********** INTERPRETING REALITY - 2004 JAG VS, ep. 10 **********

Thursday evening
2111 EDT
Mac’s apartment
Georgetown, D.C.

She had kept her vow for a long time indeed.

‘I'm never letting you out of my sight again.’

‘Never’ had lasted for exactly two weeks. Impressive. What was left were a pilot running to help a colleague in distress and a Marine staying back home and feeling uneasy about it to a degree that bordered on being ridiculous.

Even simple things like eating didn’t work well alone. Despite her hunger, Mac found herself listlessly chewing her Tex-Mex triple cheese and ground beef pizza. Not that she didn’t like it – on the contrary. All day she’d looked forward to eating as unhealthily as she wanted, with no one around to preach about surplus calories and high levels of LDL cholesterol. Yet, right now she realized she’d have preferred a good sermon about salads and vitamins to the silence that surrounded her instead. She couldn’t tell if it was more uneasiness or Harm-withdrawal that she was feeling, but be it what it may – the bottom line was that having time all to herself was everything but relaxing.

‘Forget about unhealthy food,’ she thought sarcastically, taking the half-finished pizza back into the kitchen. If this negative stress was a regular phenomenon in a functioning relationship, her condition was bound to worsen rather than improve before long. ‘You’d better wrap things up down there quickly, sailor.’

He’d surprised her quite well yesterday, announcing that he was to fly out to New Orleans for a case that could easily have been handled by the local JAG office. Some pilot accusing his technician of using the wrong spare parts on his jet. She hadn’t even had to understand the whole story to know that Harm was doing this merely for private reasons. She was surprised that Blankenship hadn’t objected when he had applied for defense counsel.

Upon closer inquiry, Harm had mumbled something indefinite about wanting to help out an old acquaintance from flight school. Although his explanation had been anything but satisfactory, she’d argued only half-heartedly. Mac was ready to take a lot of things – but turning into a second Neurotic Annie was against her nature. She would trust him not to do anything foolish. And talk to him every night.

Mac had planned on finally finishing the novel she’d started reading even before the Connors case. A few new DVDs were waiting on the movie shelf, and her body might be grateful for an extensive beauty time-out. But no matter how hard she tried, her eyes kept darting to the telephone (‘Why doesn’t he call?’), the clock (‘Dammit, I know it’s 2113 here but I wonder what he’s doing right now?’) or the window (‘Tomorrow it’s going to rain in Louisiana.’). Finally, she gave up the fight, stretched out on the couch and let her thoughts wander, frowning as the fitting old Roxette song came to her mind. ‘I’m spending my time, watching the days go by...’

“Jeez...” she hissed, half angry, half amused, as she pushed herself up again and decided to give the cold pizza a second try. Just then, the shrill signal of her telephone broke the silence. She spun around on her heel, literally flew to the phone, yanked the receiver up to her ear and responded, barely catching her breath.

“About time, sailor.” She could hear her own smile reverberate in her words and decided to tinge her voice with just a little sensual irony. “Not calling all day isn’t exactly the kind of behavior I’d expect from someone in your position. I told you, Big Marine is watching you. And don’t give me that ‘Big Mac’ thing again, right?”

Silence.

Confused, she asked, “Harm?”

[“Uh... hi, Mac...”] The voice of a teenage girl. Uh oh.

**********
Opening Credits
**********

Mac felt her cheeks starting to glow when she replied, desperately trying to sound casual although she knew she’d already given away way too much. “Oh, ah, hi, Chloe! Now that’s a nice surprise! Umm, how are things?” The chuckle she forced out sounded more like a sob.

[“Okay...”]

Mac thought Chloe had never sounded so wary.

[“Are you all right?”] the girl wanted to know.

“Well, yes, of course! Why wouldn’t I be? I mean, I’m just so surprised to hear your voice! Not that the surprise is...”

[“Mac. You’re babbling.”]

Mac stopped short and took a deep breath. Pummeling herself mentally and forcing her voice back to normal, she simply answered, “Okay, sorry. I had a lot of stress at work today. But it really is nice to hear your voice.” In tiny doses, she let her smile reappear. “Why the unexpected pleasure?”

Apparently, Chloe saw her diversionary tactic for what it was. Her grin became audible as well when she answered, [“You can thank my English teacher, and I need to ask you a favor. But tell me, did I get that right? You and Harm...?”]

“... are finally best friends again, yes. About time.” Mac cut her off in a tone that didn’t allow any objections. “Sometimes I can’t believe it myself. But I did miss it,” she added in a satisfactory imitation of grim contentment. “So, why do I need to thank your English teacher for this call?”

[“I was just coming to that,”] came Chloe’s smug answer. The girl sounded entirely too confident for Mac’s liking, but there was nothing she could do about that right now so she chose to ignore it. [“But before I explain,”] Chloe went on, [“I just want you to know that I don’t buy it.”]

“What?”

[“The best-friends thing between you and Harm.”]

“Oh, you don’t? Well, your choice. But,” Mac was laughing at the absurdity of the situation, “Why don’t you just tell me what this is all about?”

For some reason, Chloe kept avoiding the topic. [“I’m sorry I haven’t called for so long,”] she said instead. [“It’s really great talking to you.”]

Mac was still chuckling. “Yeah, same here. Okay, now that we’re agreed on that, why did you call?”

[“As I said, I need to ask you a favor. There’s this special English class I’m taking this year...”]

“And...?” Mac prompted, waiting for her to elaborate.

As if she needed to gather her courage, Chloe inhaled deeply and then explained in a rush of words, [“It’s a preparatory journalism class. For those who’re interested in the media and got at least a B on their last creative writing test. I got an A, actually...”]

“Congratulations,” Mac acknowledged, her curiosity rising. “And now you want to do an interview with me?” she joked.

To her surprise, Chloe hesitated slightly. [“Umm... yes. That is, no... I...”] Obviously unnerved, she took another deep breath and tried again. [“Okay, the thing is, we get next week off to research our stories for our big project. We’re doing a magazine, but not just with school stuff. Our teacher wants us to do real stories, you know, politics and society and all. But there’s just nothing of the sort going on around here. Freaking countryside... So, uh, I was wondering...”] She halted, and Mac decided to relieve her by completing the sentence herself.

“So you were wondering if you might just go visit your old friend Mac in the Capital and pick up some kick-ass story on the way, right?”

[“Uh... yeah.”]

Mac was torn between joy and slight trepidation. She easily admitted to herself that she’d been longing to see Chloe for a long time, especially since Harm had Mattie staying with him. The girls had to be just about the same age. Mac thought that she’d have liked to introduce them, but she immediately told herself not to get carried away. Mattie was currently away on a short vacation with Tom, and the opportunity to get the girls together wouldn’t present itself.

But having her little sister around for a couple of days might make her feel more complete again. It might be something to strike her motherly chord – something to make her feel less barren. Mac knew she wasn’t, but the threat looming over her sometimes made her feel as if she were. Mattie had worked wonders with Harm. Chloe might do her just as much good, and be it only for a few days.

On the other hand, the girl had always had a surprising potential for trouble. Bringing her into JAG Headquarters (and it was obvious to Mac that this was what Chloe was secretly hoping for), and having her run into John Carroll B., the fourth... Oh, boy.

“I’d be thrilled to have you here, hon,” she began carefully, “But I fear that at JAG you might not find the kind of story you’re looking for. Of course, if you want to go story-hunting on your own in D.C...”

[“Actually, I want to do a story on a real criminal,”] Chloe said. [“You guys get to do a lot of great things like that, you know, murder and harassment and stuff. That’d be so cool to write about!”]

‘Tread carefully, Mackenzie,’ Mac ordered herself. The excitement in Chloe’s voice wasn’t exactly reassuring. Better try and wriggle out of this before it was too late. “It’s quite difficult to report court cases,” she said, “And digging up info in a big city can sometimes be a lot more stress than stumbling over it in the, quote, freaking countryside. Why don’t you start with your local police station?”

[“Amber’s dad works there and she’s already at it. I need something impressive, Mac,”] Chloe declared, her voice slightly whiny.

“Who’s Amber?”

[“Some girl from my class. She really sucks.”]

‘Oh, now we’re getting to the bottom,’ Mac thought, amused. “Sounds more like ‘some enemy’ from your class,” she remarked.

A giggle told her that her guess had been accurate. [“Yeah,”] Chloe admitted. [“She’s so perfect she makes me want to puke. Seems like I’m the only one who actually beat her on an exam. She only got a B last time in math – I had an A.”]

“Congrats again,” Mac said. “And now you’re planning on beating her with your story as well, I assume?”

Mac could almost hear Chloe shift her weight on her seat. [“Well... yes.”]

“Much as I understand you, I can only say it again: you won’t find this kind of a story at JAG.”

[“But you’re prosecuting criminals, and in D.C.! I’m sure there will be some exciting stuff to build up a story from!”]

“I doubt drunk and disorderly sailors will impress Amber all that much,” Mac tried again.

[“Aww, Mac, you know what I’m talking about!”] Mac could tell Chloe was pouting. [“You don’t have to help me find a topic. Just let me stay with you for a couple of days and take me to JAG. I’ll be fine. Please, Mac...”]

‘You’ll be fine – but will we?’ Mac frowned but then gave in. Except for her concern about the admiral’s reaction when he saw she was allowing a schoolgirl to do her homework at JAG during working hours, Mac couldn’t really think of a valid enough reason to deny her the favor. And truth be told – Mac was relieved she couldn’t come up with a real obstacle, worries notwithstanding.

“Okay,” she finally conceded with a sigh. “But I won’t be able to look after you very much. I have a few cases going that I need to tend, so you’ll mostly be on your own. I expect of you to behave as if you were a fourth-year midshipman at Annapolis, and keep clear of our new admiral. He won’t be too delighted about seeing you snooping around. Contact my colleagues before assaulting them, set up dates for interviews, stick to the schedule and in between appointments keep to my office, the break room, or the library. Got that?”

[“Ma’am! Yes, ma’am!”] Chloe yelled into the receiver loud enough to make Mac see stars for a second.

“Ouch,” she laughed, rubbing her sore ear. “I see you got my point, but military protocol is nothing to laugh at.”

[“Right. I won’t. Promise,”] Chloe said readily.

“And just for your info: at JAG, that’s ‘Aye, ma’am’,” Mac said with an audible wink.

[“Aye, ma’am.”]

“So, when do I come pick you up at the airport?” Mac got down to business once she’d made her peace with the situation.

[“I reserved a flight for Sunday afternoon. Just say the word and I’ll confirm.”]

“The word,” Mac replied dryly.

[“Ha ha,”] Chloe said. [“I see we’ll get along just fine. That is... if it’s just the two of us. But if there’s a certain third party involved...”]

“Red light, Midshipman. And better get used to the traffic lights. When we use them, we mean it,” Mac threatened.

[“Harm and Mac, sitting in a tree, K-I-S-S-I...”]

“Shut up!” Mac yelled with an annoyed laugh. Much as she dreaded Chloe’s project, she already noticed the lightening of heart she’d always felt when the girl was around. She could definitely use the distraction, all the while doing some good catching up with Harm, too, speaking in terms of parenting teenagers. “See you on Sunday.”

[“You’re the best! I can’t wait.”]

“Bye, baby.”

[“Bye!”]

Setting the receiver back onto the cradle, Mac leaned back on her couch, shaking her head as she thought about her C.O.’s probable reaction. “I wonder what I should wear for my resignation party,” she murmured, only half joking.

Saturday
1723 EDT
Harm’s apartment
North of Union Station
Washington, D.C.

Mac closed her eyes and breathed deeply. In – out – in – out... This place was filled with so much of him that she felt calm and content just from sitting on his couch and letting the atmosphere work its effect on her. If they ever were to make good on their deal, they’d both have to give up their apartments and look for something bigger to raise a child in. Much as she longed for that to happen, she knew she’d miss this place. Bitterly.

She hadn’t had all that much of an opportunity to connect with Harm since he had called her on Thursday night. Also, he hadn’t really told her much about what it was he was doing down there. It had been just the same for his sweet but brief message on her machine on Friday. His information policy was starting to annoy her, but she told herself to keep quiet on the matter – for now. No Neurotic Annie. However, if this continued for more than another two days, a simple “I’m all right” wouldn’t do anymore, she resolved.

She picked up the phone and called his cell, marveling how she could still have butterflies in her stomach when she was just ringing him up, something she’d done so many times over. And yet, ever since the Connors case, things felt completely different.

The phone display told her that someone had picked up, and two seconds later, she heard the well-known voice.

[“Rabb.”]

“Hey, flyboy, it’s me.”

[“Hey, Mac,”] he answered gently, his smile shining through his words, [“Good to hear you.”]

“Same here. How’re things going in Cajun country? Staying out of trouble I hope?”

He laughed softly and she could almost see him shake his head. [“Yes, ma’am,”] he drawled. [“I’m trying to do my best. I’m making some headway on the case, too. But the research takes up a whole lot more time than I expected.”]

“Any idea when you’ll be back home?” Mac had tried to sound neutral, but he immediately picked up on the slight insecurity in her voice.

[“Could you actually be missing me, Colonel?”] he retorted smugly.

Mac was well aware that he expected her to react with some witty remark, starting one of their traditional semi-earnest arguments, but this time she wanted to catch him off-guard. “Dreadfully,” she simply said, disarming him completely with her simple sincerity.

[“Wow, Colonel...”] Harm sounded as if he needed a few seconds to regroup.

‘Gotcha,’ Mac thought, her grin exuberant.

[“I miss you more than you can imagine,”] he finally confessed, his tone matching her previous openness and causing her breath to slightly catch in her throat.

For a moment they were silent, until eventually Mac reopened the dialogue. “I don’t understand how we can still be so shocked about those little confessions when we’ve already slept together,” she said with a grim, annoyed chuckle. “Or when we’ve saved each other’s sixes so many times that I can’t even keep track anymore of who owes whom.”

[“You mean ESP-ing me out on the Atlantic should have been more shocking than hearing me say that I miss you?”]

She laughed. “Yeah, for example. Or seeing you stand on that butterfly mine and trying to bail you out of that one. But instead I’m at a loss for words when you’re being nice to me.”

[“I guess even that’s just a matter of getting used to,”] Harm said with a sly audible shrug. His tone sobering, he went on, [“Although sometimes I wish I’d never get used to all this. Right now, I love being surprised by myself and our situation.”]

“I know what you mean. I just wish we had a little more time together. Just the two of us – to really savor it, sort of, you know...” Embarrassed, she let her voice trail off.

[“And maybe add another dimension to sleeping together?”] he asked, his voice bearing a fine touch of innuendo.

“Among other things, yeah...” she admitted, feeling ridiculously shy and silently scolding herself for it.

[“My thoughts exactly.”]

“Well, the time will come, I guess,” she tried to steer the ship into safer waters.

[“Definitely will,”] he agreed. [“By the way, do you have any plans for next weekend?”]

“Not yet.”

[“Court or any important interviews on Friday?”]

“No. Why?”

[“Nothing really,”] he replied way too carelessly. [“But do me a favor, okay?”]

“What is it?”

[“Take Friday off and don’t make plans for the weekend just yet. Please?”] The words had come out a little too quickly to fully hide his excitement.

The butterflies in her stomach resumed their dance. “I’ll talk to Blankenship first thing on Monday. If he’ll admit me, that is.” She frowned.

[“That bad?”]

She sighed. “Let’s say he was less than thrilled at the prospect of having Chloe around doing her research.”

[“What did he say?”]

Mac pinched her nose to give her voice a pseudo-aristocratic nasality and imitated her C.O., “Colonel Mackenzie, you know I am a fervent supporter of profound educational efforts regarding young people readying themselves to assume responsibility in society. Still, you ought to be aware of the considerable inconveniences and improprieties, if not security breaches that this young lady’s presence at Headquarters might cause if not properly tended to. I will favor your request this time, but I might choose not to do so in the future. And it is you whom I will hold personally responsible for any incidents that might occur during Miss Madison’s stay.”

[“Goodness...”] Harm groaned sympathetically. [“Still didn’t break his tongue with so many four-plus syllable words?”]

“Unfortunately not.”

[“I’m so sorry but I need to cut this short,”] Harm changed the topic, his voice as sad and apologetic as could be, [“But I’m meeting a witness tonight who’s been very hard to get a hold of. But before I go: anything exciting in the mail?”]

“Depends on how excited you get looking at garden tools or examining your telephone bill.”

[“Not too much, hopefully. Anything else?”]

Mac pondered the question for a moment, letting her eyes wander around the apartment. “Not really. The bakery at the corner opened a café next door, but I doubt they’ll survive for long; the light bulb above the entrance to the basement is broken, I’m going to buy a new one tomorrow; and there seems to be a new favorite spot for beggars right opposite your building. The newspaperman built a little roof over the steps leading up to his shop. There’s been someone sitting there, begging, ever since. Changing personnel, too. You ought to warn Mattie when she comes home. Tonight it’s just an old woman, but yesterday it was a younger man. You never know. They might be selling drugs, too,” she couldn’t hold herself back from adding with an audible malicious grin.

[“New supply sources. Now that’s good news,”] he shot back, apparently smiling, yet with a nuance of exasperated annoyance in his voice.

“Sorry,” she immediately murmured, unable to completely swallow a giggle. “I know the joke doesn’t have too much running-gag potential anymore.”

[“Well, I’m glad we agree on that.”] Mac could tell Harm had ordered himself to relax. [“I’ll call Mattie about it tomorrow, and I’ll talk to Jen, too. Gotta go now...”] The reluctance in his voice was endearing.

She smiled. “Take care, will ya?”

[“You, too. Love you.”]

“Love you, too... bye...”

[“Bye, honey.”]

Mac was still holding the receiver to her ear when the ‘click’ had already broken the connection for good. But the endearment he had used was ringing in her ear. She’d have sweet dreams tonight.

**********

Coming up on ZBS this fall: the world’s most striking paramilitary courtroom drama!

JAQ – Judge Advocate QUANGO: your new all-time favorite QUasi Autonomous Non-Governmental Organization!

Herman Crabb, former Coast Guard pilot turned lawyer, and his feisty by-the-book Girl Scout partner Farrah MacFrenzie will save the world – and each other – from threats you never even dreamed of!

Another hallmark Sagittarius Production – don’t miss it!

***********

Sunday
1808 EDT
Mac’s car

Changing lanes to the right, Mac threw yet another glance at the girl next to her. She simply couldn’t get over how much Chloe had grown since she’d last seen her. Not so much in height – she’d probably always be a head shorter than herself – but at fifteen, Chloe Madison had definitely left her real childhood days behind. Even for a teenager, she looked rather grown-up. It wasn’t only that she wore her hair pinned up in a stylish fashion, had put on a little make-up and had embellished her belly-button with some fake gem. In her eyes, there was an expression Mac had sometimes witnessed in Mattie’s eyes, too, telling of having suffered loss and having worked her way through. However, as soon as she smiled and began to tell stories from school, the headstrong, bold girl from way back when resurfaced. Chloe might have grown and changed outwardly. Deep down, though, she was still as Mac remembered her.

“Penny for your thoughts,” Chloe said, eyebrows up high.

“I was just thinking how old I must be if you’ve grown to be a lady,” Mac replied with a crooked grin in a weak attempt on humor.

“Ancient,” Chloe confirmed dryly. “And you’re still single. I never figured you’d be a sucker for dying an old maid.” The challenge to contradict her was plainly audible.

‘Oh, no, girl, you don’t get me this easily,’ Mac silently shot back, her grin deepening. “You might want to rethink the old-maid part, and... well, being single does have its advantages. Eating unhealthy food, watching lots of TV, working late, spending your money for yourself only...”

“You’re doing a poor job distracting me,” Chloe said, sticking her tongue in her cheek. “Okay, you don’t want to talk about Harm. Got that. But if that’s so, you’d better not bring up topics like food and TV. I have an elephant’s memory.”

“We’re not very far from the airport yet.”

“In other words, red light.”

“Yup.”

“Was worth a try.”

“If you say so...”

“Okay,” Chloe’s voice let show that Mac had won this time. “So, what nice cases have you got for me to write about?”

“Hmm, Bud’s working on something that happened right here in town...” Mac tried to recall the last staff meeting. “As far as I remember he’s defending a seaman who got involved in some fist fight in a bar.” “Wow. Any injuries? Anyone hospitalized? Was it drugs they fought about? Or maybe contraband?”

Mac shot Chloe a glance and decided she had an unhealthy gleam of eagerness in her eyes. “Slow down, girl,” she cautioned. “I don’t know. Most times such things are about women or simply being drunk.”

“Maybe someone was flirting with his girl,” Chloe mused. “Maybe someone even threatened her and he needed to rescue her from her assailant. Maybe...”

“Maybe he was convinced he was Superman because he had too much vodka,” Mac cut her off. “What else have we got?” she went on before Chloe’s fantasy fully got the better of her. “I think Sturgis is trying to shed some light on a series of thefts from officers’ domiciles in Norfolk. You might ask him how he goes about linking one to the next and discovering a pattern,” she suggested.

“Oh, I’ve read about such things,” Chloe replied. “Maybe I could even help him. First, you need to analyze what’s similar and then what’s different. And then you write a list of suspects. Maybe there’s something psychological behind it all.” Her voice took up a dreamy edge again. “Maybe there’s some petty officer or whatever who’s envious and wants to get back at them. You know, maybe he’s tired of being ordered around by them and wants to let them feel he’s got power over them, too. I heard about a case in California where...”

“Do you know Chuck de Palma?” Mac decided she’d had enough.

“The guy from ZNN?” Chloe asked, taken aback.

“Exactly. I once heard him say in an interview that the most important thing about serious reporting was sticking to the facts, not inflating snippets.” Mac pulled up in front of her building and turned off the engine. “Don’t you think he might have a point?”

Chloe gave her a look of ‘duh’. “’Course he does. But my teacher says a good writer gets a feeling how to interpret what he or she gets.”

“Maybe. But shouldn’t you start by just writing what people tell you?”

“People tell a lot of stories when the day’s long enough. They often don’t know what they’re dealing with.” Chloe’s voice was so condescending that Mac had to try hard not to laugh out loud.

“But you do, obviously?” was all she asked.

“Well, my teacher says that as a reporter, you’re able to judge from the outside,” Chloe explained patiently. “Your mind doesn’t get caught up in things, because you’re just a neutral observer. That’s why reporters sometimes pick up things that the police don’t.”

Mac silently resolved to contact Chloe’s teacher and tell her a few nice words about spreading hazardous views. “And how would your teacher know?” she inquired.

“Oh, she really knows first-hand. She was a reporter before she became a teacher. She must have been so good at it. She can tell incredible stories about what she reported about.” Chloe sounded as if she looked up to her like she would to some goddess.

“Why isn’t she a reporter anymore, then?”

“She couldn’t move away from the small community she lives in,” Chloe explained, “Because of her old mother. And the local newspaper was too narrow-minded for her stories, so she quit.”

“Maybe the local newspaper thought her stories could be doubted?” Mac interjected but Chloe dismissed such heresy right away.

“Mac, she’s a real professional! I’ve learned so much in that class! How to get information that people are reluctant to give you. How to dig up stories in the first place. How to present them so that people are hanging on your every line. She wants to do this magazine with us because she told us that we’re the best class she’s ever taught and that we know everything we need to know to do whatever story we like. I tell you, she was just too good for the press people she was working for. Well, not that I’m complaining – if it weren’t for them, I’d never have gotten to do that course with her,” she added with a wink and a smile.

Beginning to doubt that she’d been in her right mind when she’d allowed Chloe to come, and beginning to dread for real what might happen once the girl’s fantasy was set free and allowed to unfold on real cases, Mac made a last attempt to keep evil at bay. She threw Chloe a superb, challenging look, trying to appear far more confident than she felt. “I’m willing to bet that she didn’t teach you to do stories based on hard facts only,” she drawled. “De Palma referred to this as the high art of journalism. I bet you’re not fit to do that yet.”

From the quick flash of anger in Chloe’s eyes, Mac could tell that her tactic had worked. The girl would be longing to defend her idol now. In fact, Chloe retorted, “Accepted. What do we bet?”

“If I lose, I promise to come and visit you for Thanksgiving this year, and I’ll bring the turkey.”

“Grandma’s going to believe it when she sees it, but okay.” Chloe held out her hand, and Mac shook it.

“No speculation, just writing down what people tell you,” Mac reminded her.

“Just reporting reality and interpreting it for my comments,” Chloe agreed.

Mac dismissed the notion that this last statement was open to interpretation in itself.

Monday
0903 local
JAG Headquarters
Falls Church, VA

Chloe tried to appear cool and relaxed, but Mac could easily tell that she was intimidated. People in uniform wherever you looked, protocol observed wherever you set your foot – to the eye of an outsider, the institution breathed perfection. To a teenager battling with the rules of the adult world, this had to be a frightening place. Waiting for the elevator doors to open, Chloe was slightly swaying back and forth on her feet, hugging herself tightly.

“Ready?” Mac asked with an encouraging pat on the back.

“Uh huh,” Chloe made distractedly when the elevator doors opened and they looked into the bullpen.

“Okay, let’s go.” Purposefully happy, Mac strode into the big room, Chloe following close by.

“Good morning, everybody,” Mac said in something not too far from her command voice. Friendly faces turned her way as the personnel stood to greet her. “Maybe some of you still remember my friend Chloe Madison who was here once, about five years ago. Now she’s back in Falls Church because she wants to research an article on military jurisdiction for a magazine. The admiral supports me in bringing her along, and I ask that you please help her with her work whenever she has a question. You all know we need journalists with a military-friendly attitude. Now carry on.” With a wink and a smile, Mac waved them off, telling herself that she hadn’t... really... given false facts about the situation. Chloe was researching an article, Blankenship had – if grudgingly – given his permission, and they did need pro-military media. Maybe this was what interpreting reality was all about, she concluded.

Chloe gave the staff an embarrassed smile and then followed Mac as she headed for the offices. “Don’t I get to see the admiral first?” she asked.

“He’s not here today, but I already scheduled an interview with him for you for tomorrow morning.”

“Oh, great...” Chloe’s nose had just turned a little whiter.

“But Commander Roberts and Commander Turner agreed to see you.” Mac knocked on the nearest door. “Bud, you there?”

“Come on in, ma’am.”

Mac gave Chloe a gentle sisterly push and closed the door when the two of them had entered the office. “Bud, you remember Chloe, don’t you?”

“Of course, ma’am. Miss Madison, you’ve grown to be a lady,” he said gallantly, getting up and offering his hand to the girl who took it, visibly uncomfortable.

“Thank you, sir.”

“I’ll leave the two of you alone,” Mac said, giving them a smile and retreating. All of a sudden, she felt a strong urge to get herself some nice, strong coffee.

**********

Inside the office, Bud pulled up a chair for Chloe and then sat down again at his desk. “So, what can I do for you?” he asked, trying to sound encouraging.

“Uh, I wanted to ask you about your current case,” the girl stammered. Then she seemed to pull herself together, took a notepad and a pen out of her purse, drew herself upright and put on what she apparently thought was a professional expression. “Mac, ah, Colonel Mackenzie told me you’re defending a seaman who got involved in a fist fight?”

Bud nodded. “Yes, that’s right, last Thursday night in a bar not far from the Pentagon.” Chloe began to write while he spoke, so he slowed down. “No names, okay?”

“That’s okay, I can write ‘name changed by the editor’,” Chloe interjected, never looking up from her notepad while scribbling away.

“Uh, yeah, okay.” Bud tried to resume his thread of thought. “Anyway, my client was in this bar where he usually hangs out with his friends when he’s in town. According to the bartender, he and his three friends had consumed about half a fifth of vodka when someone started a fight about...”

“About a woman?” Chloe suggested curiously.

Slightly startled, Bud shook his head. “No. Actually, my client claims he doesn’t even know who started it and why.”

“Were there any drugs involved?”

Bud thought for a moment. “None that I know of, no.” He wondered if he had really just seen the girl’s face fall a little.

“Any illegal trading?” she tried again. “Dunno... weapons, tax-fee cigarettes?”

“I don’t think so.”

Chloe chewed her pen, apparently thinking hard. “Was he Manic? Or did he look like someone from the Middle East?” she eventually asked.

“No,” Bud answered calmly, curious what Chloe’s fantasy might come up with next.

“What measures did you take to gather evidence?”

“None, actually,” Bud said, beginning to pity the girl who found all her lines of questioning closed. “I have the bartender’s testimony and my client’s confession. They’re willing to settle for an agreement.”

“Are you sure this wasn’t maybe about some prostitute working for the bartender?” Chloe tried again, hope shining in her eyes. “A woman he wanted to hook up with?”

Trying hard not to sigh, Bud shook his head. “Sorry, no prostitutes. I know because I tend to go to that bar myself with a friend, every once in a while. Maybe you should ask whom he was fighting with,” he tried to help the girl onto the right road.

Her eyes lit up again. “Oh, yeah, right. So, who else was involved in the fighting?” she asked.

“A few workers from a nearby building site,” Bud explained. “All my client recalls is that they were arguing about whether to drink British, Bavarian, or Canadian beer.”

“Oh...” Chloe looked as if someone had emptied a bucket of cold water over her head. Disillusioned, she put the pen away. “Well, I’m sorry, Commander, but this story isn’t exactly what I had in mind...” her voice trailed off.

“If you tinge the whole thing with a little irony, it might make for a nice article after all,” Bud suggested, feeling a little helpless.

The girl seemed to be uncomfortable. “I appreciate your suggestions, sir, but... ah... it’s not... ah...”

“Dramatic enough?” he finished her sentence with a conspiratorial wink.

Embarrassed, Chloe let out a low chuckle, tucking a strand of blond hair behind her ear. “Uh, kinda, yeah.”

With a smile, Bud stood and showed her to the door. “Maybe Commander Turner’s case fits better into the pattern you had in mind,” he concluded good-naturedly. “I’d like to read your article once it’s done.”

“I’ll let Mac have a copy of the magazine once it’s printed,” Chloe promised, obviously relieved that he hadn’t taken offence.

“I’m looking forward to it. Oh, Commander Turner?”

Sturgis who was just passing by, a cup of coffee in his hand, stopped and drew near.

“How can I help you?” he asked, throwing a curious glance at Chloe.

“This is Colonel Mackenzie’s friend Chloe Madison,” Bud introduced the girl who actually curtsied. The JAG experience had to be a good deal unsettling even for a bold character as he remembered her to be. “I expect she’s scheduled to talk with you about your case now, sir?”

Sturgis glanced at his watch, then made an inviting gesture towards his office door. “I’m all yours, Miss Madison.”

“Thank you, sir.” Chloe shyly followed the tall gentleman into his office, leaving Bud wondering if she’d be able to turn Sturgis’s series of break-ins into a serial chainsaw murderer.

**********

“Please, have a seat,” Sturgis invited the girl who lowered herself onto the edge of the chair he’d offered, back straight, hands clutching her notepad and pen.

“So, you’re interested in military jurisdiction?” he opened the dialogue.

Chloe smiled a little uneasily. “More in crime-scene investigation, actually,” she admitted.

Sturgis raised an eyebrow. “You should have met with someone from NCIS then.”

“Mac mentioned that to me,” Chloe agreed, “But I don’t know anyone from NCIS, and somehow Mac doesn’t seem to like them very much.”

Biting back a quick grin, Sturgis shrugged. “Let’s just say we had an all too close encounter with them about a year ago.”

“Something happened to someone at JAG? Were you involved?” Chloe asked eagerly, making Sturgis curse himself for having brought up the subject.

“That would be Harm’s story to tell,” he cautioned in a gentle voice that didn’t allow any opposition. “If you ask him about it, I’m sure he’ll tell you what happened. I can’t.”

“But he’s not here right now.” The girl’s voice was just a little whiny.

“That’s unfortunate,” Sturgis said in an ‘end of discussion’ tone. “So, you want me to tell you something about the case I’m investigating?”

“Yes, please,” she answered, apparently trying to hide her disappointment.

“There were five break-ins into officers’ homes in Norfolk in the three days.”

“Five break-ins in three days?” The expression on Chloe’s face was oscillating between impressed and incredulous.

“Yes. The culprit was so quick that NCIS and base security had no chance to step in before. The pattern was always the same: the culprit used a weakness in the lock of the back door to get in. A weakness she knew from her very own home. Once they discovered how she did it, she’d already been in five houses.”

“A woman?” Chloe was intrigued.

“Yes, and an officer’s wife, too,” Sturgis said. “We only found out last night.”

“What did she steal? Jewelry? Money? Antiques?”

Sturgis laughed. “How rich do you think Navy officers are? No, she didn’t steal anything. She broke into her victims’ computers.”

Chloe’s eyes went round with excitement. “What was she looking for? Were there any classified files on the machines? Did she compromise national security or maybe spy for terror cells?”

“Not quite,” Sturgis said, lifting his hand in a ‘slow-down’ movement. “We’ve had a suspicion for a few days and last night it was confirmed: the burglar is a commander’s wife. We could restore the files she deleted on the various hard-disks – and they led us directly to her. They were nude photos of her, staged quite professionally. When we questioned her, she admitted that she had had the photos taken for her husband, for their upcoming tenth anniversary. Pretty pictures, by the way, very tasteful.”

“And now someone got his hands on them and wants to blackmail the commander?” Chloe tried almost desperately, apparently hoping against hope that she was about to discover a real front-page story.

“Yes and no,” Sturgis said with a grin. “The commander’s best friend saw them when he used their home computer and sent them on to a few colleagues. Just for the fun of it all. The lady was furious because she feared her husband might stumble over her pictures on one of his colleagues’ computers and think she did God knows what when he was away. So she tried to erase all traces of her surprise that had popped up elsewhere than on her own computer.”

“And now she’ll go to jail?”

“No. She apologized and agreed to pay for any damage she caused, and all her victims dropped the charges. They’re friends of her husband’s anyway. The commander was angry, of course, but he was soon reconciled when he saw the beautiful pictures of his wife. When I asked her why she hadn’t just asked her friends to delete the files and told her husband all about it, she said she’d been too embarrassed to face anyone about it. And what’s best: all her friends told her they’d done just the same, had they been in her place. All’s well that ends well.” Sturgis leaned back in his chair and cocked his head, still grinning. “Now, I think this should make for a great story. When I told my girlfriend about it on the phone yesterday, she wouldn’t stop laughing for about five minutes.”

However, the girl seemed uncomfortable. “I guess it would,” she mumbled with a strained half-smile.

Sturgis sobered. “You looked that way when you had just talked to Bud. What exactly is it you’re hoping for?”

Chloe squirmed in her seat. “I promised my teacher I’d contribute a tough story,” she admitted uneasily. “Most of my classmates are going for the easy stuff, you know, country festivals, local sports and all. I said I’d go to D.C. and... well...”

“...come back with an adequate cover story,” Sturgis cut in. “I see. Hasn’t Mac warned you you might not necessarily find one here?”

“Yes, she has, but I thought...”

Sturgis sighed. “Well, I’m sorry, but this is all we can offer. Sometimes things are dull around here, even in wartime. And I, personally, prefer reading good squibs to being reminded over and over again how cruel and criminal this world is. But maybe I’m just growing old.”

It was obvious that Chloe didn’t quite know how to react to his musings, so he rose and invited her to follow him outside. “Come on, if we’re quick, we’ll make it in time for Colonel Mackenzie’s Article 32 hearing. Maybe that might be something tough to report about.”

“Thank you,” Chloe murmured as she accompanied him to the main courtroom.

‘Yet another proof that Falls Church isn’t Hollywood,’ Sturgis thought wryly, closing the heavy oak doors behind the girl. ‘I’m wondering what keeps me in a place as boring as this.’

He knew well he didn’t mean it.

1330 Local
Courtyard in front of JAG Headquarters
Falls Church, VA

As Jennifer Coates slowly walked in the direction of the parking lot, savoring the autumnal sunshine, she all but overlooked the person sitting at one of the small stone tables, sullenly staring into the big Nothing. Only when the girl sighed theatrically, Jen stopped short, recognized Colonel Mackenzie’s friend, and walked over to her.

“Hi, do you mind?” she asked, indicating one of the free seats.

Slightly startled, Chloe shook her head. “Go ahead,” she murmured.

“Remember me? I’m Jennifer,” Jen introduced herself good-naturedly, sitting down.

Chloe’s eyes narrowed, then lit up. “I know you! You’re the prisoner Harm brought to Mac when I was with her for Christmas a few years ago.”

“Exactly,” Jen said with a crooked grin. “And you told me to stop thinking I was the only one in the world having problems. So, how’s your research going?”

Chloe’s frown was capital. “Okay, next question?” she joked lamely.

“That bad?”

“Uh huh.”

“You talked to Commander Roberts and Commander Turner, didn’t you?”

“Yeah. But their cases are kinda freaky. I need to come up with something dramatic, not that kind of comedy or soap opera they’re dealing with.”

“Why?” Jen knew her tone of voice was slightly provoking, but that was fully intended.

Chloe made a face. “Dunno... I guess I just need something that’s gonna hold up against my classmates.”

“Well, you’re in D.C. and they aren’t. That should be some advantage, right?”

“That’s what I thought. Turns out I was wrong, obviously.”

Jen frowned. “What about Colonel Mackenzie’s Article 32?”

The look of pure frustration on Chloe’s face just about doubled. “That might have been a nice one. She wants to go for involuntary manslaughter.”

“So, why does it sound like you can’t use that, either?”

“’This morning the convening authorities were informed,’” Chloe gave a stunning imitation of Judge Sebring, “’That new evidence brought forth by an eye-witness might shed a different light on the case. This hearing will be postponed until prosecution and defense have had sufficient opportunity to interview the witness in question. We will convene again on Monday, 0900 sharp.’ Bang,” Chloe imitated the gavel falling. “So much for my courtroom reporting.”

“Darn,” Jen sympathetically swore under her breath. “So, what are you gonna do about your article?”

“If I knew I wouldn’t be sitting here,” Chloe replied angrily. “Roberts’s and Turner’s cases are crap, Mac’s is on hold, Harm’s away, and I need to come up with something out of nothing. Figures, somehow...”

“Hey, it’s just one class out of many. What’s the big deal?” Jen asked, careful to keep her voice cheerful.

“Nothing, really,” Chloe said reluctantly. “It’s just that I, well...” She sighed, giving in. “Okay, I’ve got a challenge going with my personal enemy at school. And I really need to find a topic that’ll knock her out of her socks.”

“I see. Hey, you free now?” Jen asked, following her instinct.

“Seems so. Mac’s got two interviews I can’t hear.”

“I’ve got the afternoon off. I need to do a little shopping... maybe you’d like to come along? I could show you a few nice places for clothes and so on, and we could have ice-cream somewhere.”

Chloe raised an eyebrow. “You sure you want to hang out with a teenage girl?”

Jen laughed, “Hey, I’m sharing my apartment with one!”

“Your sister?”

Astonished, Jen sobered. “Don’t tell me Colonel Mackenzie hasn’t told you that I live with Mattie.”

Chloe frowned in confusion. “Who’s Mattie?”

Jen winced, asking herself if she had revealed too much. If the colonel didn’t want her friend to know about Mattie, she must have had her reasons... but now it couldn’t be helped. It wasn’t as if Mattie’s existence were a state secret anyway. “Mathilda Grace is fifteen years old and Commander Rabb’s ward,” she dropped the bombshell.

“Say that again!” Chloe looked as if Jen had turned into a pink elephant.

“I can’t believe Colonel Mackenzie hasn’t told you about her,” Jen said, amazed. “But I have to admit it took a little getting used to, seeing the commander turn into a dad.”

“Harm’s got a teenage ward, and Mac doesn’t say a thing!” Chloe’s eyes were as wide as could be. “What’s she like? When... ah... how did... uh...”

“Commander Rabb was away from JAG for a while last year,” Jen explained. “But he should tell you that story himself. Anyway, he got to know Mattie, who’d just lost her mother. Her father was having major problems, so the commander applied for guardianship and got her. By now, he’s sharing custody with Mattie’s dad, who seems to be getting a grip. She and I are living next door to Harm. Mattie’s a great girl – and Harm’s a fabulous dad.”

“Wow, sounds like he’s changed a lot,” Chloe mused. “Oh, not that I think he wasn’t a great friend before,” she immediately corrected herself. “It’s just that I thought he wasn’t cut out for big commitments.”

“You’ve known him longer than I have,” Jen said diplomatically. “But he’s indeed grown more... how can I say... domestic?”

A grin began to spread over Chloe’s face. “And Mac’s trying to tell me nothing’s changed between her and Harm,” she murmured mischievously. “You bet.”

Now it was Jen’s turn to be confused. “Do you know something I don’t?” she asked warily.

Chloe shook her head. “I don’t know for sure. But I’m positive Mac’s been in love with Harm forever, even if she won’t admit it. Lately, her behavior’s changed whenever his name is mentioned somehow. If you ask me, they’ve got something going on,” she said almost triumphantly.

Jen didn’t exactly know how much she could or wanted to reveal about the events of the last months, but she felt she needed to dampen the girl’s enthusiasm before it started to develop a dynamic of its own. She shook her head with what she hoped was a doubtful expression. “Sorry to disappoint you, but I don’t think the colonel’s likely to be with someone right now. Her boyfriend was killed in a CIA mission a few months ago.”

Chloe was silent for a moment. “I feel like I don’t know anything about her anymore,” she eventually said, saddened. “You know about her broken engagement, right?”

“The big picture, yeah.”

“Back then, I couldn’t fully understand why she broke it off with Mic, and we disconnected a little. We still got in touch now and then, but her calls have become rare of late. As if she were going through a difficult time.”

Jen nodded. “Ask her about it sometime. A lot’s been going on since I transferred to Headquarters myself. That must have been about a year and a half after Harm’s plane crash. All I can say is that what the colonel and the commander have been through since then is more than many could take in their entire lifetimes. I could understand if she didn’t really want to talk about those things on the phone.”

Chloe gave her a crooked smile. “I guess I need to talk to her in person about all that, and that’s going to take time she doesn’t have. But she promised that she’d come to see me for Thanksgiving if I managed to write an article based on facts only.”

Jen resisted the urge to snort. Nice strategy to keep an overzealous teenager on a short leash. “Sounds like a cool plan,” she only said.

“If I had something to write about.”

“Okay,” Jen rested her head on her hand in a pensive mood, “You could write about Commander Turner’s or Commander Roberts’s cases, but they don’t have the right dramatic edge. Hmm... how about some nice ceremony that you could report first-hand? You could just paint a written picture of it, sort of, describe everything in detail, comment on the speeches, explain the background – whatever. I bet your article would turn out more like serious journalism for a nationwide public than any of your classmates’. Yours would probably appear the only real grown-up story in the whole stack. Would that be enough to silence your class enemy?” Jen’s grin was full of malicious contentment.

Her eyes starting to sparkle, Chloe nodded, obviously awed. “Wow, that’d be... that’d be so terrific! Is there anything of the sort going on right now?”

“I’m not exactly sure,” Jen admitted. “We’ve just recently had the inauguration of the new JAG and the awarding of a Bronze Star to a war hero. But if there’s anyone who knows when and where the big things happen, it’s Admiral Blankenship. He’s got at least one or two social events coming up per week. If it were still Admiral Chegwidden, I’d know all the details, but Blankenship often just tells me to block the time on his schedule and then goes away without informing me where.

“Anyway, here’s what I’d suggest you do.” Jen leaned closer in a conspiratorial way. “When you meet him tomorrow, suck up to him. Ask him about his career, why he studied the law, why he chose the Navy, about his duty stations. If he senses some admiration for his person, he’s likely to tell you more than you could ever process in such a short time, but you don’t need to remember that anyway. Just appear interested and an admirer of the Navy. Definitely ask him about his years at Pearl Harbor and what it takes to command an important entity in the military. And once you’ve wrapped him around your finger, drop a hint that you’d so love to see a real ceremony once. That strategy should do the trick. Oh, one thing – do you know about stiff high-society behavior?”

Chloe’s expression was doubtful. “Some, I guess. But only in theory. I haven’t attended too many Rotary dinners of late,” she added with a half-grin.

“Ever watched ‘My Fair Lady’?”

Chloe nodded.

“Then you know what I mean. Blankenship’s got high standards where society is concerned. Try to be the girl he’d want his daughter to be.” Jen smiled. “His daughter’s full name is Ashley Randolph Blankenship. Try to behave as if you were called something like that.”

“Like Chloe Imogen Wordsworth?”

“Umm... yeah.”

“Okay, I get the picture. I’ll ask Mac if she’ll lend me something nice to wear.” Chloe sobered. “Jennifer, thank you so much. I was getting desperate.”

Jen raised a cautioning hand. “Thank me once you’ve got your article. I can’t guarantee that it’s going to work out.”

“I’m sure it will,” Chloe contradicted happily. “Now, can I invite you to some ice cream somewhere?”

“Leave Colonel Mackenzie a message and then let’s get going.”

**********

Coming up on ZBS this fall: the world’s most striking paramilitary courtroom drama!

JAQ – Judge Advocate QUANGO: your new all-time favorite QUasi Autonomous Non-Governmental Organization!

Watch JAQ’s no-nonsense commandant CJ Bandwagon and secret agent Carlton Ritz cross sabers when it comes to sending Crabb and MacFrenzie out to restore liberty, justice, and chocolate cookies to the most remote corners of the world!

Another hallmark Sagittarius Production – don’t miss it!

**********

Tuesday
1000 Local
JAG Headquarters
Falls Church, VA

Jen gave Chloe a wink and buzzed on the intercom.

“Yes, Petty Officer?” a purposefully dignified voice replied.

“Chloe Madison to see you, sir,” Jen answered.

“Send her in, please.” The connection was cut off.

With an encouraging smile, Jen straightened a loose strand of hair on Chloe’s artful bun and brushed a little dust off the elegant dark-blue blazer Mac had lent her for today. “Showtime,” Jen whispered.

Chloe knew that her answering smile was a little strained. She couldn’t quite describe how she was feeling. Important, because she was about to interview the U.S. Navy’s Judge Advocate General. Sophisticated, because in Mac’s navy blazer and beige pants, combined with her very grown-up hairstyle and make-up, she had earned quite a few admiring glances from younger enlisted personnel. Clumsy, because she couldn’t seem to remember the most basic rules of civilized behavior. Bold – and insane at the same time, because she was trying to con the JAG into supplying her with a story that would make Amber Carson pale with envy.

But if she wanted to be a real professional one day, she might as well start now. Drawing a deep breath and straightening her shoulders, Chloe stepped through the door, plastered a nice and easy smile to her face and instinctively stopped halfway in between the large desk and the door.

“Good morning, sir,” she greeted a little shyly.

The gray-haired man in his perfectly fitting uniform put away his pen and took a long moment to size her up. Chloe already felt her courage falter when suddenly a slight, benign smile spread over his face. Admiral Blankenship got up, walked a few steps in her direction and held out his hand.

“Miss Madison,” he greeted her in aristocratic conciseness.

‘Okay, firm but feminine handshake,’ Chloe reminded herself as she took the offered hand. “Thank you so much for agreeing to see me, sir,” she said with a grateful smile. “It’s an honor to be here.”

“You’re welcome.” Blankenship’s smile was one of contentment. He made an inviting gesture, showing Chloe to the armchairs in front of his desk and pulling one up for her. Then the admiral sat down again in his usual place. “I hear you are interested in the world of the media?” he asked the obvious.

“Yes, sir,” Chloe answered with a slight nod, her hands resting in her lap.

“And why would that be, Miss Madison?”

“Because the media are an important factor in most everything.”

“Almost everything,” he corrected her. “Yes, that is true. And this is something you find fascinating?”

‘Polish your language, Chloe.’ “Yes, it is. The media have a lot of power in many... uhm... branches of society, and this power needs to be handled carefully,” she stated.

Blankenship nodded gravely. “I perfectly agree with you on this point. Alas, not everyone in this country seems to share our opinion on this crucial point. I have had many an occasion to witness ruthless neglect of the great responsibilities that lie in this very power you mentioned. As long as everyone who is capable of holding a pen may call himself a reporter, the situation will not improve one jot. Colonel Mackenzie told me that you are following a preparatory course for journalism?”

Chloe nodded eagerly. “Yeah, uh, yes, I am,” she answered, ordering herself to concentrate. “My English teacher was a journalist herself before she became a teacher. Her lessons are very useful.”

‘God, I sound like someone who’s trying too hard.’ Chloe was beginning to get angry with herself. She was being professional indeed.

“And why exactly did you come to JAG Headquarters? Are you interested in the military?” Blankenship wanted to know.

“I have been ever since I’ve known Colonel Mackenzie,” Chloe answered. “But the reason I came here is that we’re doing a magazine as the final project of our class. Our teacher wants us to report more than just local soap dish, so I thought coming to D.C. and doing my research in a federal institution might be pretty co... might be adequate.”

Blankenship leaned back in his chair and sized her up once again, but this time the way a grandfather would look at his granddaughter, trying to decide whether she had grown since last Christmas or not. Chloe tried to keep her smile from turning strained again. This guy was insufferably arrogant.

“You already interviewed several of my subordinates, didn’t you? Which of their cases do you think holds potential for thorough coverage?” Blankenship sounded as if he were examining her.

‘How about the fact that they chose someone like you to follow Admiral Chegwidden?’ Chloe wanted to answer. Chegwidden would never have spoken of his ‘subordinates’. He would have said ‘my officers’. Chloe was sure of that. Still, she had a plan and she needed to follow through. “I’ve spoken to Commander Roberts and Commander Turner. Both their cases would do nicely for an article.”

Blankenship’s eyebrows went up. “’Would do nicely?’” he only cited her, his condescending benevolence never wavering.

Mentally gritting her teeth, Chloe corrected herself, “I mean both cases would suffice as a substantial basis for an article.”

“You seem a little hesitant, though,” Blankenship prompted.

Feeling herself turn rebellious, Chloe decided to start the counterattack. She smiled a little shyly and began, “In fact I am, sir. I know well that it’s already a unique opportunity for me to report real JAG cases, but... may I speak freely, sir?”

“Of course,” the admiral nodded.

“I was secretly hoping to do a piece about you, sir. Colonel Mackenzie gave me a few details of your biography, and I’m intrigued to know how you built your exemplary career. First Johns Hopkins, then University of Virginia, then all your various duty stations. Like being fleet JAG on the Coral Sea, or going abroad to Naples, or commanding Pearl Harbor. There must be loads, umm, a lot of interesting stories in your biography, sir.” Chloe forced herself to sound enthusiastic and reverent at the same time. “Your whole career was like one straight ladder leading up. Have you ever wondered if you might’ve done it any different?”

“Any differently,” Blankenship again corrected her with a smile. “No, as a matter of fact, I’ve never wondered if I might have done anything differently. You know, Miss Madison, if you are gifted in what you do, and if you have clearly defined goals as to what you want to achieve, you begin to develop an instinct for what is right and beneficial for your future. And by the by those whom you interact with will begin to notice your qualities.”

‘Yeah, right. I’m starting to see them, too,’ Chloe silently scoffed.

Blankenship sighed. “I am really sorry, but I fear I must deny your wish, much as I loathe turning down young people who are so obviously engaged in taking educational initiatives to build up a self-supporting basis for their professional training. But one day when you will be in a responsible position yourself, which I don’t doubt you will be, you will understand how precious every single minute is for the fulfillment of your duties. I won’t be able to dedicate any more of my time to your undoubtedly valuable task.”

‘Sure, fancy dinners come first. I completely understand that.’ Chloe found she liked being cynical.

“But,” Blankenship went on, “Do you think you might feel inclined to accompany me to one of the many important appointments that prevent me from consenting to the interview you requested?” His face had, ‘Don’t you dare turn down such a grace!’ written all over it, despite his sugary smile.

Chloe was stunned. This was what she had been aiming at – but she’d never have dreamed things would go this smoothly. Dumbfounded by Blankenship’s offer, she waited for the second shoe to drop. It did – when she had just stammered her hoarse, “It would be such an honor, sir. Thank you so much.”

Blankenship got up, causing Chloe to follow suit. “Very well, Miss Madison, the pleasure will be all mine.” Again, he offered her a handshake, quite a bit heartier this time than the previous had been. “Will you still be here on Thursday?”

“My flight leaves at 9:20 p.m. on Thursday night,” Chloe answered a little breathlessly, impatient to know what she would be allowed to witness.

“Convenient,” Blankenship stated. “Then I suggest you await me in front of the gate on Thursday morning, 0830 sharp. That would be 8:30 a.m. civilian time,” he explained the obvious. “I have been asked to join a celebrity golf tournament that will be raising money for various war veterans funds. A considerable number of active congressmen and congresswomen will partake, as well as seven former senators and, of course, the former Secretary of the Navy. This really is an opportunity rarely offered to any outsiders.”

Chloe was having a hard time refraining from screaming in frustration.

A celebrity golf tournament.

Definitely a topic worthy of the headlines of any magazine imaginable.

2134 Local
Harm’s apartment
North of Union Station
Washington, D.C.

Feeling the first heavy raindrops land on her head and shoulders, Mac quickly threw a few coins into the hat the young woman had laid out on the pavement before her. Then she gave the little boy on the woman’s lap a quick smile and hurriedly crossed the street, entering Harm’s building just before the thunderstorm set in for good. She still hadn’t gotten around to buying a new light bulb for the lamp above the basement door – and now, the main light seemed to be broken as well.

She wondered why Jennifer hadn’t yet done anything about it. However, the heavy lightning flashing through the windows let her find the keyhole on Harm’s door. Once she had forcefully pushed it shut against the air current on the corridor, she leaned against it for a moment, closing her eyes and inhaling the slight note of Harm’s aftershave lying in the air. She was home.

When she opened her eyes to the still dark apartment, she noticed the little LED on the answering machine flashing. Puzzled, Mac turned on the lights, stepped over to the phone, pressed the ‘message’ button but heard nothing but the ‘occupied’ signal. She frowned and then shrugged to herself. Whoever had called would try again if it had been important. She was about to clear the recording when the machine showed a second call.

[“Hey, Mac, it’s me. Well, I...”] She heard him laugh softly. [“I guess I just can’t wait to get you on the phone. Anyway, I hope you remembered to talk to Blankenship about getting Friday off. Talk to you tonight. Love you. Bye.”]

Smiling to herself, Mac sat down next to the phone’s charging station that contained the machine and replayed the message several times before canceling it. She was still idly twirling the cable around her finger, her thoughts drifting south, when the shrill ringing made her jump. She tugged at the cord in a brusque movement, attempting to free her finger, but only ended up pulling the machine off the sideboard. The receiver fell off and slid under the coffee table. Mac immediately dove to grab it, hitting her head hard on the solid wood.

“Dammit!!” she swore loudly as reached for the device, carefully drawing back and letting herself fall onto the couch.

“Commander Rabb’s apartment,” she panted.

[“I didn’t expect an ‘I love you’ as a greeting, but what I just heard wasn’t really romantic.”]

“Your coffee table is definitely too low,” she retorted with an annoyed laugh, rubbing the back of her head.

[“What exactly were you doing under my coffee table?”]

“Trying to grab your cordless phone.”

[“And how did my phone end up down there?”]

Mac frowned, feeling her cheeks burn. “I was twirling the cable of the charging station around my finger when you called,” she explained, slightly annoyed. “The ringing made me jump and I yanked the phone off the sideboard. And before you ask: yes, I was dreaming about you. Satisfied?”

[“Uh huh...”] he drawled. [“That must have been some dream – tell me, what exactly were you dreaming?”]

Deciding she didn’t want him to get the upper hand this easily, Mac turned the tables on him. “Come home and I might just want to show you,” she answered in the most seductive tone of voice she could bring about.

Harm theatrically cleared his throat. [“God, it’s hot down here...”] he murmured with an audible grin, implicitly acknowledging that she had won this round.

“Thank you for your message,” Mac tenderly changed the topic.

[“You’re welcome,”] he said, sounding embarrassed. [“I knew you’d come to, well, water my nonexistent plants... and I wanted you to know I was thinking about you... God, Mac, you’re turning me into a sap!”] He chuckled a little helplessly.

“Why should you be any better off than me?”

[“Oh, now that’s a real relief.”]

They shared a brief laugh. Mac tugged her feet underneath herself and leaned back into the cushions. “How’s your investigation going?”

He sighed, sobering audibly. [“Not as well as I’d wish. As I told you, I did make some headway at first but now it seems as if I’m running in circles.”]

“What is it this technician could possibly do to that plane that you can’t seem to clear it up?” Mac asked, not bothering to hide neither her astonishment nor her disapproval. “You still sure you’ll be here on Friday? ‘Cause Blankenship was a hard nut to crack today.”

[“But you got Friday off?”] he inquired, sounding worried.

“Yes, I did,” she reassured him. “But what the hell is it you’re investigating?”

[“It’s... difficult to explain, you know, mechanics and all.”]

Mac was almost inclined to let it go, thinking his reluctance to let her in on the case might be related to what he might be planning for the weekend. Yet, a slightly unsettling undercurrent in his voice pushed her to dig for more details. “Harm.” Her voice had lost all her previous playfulness. “For once, tell me what you’re doing down there. Please,” she added a little more softly.

He hesitated a little, but eventually sighed, and she could almost hear his shoulders drop. [“I didn’t want you to worry,”] he confessed. [“But I got a call from Catherine about a week ago. Zayeed Fahd was seen in New Orleans. I managed to dig up evidence that he’d indeed been there. But since then he’s disappeared again, and try as I might, I’ve got no clue as to where he’s now.”]

She involuntarily sucked in her breath as a wave of cold fear intermixed with hate washed over her. It might not be obvious to everyone, but she knew Sadik’s brother had come to the States for just one reason. Her. And it was clear that Harm knew it, too. “Are you crazy to go after him on your own?” she asked under her breath, horrified.

[“I promise I’m not on my own, Mac,”] he tried to soothe her fear. [“Don’t ask who’s with me because you don’t know them anyway. Let’s just say that I didn’t alienate everyone in the Agency when I had to leave because of my stunt with the C-130.”]

‘Power down, Colonel,’ Mac ordered herself. She was angry with him, and she would tell him once he was home. But until then she didn’t need to add to the pressure he was apparently feeling. However, there was one thing she felt she just had to bring up right now. It was too important to shelve it for later.

“What’s the difference, Harm?” she asked, sadness ringing in her voice.

[“What do you mean?”] His confusion was apparent.

“Clay,” she replied, hearing him exhale resignedly the moment he saw what she was getting at. “His lie was wrong, and yours isn’t?” she added in melancholy acceptance.

[“I wouldn’t lie to you,”] Harm softly contradicted. [“I stand by what I told you.”]

“Then help me understand.”

[“I really did investigate the mishap I told you about,”] he explained, [“And it did actually take me longer than I thought it would. It was only yesterday that I could convince the pilot that his tech hadn’t done anything wrong. But I admit that I requested this case because I had just gotten the info from Catherine two days before. I was so afraid that Zayeed might come after you.”]

His voice had lowered on the last words and Mac had to listen hard to understand what followed. [“I couldn’t just stay put and let that happen. I need to keep you safe.”]

Glad that he couldn’t see her wipe a tear from her eye, she smiled and tried to steady her voice. “I love you,” she said simply.

For a moment he was silent. Only his slightly labored breathing told her that he was apparently trying to digest his relief about her reaction to his explanation. [“I love you, too, Mac,”] he finally said. After a few seconds he added, [“That’s why I acted like I did. I’m sorry.”]

Mac realized this was her chance to do something she should have done long ago. First, her anger had stood in the way, then it had been the emotional abyss between them. Now, finally, she could try to make up for her failure.

She swallowed. “Thank you,” she said, her voice loving and meaningful. “For everything.”

He instantly understood the depth of the meaning inherent her words. [“Anytime,”] was all he answered in barely more than a whisper.

Minutes ticked by, but neither found the courage to break the spell. It was Mac’s cell phone that eventually did the trick, announcing that Mac had just received a text message. Snapping back to reality, Mac laughed out loud. And she could tell that down in New Orleans, Harm had heard the signal, too, because he joined in her laughter.

[“Okay, who was that who just saved my phone bill?”] he asked.

“Let me check.” Mac reached for her purse and pulled out the small electronic device. “Chloe,” she answered as she checked her message inbox. “She’s with Jen and they’re having a great time at some party.”

[“Aww, what a pity Mattie’s away. They’d have had such a blast.”]

“All good things come in threes, you mean?”

[“Sort of, yeah. Well, at least Mattie told me she and Tom are having sun and fun in Mexico.”]

“I’m glad to hear that,” Mac said. “I just wish I could do something for poor Chloe. She’s so frustrated with how her project’s shaping up. Or rather isn’t.”

[“How did her interview with Blankenship go?”]

“Chloe is fuming. Jen told her to suck up to him so he’d maybe take her along to some event she could write about. That’s what she did, and successfully, too. Blankenship did in fact invite her to accompany him on Thursday morning.”

[“Then what’s the problem?”] Harm asked, puzzled.

“He invited her to a celebrity golf tournament.”

[“O...kay...”]

Mac sighed. “Of course she could just go back and write about Bud’s or Sturgis’s case, but she can’t really turn the admiral down after she told him how much she’s interested in what he does. But she’s so desperate to return to her class with a story that’ll knock everyone out of their socks. Seems like this Amber, whoever she is, is giving her a hard time at school and she needs to get back at her. If only we had something dramatic to offer.”

[“You mean like a report from the front lines?”]

“Yeah. I think she was hoping for a case she could really get involved in. Emotionally, I mean,” Mac explained. “You should have heard how her fantasy tried to find the dramatic needle in the haystack of JAG’s everyday routine. Her suppositions about the ongoing investigations were ludicrous. She called it ‘interpreting reality’.”

[“Interpreting reality?”] Harm asked with a soft laugh. [“Where did she get that from?”]

“Her teacher, apparently. Chloe worships her like the goddess of journalism. It appears she told her students that reporters always had an outside point of view, and because of that they could see things the police couldn’t. So a journalist should report reality and then interpret it in his comments. Now, that may be true for Stuart Dunston or Chuck De Palma. But telling those kinds of things to a bunch of overeager teenagers? Just how irresponsible is that?” Mac was sure Harm could hear the frustration in her voice.

However, he didn’t allude to her statement. Instead, his voice took up a slightly mischievous tone. [“What do you think would happen if Chloe suddenly found herself involved head over heels in a case that couldn’t be more dramatic?”]

Instantly wary, Mac asked, “Hey – what exactly are you talking about?”

[“If this is all about interpreting reality, we could go about and... well... suggest the kind of reality she might want to interpret.”]

“Wait, you’re not really thinking what I’m afraid you’re thinking?”

[“All I’m thinking is that we should support her journalistic efforts and stage a little something for her. With just a little educational intent.”] Harm’s voice was achingly innocent.

“No. No way,” Mac immediately declined. But before she could draw a breath to argue, Harm cut her off.

[“Give me a second to explain before saying no, okay? I promise I’ll listen to all your objections once you know what I have in mind.”]

“Fair enough.”

[“Thanks. Do you remember that Harriet told us she’d befriended a ZNN journalist when she was organizing the Baghdad concert?”]

“Rebecca Berrier? Sure. She’s quite an authority, too. What about her?”

[“Harriet said Rebecca owed her a favor. I’d say we ask her to collect it right now,”] Harm suggested. [“And knowing Harriet, she’ll be rapturous to help us with our little conspiracy.”]

Mac felt that Harm’s enthusiasm was drawing her in. “Does that mean you’ll come home tomorrow?” she asked slyly.

[“Yes, it does,”] he confirmed with a grin. [“Now, will you listen?”]

“Okay. What’s your plan?”

**********

Coming up on ZBS this fall: the world’s most striking paramilitary courtroom drama!

JAQ – Judge Advocate QUANGO: your new all-time favorite QUasi Autonomous Non-Governmental Organization!

Commander Theodore Hearsay and Secretary of the Navy Edward Minefield try to undermine JAQ’s integrity, but CJ Bandwagon, Herman Crabb and Farrah MacFrenzie won’t allow Teddy and Eddie to tear them apart. The battle has only just begun!

Another hallmark Sagittarius Production – don’t miss it!

**********

Wednesday
2019 Local
Mac’s apartment
Georgetown, D.C.

For about the fortieth time, Chloe checked her watch. It wasn’t like Mac to be late without letting her know about the reason. Before she had gone to work this morning, Mac had told her three times to be home at 1830 so they could grab dinner and go to the movies. All day, throughout her extensive frustration-shopping tour, Chloe had been looking forward to going out with Mac in the evening, so she had been as punctual as she could possibly have been.

But who didn’t come or didn’t even call about her delay was Mac. First, Chloe had begun to get upset. Now, she was starting to worry. This just wasn’t like her.

She had already tried to reach Harm on his cell phone but he had apparently switched it off – as had Jen or Harriet or Bud whose numbers she had found in Mac’s phone registry. So there was no one she could ask about her whereabouts. All day, the capital had seemed a great place to visit on her own. Now, at night, the thought of being all on her own in D.C. caused her to feel rather small.

Chloe was zapping through the channels once more when the telephone rang. Relieved, she jumped to her feet, yanked up the receiver and asked, “Mac?”

Silence.

“Mac, is that you?” Chloe didn’t like the nagging feeling that began to spread in the pit of her stomach.

Still silence.

“Uh... hello?” Chloe slowly sat down again, unconsciously holding on to the armrest of the couch.

[“Good evening, Miss Madison,”] a strange, low voice said. Chloe’s hand holding the receiver began to tremble as she kept listening to the sounds that almost seemed computerized.

[“Your friend Colonel Mackenzie is in trouble. She shouldn’t have messed with us but she tends to be a little nosy.”]

Chloe suddenly felt nauseous. “Who are you? Where’s Mac?” she stammered in a half-whisper.

[“That doesn’t really matter,”] the strange voice replied calmly. [“Suffice it to say that we didn’t do her any harm. The colonel’s well, but she’s got something we want, and you will be the messenger.”]

“Uh huh...” Chloe choked out, nodding fiercely with wide eyes. ‘Pen and paper,’ her inner voice told her. Nervous, she looked around and finally found both items lying next to the VCR beside the TV set.

[“You will search the colonel’s desk. Luckily she was smart enough to tell us that in one of the topmost drawers, you should find a sealed manila envelope with the initials R.B. on it. Take it out but don’t open it. What’s inside is none of your concern. You will deliver, and you’ll get the colonel in return, without a scratch. Do we have a deal?”]

“Sure,” Chloe made, intimidated, all the time trying to write down her instructions but finding her hand was shaking way too much to take any legible notes.

[“So, here’s your task: once you’ve got the envelope, you’ll go to the little park two blocks away from Colonel Mackenzie’s building. Enter it from the small side road. Take the second path leading away from the road. On the third bench, you will find a homeless man sleeping under a few pages of the Washington Post. He will give you further instructions. Did you understand everything?”] the mechanical voice asked.

“I... I think so,” Chloe forced herself to answer, wishing a loud ‘plop’ would make everything turn out no more than a bad dream. But she told herself to suck it up. Mac depended on her.

[“You don’t need to be afraid of walking around on your own at night,”] the voice went on, gently almost. [“We wouldn’t want anything to happen to the delivery. If you do exactly as we tell you, you’ll be safe. One of us will follow you wherever you go. He’ll be your escort – but should you do anything we didn’t tell you to, like try to contact somebody, he won’t be too amused. And you wouldn’t want that.”]

“Understood,” Chloe choked out.

[“And mind you: we’re monitoring Colonel Mackenzie’s apartment, too. So don’t try to pull any stunts. We’re expecting you in the park within the hour. Good bye, Miss Madison.”] The line went dead.

It took Chloe a full three minutes to set the receiver back onto the base station. Mac was in trouble. And it was her, of all people, who had to bail her out. Why, oh, why had no one been reachable when she’d tried to call them?

Complying with the caller’s demands seemed to be her only option. Shaking, she went over to Mac’s desk, after a little searching found the key that opened the two topmost drawers, and began to look for the document in question.

In fact, in the drawer to her right, she indeed found a sealed manila envelope with the initials R.B. boldly written on it. It didn’t seem to contain very much, two or three sheets of paper at max. But if this was what those people wanted, they’d sure as hell get it.

Chloe stuffed the envelope into the waistband of her sweats, grabbed her jacket and the keys and went out onto the dark street, trying to appear inconspicuous. The thought that somewhere near, a human shadow was watching her every move was more than a little unsettling but it couldn’t be helped. At least, if she did everything according to her instructions, the shadow was her guaranty for safety, and in some strange way, Chloe found that reassuring.

She hesitated for a few seconds, recalling where she needed to go, then drew a deep breath and purposefully turned to set off. Concentrating on her task with all that was in her, and trying to keep her fear in check, she didn’t see the elegant man walking in her direction and ended up bumping into him full force.

“Oh, God, I’m sorry, sir,” she stammered, mentally pummeling herself for being so absentminded when her focus was the one thing she needed to depend upon. The man only glared at her for a second, mumbled something indistinguishable, and walked on without turning back.

Right, left, right, left... Chloe forced herself to set one foot in front of the other at an even pace, trying not to look around if she spotted anything threatening. When she reached the park, she again hesitated for the shortest moment but then ordered herself to enter the small, dark lane she’d been told to follow. For Mac.

Once inside the park, it was already pitch black, and Chloe had to admit to herself that she was trying to appear far less uneasy than she felt. But she found the bench the mysterious caller had indicated and passed it deliberately slowly, waiting for the ragged-looking black man lying under the newspapers to instruct her what to do next.

She was almost past him when she heard a whispered, “Tie your shoelace.” Chloe immediately did as she was told, listening hard.

“Proceed to the Vietnam Memorial,” the man whispered on. “Take a cab. You’ll find the necessary money in a little plastic bag in the trash can at my feet. Exactly in the central angle of the memorial, our contact will pick you up and take you to our secret rendezvous point.”

Chloe casually turned around, passed the indicated trash can and indeed saw a small plastic bag lying on top of the debris inside. She swallowed her nausea and picked it up, ripped it open, took out the money and put it in her pocket. Then she left the park, walked down to the main road again and signaled to the nearest cab.

The driver only raised a quizzical eyebrow when she requested to be taken to the Wall. But he didn’t ask any questions, for which Chloe was grateful. She doubted she’d have had the mental readiness to come up with a suitable cover story right now.

Once arrived at the Wall, Chloe hurriedly paid for the ride and then slowly strolled over to the center of the oversized V the walls were forming. Acting like a tourist visiting the place, Chloe carefully scanned her surroundings for anyone who might be the contact she was supposed to meet. A few yards from the actual center, she stopped and feigned to read the names carved into the stone.

“Looking for someone in particular?” a hoarse voice addressed her from behind. Chloe jumped and slowly turned around, finding herself face to face with a couple that seemed to be of some Middle-Eastern nationality. The man was just a little stout and wearing traditional wide clothes. On his nose sat sunglasses despite the late hour, and in addition to that, a large hat kept half of his face in darkness. The woman was wearing a scarf tightly wrapped around her head, the rim almost covering her eyes. She was clad in a dark coat that failed to conceal her considerably pregnant belly.

“I’m looking for Colonel Mackenzie,” Chloe answered pointedly.

The man cleared his throat and said in his still very hoarse voice, “Follow us.”

Her heart beating hard and fast, Chloe complied, once again reassuring herself that the precious envelope was still in place under her jacket. The couple led her to an inconspicuous dark-red minivan and told her to get in. Then they sat down in front and rode off, cruising through the city in strange, wide circles that made Chloe lose her sense of orientation.

Eventually they stopped in front of what Chloe thought had to be an old warehouse. The whole area seemed deserted and neglected. A former factory compound, maybe. In the dark, the exact nature of their surroundings was hard to make out.

Chloe didn’t dare object when the man blindfolded her and then apparently guided her inside the building, into an elevator, out again and along a winding corridor. Finally, they halted and Chloe’s blindfold was taken off. When her eyes had grown accustomed to the semi-darkness of the location, Chloe became aware that she was standing in front of a dusty internal window that separated the small room she and her guards were standing in from a larger room where she could make out two people. A tall man clad in the same supposedly Middle-Eastern clothes like the man standing at her right, and a woman sitting on a chair, motionless and very straight, staring up at the tall man in front of her.

Chloe couldn’t hold back a gasp.

Mac.

The tall man now signaled to the pregnant woman to join him in the adjacent room. She immediately did. He bent down and talked to her. She then returned and whispered something in her husband’s ear.

“Give my wife the envelope,” he ordered, again clearing his throat and straining his hoarse voice.

Chloe drew a deep breath. “No,” she forced herself to say. “Release the colonel first.”

The man drew nearer. “The envelope,” he repeated, holding out his gloved hand.

“N... no!” Chloe adamantly stood her ground. “First Colonel Mackenzie.”

The man motioned for his wife to move closer again. She did. Whispering, he instructed her, and she again went to join the tall man who was still standing in front of Mac, who hadn’t moved.

The pregnant woman delivered the message to the tall man, who reacted by making an impatient movement. Then he bent down and gave his answer to the pregnant woman, who immediately returned to her husband, telling him what the tall man had said.

The shorter man turned to Chloe. “You could shorten this, you know,” he said.

Chloe felt herself starting to panic. Yet, she willed herself to stay calm, at least outwardly. “Release her and I’ll let you have the envelope,” she repeated stubbornly.

The shorter man made a sign through the window, and the tall man acknowledged with a slight nod. He then untied Mac who – strangely – didn’t fight back. With growing horror, Chloe watched as the tall man slowly moved towards the nearest wall, forcing Mac to walk backwards until she was firmly squeezed between his body and the hard concrete. Chloe saw her guards exchange what appeared a puzzled look that didn’t really help to ease her fear.

Now the tall man slowly began to unfasten the buttons on Mac’s blouse, pulling its hem out of her skirt until it hung down loose and open, revealing the pearl-white silk T-shirt she was wearing underneath. Oddly, Mac still didn’t do anything to defend herself. Instead, she was even smiling! Chloe’s confusion got the upper hand over her fear. She could only stand and watch. At least Mac seemed to be uninjured, and the tall man didn’t seem as if he was planning on using violence, either. Could it be that he’d drugged her?

Chloe’s guards suddenly began a heated whispering conversation. Pondering her options, Chloe watched anxiously as the man began to take off his long overcoat, all the while keeping Mac pressed against the wall. He shrugged the coat off his shoulders, then gently bent down his head, and locked his lips with those of Mac...

... who didn’t even try to draw back.

‘Hold it. Think. Something’s wrong with this picture,’ Chloe’s intuition tried to tell her. “What the heck...” she murmured when she saw Mac’s arms sneak out from her captor’s grip, go up to his head and start to take off the Arabian scarf he was wearing, never breaking the passionate kiss.

It was in this precise moment that the pregnant woman let out a very occidental-sounding squeal of joy, followed by a distinctly American, “Oh, my God!” Her husband just gaped at the scene unfolding inside.

Mac had taken the scarf off the tall man’s head, and now it was Chloe’s turn to squeal – first in sheer surprise, then in a mixture of joy and anger. “Harm!” she cried, not knowing if she wanted to hug or slap the man who seemed to be the director of this whole masquerade. Yanking the door open, she rushed in, found the light switch and let her anger get the upper hand.

“How dare you!” she yelled at the stunned couple, feeling her cheeks turn red with rage. “How dare you make fun of my situation! I asked for a dramatic case, I know, but you had no right to pull such a sneaky move on me! You know quite well I couldn’t write about this bullshit and still you had me go through all this...”

“Hey, hey, hey,” Harm lifted his hands in a cautioning gesture. “We never wanted to make fun of you. We just thought you might need a little reminder that dramatic cases always mean someone’s going through very difficult times. You shouldn’t forget that, just for the thrill of reporting the most sensational crime available. But now that we’ve made our point, let’s think about any articles that might lie hidden in this situation, okay?”

“No, not okay!” Chloe retorted, feeling Harm did have a point, but reluctant to admit her mistake. “I could never come home with a story telling about me being the unconscious main character in a crime play!”

“What about the envelope you’ve got?” Mac re-buttoned her blouse. “Wouldn’t you like to know what’s inside?”

Taken aback, Chloe fumbled for the envelope, ripped it open and pulled out a photocopy of her own passport. Thoroughly confused, she looked at Mac. “What’s this supposed to mean?”

“Do the initials on the envelope sound familiar to someone who aims at being a journalist one day?” a female voice was heard from behind. Chloe turned around – and stared.

Taking a quick look at the R.B. on the envelope, she gulped heavily. “Rebecca Berrier,” she stammered as the well-known ZNN anchorwoman walked over to her, holding out her hand.

“You must be Chloe,” she said in a friendly, open way. “Harriet...” she turned and smiled at the pregnant woman who had taken her coat and scarf off and transformed into the same amiable lieutenant Chloe remembered from long ago, “... has told me all about your dilemma. And I thought that after showing such courage and self-command under considerable pressure, you might want to see for yourself where those qualities can get you if...” she winked and raised her eyebrows “... you stick to reporting hard, proven facts only. There’s no need to interpret reality. This world is complicated enough as it is, you know. What really helps to improve society is explaining complicated things to people in a way they can understand them – not adding suppositions and thoughts that may or may not be justified.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Chloe murmured, deeply embarrassed.

“And now you’re wondering why you’ve brought a copy of your passport all the way to this encounter, in an envelope with my initials on it?” Rebecca asked.

Chloe could only nod – her voice seemed to be frozen in her throat.

“I need some identification for our security department if you’re to come and visit the D.C. ZNN studio tomorrow. I think this might even be an experience worth writing about.”

It took another five seconds until Chloe found her voice. “Umm, yes, of course. Thank you so much. This is one of the greatest things that’s ever happened to me.” She looked around, smiling. “Whose idea was that?”

Harm shyly raised a hand. “I plead guilty, your Honor.”

Her grin widening to triumphant, Chloe turned to Mac. “Now, don’t you dare send this man away. Do you hear me?”

“Don’t worry,” Mac replied, her cheeks slightly flushed. “I can assure you that I definitely won’t.”

“Permission to speak freely, ma’am?”

Mac nodded consent to the other man who had taken off his disguise, revealing a rather dumbfounded Bud. “When exactly did... uh... did this happen?” He clumsily indicated Harm and Mac with his hand.

Mac threw Harm a quick look and said, “20 days, 11 hours, 7 minutes and 43 seconds ago.”

“All I can say then is congratulations,” another voice chimed in. Turning around, Chloe recognized the homeless man from the park as Sturgis Turner, having taken off his fake beard but still carrying the Washington Post with him. “It was about time,” he added with a knowing smile.

Harm nodded. “Yes, it was.”

“I’m so happy for you,” Harriet said warmly, engulfing Mac in a hearty hug. “Somehow, I’ve known it all along.”

“Thank you, Harriet,” Mac replied. “Maybe we have, too, but it turned out that our road had a few more curves before we realized it.”

“I’m sorry to interrupt the party,” yet another voice was heard from the door. Chloe turned around and spotted a young man in Navy sweats. He seemed vaguely familiar, but she couldn’t really place him. “Ma’am, sir,” he went on, “All my best wishes. But could someone be spared to take me back to Annapolis now? My special leave is about to expire.” Then he smiled and walked over to Chloe. “Mike Roberts,” he presented himself. “I’m Bud’s brother. It was a pleasure being your shadow tonight.”

“Thank you,” Chloe murmured, feeling stupid.

“Thank you for your help, everyone,” Harm said. “You were great. Might I ask one last favor for tonight?”

“Do we need to guess?” Sturgis asked, one eyebrow up high, gesturing at Harm and Mac who were still standing way too close to each other to call it a formal encounter.

“Don’t worry, sir. Our lips will be sealed until you tell us we can open them again,” Harriet promised. “Rebecca, can I count on you? This would be very important, you know?”

Rebecca cocked her head, mockingly sized the couple up, and then turned back to Harriet who looked just a little frightened. “I understand. Now it’s you who owes me one, Lieutenant,” she said with a grin.

“Agreed.”

“Oh, darn...” Chloe suddenly swore. She had completely forgotten about her appointment with the admiral. Now what?

“What is it?” Mac asked, puzzled.

“I’m supposed to meet Admiral Blankenship tomorrow morning, for that celebrity golf tournament of his.”

“No problem,” Rebecca cut in with a wink. “If I understand correctly, a ZNN team doing a short coverage about the event should mean a lot more to John Carroll Blankenship, the fourth, than just being accompanied by an admiring teenager.”

“Long live vanity,” Mac solemnly declared, her eyes belying her tone of voice. “May it always flourish in our C.O.’s mind, cloud his judgment to some degree and thus grant us a little air to breathe aside from daily protocol.”

“You words in God’s ear, Colonel.”

Thursday
2204 Local
Harm’s apartment
North of Union Station
Washington, D.C.

Harm parked his car a few yards away from his building and got out as if in a daze.

She had brought it up again – and she had sealed it for good.

As he was walking down the sidewalk as slowly as possible, taking deep breaths of the fresh but still mild autumn air, he again and again saw himself guide Mac up the stairs to her apartment, saw her turn to him in front of her door, felt her arms go around his torso and her body mold to his...

*******

“Thank you for tonight, Harm.” Mac’s lips were mere inches from his and he could feel her breath caressing his face. “I had a wonderful time.” She reached up and let her lips linger on his for a few unearthly tender seconds.

“Thank you for accompanying me,” he answered softly when they had parted, still holding her very close. “And you know what the best thing is?”

She smiled. “I have a certain idea but tell me all the same.”

“The best thing is that tomorrow at 1000, I’m going to pick you up and will have you all to myself for the whole weekend,” he replied, barely able to keep his cool at the idea.

Mac cocked her head and gave him an endearing pout. “Won’t you tell me where we’re going? I need to pack accordingly, you know...”

He shook his head with a sly grin, giving her a quick peck on the tip of her nose. “No, honey. The nature of a surprise is that you keep it a secret. But I’ll tell you this much: it’s going to be a lot warmer than here. And I plan on training my romantic side a little.”

He could tell that Mac tried to appear unfazed. Yet, he noted with silent joy that she couldn’t quite keep a slight quiver of excitement out of her voice. “Oh?” she inquired, playfully quirking an eyebrow. “That should be interesting. Uh... one thing...”

“Yes?” he asked, intrigued by her sensual tone of voice.

However, when she spoke, her behavior changed from seduction to an almost maidenly shyness. “I... umm... I’m supposed to start on a new round of the Pill tonight,” she said with visible difficulty to hold his gaze. “Tell me: do I do it?”

He gulped down his surprise and unconsciously pulled her a little closer still. “Are you sure?”

She nodded, her cheeks glowing. “Yes, I am,” she whispered. “If you are, too.”

“What about your condition?” he reminded himself to ask. The endometriosis had been the one thing that had still kept him from searching intimate contact, however strong his longing to have her close to him might have been. Seeing that she still massaged her back from time to time had made him hold back, unsure how to act on their mutual need he knew existed.

Now, however, this last barrier seemed to finally fall. “I got the results of my last routine check yesterday,” she told him, her eyes radiating silent joy. “The hormonal treatment was successful. Now’s as good a time as any. So, about the Pill: do I or don’t I?”

Thinking of what he was planning on doing anyway in the course of a romantic dinner on Saturday night, Harm tenderly cupped Mac’s right cheek with his left hand, overwhelmed.

“Then don’t,” he softly told her, feeling his heart beat in his throat. “We’re long overdue.”

Relaxing visibly, she again closed the distance, tightening her embrace and leaving no doubt where she wanted their relationship to go. Harm felt her running her tongue along the seam of his lips and opened up to her, inhaling deeply and losing himself in their intimate contact until he had to draw back to breathe.

For a moment, he rested his forehead against hers to give both of them time to catch their breath. Eventually, Mac looked up at him with a smile that was pure happiness. “Goodnight, Harm,” was all she said – and yet, her eyes told him so much more.

“Goodnight.” He gently kissed her one last time, caressed her cheek, then flashed her a quick grin and turned to leave.

**********

In front of his building, Harm stopped, bent his head back, closed his eyes and simply stood there for a few moments, not wanting this evening to end. This was as close to perfect bliss as he’d ever gotten. You couldn’t just go home and go to sleep like every other night.

His dream of five years – and probably even longer – was about to become reality. And not just in the near future. Their future was due to start tomorrow at 1000. He’d still need time to process this fact.

Finally, he shook himself from his daze, laughing softly about his lovesick behavior, and fumbled for his key when he suddenly felt a small, hard object being pressed against his back.

“No se mueva,” an unknown voice ordered. [Don’t move.]

Harm froze and without thinking slowly raised his hands to his head. A hand roughly grabbed his right forearm and yanked him around until he faced his attacker.

A mid-sized young man with dark hair and Hispanic features was pointing a gun at him, his face distorted with rage.

“What do you want?” Harm managed to say, willing himself to let the commander get the upper hand over the civilian, but failing.

“Me llamo José Bragado. Quizás usted se acuerda de mi hermano. Estoy seguro que se acuerda de matar a él!“

[My name is José Bragado. Perhaps you remember my brother. I’m sure you remember killing him!]

To be continued...

On the next JAG...

Harm will face the consequences of his actions.

Mac will face the revenge of a ghost.

Harm and Mac will face the ultimate threat to their happiness.

The line between bliss and despair is thin and easily crossed.

The outcome of the fight is all but certain.

Stay tuned...