her own hair.

"How are you?"

The woman approaching Mac was wearing a matching sweatsuit and had blonde hair that looked even faker than Mac's, along with bright white teeth that looked even faker and a spray tan that looked even faker. As the woman sidled up next to her, Mac was worried she was staring at her future if this mission lasted any longer than it already was.

"Hi! I'm doing well, how are you?" Mac replied, trying her best to appear bright and cheery without coming off insane. Her teeth and tongue were still having trouble wrapping around her new Southern drawl, despite all the practice she'd been doing in her oodles and oodles of free time. If anything, that was what was making her sound crazy.

"I'm Lacy!" the woman stuck out a blotchy, tanned hand. "I'm Dave's wife. I think our husbands met the other day."

"I think they did," Mac answered. Did they? "Nice to meet you. I'm Maj - Cheryl Houston."

They shook hands, and Lacy cocked her head to one side, bearing a fleeting resemblance to Goldie. "Is that where you guys are from? Houston?"

"Ummm….no?" Mac tried to rack her brain - where were they from. "We're new to the area."

"I see…well me and some other wives from down the street are having lunch together at my house at twelve. I was wondering if you'd like to join?" Lacy smiled down at Goldie. "And she can come too, I love dogs."

"Oh!" Mac blinked, a genuine smile crossing her face. Her pleasure at feeling included was far outweighed by her joy at finally having an in into these people's personal lives.

THREE HOURS LATER

HARM'S "WORK"

RICHMOND, VIRGINIA

Besides the fact that this entire operation was concerning, one of Harm's major concerns was what exactly he'd be doing for 'work.' He was worried he'd actually be made to practice civilian law, a level of method acting he wasn't sure he could achieve. He would stoop to some lows, but civilian law was a little too far of a stoop.

Luckily (Was it lucky? Harm wasn't that sure) Harm wasn't practicing civilian law. He wasn't practicing law at all. He wasn't doing anything. Anything, at all.

Well, he was sitting at a computer, but that's pretty much nothing. Webb had set up a fake office for Harm on a completely vacant level of an office building. Harm had tried his best to liven up his space as best he could, adding postcards and small model airplanes he'd snagged from his apartment before they left. But that didn't stop the area beyond the glass walls of his office from being completely blank, full of nothing.

His task, assigned to him by his favorite person Clayton Webb, was to conduct internet research, which essentially amounted to extensive background checks, on each and every one of their new neighbors. He was supposed to take note of anything suspicious, but that criteria was so broad that it made everything take ten times longer than Harm reasoned it should.

"Do you want me to take note of any speeding tickets?" Harm had asked Webb when he first found out what he'd be doing. "What about parking violations?"

He'd been joking, but Webb had looked at him, completely serious.

"I think that might be helpful, actually. Good idea, Rabb."

So far, Lacy (judging by the overlap in last names, she was Dave's wife), took the cake for the worst traffic record -

Thump.

Harm made a mental note to remind Mac to not get -

Thump.

- into the car with her.

Thump.

"Could you stop that - please?"

Harm leaned over from out behind his computer screen, giving the young CIA agent pacing outside his office an exasperated look. His name was Quincy, and he was in charge of supervising Harm because Webb didn't trust Harm to stay on task by himself. Which, honestly, was a fair concern - there was no way Harm would be doing this if there wasn't someone there to report back to Webb that he wasn't doing what he was supposed to.

While Quincy was annoying, he was much better than having Webb breathing down his neck. Harm found it a little offensive that someone who looked like he could still be young enough for braces was in charge of "watching" him, but Quincy was alright.

Except for his ball. Every morning, without fail, Quincy would bring his tennis ball to the office. Every day, Harm would hope he'd forget it, but Quincy never did. Harm might've felt like he had nothing to do, but Quincy actually had nothing to do - except bounce his tennis ball-

Thump.

Quincy looked up at Harm.

"Hey - toss it to me," Harm said, pushing his rolling chair away from the desk. He held his hands open.

From across the office space, Quincy threw the tennis ball to Harm. He caught it effortlessly.

Quincy's freckled face brightened. "Hey, that was pretty good. Did you play baseball or something-"

Harm threw the tennis ball into the wastebasket at his feet. Quincy frowned.

"Find a quieter hobby," Harm said. "I'd hate to call Webb and say that I strangled you."

"Dude, there's like, nothing to do here."

"Dude, I know that, and I don't care. Go buy a crossword puzzle."

Quincy huffed and muttered something under his breath as he disappeared from Harm's sight, heading down the hallway for his fifth lap in the past hour.

"I heard that," Harm called after him, even though he hadn't actually heard what Quincy had said.

With his own huff, Harm rolled himself back behind his desk, returning to looking at Lacy's extensive traffic record. For the life of him though, he couldn't bring himself to concentrate. He had less than thirty minutes until he could eat lunch, and he felt as though he had less than thirty seconds before he lost his mind.

On Harm's desk, along with his two favorite model airplanes, were several framed pictures. In his boredom, Harm found his eyes drifting to one picture in particular, one he had placed right next to the computer monitor.

It was a photo of Mac, one he'd taken of her. He wasn't even sure if she knew it had been developed. It was from Valentines' Day that year, and everyone had gathered together that night to celebrate Bud and Harriet's engagement. Being the maid of honor ("Major of Honor" as Harm would sometimes teasingly call her), Mac had organized the entire thing and hosted it at her apartment.

The party had been a few weeks before Harm's break up with Annie and Dalton's murder, so everything was much more…carefree, laid back. Coincidentally, Dalton had to pull a late night at the firm and Josh was feeling under the weather, so both Harm and Mac's significant others were absent for the occasion.

Nothing happened between them, but just being able to spend time together without any one else getting in the way was nice.

Harm had been in charge of the camera that night, and he'd insisted that the hostess needed a picture for posterity. He'd taken it in the kitchen, with Mac leaning over the kitchen counter over a platter of cheese and freshly chopped fruit. She was wearing jeans and a red turtleneck with a tiny gold heart-shaped pendant necklace.

"Very festive," Harm had said as he raised the camera to his eye.

He remembered watching Mac through the viewfinder and thinking she looked beautiful. She'd rolled her eyes and blew a kiss from the camera, and Harm got the perfect shot.

He looked at the picture now, Mac's chocolate-amber eyes bright with her lips puckered and palm splayed out. He'd taken a second photo right after, one of her laughing at how silly her first pose had been, but he hadn't found a frame for that one yet.

Harm picked up the frame, leaning back in his desk chair. He studied Mac closely, specifically her hair. She didn't look bad as a blonde by any means - Harm found it hard to believe that Mac could ever look bad - but he missed her short, dark hair. Gentleman might prefer blondes, but Harm preferred brunettes.

Harm preferred Mac.

"Wow, she's really hot."

Jumping, Harm jerked around to look up at Quincy who had suddenly appeared at his shoulder. Harm quickly sat the photograph face down in front of his keyboard. Reaching down into the wastebasket, he picked up the tennis ball and walked to the front door of his office. He lobbed the ball down the hallway.

"There," Harm pointed. "Go fetch."

Returning to his desk, Harm placed the picture of Mac back where it belonged.

THAT SAME TIME

LACY'S HOME

Lacy and Dave lived three doors down from Harm and Mac. Their home was one of the ones that had gray shutters and rose bushes out front. Mac also noticed there was an assorted collection of garden gnomes placed along the walkway leading up to the porch. It was a nice personal touch, which Goldie noticed as well. She insisted on stopping to sniff every single one on her and Mac's stroll up the stoned walkway.

Mac paused on the top porch step when she felt resistance from Goldie's pink leash. She turned around to see her gnawing on the final gome's red hat. With a sigh, she jogged down the steps and pulled the gnome away from Goldie.

"What on earth am I gonna do with you?"

After looking him over and concluding that the gnome was not severely injured, Mac sat him back down and led Goldie to the front porch. Mac smoothed over her blouse as she rang the doorbell, trying to calm her nerves. She'd spent the two and a half hours between Goldie's walk and arriving at Lacy's house refreshing herself on all of the information on Cheryl Houston, and Cheryl and Derrick's relationship. She had been undercover before, but never to this extent.

She'd had to memorize the entire life of a completely new person, and now she was being put to the test over lemonade and finger sandwiches.

The mahogany front door was thrown open by Lacey. "Cheryl! I'm so glad you could make it!"

Mac suddenly found herself being enveloped in a strongly vanilla-scented hug. She felt Goldie's tiny wet nose on her ankle.

Upon initial observation, nothing about the interior of Lacy's home seemed strange. Mac was a little confused that Lacy's home was not all one color, like how Harm and Mac's home was all shades of blue. Unless you counted white as its own color. Which, Mac supposed it was.

"Welcome in, welcome in!" Lacy said as she closed the door behind the three of them. "Just make sure you wipe your feet - and paws."

Mac made sure to wipe her sandals on the coir doormat at her feet, which had "Home Sweet Home" printed on it in swirly black letters with a heart below it, though she couldn't vouch for Goldie wiping her paws.

"I caught her chewing on one of your gnomes," Mac felt the need to explain as Goldie acquainted herself with the foyer, sniffing around the base of a potted plant. "I'm sorry. She's in that…phase, I guess."

Lacy waved a hand. "Oh that's fine. Giselle used to do that all the time when she was younger."

Mac paused. "Giselle?"

She wondered who Giselle could be, because she didn't recall Webb mentioning any of the couples in the neighborhood having children, until a huge doberman came rushing in from around the corner, a blur of black and tan with a neon pink collar. Mac was a little surprised to see such a large dog belonging to such a dainty person, but Goldie seemed scared to death. She scampered away from the potted plant to cower behind Mac's legs.

Giselle stopped promptly in front of Lacy and sat down, docked tail wriggling, and Lacey laughed. "Poor thing," she said, giving Giselle a scratch behind the ear. "She's trained so well that the minute anyone ever says her name, she just comes running."

"I see," Mac nodded slowly. She felt Goldie shivering behind her.

She didn't want Goldie to get too used to being carried everywhere, especially since it wouldn't be long before Goldie would be much too heavy for Mac to carry, but Mac felt too guilty to just stand there and let the poor fuzzball feel so defenseless.

"Sorry," Mac apologized again. "She's still a little shy around other dogs."

Mac could still feel Goldie's heart thumping against the crook of her elbow as she followed Lacy into the dining room. The space was open and airy, filled with more potted plants and…more white. The sheer curtains were white, the window trim was weight, the circular table was white, along with all of its chairs. Mac and Goldie watched as Giselle trotted past them, trimmed nails clicking on the (white) tile below them towards her fuzzy dog bed - also white.

Taking in the blinding surroundings couldn't fully distract Mac from what she was actually there to do. At the table sat four other women, all looking at Mac expectantly, with bright eyes and equally bright smiles. For it being a home lunch on a weekday afternoon, they were all dressed impeccably.

Despite the fact that Mac was dressed similarly, thanks to her CIA wardrobe, she couldn't help but feel like a fish out of water. She had to keep reminding herself that it wasn't Mac who'd gotten invited to this lunch - it was Cheryl Houston. It was getting hard to keep track of the two of them, herself and…well, herself.

"Ladies!"

Mac felt Lacy's hand on her shoulder, and she jumped. She smiled up at Mac. Another bright smile, another person Mac would have to investigate on the sly.

"This is Cheryl. She just moved in with her husband a few houses down, and I thought it would be a good idea to invite her to lunch with us - give her a nice, warm welcome."

Lacy rubbed Mac's upper arm, which was covered in goosebumps. The AC was very crisp - Mac wondered if that was good for the house plants.

This would no doubt be the performance of her life, but Mac was determined to see it through. The marine that was still inside her wouldn't approach this with anything other than a can-do attitude.

Looking over at Lacy and the others, Mac gave her brightest smile.

Growing up, Mac had been a tomboy and hadn't had that many girl friends. Her childhood best friend had been Eddie, and in high school she'd been too head over heels for Chris Ragle to care about anyone else. She'd floated around some friend groups in college, but her main focus had been her studies, getting her life back on track after so much had been derailed by her childhood. After that, her entire life became the Marines.

Her childhood excuse had been that girly girls were lame. Her teenage excuse was that they only person she needed was her boyfriend (ha!), and her excuse in college had been that she had too much to lose, and sometimes she just couldn't bring herself to trust people.

Now, her excuse was that she just didn't have the time, which was true for the most part. JAG demanded most of her time. Plus, she had Harriet and Carolyn. It was easy to be friends with them because they came along with the JAG package.

Secretly though, deep down, all of her excuses weren't the truth, really. Mac had always wanted to have that group of girlfriends that other women claimed to be so vital to their survival, but she felt like she couldn't have it. Because ...well, Mac really didn't know why. It just didn't feel like a category she could fit herself into.

She knew that she was presenting a fraudulent existence to these women, and she also knew that at least one of them was doing the same exact thing, posing a threat to national security. She knew he was here for work, as a huge favor to Webb. She knew none of this, from the fake names to the pristine marble flooring, was real. It was all a presentation, one grand performance.

Even still, it had been a really nice lunch. Nice enough for Mac to fully commit to her role and, without completely considering her hosting skills or whether or not it was a good idea, she looked around the table with another very bright smile, and invited them over to her and Harm's blue house for lunch the following day.

Maybe it's because of how emotionally unavailable he was on the show, but one of my favorite things to write when it comes to JAG stuff is Harm shamelessly yearning for Mac. Just let him love her, dammit!

I've also noticed that a recurring theme throughout the show is Mac's loneliness, and for how often it comes up, I found that it rarely got addressed outside of the angst-fest disaster that was Season 9. Like yes, we all know Paraguay messed her up, but she'd been dealing with similar stuff earlier on in the show, and had likely been dealing with it since childhood - we all know childhood wasn't heaven for her.

That was something I wanted to address and explore with this story. I know Mac would always talk about how she couldn't have children and how none of her relationships ever panned out, etc, but I couldn't help but wonder that maybe she just needed a good friend...A friend that wasn't Harm, someone she obviously had very complicated (non platonic) feelings for. She technically had Harriet, but honestly outside of her being her maid of honor and being Baby Sarah's namesake, I never got the feeling that Mac and Harriet were really all that close. So yeah...I don't really think I had a point to that rant, it was just something I picked up on.

My goal is to put my nose to grindstone and really focus on getting this story, Nagging, and Not a Girl, Not Yet a Woman finished. Another Case is proving to be just as big of an undertaking as the first Case, if not bigger, so I honest to God don't know when that'll be done. I'm not in the business of setting hard deadlines for myself when it comes to my hobbies, but I'm hoping to have at least one or two of my unfinished stories done in by the end of the year.

But I'm happy to report that I've been prewriting a lot, it's just not quite ready for you guys to see yet. I'm really trying to sink my teeth into some more angsty, darker themes, and I'm hoping it'll pay off.

Thanks for reading my update (and my newsletter)

-Harper