Title: VS Episode 4.11 - FF: Shackled by the Chains of Command
Author: Ikaika aka us387638
Feedback: us387638@yahoo.com
Rating: Strong PG-13
Classification: Adult Themes, Drama, Romance (Harm/Mac)
Spoilers: A continuation of VS #4, plus references to the following:
"The Good of the Service," "People v. Mac," "Dungaree Justice" and "Soul Searching."
Summary: Adultery and fraternization charges and a stalker threaten Harm and Mac's
professional and personal lives. In other words, sometimes the chain of command
really sucks. Meanwhile, Bud faces his first real crisis as a dad.
Disclaimer: Not mine, never was, never will be. Just making a guest appearance.
Will return to the rightful owners whenever I get around to it. Unless TPTB
doesn't fix the f@#%*d up mess that was last season. Who am I kidding?
At this rate, I'll never give them back.
AN #1: Thanks to Jen (and Bree), for the invite and encouragement.
AN #2: Thanks to the rest of authors, VS or not. Keep churning out those stories.
AN #3: To TC - Though we've never met, I've enjoyed your stories.
Please take care and good luck.
Additional AN at the end.
~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~
"Shackled by the Chains of Command"
0647 EST
Harm's Loft
North of Union Station
Washington, D.C.
Sweat stained his body from his armpits to his feet. Despite the stifling, arid heat engulfing his loft, one spot remained unaffected until the rightful owner returned to stake her claim once again. Harm slid his forearm across the bed where Mac usually slept. Tonight would make three nights in a row. He _really_ needed to make up with her, even though he didn't do anything wrong. And it wasn't just because of their love life.
So what if he spritzed the pillow case with her perfume just so he had the slightest chance of sleeping without her enfolded in his arms.
So what if he happened to pick down feathers from his nostrils whenever he woke up because he practically buried his nose all the way into the pillow itself. So what if he continually crushed the surrogate against his chest so hard that the stuffing threatened to burst out from the seams.
Why?
Because he was a 'cuddle monster.'
That's what she called him, all right. The big 'CM'.
Wait until _that_ moniker made the rounds aboard the Patrick Henry. Or the Seahawk. He'd get kicked out of the fighter jock club on sheer principle alone. But he didn't care. The only club he wanted to be a part of involved one Sarah Mackenzie. Hell, he was the founder, president and number one fan.
Until last Friday night.
Well, today marked the beginning of a new week. A new start.
He peeled himself off the bed and into an upright position, kicking off the thin sheet puddled around his ankles. Harm lumbered to the shower, anxious for sweet relief beneath the pulsating jet stream. Twenty minutes later the morning caffeine revived the rest of his body. One more cursory check before duty called. Blinking light. Okay, that could be good. Or bad. Or both.
A minute later he added another tape to his growing collection. Great. One more reason to hate Mondays.
++++++++++
0824 EST
Staff Call
JAG Headquarters
Falls Church, VA
"Mister Rabb, you'll defend. Colonel Mackenzie you'll prosecute." Admiral Chegwidden doled out the last of the cases. "Just a reminder," he held court a little longer, "we've reserved the gym for this Thursday, 1900 hours, Fairfax County Recreation Center." He pulled off his glasses, using it to gesture towards Harm. "Commander, will you be up for it?"
Harm held up the blue and silver splint encasing his bruised left index finger. He should be able to take it off in the next three days. "If a certain bubblehead stays out of my way, sir."
"Hey, it's not my fault your sea legs can't keep up with me, old man."
"'Old man?'" Harm ignored the muffled coughs and snickers around him, turning an amused gaze towards Sturgis. "You're one to talk, Yoda." He joined in the laughter that followed. Until a certain Two-Star not so subtlety cleared his throat.
"Save it for game day. Dismissed."
Harm stood at attention until only he and a certain marine remained. He knew this would happen. "Mac-"
"Harm, don't."
"C'mon Mac, be fair. Chegwidden assigned me to defend. It's not my fault."
"So it's mine? Is that what you're saying?"
"No I didn't. Not then, and not now."
Mac picked up the frustrated restraint in his voice. She knew it shouldn't matter, but it did. Even after all these years. "He _still_ doesn't trust me, Harm. His own Chief of Staff."
"Mac, it's not that he doesn't _trust_ you-"
"I know, I know." Mac knew the reason why. But she didn't have to agree with it. Or like it. She just had to do it.
Thoughts of dismemberment or maiming popped into Harm's mind but he risked it anyway. He lay a tentative hand on her forearm. "This _is_ about the case, right? Not about last week."
Separating the office from their home life always reared its ugly head at the most inopportune moments, even before they 'officially' became a 'couple'. They had yet to kiss and make up but this was a start. Mac ached for the simplest of physical contact that eluded her ever since Friday night so she immediately returned the familiar, intimate gesture. "Last week is last week. Today is today. Your office or mine?"
"Mine."
Harm nearly trampled Mac once they entered the bullpen. Her abrupt halt inside the glass doors caused Harm to teeter on his toes before regaining his balance. "Mac?" He peered over the top of her head. Every pair of eyes suddenly found something else to stare at.
"Harm?"
"Don't know, don't care." He stepped around her, ignoring the alarm bells blaring throughout his entire body. Whatever 'it' was, they would find out soon enough.
Mac trailed behind, not missing the hooded eyes or furtive whispers tracking their every move. Her already twisted gut spasmed tighter. Something was wrong. Very wrong. She settled into her usual chair, pushing aside the unease for now. "Could be worse," she tossed out, flipping open the manila folder, "at least she's not pregnant."
"Not yet. If she is, a paternity test won't be too far behind." Harm rocked back in his leather chair, already dialing the familiar extension. "Jen, could you come into my office please? Thanks." He continued to scan his own file copy. "Captain Linda Rollins. MAG-31, VMFA(AW)-533. F/A-18 Hornet pilot. She's a Hawk."
"Served in Afghanistan," Mac continued the narrative. "Her attack wing logged some serious hours during Operation Iraqi Freedom, over 800 sorties."
"Sounds about right. 30 missions in 30 days adds up pretty quick." He flipped through the file until a timid knock broke through his train of thought.
"Sir?"
"Coates, come in." Harm never looked up.
"Commander?" Jen plucked at her uniform pants repeatedly, anxious and, in all honesty, a little wary of Commander Rabb's reaction.
Harm tore his gaze away from the spotless record. Those alarm bells from earlier rang even louder now. "Jen, what is it?"
"Sir, have you-" One more thread unraveled between her fingertips. She had an appointment for a manicure. Honest.
Mac picked up on the petty officer's hesitation. "Should I leave?"
Harm hunched forward in his chair, bracing his forearms against the desk, delivering just enough 'oomph' in his voice and smile. "Jen, I think the Colonel can be trusted, don't you?"
"Yes sir. I'm sorry, ma'am, no disrespect intended."
"None taken." Mac encouraged Jen. Whatever had everyone gawking at her and Harm earlier must be a real doozy. "So..."
"It's just that, well-" Jen finally strode into the office, sinking down into the other chair next to Mac. "Commander, have you seen your car lately?"
////////// Commercial Break. Sorry gang, no witty repartee here. //////////
0839 EST
Parking Lot
JAG Headquarters
Falls Church, VA
"Thanks." Harm gripped the phillips head screwdriver, squatting down.
"Anytime, sir. I'll have your travel orders and itinerary to South Carolina ready when you come back up. If that's all, Colonel, Commander?"
"Dismissed." Mac answered for both her and Harm. "And Jen?"
"Ma'am?"
"Thanks."
Jen nodded before executing a perfect about face.
"So how many faces are plastered against the windows?" Harm didn't want to begin to imagine.
"My guess, " Mac perched her hip against the rear fender well, "everybody that isn't in a courtroom. Except the Admiral. You gonna tell him?"
"Eventually."
Mac thumped the side of her high heel against the tire. "You mean, 'eventually,' like you told me, or 'eventually,' like how you _should have_ told me?"
The sharp, flat edges cut into Harm's palms before he rose to his full height, handing off the rear license plate to Mac. "The second part. Are you ever gonna stop bustin' my chops about that?"
"I've busted them for a lot less."
He accepted the truth of that statement before moving to the front of the SUV, coming back with an identical plate a minute later. "Matched set. That explains the latest message." Not that anyone would believe it of course.
"Hell hath no fury, flyboy."
"How?"
"CG. She probably scanned her plates into a PC, used PhotoShop to edit, printed it out and had it laminated. Even the screw holes line up. I don't know how or where she got a hold of blank plates, though." She slid both plates into the legal size envelope Jen brought down along with the screwdriver, making sure the false, slanderous and derogatory remark in big, block letters faced down. Bless the petty officers resourcefulness. "Ready?"
"Need you ask?"
"Liar."
"I gave it a shot."
++++++++++
0856 EST
Admiral Chegwidden's Office
JAG Headquarters
Falls Church, VA
"All this," Chegwidden swept a hand across his desk, "because you turned a woman down?"
"The first time was at a gas station about two weeks ago. The second time was last Friday night." Harm's attention was split between his partner and best friend, and his commanding officer. Tough crowd, either way.
"And you're involved in this, Colonel, because..."
*Because of another blonde, bimbo* she thought. "I witnessed the second event, sir. Since the Commander lost, it was his turn to buy dinner. He took me to Benzingers. I don't think coincidence had anything to do with it." The furrow on the Admiral's forehead didn't change. Not a good sign.
"Sir, you understand why in this case I had to go against the standard policy, to _show and tell_. I also need to log this with the other evidence."
"I understand, Commander. 'Don't ask, don't tell' definitely never applied to you. And what other evidence?"
"Phone messages, time and date stamped. Paper trail and all that." Harm suddenly realized with his missing license plates went his missing safety inspection sticker as well. No driving until both can be replaced. Well, a spin in a certain fire engine red Corvette wouldn't be so bad. "Admiral, since I need to get new plates, I was wondering-"
"You're lucky I don't charge for long term parking like Dulles or National, Mr. Rabb. Permission granted."
"Thank you, sir."
"When is your flight?"
Mac fielded the question. "1300."
"You're both caught up, correct?"
"Yes, sir." Harm and Mac echoed in unison.
"I believe there's a satellite DMV nearby. Dismissed."
++++++++++
1042 EST
Harm's Loft
North of Union Station
Washington, D.C.
"You surprised me, Harm." Mac double-clicked the remote until the tell-tale chirp went off.
"Mac, I already have two Distinguished Flying Crosses. I don't need to advertise it. The Naval Aviator plates are more than enough." With all his flight mishaps, Harm sometimes felt like he _had_ flown a cross instead of an F-14. How else could he explain it? He stowed his garment bag in the trunk. "All set." He strapped in, losing himself in the RPM's as Mac brought the Vette to life. "Hey."
"Hmm?"
"We're okay, right?"
"Yeah, flyboy, we are." Mac gunned the engine one more time, teasing Harm with a healthy dose of redline action. "Until the next time, that is." There better not be any _next_ time.
"Like you 'fess up everytime a guy hits on you." Most recent case in point, one Assistant to the Undersomethingorother not-so-secretly masquerading as a CIA agent. Well, not anymore. Heh-heh.
"Point taken, counselor."
"Mac? It happened again, after you left me in dry dock at Benzinger's." He waggled the splint for emphasis. "A nurse at the Urgent Care facility where I got my splint. Between you, me and the basketball, it was all Sturgis' fault."
"You keep sticking to that story." She snuck a peek in her rear view mirror before pulling out. "Got an hour or so to kill. We'll swap stories over a long lunch before our flight. It'll also be a good time to practice your groveling skills."
////////// Commercial Break. Didn't believe me the first time, did'ya? //////////
1827 EST
Roberts Home
Vienna Woods, VA
"One more time, daddy. Please?"
"Okay buddy, up you go!" Bud hoisted little AJ into the air, blinking away the perspiration that trickled down into his left eye. "Two points!"
Harriet hated to interrupt the perfect moment but her son took after his godmother. If his appetite was this big at four years old, who knows what it would be like at puberty. "Time for dinner, boys."
"Aw mom." AJ slid down his father's frame before trudging up the porch stairs.
"You know the drill. Scoot." Harriet swatted his little behind. "I'm gonna check those hands mister." She sat down against one of the posts, smoothing out the sundress to stretch her legs out across the landing. Bud's recent mood had nothing to do with 2 AM feedings, and everything to do with what just happened. "Getting ready for the big game?"
Bud dropped to the ground, leaning back against the Huffy EZ Touch Power Move Portable Basketball System. "Actually Harriet, I was just getting in some father-son time before A.J. figures out I won't be able to beat him at 21 forever."
"Bud."
"It's true." Bud propped up his right leg on the Spalding synthetic basketball, rolling it side to side, accumulating grit and pebbles along the seams. "He's already asking about T-Ball and Pop Warner. What am I gonna do about that?" Or anything else that requires two, fully functional legs.
"The same thing you've always done, Bud. Love him, support him and cherish him the best way you know how."
Bud rolled to knees before standing. "It's not just organized sports, Harriet." He would limp forever, but his gait improved every day. He planted the prosthetic leg on the first riser, adjusting his other leg on the cement driveway to bear the brunt of his weight. "What about emergencies? Like a fire? Especially with Tina?" Or a robbery. Or a car crash. The list went on and on.
"We already discussed this _and_ practiced, remember?" Harriet pushed herself upright, leading Bud by the hand into the house. She lowered her voice to a whisper. "There are hook ladders in all the upstairs rooms, and a pulley-cable system with an attached basket for Tina. A.J. understands the drill. We'll be fine." She ruffled her son's hair on the way to the kitchen. "Mommy will dish your plate in a minute, sweetie. Daddy and I will be right back."
"'k."
Bud joined Harriet in the kitchen, leaning back against the edge of the tile countertop. "Come Thursday night, what if he asks why daddy isn't running up and down the floor with his uncles and Aunty Mac?"
"Who says you won't?" Harriet's false bravado wilted under Bud's 'get real' stare. The _true_ crux of the matter. She forced a smile, hiding the peas in the mashed potatoes. "We'll think of something."
++++++++++
1942 EST
VOQ
MCAS Beaufort
Beaufort, SC
Mac didn't attack the Sweet Sour Pork with her usual gusto, even though it was the best she had ever had. She knew that raised all the wrong flags with Harm. He didn't disappoint.
"You ready to talk about it?" Harm made a mental note to switch to Chow-Fun noodles instead of Lo-Mein. Damn it was good.
Mac tamped down on her unruly stomach, ignoring the acid swirling round and round. She shoved the tangy dish back and forth along the bottom, piercing numerous cubes in the process. The stall tactic would only work for so long. "Yeah."
Here goes nothing, Harm thought. Please let me get this right. "What bothers you more: the fact that Chegwidden didn't let you preside, or that he assigned you to prosecute?"
Bullseye. But Mac wasn't surprised. "Both." One last stab penetrated the flimsy box carton, sending sauce and pork slithering down her leg before plopping onto the carpet. "Damn it." Several napkins, dabs and swipes later everything was back to normal. "Not that it matters now."
"She's _not_ you, Mac. Or more importantly, you're not _her_."
"Maybe. But we're _both_ John Farrow."
"What?"
Mac knew the seventh commandment dealt with adultery. Which roman numeral did God assign to fraternization? "Both of us committed the same crimes, Harm."
"Mac, you're not married anymore, but Captain Rollins is. Big difference." Harm wolfed down the last, fat noodle. "So you both fell in love. At least you waited to rotate out before acting on it."
"Semantics, Harm. She may have fallen in love with her systems weapons officer, but I never fell in love with John. I loved him, yes. What he represented and offered, but nothing more than that."
"Like-"
"Yeah." Mac didn't give Harm the chance to finish that sentence. Only now, two years later, did she fully understand the eerie pattern and similarity. Right things, wrong man, wrong time. "If it's any consolation, at least she won't have to endure an Admiral's Mast."
"True, but she's also not going to walk away with an honorable discharge either, Mac. She accepted responsibility and is walking away. Like Captain Rollins said during our interview: Kelly Flinn taught everybody a lesson." Boy did it ever.
"Harm?"
"Yeah?"
"It'll always come down to this, won't it?"
"If you're referring to the Admiral's Mast possibly affecting your caseload, yes." The bed groaned underneath Harm as he moved around Mac, pulling her back against his chest as he got comfortable against the headboard. "But if you're talking about the chances of fraternization coming back to bite us in the ass..."
Mac nodded her head against his shoulder. They could put off _the_ convesation with Admiral Chegwidden for only so long. "One day at a time, right sailor?"
"Right marine." Harm snacked on the nape of Mac's neck, careful not to break flesh. Even with her semi-long hair and high cut collars, one could never be too careful. "By the way, we're going pillow shopping when we get back."
"Because?"
"I want one of those full-body pillows." One more tiny bite. "I missed you."
She let out in a sigh, angling her face sideways to partake of the strong, masculine column that was Harm's throat. "Did my big, bad flyboy _really_ miss me?" She whispered, paying extra special attention to the throbbing pulse point along his neck.
"You have no idea."
"Looks like a trip to Bed, Bath & Beyond is in order."
"Yes ma'am." He switched from stern to bow, feasting on her lips before reluctantly pulling away. It took everything thing in him to walk back to his room. "Love you."
Mac got in the last nibble, and the last word. As usual. "You better. Love you, too."
++++++++++
Next Day
1014 EST
Admiral Chegwidden's Office
JAG Headquarters
Falls Church, VA
"Good job, you two."
"Sir, we didn't _do_ anything." Mac reiterated. "Captain Rollins took responsibilty. We just lucked out."
"Responsibility for one's actions is rare nowadays. Now, on to more urgent business." Chegwidden punched the intercom button. "Coates, find Lieutenant Roberts and join him in my office immediately."
“Aye sir.”
"There's been a-" Admiral Chegwidden made the quotation marks with his fingers, "-new development." He opened a file drawer, placing a stack of publications on his desk. "A little warning is better than no warning at all. I tasked Bud with it ASAP."
"I'm afraid to even ask, let alone look." Harm choked out the next obvious question. "How many eyes did this pass by?"
"Before Coates, who knows. After her, no one. She played a hunch and came in early. Intercepted the mail."
Mac fanned out the magazines, all of them adult XXX rated. The two common recurring themes involved swinging and homosexuality. This woman made Glenn Close's character look like Mother Theresa. "That's two you owe her, Harm."
"At least, Mac. At least."
"Commander, this goes _way_ beyond what we touched upon yesterday. This could get very ugly, very fast. Even more so than it already has." Chegwidden didn't even want to know how this would all play out. Only you, Rabb, he thought, only you.
"Mac?"
"Same thing, Harm. Computer generated." The plastic wrap crinkled beneath her fingertips. Not quite shrinkwrap but close enough. "Nice touch." Mac 'shuffled' them back into a deck before sliding the stack back toward the Admiral. "She probably walked into an adult bookstore, grabbed a handful and plastered address labels on them. Their homemade. If it weren't for the missing barcodes, no one would know the difference."
A firm knock broke up the impromptu pow wow. "Enter." Chegwidden amended the instruction. "At ease."
Bud positioned the laptop on the Admiral's desk so everyone could huddle around it. "It get's worse." He punched the ENTER key.
////////// Commercial Break. Still a non-believer, I see? 3rd time is *not* a charm. //////////
1023 EST
Admiral Chegwidden's Office
JAG Headquarters
Falls Church, VA
Harm kept his face buried in his hands. "What's the count so far?" His muffled voice barely broke through.
"About 15 that we know of, sir."
"How?"
Bud hated that his MIS and IT background had to be used like this. "Combination cyber warfare and revenge. She probably created a generic profile, hacked into as many services as possible and opened up bogus accounts. She hit all biggies." He ticked off his fingers one by one. "Match.com, date.com, kiss.com, personals.yahoo.com, and of course gaydate.com, gay-love.net and rainbowromances.com."
"Could have been worse," Mac pondered aloud, "at least she didn't take out ads in the Times or Post." No matter how much containment, inevitable leaks were bound to spring up somewhere.
"Actually, ma'am, if the print media provided the same amount of anonymity and exposure that the internet provides, she would use that too."
Bud marched on, determined now more than ever to nail this woman. "Sir, she's obviously out to slander and defame you. Other than television, there isn't another medium with that much exposure. She's either quite computer literate herself or is getting help from someone who is." He pulled up the google.com image search engine. "I punched in your name here, and this is what I found."
Harm raised his head, fanning his fingers apart wide enough to peer at the screen with bleary eyes. Thumbnail pictures stared back at him. Alone. With Mac. And a host of various other people that he had encountered during his twenty plus years of military service.
"Each photo linked back to a site, and I backtracked from there."
'Backtrack' triggered Harm out of his stupor, bringing him fully upright and coherent. "Can we trace _any_ of it back to her?"
Bud cringed. This is where the internet was at it's best, and worst. "Hard to say. Depends on how many layers she used to shield herself. With today's technology, she probably strung together a chain of multiple, foreign based proxies, combined it with anonymous surfing engines and uploaded everything from anonymous re-mailers under a bogus name."
Mac's frustration boiled to the surface, along with a host of other emotions which warred with each other for dominance. "Give us something, Bud. Anything."
"Working on it, Colonel. But I need the Commander's permission."
"For?"
"To contact the systems administrators of all these sites and go through their NNTP or SMTP files, along with Path lines and Message headers." Bud broke down the geekspeak into layman's terms. "They log and audit all internet traffic. That's where we should start."
Harm needed to make sure of one thing before getting washed away on a sea of hope. "Bud, not to sound ungrateful, but what about your current caseload?"
The Admiral intervened. "Done and done. I transferred Bud's last case to Commander Turner."
But outlined more strategy. "Commander, we need to check your e-mail also. She may have flooded your account with mailbombs. She could have SPAMMED you into the next century."
"Even on a secure, government site?"
"So far, no system is 100% foolproof. Sometimes people get lulled into a false sense of security, even with multiple firewalls." Bud tried to make them understand. "The internet was built on open-source technology and has grown into the world's largest library. There's always one door unlocked. If a person had the right shovel, and knew exactly where and how far to dig, there's no telling what they might unearth."
Bud knew that would grab their attention. Now he needed to keep it. "In fact, I highly recommend we start with e-mail. Trojans and viruses can be easily disguised and embedded in an innocent message. Once you click on an infected file, it can run in the background, undetected, silently commanding your computer to do who knows what."
Mac understood, having been an unwitting victim of some nasty trojan not too long ago. "That's why Norton, Symantec, McCafee and Microsoft recommend updating your software daily, downloading all the necessary patches from their websites as soon as possible."
"Exactly."
All eyes swiveled around towards the polite cough eminating from Petty Officer Coates. "Commander, if I may?"
"Please." Harm implored. He needed all the help he could get.
"Cancel all your credit cards and bank accounts. Checking, savings, money-market, credit union. Even your utilities. Everything. Then start again from scratch." Jen's adolescent years had schooled her well.
Okay, maybe not that kind of help. "Why?"
"She posted your Social Security number to various sites. If it hasn't already happened, Identity Theft isn't that far off. She might have already maxed out your cards, setting your credit rating back longer than any Chapter 7 or 11 Bankruptcy ever could."
"Admiral-"
"Go."
++++++++++
Two Nights Later
2013 EST
Fairfax County Recreation Center
Falls Church, VA
Chaplain Corp vs JAG Corp Basketball Game
"Short! Short!"
Harm slithered into the lane, intercepting the Admiral's high-arcing errant shot in one broad palm. He never lost momentum on the way towards the basket. The break-away rim rattled once before snapping back from the force of his dunk.
Harm immediately backpedaled, glancing at the scoreboard. Up by two with 00:07 ticks left. Too much time. A three-point shot would sink them. They needed one last defensive stop. "D-Up!" He yelled from his position at center, clogging the paint. "Backdoor, backdoor. Watch the cutter!"
Mac shuffled back and forth at the top of the key, fighting off multiple screens for the high pick and roll she knew was coming. Their opponents had some mild success with it during the first half, but nothing since then. During halftime she proposed a new strategy to counter it. The rest was up to her other backcourt partner. Wait for it. Wait for it. Now.
"Switch!"
Sturgis dropped back and stepped into the passing lane, snagging the ball in mid bounce. "Heads up, marine!"
Mac crossed the half-court line, watching for the ball over her left shoulder. One bounce and two dribbles later, her fingertip layup sealed the victory. The mob of bodies smothering her barely drowned out the game ending buzzer. Minutes later, both teams met at half-court, exchanging the traditional high-five's with each other.
"We'll get you on the softball field, AJ."
"I don't doubt it, Father." The Admiral exchanged a hearty handshake with the chaplain before joining the rest of his team on the bleachers, accepting another high-five from his namesake.
"Way to go, Uncle AJ!"
"Thanks, son." Chegwidden turned his attention to Mac. By his calculation, and the scorers table, she was not only the teams high scorer, but the games high scorer as well, with 23 points. 6 more than Rabb. Interesting. "Colonel, where did you learn to play like that?"
Mac shrugged off the rare compliment, toweling off as best she could. "Here and there, sir. No big deal. The Commander taught me a thing or two, as well."
Harm drained half a liter of Gatorade before accepting the acknowledgment. "Thanks, Mac."
"I didn't mean you, 'old man'." Mac grinned evilly. "I was talking about Yoda over there."
Sturgis belted out his best gravel voiced impersonation. "Hmm, help you I will. Yes? Hmm, help you I will."
Harm nearly spat all of the Gatorade back out seconds later, howling with laughter at the uncharacteristic display of self-deprecating humor from his long time friend. Only his quick reflexes and the towel already wrapped around his neck managed to minimize the embarrassment.
"Everything squared away, Commander?" Chegwidden took a long pull on the water bottle.
"Yes, sir. The majority was done over the phone that day, but I had to make personal appearances for the rest. The customer service reps w ere really helpful. ID theft has ballooned to an all time high. Scary."
Eventually the gang dispersed, leaving only the usual five - correct that - six suspects. "Bud, it's way past Tina's bedtime." Harriet started gathering up the requisite supplies.
"You're right, Harriet." Bud immediately reached for the diaper bag.
"I'll get that." Mac interjected, sensing Bud's distant mood. Thanks to a phone call from Harriet the other night, now was the time for Harm to execute his part of the plan. "A.J. honey, let's help mommy."
"Okay, Aunty Mac." Little A.J. high-fived Harm one last time. "Bye Uncle Harm."
"Later, squirt." Harm recognized Mac's signal, waiting until everybody was out of earshot. "Bud-"
"The game was too close during both halves, sir. I understand." Even if it hadn't been, Bud wasn't so sure he could have set foot on the court anyway. He never took off his sweat suit. Even after all this time, and all the progress he made, the self-conscious side of him had won out. He still couldn't figure out if he was afraid of embarrassing himself, his fellow friends and coworkers, his family, or all of the above.
Harm had rehearsed a speech the night before but threw it out the window. He couldn't offer any platitudes that Bud hadn't already heard. More importantly, his situation was far different from Bud's. Harm straddled the bleacher bench before going with his gut, and his version of the truth.
"Bud, some people may be able to launch a tight spiral 70 yards downfield, into the wind. Others may be able to tattoo a split-finger change up over the right field wall and into the barbeque pit at Camden Yards. Others may be able to drop 3-pointers at will from anywhere around the arc. But in the grand scheme of things, that isn't a big deal. But you know what is?"
Bud merely shook his head, unsure about how and why this conversation was taking place. He would be having a talk with his wife before the night was over.
"Being a husband, and a father." He drained the last of his Gatorade. "I know, I know, how hypocritical of me but I truly believe it. Those two by themselves are pretty good but you're also so much more. Add dedicated and respected military officer, and JAG lawyer, as well as one hell of a good friend. It just doesn't get much bigger than that. Do you understand?"
The gap between student and mentor had narrowed over the years, but in this case, Bud learned that Harm still had a few tricks up his sleeve. Bud considered himself profoundly lucky for being the recipient of such knowledge. "Yes, sir, I do."
"One more thing."
"Sir?"
"Are you familiar with saying, 'Anyone can be a father, but it takes someone special to be a daddy?'"
"Yes."
"Take that to heart, Bud. A.J.'s going to love you and be proud of you no matter what. How can he not?" Harm clapped one large hand on Bud's shoulder. "You're his _daddy_."
++++++++++
2049 EST
Outside Men's Locker Room
Fairfax County Recreation Center
Falls Church, VA
Mac was starving. Ravenous even. After helping Harriet get Tina and A.J. settled, and waiting with them until Bud came out, Mac took a shower just like she and Harm agreed to last night. Might as well make use of the facilities. She would definitely have to school her flyboy in the art of the marine corp shower.
Squids.
Not five seconds later, same said squid swaggered through the swinging door. "Took you long enough."
"Funny, marine."
"I try."
Once they left the tunnel and entered the main gymnasium, it didn't take them long to realize they were not alone.
"What's the matter, Harm? Can't pick up a phone? Or are you too busy basking in your newfound notoriety, hitting from both sides of the plate?"
////////// Commercial Break. This is the last of the witty repartee. I promise. //////////
2146 EST
Mac's Apartment
Georgetown
Washington, D.C.
"Vice Admiral Shaw, Harm." Mac emphasized, pushing off the sofa, needing the physical and emotional space to process the threat hanging over their heads. "_The_ Admiral Shaw, COMNAVDIST, Washington, D.C."
"So she's a name dropper, Mac. Doesn't mean it's true."
Mac planted herself on the arm of the sofa next to Harm, somewhat miffed about his cavalier stance and attitude. "Are you willing to bet your career that it's not?"
"Yes." Harm emphatically returned, but he needed to tame the marine ire down to a more reasonable level. "But not yours. I gave it up once, and I'd do it again, but not at the risk of damaging your career or losing you entirely in the process." He relaxed further back into the cushions after all the air seemed to disappear from Mac's argument.
"But you're not in danger of losing me anymore, Harm."
"I'm not?"
She slid right down into his lap, looping her arms around his neck. "Do you even have to ask?"
They broke the long, slow, soft, deep, wet, 3-day kiss 2-days early. Okay, maybe 2-1/2. "So what do you want to do?"
"What _can_ we do, Harm? All three of us are shackled by the same restraints, the same chains of command."
Okay, kissing Mac usually left Harm fuzzy, but he could have just sworn she said three. "Three?"
"Me, you and the Admiral. If we go to him, he'll have prior knowledge of an existing relationship, won't be able to deny it. If we _don't_ go to him, who knows what disciplinary action will come down the line if your...your-"
"Stalker."
"-goes public like she threatened. We were familiar with Nelson as SECNAV, but Sheffield is still up for debate." She patted his chest, knowing he would understand the need to temporarily stand so she could extrapolate with hand gestures while she paced. "Remember what I said about Farrow? In our case, I'm John, well, one step removed, and you're me."
"Do you really think two extra months in-rank matters?"
"No, I don't. But my position as Chief of Staff does." She hated to say it, now more than ever, but too much was at stake. "That means no more sleepovers, not even on the weekends, and that goes double for school nights."
Uh-uh. No way, Jose. Time to test the waters. "You're jumping the gun." Harm snagged Mac around the waist, drawing her back down into his lap. On the drive home, his mind began to formulate a plan. Time to see if Mac would go for it. "Instead of waiting for the knockout blow, let's beat her to the punch."
"How?"
"Let me make a few calls. I'll explain as we go along."
++++++++++
Two Days Later
Saturday
1142 EST
JAG Headquarters
Falls Church, VA
"I don't need to see anymore. Please stop the tape." The quiet plea sliced through the heavy fog of silence hovering within Admiral Chegwidden's office. "So that's why she needed my truck and collapsible hand cart." Vice Admiral Shaw offered his hand in apology to Harm. "Commander, it won't ever be enough, but I _am_ truly sorry."
"So am I, sir." Although not a father, not yet at least, Harm still identified with the plight of Admiral Shaw. Someone he loved was in pain, and in desperate need of help. "Will your daughter be able to recover?"
"Yes, she will. With continued therapy and love. Our family will make sure of it." Shaw handed Harm his business card. "Please inform me of the damages. I will fully reimburse you for your monetary losses, along with correcting the false stigma you have endured. Don't worry Commander, your good name and reputation will be restored up and down the line, in and out of the military. I'll see to it."
"Thank you, Admiral."
"I'll walk you, out sir."
Shaw gently waved Chegwidden off. "At ease, AJ. Take care of your people. They deserve it." Nobody moved until the door clicked shut behind him.
Mac empathized with the Vice Admiral. "Sir, will his career take a hit?"
"Probably not, Colonel. And even if it does, his daughter's welfare will trump that. I guess the scuttlebutt turned out to be true."
"Sir?"
"Quiet murmurs over the years, nothing more."
"Understood."
The Admiral leaned back against the front of his desk, bracing his palms flat against the top, curling his fingers around the edge. "You want to run it by me one more time?"
Harm briefly locked gazes with Mac, their silent understanding loud and clear. A split second later he related the plan. "I called some friends over at DC Metro Police. Explained the situation, what I needed and hoped to accomplish."
"That's why you called me Thursday night after the game requesting yesterday off?"
"Yes, sir."
"Go on."
"We installed a mobile car surveillance camera system in my SUV as the primary recording unit, and four-PTV100 Patrol Vision Roof Top Surveillance Cameras along the three walls and over the garage door as the secondary, or back up recording unit."
"It's a wonder she didn't notice the cameras."
Harm nodded to Mac, who picked up the story. "The mobile system is a pin-hole camera, easily concealed. We mounted six total. The Roof Top cameras we hid behind hubcaps, positioning the lens through the center-hole. We needed the hole day to wire everything, knowing she would probably strike at night like the last time."
Chegwidden crossed his arms over his chest. Damn these two can be sneaky when they want to. Professionally and personally. This was getting better by the second, although he doubted Harm would agree with that assessment. "How did you know she would strike the same target again?"
"We didn't, but Petty Officer Coates did. She recognized some of the tactics. Jen predicted the stalker would mount systematic attacks. Instead of destroying the object outright in one fell swoop, she would make you expend resources - physical, emotional, psychological and monetary - by executing repeated attacks, escalating the damage progressively along the way." With a nod, Mac handed off the story back to Harm.
"We also knew that she knew about our Corvettes as well. So we stored them at Capital Corvettes." After sinking precious man-hours and money into restoration, Harm had to protect his baby. "Reduced her target of opportunity by two."
"So I guess the Lexus is a total loss?"
"Absolutely. Never mind the slashed tires, gas in the oil compartment, etc. Even if all of that _didn't_ happen, there was no way I was going to step into that car again. Not after seeing her dump bag after bag of compost _everywhere_, including flooding the engine compartment until it overflowed out the front fender wells. Don't even get me started on the A/C vents."
Chegwidden smiled. Only you, Rabb, he thought, only you. "So," he dragged out the word, milking the silence like any good CO would, "what's this 'other' thing?" He knew damn well what it was, but hey, Admiral's privilege.
Showtime. Harm and Mac linked hands between the chairs. That's all they needed to say.
"Okay you, two, let's keep this short and sweet." Chegwidden folded his arms across his chest. Again. "I'm going to invoke the 'don't ask, don't tell' policy. Until a permanent change is in the works, everything remains the same. Or until one of you kills the other. Understood?"
Harm and Mac simultaneously snapped to attention, knocking over their respective chairs. "Yes, sir."
"Good. And it's not like I haven't prepared for this day, because I have. There are several options already in the pipeline, waiting for vacancies and the appropriate chops along the way. Every possible means to keep you both here will be exercised. You'll be the first to know, after me. Dismissed."
++++++++++
1306 EST
Roberts Home
Vienna Woods, VA
AJ tore through the festive gift wrapping. "Cool!"
"What do you say?" Harriet prodded her infinitely spoiled son.
AJ hurled himself against his godparents legs. "Thank you, Uncle Harm. Thank you, Aunty Mac."
"You're welcome, Tiger." Harm scooped up his godson onto his lap. "But we didn't buy it. Mommy and Daddy did. Since you know all of the hiding places, they asked us to keep it as a surprise."
Harriet couldn't ask for more loving or better friends. 'Thank you,' she mouthed, unable to voice her gratitude without breaking down into a weeping mess.
Mac winked in response before gracing AJ with her usual kiss to his forehead. "Have fun, sweetie."
AJ scrambled down from Harm's lap, making a beeline for his new bounty. All the adults watched with glee as he couldn't decide between the Wilson football set, or the Louisville baseball set.
Bud didn't how he got so lucky. With Harriet. Little A.J. Tina. And especially baby Sarah, no matter how brief her presence was on this earth. He probably wouldn't be able to prove it, but he could have sworn none of that would have ever happened if it weren't for the Commander and the Colonel.
Harm and Mac.
"Daddy! Help!"
Soon mutual goodbyes were exchanged all around, and Harm guided Mac toward a post. Mac stepped into his embrace. "What is it with us and porches?"
"It does seem to work for us." He thought about peeking for any sign of Bud or Harriet before kissing the daylights out of Mac, but remembered the carte blanche they had from now on. Just not at the office.
A long minute later he smacked his lips before wagging his eyebrows at a dazed and confused Mac. "Why don't you come with me to pick out a car?"
Mac blinked several times before answering. It couldn't be, could it? Only one way to find out. "Minivan or Humvee?"
"SUV, yes. Minivan, no."
Just a little more. "What about our peanut butter covered kids?"
"You mean my little jarhead plastered in Reese's Crunchy?" Harm teased.
"Well, yeah." Mac conceeded, playing it to the hilt. "And my little sailor slathered in Creamy Jif."
Harm's lips twisted into a wry grin. "So much for Skippy."
"And if we just so happen to pass a jewelry store along the way..." Mac probed. "I *am* your girlfriend, right?" Don't you _dare_ stop now, flyboy, or they'll be peeling you from the asphalt where I've just run over you.
"Damn straight, marine." Harm meshed their hands together before kissing Mac's left ring finger. "So, where to first?" With his free hand, Harm fished out a coin from his front pocket. "Heads the nearest DaimlerChrysler Jeep dealership-"
"No more Lexus?"
"Frank talked up the Jeep. Couldn't hurt to look." Harm shrugged. He did identify more with the rugged lines of the Grand Cherokee than the esoteric RX300. Better paint selection, too. "Heads car dealership, tails Wisconsin Avenue."
'Yes!!,' Mac mentally screamed on the inside, all prim and proper on the outside. "You've been looking?"
"Uh...uh." Harm stuttered. Busted. "The Sunday circulars in the Post." Feeble, but passable. Yeah, right.
"Don't forget the shops along M Street." Mac raised the back of her free hand against her forehead. "I have visions of a certain flyboy lugging bags and bags of Manolo Blahniks all over Georgetown."
Harm groaned. "C'mon, Mac. How many shades and pairs of 'black' heels do you really need? Uh, don't answer that. Call it." Harm spun the coin on the porch railing.
"Jewelry store." Mac tugged Harm down the steps and toward her Vette, the spinning flash of silver long forgotten.
* * * * * THE END * * * * *
AN #4: The fictional cyber-stalker isn't gender specific, and could have easily been a man. She was only portrayed as a woman to fit the framework of the story.
AN #5: The swinging, gay and homosexual references were designed to slander, shame and defame Harm. Once again, they were only inserted to fit the mindset of the fictional female cyber-stalker, and the framework of the story.