Owen's Song - Part 1

Author: Ava E-mail: mmmThatAJ@yahoo.com Rating:  PG-13 Classification: Mac/Sebring Romance Disclaimer: JAG and all its characters belong to Belisarius Productions, Paramount, CBS, Viacom, and probably endless others. Summary:  Captain Sebring has a difficult evening, and Mac helps him through it; a relationship develops. Author's comments:  A big THANK YOU! to Nurse Tiffany for all her help with the medical information.  And let's assume that Mac didn't go to South America with Webb.  Characters' speaking parts are in double quotes ("text"); characters' thoughts are in single quotes ('text').

Thursday, 15 May 2003
2135 EDT
Domani Ristorante
Annandale, Virginia

Lieutenant Colonel Sarah MacKenzie entered the quaint restaurant and requested a table for one.  The hostess smiled, picked up a menu, and headed into the seating area.  The restaurant was dimly lit, and a small oil candle sat on each table giving off a soft glow.  Each table was covered with a white cloth, and there were cloth napkins and wine goblets set at each place.  There was even a small dance floor and a live 3-piece string ensemble playing quiet, romantic music in the far corner. 

Mac hadn't realized that this was such a fancy restaurant.  She'd heard someone mention it at some point in the past; she couldn't remember who, just that he or she said the food was excellent.  She didn't remember their having said it was a romantic place... then again, maybe she hadn't listened.

She was on her way home from a late briefing with a witness when she saw the little restaurant and remembered the name.  So she pulled in.  Now she wondered if she should just excuse herself and go on home... and order Chinese delivery.  Shaking that thought from her head, she followed the hostess to her table and sat down, just as the ensemble took a short break.

She was used to dining alone, but she seldom went to such a nice place by herself.  She determined that she would not look around at the other diners.  They would invariably be staring at her... few people came to this kind of restaurant by themselves.  She knew that from experience.  'Oh well,' she sighed to herself opening the menu.  'I hope whomever it was mentioned this place was right and the food is good.'

The waiter approached her table and asked if he could get her something to drink.  "Just water, please," she answered. 

The waiter tried, "We have an excellent Amarone.  It is complex, has a long finish, velvety, soft, chocolate and berry flavors.  Outstanding vintage, too."

"No, thanks," Mac intoned.  "Just water, with lemon," she added.  He nodded and returned a moment later with a tall glass of water.  Mac smiled her thanks as she squeezed the lemon wedge into the glass and then dropped it in the water.  She picked up the glass, twirled it around a bit, and then took a sip.  "Mmm, just what I needed."

"Are you ready to order... umm... Major?"

She smiled.  "Colonel," she corrected him.

"Sorry.  I can never keep the color of those leaves straight," the young man apologized.

"It's impressive that you even recognize the oak leaf as a Major and Colonel," she replied.

"Yeah, but I'm not very good at Navy," he sighed.  "I think I insulted a guy over there tonight," he nodded toward another table.  "He's a Captain.  I called him a Colonel.  I need to brush up on Navy ranks, I guess."

Mac chuckled.  "You called a Naval Captain a Colonel, hmm?  Bad move.  You won't get much of a tip from him tonight," she joked.

"I'd better!  He's been sitting at that table by himself for almost 4 hours.  I could've had two other seatings in that length of time."

"Is he waiting for someone?" she asked.

The waiter shook his head.  "No... he's just sitting there.  Stares into space most of the time, like he's high or something."  Mac looked up sharply.  "Not that he is or anything," he corrected.  "I mean, I don't think so.  He's just... weird..."

Mac didn't know why she was concerned, but she was.  "Has he eaten?"

"'Picked' is more like it.  Ordered the best thing on the menu and didn't eat a fourth of it."

"And you say he's a Naval Captain?" Mac confirmed.

The waiter nodded.  "I finally mentioned him to my boss; she recognized him as someone who used to come here pretty regularly with his wife.  Told me to just serve him and not bother him... let him stay as long as he wants.  So..."

Mac was intrigued now.  She decided to go ahead and order her meal and then figure out a way she could get a look at this Captain.  Chances were slim that she'd know him, but it was possible.  "I'll have the Shrimp Parmigiana over farfalle, please."  The waiter nodded.  "And where's the restroom?" she asked before he walked away.

As luck would have it, the restroom was in the direction of the Captain.  She picked up her purse and made her way across the room.  Unfortunately, as she passed him, the Captain looked away, and she couldn't see him well enough to know if she recognized him.  She freshened up some in the ladies' room and then passed his way again.  'Oh my God,' she thought as she recognized Captain Owen Sebring, one of the judges at JAG.  She remembered now; it was he who had mentioned this restaurant.  She'd overheard him talking to Admiral Chegwidden about Italian restaurants; that was something the two men had in common... their love of Italian food.

Debating on whether to stop and speak to him, she glanced at his table.  His hands were wrapped tightly around his wine goblet.  His knuckles were almost white, he was clasping it so hard.  Before she could stop herself, she said, "You squeeze that glass much harder and it'll break, Captain."  He didn't look up.  He didn't change his grip on the glass.  He didn't even seem to hear her.

Mac started to return to her table, but as the string ensemble began to play once again, she heard the sound of glass breaking behind her and voices, "Well, he did it!"  "He broke that glass in his hands."  "Did you see that?"  "I wonder if he's alright?" 

Mac turned around quickly to see Captain Sebring still sitting, staring into nothingness, his hands gripping pieces of the broken goblet... and dripping with blood mixed with wine.  Wine had splattered his face and arms, too.  She saw the waiter coming toward them with a towel.  She took it from him, and asked him to bring four more towels... two wet and two dry.  The waiter agreed and ran back to the kitchen.

Mac walked up beside Sebring and laid the towel on the table away from the spilled wine.  She gently reached over and touched his arm.  "Captain?  Are you alright, Sir?" she asked softly.  No response.  "Captain, I'm just going to take this glass out of your hands now," she spoke soothingly to him as she forced his hands to release their grip on the broken glass.  She took the napkin from his lap and carefully pushed the broken glass away from him.  Then she took the towel and gently brushed his hands, to be sure there were no glass fragments.  She could see several slivers that had imbedded themselves in his skin.  'Damn,' she thought.  'It's going to take a doctor to get those out,' she realized. 

The waiter returned with the towels, and handed them to Mac.  The manager was right behind the waiter.  "Is he okay, Colonel?" she asked.

She shook her head.  "He's going to have to see a doctor.  There's glass in his hands that I can't get out," Mac replied as she took the wet towel and gently wiped the wine from his face.  As she did, he blinked and came out of his trance-like state.  He stared at her, a question in his eyes.  "Captain Sebring?" Mac spoke softly.

"Yes," was his only reply.

"Sir, you have glass in your hands.  We need to get you to a doctor."

"Glass?" he looked down now.  "Oh, my God," he breathed.  "What... how did I..." he closed his eyes and shook his head.  When he looked back up, he saw Mac's concerned face.  "I'm fine, Colonel.  Thank you." 

He started to stand up, but the manager objected.  "Captain, I think it would be best if you let me call an ambulance for you."

He shook his head.  "Don't need one.  I'm perfectly fine."

"Captain," Mac urged, as she pushed on his shoulder to make him sit back down.  "You're not fine, Sir.  You shouldn't drive with that glass in your hands.  It'll make it go deeper and then they might have to do actual surgery to get it out."

"I don't need an ambulance," he argued, but let Mac finish cleaning and wrapping his hands.

"I agree," she said.  "Just let me drive you over."

"I can't inconvenience you that way, Colonel..."

"It's not a problem at all, Sir.  Let me just pay the checks and we can be on our way."

The manager said, "No, no... just forget about the checks.  It's fine.  You go ahead.  You're sure about the ambulance?  I'd feel better about it..."

"No ambulance!" Sebring almost shouted.

"We'll be just fine, thank you," said Mac.  "Captain, would you like me to drive your vehicle or just ride with me in mine?"

"Mine," he replied instantly.

"What?  You don't like Corvettes?" she tried to lighten the mood a bit.

He got that far-off look in his eyes again.  "Our first car was a 'Vette.  Red.  Convertible.  She loved it.  Loved to feel the wind through her hair."  Then he seemed to snap out of it.  "Mine will be easier to get in and out of with my hands the way they are, Colonel."  He held up his two towel-wrapped hands. 

She smiled.  "I suppose you're right, Sir."  They made their way outside and he pointed out his vehicle, a bright silver Lexus RX300 SUV.  "Nice," she said as they walked up to it.  "What year is this?"

"1999," he replied simply.

"You've taken good care of it.  It looks new." He nodded.  "Keys?" 

Sebring started to put his hand in his pants pocket and realized there was no way he could... not with a towel wrapped around his hand.  "Umm, Colonel?"

Mac looked up.  "Sir?"  Then she realized the problem.  "Oh!  Well, we can just..."

Sebring took a deep breath.  "Just reach your hand in my pocket and get the keys, Colonel."

"Are you sure, Sir?  I could go ask one of the waiters..."

"I'd much rather have a woman's hand in my pocket than a man's, Colonel.  Just do it," he said.

Mac stepped forward and reached her hand in his pants pocket, grasped the keys, and pulled them out.  She quickly unlocked the doors and opened the passenger door for him.  Sebring climbed inside and Mac pulled the seatbelt out for him.  When he made no move to take it and fasten it, she reached over him and pushed the plate into the catch.  Backing away, she could feel her face flush.  She closed the door and walked around to the driver's side.

"Bethesda, Sir?" Mac asked as she started the engine. 

"It's a distance, I know... but if you don't mind..."

"Not at all, Captain," Mac replied.

Thursday, 15 May 2003
2220 EDT
Naval Hospital
Bethesda, Maryland

The trip to Bethesda was a quiet one.  Sebring didn't utter a sound; he just stared out the window.  When they finally pulled up to the hospital, Mac was going to let him out at the Emergency entrance.  "No need for that, Colonel.  Just park.  I can walk."

"Aye, Sir."  Mac turned into the parking lot and was lucky to find a fairly close space.  She popped her seatbelt and opened her door... then reached back in and pushed the release on his seatbelt.  She wouldn't have to reach over him that way.  She walked around to his side and opened the door, pulling the free seatbelt out of the way. 

"Thank you, Colonel."  They walked into the Emergency entrance and stopped at the desk.  The nurse looked up.  "I broke a glass.  Have some in my hands," was all Sebring said.

"Your name, Captain?" the nurse asked.

"Sebring.  Owen Sebring."

"Have a seat, Sir.  We'll call you back as soon as we have an open bed," she told him.

They had a long wait.  People in need of more urgent care arrived and they were seen first.  "This is ridiculous," Sebring said at 0145 seeing Mac stifle another yawn.  "You don't think you could just pull this glass out with tweezers?" he asked Mac.

Fortunately, she didn't have to answer him.  A nurse walked up and said, "Captain Owen Sebring?"

"Yes."

"If you'll come with me, Sir, we'll get your hands cleaned up for you now."  He stood and started to follow the nurse.  "Your wife is welcome to come with you, if you'd like."

"My wife is dead," he said flatly.

The nurse said a quiet, "I'm sorry," and they walked out of the waiting area and to one of the examination rooms.  "Have a seat on the table, please, Captain."  Sebring stepped up on the small platform and then sat down.  The nurse stuck a paper-like thermometer in his mouth and then wrapped a blood pressure cuff around his arm.  "165 over 99. That's rather high, Captain," she commented.

He nodded as she removed the thermometer.  "Yeah, well... I'm in a bit of pain here," he said sarcastically.  "And I've been sitting out there waiting for almost 4 hours."

"Yes, I know.  I'm sorry about that.  We're a little short handed tonight," the nurse explained, reading the temperature.  "You have a slight temp, too.  100.1," she told him.

"What does that mean... infection?"

"Possibly.  We'll let the doctor decide that," she replied evasively as she wrote down his vitals on the chart.  She washed her hands and then pulled on a pair of gloves. She turned back to him and unwrapped his hands.  "Hmm, someone did a good job," she commented.

"Colonel MacKenzie," he answered.

"Was that the Colonel in the waiting room with you?"  He nodded.  "Very nice," she smiled.

He looked up sharply.  "She's a fellow officer at JAG.  That's all."

The nurse looked embarrassed as she pulled the gloves off and washed her hands again.  "My apologies, Captain.  I didn't mean to imply..."

"Well, what do we have here?" interrupted the doctor as he walked in the room.  He pulled on a pair of examination gloves and looked at Sebring's hands as he introduced himself.  "I'm Lieutenant Commander Howard.  How'd you manage this, Captain?"

"I broke a wine glass at dinner."

"I'll say!" the doctor quipped.  He pulled the gloves off, tossed them in the trash, and washed his hands. Then he picked up the chart.  "165 over 99.  I don't like that.  What's your usual BP, Captain?"

"130 over 85."

"That's more like it."  He turned to the nurse.  "Let's take it again when we're finished here and see if it's gone down any."

"Yes, Doctor," the nurse replied.

"Little bit of a temp, too, hmm?" the doctor observed.  "Much wine in the glass when it broke, Captain?  Or was it empty?"

"The glass was about half full."

"And this happened when?" Howard asked.

"Around 2145, I think.  The clock in the car said 2155 when we were leaving the restaurant."

"Hmmm, 4 hours," the doctor shook his head.  "That's a bit long for stitches in the hand..."  He pulled a fresh pair of examination gloves on.  "I think what we'll do is use Dermabond on these cuts.  But this glass that's still imbedded, I'll have to stitch these."  He looked at the nurse.  "I'll need some 'pickups', an irrigation package, buffered lidocaine, 2 vials of Dermabond, and I'll need a suture kit.  Wouldn't hurt to go ahead with a good, strong dose of penicillin, too."  He turned back to Sebring.  "Can you have penicillin?  Any allergies?"

Sebring shook his head.  "None that I know of.  I've had it before."

"Good," said the doctor, peeling off the gloves and washing his hands again.  "1.2 million units of procaine penicillin," he said to the nurse.  He took a prescription pad and wrote 'Penicillin potassium 500 mg b.i.d. for 5 days'. He handed it to the nurse, "Have the pharmacy send that on up here."

"Yes, Doctor," the nurse said as she left the room.

"These hands are going to hurt for a while, Captain," Howard told him.  "Especially here between your thumb and index finger."

"Already does," Sebring quipped.

"Just wait 'til I start irrigating," the doctor chuckled.  "Even with the lidocaine, it's going to hurt some."  The nurse entered the room and set the equipment on the table next to the doctor. He pulled on a new set of gloves. "Where's the procaine penicillin?" he asked as he picked up the lidocaine syringe.

"They're sending that up from the Pharmacy, too, Doctor.  It should be here within 5 minutes."

"Okay, let's get started."  The doctor anesthetized Sebring's hands with the lidocaine. He injected a little bit in several places on his right hand, and then repeated the process on his left hand. By the time he finished the second hand, the first one was almost numb. So he picked up an instrument that resembled a large pair of tweezers.  He grasped a piece of glass and pulled it out of the right hand.  Then another.  And another.  He checked the left hand and found only one piece of glass... a tiny one.  Then he used a probe to feel around for any more.  Finding none, he began irrigating the wounds with saline.

"Damn, that hurts!" Sebring said.

Howard nodded, "I warned you."  He finished that process and dried his patient's hands with a towel.  "Okay, now for the fun part."  The doctor stripped off the gloves and washed his hands again. Then he pulled on a fresh pair of gloves, sterile ones this time.

"Good God, how many pairs of those things do you go through in a day?" Sebring asked.

The doctor chuckled. "Never counted. Bunch of 'em, though." He picked up the C-shaped needle that was already threaded.  "If this hurts too much, you tell me and I'll inject some more lidocaine, okay?" 

Sebring nodded.  Evidently the lidocaine had finally taken full effect, because he didn't feel much except the thread pulling his skin together.  It didn't hurt really, it was just uncomfortable.  Once the stitches in his right hand were complete, the doctor looked at his left hand.  "You know, I think we'll just use the glue on this hand."  He picked up a plastic-coated glass ampule filled with purple liquid. 

"I hope that's not going to be purple on my skin," Sebring said. 

The doctor laughed.  "I'm afraid so, Captain."  He broke the glass and watched as the liquid ran out into the plastic.  He tipped it up and allowed the purple liquid to coat the small sponge on the end.  Then he ran the sponge over the lacerations on Sebring's left hand.  When he finished with that one, he used the second vial on Sebring's right hand.  "This is called Dermabond," Howard explained.  "It's like a glue, of sorts.  It won't pull the way stitches do. Now you can't get it wet for 48 hours.  Of course, that only applies to your left hand, because you can't get those stitches wet on your right hand for a week."

"A week?" Sebring barked.

The doctor nodded.  "That's right.  A week.  Just be glad it's not both hands." He turned to the nurse. "Go find out where that penicillin is while I finish this up." He pulled his gloves off and washed his hands again.

The nurse scurried out of the room, and the doctor wrapped Sebring's right hand with gauze. He opened a drawer and pulled out two rolls of self-adhesive bandage... one green and one flesh toned. He held them up. "Which would you prefer, Captain?" he grinned. Sebring rolled his eyes, and the doctor tossed the green roll back in the drawer. "Purple's enough color for you, hmm? You'd be surprised how many people want the color!"

Sebring almost grinned. "My dog had that stuff on his leg a couple of years back. They called it 'Vet wrap'."

Howard laughed. "Yeah, I've heard that before. Well, if anyone calls it that to you, just bark at them!"

"I do that anyway," Sebring quipped.

"Let's take your blood pressure again, now, shall we?" the doctor said as he wrapped the cuff around Sebring's arm. "Hmm, 160 over 92; that's a little better. It's coming down; that's good."

The nurse returned with the syringe of penicillin and a bottle of pills. She laid them on the table, along with an alcohol swab. "That'll be all for now, Lieutenant," the doctor told her. She nodded and left the room. "Okay, Captain. Drop 'em."

Sebring's eyes opened wide. "What?"

"This needs to go in your posterior," Howard said, picking up the large syringe.

"You're going to stick that in my..."

Howard nodded, "That's right, Captain. In your buttocks." He watched Sebring squirm on the table. "Do you need some help with that, Sir?"

Sebring stood up then. "No, I don't need help... OWWW!!" he bellowed as he tried to use his hands. "Damn, that hurts!" he yelled.

"Maybe you want to rethink that offer of help, Sir?" the doctor suggested.

"Yes, I guess so," he sighed. The doctor quickly unfastened Sebring's belt and pants, then pulled them down.

"Normally, I'd have you lay on your stomach for this, but I think it would be more trouble with those hands than it's worth," the doctor said. "How about just leaning over the table?" he suggested.

"Fine," Sebring replied, bending at the waist and laying his torso on the table.

The doctor pulled his underwear down just enough to uncover his right cheek. Then he opened the alcohol swab and wiped it over the exposed flesh. "Just a little stick now," he said as he jabbed the syringe into the fleshy part of Sebring's buttocks.

"That's NOT a little stick!" Sebring complained.

"Okay, you can stand up now," the doctor said. He helped him pull his pants back up and fasten them. "You have someone to drive you home, I trust?"

"Yes, I do. She's out there waiting."

The doctor was going to hand Sebring the small bottle of pills, but he decided to walk him out and hand them to whomever was waiting for him. It would be easier on the Captain's hands. They walked out to the waiting area together as the doctor said, "One of these pills twice a day until they're gone. And I want you back here in a week to get those stitches taken out."

Mac saw the doctor walking out with Captain Sebring, so she rose to her feet and met them half way. "Doctor?"

"He'll be just fine, Colonel," Howard said. "But I don't want him driving for the next 24 hours."

"That won't be a problem, Doctor," Mac said... as Sebring grumbled his complaint.

"And don't forget, no water on the left hand for 48 hours... and keep the right one dry until you get the stitches out," the doctor added as he handed Mac the bottle of pills.  "And if you still have a fever tomorrow, call me."

"Yeah, yeah," Sebring mumbled. "Come on, Colonel; let's get out of here."

Mac smiled at the doctor. "Thank you, Doctor. Good night." She shook his hand, turned, and followed Sebring out the door. As they reached the SUV, Mac unlocked the doors with the remote on the key fob. Sebring tried to open his, and he winced in pain. "Captain, let me get that for you."

"Don't like having a woman open doors for me, Colonel. Don't guess I have much choice in this, though, do I?" he sighed.

Mac got him settled in the seat and his seatbelt fastened. Then she climbed in the driver's side. "Now. Where to?"

"Home, of course," he said. "It's 0245."

Mac smiled. "Where is home, Captain?"

He turned surprised eyes to her. "Oh, God! I forgot... your car is in Annandale!"

"I can get my car tomorrow, Sir.  And at this hour, I think it would be easier if I just stayed at your place on the sofa... or you came to mine. You're going to need assistance tonight and in the morning," she reasoned.

"Not from you, I'm not!" he barked.

"Do you have someone you can call, Sir?" Mac asked. "At this late hour?"

"No, not really." He sighed heavily. "I guess it's you, Colonel." He squirmed a bit in his seat.

"Are you alright, Sir?" she asked, concerned.

"No, I'm not alright, Colonel. I just got a shot in my butt. I hate those," he muttered.  Mac did her best not to laugh, but she couldn't help the grin from spreading across her face. Fortunately, as dark as it was, Captain Sebring didn't see it.  "Might as well just go to your place then.  I have a gear bag in the back; you don't," he reasoned.

"Oh, but Sir!  Surely you're not intending to go in tomorrow?" Mac queried.

He looked sideways at her.  "Of course I am, Colonel.  Just like you would be if this happened to you."

Mac sighed.  She knew he was right.  "Very well, Sir."  She headed for Georgetown.

Friday, 16 May 2003
0320 EDT
Sarah MacKenzie's Apartment
Georgetown, Washington, DC

Mac unlocked the door and walked inside her apartment carrying Sebring's duffel.  "Would you like anything to eat or drink, Sir?  Or do you want to just go right to bed?"

"Bed," was all he said as he trailed behind her.

Mac nodded toward the bedroom.  "Right this way."  He followed her into her bedroom.

"This looks like it would be your room, Colonel?" he noticed, looking around.

"It is, Sir," she said as she helped him remove his uniform jacket.  He looked at her questioningly.  "This is a one bedroom apartment, Captain."

"This is the only bed?" he asked.  "Why didn't you say something?"

Mac looked confused.  "Sir, I guess it never occurred to me.  I just assumed that I'd sleep on the sofa here just like I would have done at your place.  It's not a..."

"I have a guest room, Colonel.  We'd both have had beds at my house."  He shook his head.  "I'll take the sofa."

"Absolutely not, Captain!" Mac argued.  "You can't sleep on a sofa tonight... not in your condition.  Your hands... your... um..." she blushed when she realized she almost blurted out about his tush.  "It just wouldn't work.  You wouldn't get any sleep, Sir.  You take the bed; I'll take the sofa," she insisted.  "Now, what help do you need to get ready?"

"I'll be just fine on my own," he barked.

Mac nodded, "Very well, Sir.  Then just let me grab a few things, and I'll be out of your way."  She pulled the bedspread down.  "The sheets are fresh; I just changed them this morning."  She grabbed one of the pillows and opened the closet door to get a sheet for the sofa.  She took all of that out to the living room and then returned.  "Would you like to use the bathroom first, Sir, or shall I?"

"You go ahead, Colonel.  I'll wait until you're settled."

Mac smiled her thanks, pulled a nightgown out of her dresser drawer, and went in the bathroom.  She closed the door and he could hear the water running.  'Probably brushing her teeth.'  He heard her spit and smiled.  'Yep, brushing her teeth.  Next, she'll take her makeup off... and get some of the goop in her eyes... and have forgotten the towel...' 

"Damn!  Why do I always forget that stupid towel?  Oh, geez... in my eye again?" Mac's raised voice came through the door.

He smiled as he stared into nothingness.  He heard a thud against the door.  'Right shoe.'  And another.  'Left shoe.  Now she's taking off her stockings.  The water will start again and she'll wash them out in the sink.'  Sure enough, he heard the water start running.  'Now her skirt... and her blouse...'  He started breathing heavy.  'Now her slip...'  "Leave the rest for me, Darling!" he called to her.

Mac heard him say something, but it couldn't have been what she thought she heard, so she cracked the door.  "Did you call me, Captain?"

'Captain?' he thought, startled.  Realizing suddenly where he was and who was in the bathroom, he said, "No, Colonel.  Just talking to myself."

"Okay.  I'm almost finished in here, Sir."  Mac finished changing into her nightgown, pulled her robe from the hook on the door and slipped into it, and opened the door.  "All yours, Captain," she smiled.

"Thank you, Colonel."  He stood up and toed off his shoes before he went in the bathroom and kicked the door shut.

Mac was stretching the sheet over the cushions of the sofa when she heard him yell in pain.  She rushed into the bedroom, "Are you okay, Captain?"

"Damn it," she could hear him through the door.  

"Sir?  Do you need some help?"

"Yes!" he bellowed.  Mac opened the door slowly.  "I can't get my..."

"Why don't you let me unbutton your shirt first, Sir?" she realized the problem.  She'd wondered how he was going to get undressed.  Even with his unbandaged left hand, it had to be extremely painful.  "Then you can turn around, and I'll help you with your pants," she suggested.

He nodded and turned to face her.  Mac quickly unbuttoned his shirt.  Then she unbuckled his belt and pulled his shirt free from his pants.  She helped him shrug out of his shirt and she dropped it on the floor.  "That's ruined," he said.

"I'm afraid so, Sir.  But I'll take the ribbons off for you.  I don't think the wine or blood got on any of those," she told him as she pulled his belt free from the loops.  "Oh, the belt got it, though," she sighed.

"I have plenty of belts."

"Do you have another one in your duffel, Sir?"

He shook his head, "No, I don't."

"I think I still have one of Mic's in the closet.  It might fit.  We'll try it in the morning," she suggested as she unbuttoned and unzipped his fly.  "Turn around, please."  He obeyed, and she pulled his pants down to the floor so he could step out of them.  "You okay from here?" she asked.

"Yes," he almost barked.  Then as an afterthought, "Thank you."

Mac smiled as she returned to the living room.  'Who'd a thought?'

A couple of minutes later, she heard him call, "Colonel?"

She was just plumping her pillow, so she walked to the bedroom door carrying it.  "Yes, Sir?"

"Socks.  I hate sleeping in socks.  Would you mind?" he sounded terribly embarrassed.

"Don't mind at all, Captain," Mac said softly.  She dropped her pillow on the bed and walked around to his side.  She knelt down and removed his socks.  "There you go," she smiled.

"Why aren't you married, Colonel?" he asked out of the blue.

Mac's face registered shock.  "I... um... well..." she stammered.

"You should be.  You'd make some lucky man a fine wife," he told her gently.

Mac smiled.  "Thank you, Sir.  I appreciate that."

"Now climb in bed.  You can't sleep on that sofa.  I will."  He stood up, grabbed a pillow and headed out the door.

"Captain!  You won't fit on that... Sir, my sofa isn't very big..."  She argued, following him out to the living room.

"That's not a sofa, Colonel.  That's a loveseat.  How did you expect to sleep on that?"

"Curled up?" she replied.

He shook his head.  "Not a chance.  Come on.  You have a big bed.  You stay on your side; I'll stay on mine."

"But Sir..."

"Colonel, either we both sleep in your bed... or I curl up on the loveseat."  Mac sighed.  It was already 0358.  She was only going to get 2 hours of sleep tonight anyway... so what did it matter where she slept or with whom?  As though he could read her mind, Sebring said, "We're only going to get 2 hours of sleep tonight, Colonel.  Let's not waste anymore of it.  Come on.  Let's go to bed and get some shuteye."

Mac sighed her acquiescence and they returned to the bedroom.  Mac climbed in on one side and Sebring on the other.  "Good night, Captain," she said softly.

"Good night, Colonel."

Friday, 16 May 2003
0530 EDT
Sarah MacKenzie's Apartment
Georgetown, Washington, DC

Mac felt strong arms around her, a firm chest to her back, and a heavy leg over hers.  'Mmm, this is a nice dream,' her sleepy mind thought.  'I wonder who he'll be when I turn in his arms?'  She wiggled until he lightened his grip and she was able to turn.  She eased herself over and nestled her head into his chest, entwining her legs with his and draping one of her arms over him.  He tightened his grip again once she was settled, and she sighed contentedly.  'Wouldn't it be nice if this were real?'

They slept for another half hour, when Mac awoke.  She opened her eyes and realized that it hadn't been a dream this time.  'Oh great,' she thought to herself.  'This is not good.'  She wiggled a little bit, hoping he would lighten his grip again the way he had earlier.  He did, and Mac was able to scoot away from him and roll out of bed without waking him.  She quietly grabbed her undergarments and a fresh uniform and went into the bathroom.

Captain Sebring awoke when he heard the water come on in the shower.  "What the...?" he started, and then, feeling the pain in his hands, it all came back to him.  "What a night," he sighed.  He swung his feet off the bed and sat up.  He heard the water turn off.  A minute later, he heard the hair dryer.  

Mac finished applying her makeup and pulled her uniform on.  She quietly opened the door and peeked into the bedroom.  "You're awake!" she smiled when she saw him sitting up.

Sebring stood up and turned to face her.  "That I am, Colonel.  Do you have a gallon-size plastic bag and a rubber band, by any chance?"

"I'm sure I do, Sir.  In the kitchen.  Let me go see."  She headed for the kitchen and returned with a plastic bag.  "I'm fresh out of rubber bands, I'm afraid."

"What about one of those things for your hair?" he asked.  Then he smirked, "Oh.  You wouldn't use those; you have short hair."

"But I do have some, Sir!  My little sister, Chloe, left a few things here last time.  I hadn't thought of those."  Mac went to the closet and pulled out a shoe box.  "Bingo!"

"Now, how about a washcloth?"

"I think I see what you're planning now," she smiled.  "Here, let me help you."

"I can do it myself, Colonel."

"It's no trouble, Captain.  You'll have to do for yourself after this anyway; what's the harm in letting me help you now?"  She took a washcloth and moved to wrap his right hand.  

"The left one," he corrected her.

"But the right one..."

"I can't get either of them wet today.  But with my left hand covered, I should be able to at least use it to wash up."

"Oh," Mac replied.  "I could always..."

"No!" he said sharply.

"Sir, I was only going to suggest..."

"That'll be all, Colonel," he dismissed her.

'I'm dismissed?  From my own bedroom?'  She sighed and went to the kitchen to start the coffee.

Sebring kicked the bathroom door closed and made an effort to wash up.  It was painful to use his left hand, just as the doctor had warned him.  But it was better than the alternative... having another woman's hands on him.  He wasn't ready for that.  He wondered if he'd ever be ready for that.  "Oh, Joyce.  I miss you so much," he said quietly as a single tear slipped down his cheek.

Mac heard the water running in the bathroom, so she slipped back into the bedroom and took his uniform out of his duffel.  She hadn't thought to hang it up last night... or rather, this morning... so it was definitely in need of ironing.  Realizing that his undergarments were still in his duffel, she took those out and laid them neatly on the edge of the bed.  She picked up the uniform, closed the bedroom door behind her, and went to the kitchen to set up the ironing board.  

Twenty minutes later, she heard him bellow.  "Colonel!  Where is my uniform?!"

"Coming, Sir!" she called as she pressed the final wrinkle out of the pants.  She knocked lightly on the bedroom door and opened it.  "Coming in," she called.

He sat on the far side of the bed, trying to put on his socks.  "Ow!  That..." he muttered.

She hung his uniform on the closet door and walked around to him.  She knelt down in front of him the way she had a few hours before.  "Let me do that for you, Sir."  She deftly slipped his socks over his feet and pulled them up the calves of his legs.

"My uniform?" he queried.

"On the closet door, Sir.  All pressed and ready for wear," Mac replied as she stood up.  She reached for the pants and handed them to him.  He struggled to put them on, so finally Mac offered, "Wouldn't it be easier, Sir, to just let me help you?"

He sighed heavily.  "Fine.  Do it."

Mac helped him into his pants and zipped and buttoned them.  "Oh, the belt!"  She went back to her closet and pulled out a white belt.  "This was Mic's.  I'm not sure that it'll fit, but maybe."  She tried it for size around his waist.  "Looks good," she smiled.  Threading it through the belt loops, she brought it around front and fastened it.  

"That's not Navy issue," Sebring said.

"Australian Navy issue, Captain."

"Oh, that's right.  He was from Australia.  Well, maybe no one will notice."

"They'll have enough to look at, Sir.  I doubt that they notice the belt," Mac laughed.

"What's that supposed to mean?" he almost barked.

"Your hands give you away, Sir.  One is all bandaged up, and the other is purple!"

"Not all purple.  Just spots."

"Gives new meaning to the old adage 'purple polka-dotted people eater!'," Mac giggled.  Sebring actually smiled at that and his eyes sparkled.  "You have such gorgeous blue eyes," Mac breathed.

He blinked hard; that was what Joyce used to tell him.  "What did you say, Colonel?"

Mac swallowed hard.  She hadn't intended to say that out loud.  "Nothing, Sir."  She wheeled around and started making the bed.  She had a pillow in her hands when the doorbell rang.  "Who could that be at this hour?" she wondered aloud.  She walked into the living room, tossing the pillow on the sofa as she passed.  "Harm?" she saw through the peep hole.  She pulled the door open.  "Good morning.  You're up early."

"Where were you last night, Mac?" he questioned.  "I tried calling you for hours.  I left like 5 messages!"

Mac turned and looked at her answering machine on the end table; sure enough, it was blinking.  "I didn't check them when I got in, Harm.  It was late."

"Colonel, we'll need to arrange to have your car..." Sebring was talking as he walked out of her bedroom.  He stopped as he saw Commander Harmon Rabb standing there, gaping at him.  He still didn't have his shoes on and his tie was around his neck, but not tied.

Mac picked up where he left off.  "That won't be a problem, Captain.  I'm sure Harm will give me a lift to Annandale..." she turned to face Harm, "or Harriett, if you're busy."

"What's going on here?" Harm asked.  "Maybe I don't want to know..." he corrected himself.

Mac spoke up before Sebring did.  "Captain Sebring had an accident last night, and I happened to be in the vicinity.  So I took him to Bethesda and I brought him back here since we only had 2 hours to sleep."

"And he slept... where?" Harm asked.

"In the bed, of course," Mac replied caustically.  She didn't like that Harm was being so protective.  She wasn't his property and he never showed the least interest in her except when she showed interest in someone else.

"And you slept...?"

Mac made a quick decision.  Captain Sebring wouldn't want anyone to know they'd slept in the same bed, she was sure.  So she turned and looked at the sofa, still covered in a sheet and the pillow on top.  "Where does it look like I slept?"  She didn't lie, exactly.

"Oh.  Okay," Harm backed down.  "Well, I just worried about you when you didn't call me back."

"Everything's fine, Harm.  I'll see you at the office."  He nodded and left.  Mac turned around to find Captain Sebring still standing in the doorway of the bedroom.  "Are you alright, Sir?"

"Does he do that a lot?  Barge in on you like that?"

Mac sighed.  "Sometimes."

"Well, thank you for not telling him where you slept last night, Colonel."  

He started to turn back into the bedroom when Mac said, "You shared my bed last night, Sir.  Don't you think you could call me 'Mac'?"

He shook his head.  "I don't think that would be a good idea."

"Sir, I know I was the prosecuting attorney last year in your trial, but I didn't want to be.  I asked to be released from it..."

"That's not it, Colonel," he said.

"I'm sorry, Captain.  I didn't mean to infer anything..."

"My wife's only been gone for 10 months, Colonel.  The fact that I ended up pulling you into my arms in bed last night... that I wanted you..." he shook his head in dismay.  "I can't understand that."

Mac's heart sank.  He knew what happened.  She had so hoped that he wouldn't remember.  "Sir, I'm sure you were only thinking of her.  Not me."

"That's true," he replied and turned around.  "Just like I was thinking of her last night," he held up his hands.  "Yesterday was our wedding anniversary. It would have been 26 years."  He lowered his head and knew the tears were going to start again.

Mac understood now.  His anniversary.  The first one since her death.  No wonder he'd been in such a state last night.  She didn't know what to do.  So she walked up to him and lifted his chin.  "You do have beautiful eyes," she whispered gently.  "So blue.  So piercing."

He pulled her to him and held her so tightly she could hardly breathe.  Within a few seconds, she felt his body shaking with sobs.  She wrapped her arms around him and held him, rubbing his back and cooing to him, "It's alright.  Go ahead and cry.  You need this.  You need to let it out."

Friday, 16 May 2003
0840 EDT
JAG Headquarters
Falls Church, Virginia

Mac walked into the bullpen and headed for her office.  But Petty Officer Tiner called to her, "Colonel!  The Admiral wants to see you ASAP!"

She dropped her briefcase and cover on her desk and headed for her CO's office.  "You wanted to see me, Sir?"

"You're late, Colonel.  Is there a problem?"

"No problem, Sir.  Just had to give someone a lift, that's all."

"Looked more like he was giving you a lift."

"Sir?" Mac questioned.

"I saw you and Captain Sebring coming from his vehicle in the parking lot.  And yours doesn't appear to be out there.  Care to tell me what's going on?  Or should I ask him?"

"I'd rather you didn't, Admiral.  He's had it pretty rough the last 14 hours or so."

"Explain."  Mac began telling him... when she mentioned Domani's, the Admiral sighed, "That was 'their' restaurant... Joyce's favorite.  They always went there on special occasions."

"That would explain why he was there last night, then," Mac said.  The Admiral turned questioning eyes to her.  "Yesterday was their anniversary, Sir."  She continued the story, including their long wait at the hospital before he was seen by a doctor.  "We only had 2 hours to sleep, and he was going to need... assistance," she groped for the right word, "so we just went back to my place. And I drove us in this morning."

"Is he okay?"

"He seems to be now, Sir."

"What does that mean?"

Mac smiled.  "It means, he seems to be fine now, Admiral."

"Meaning you aren't going to tell me anything else?"

"Not unless you order me to, Sir.  Nothing improper happened, and I think the Captain would prefer his privacy.  I know you would."

He nodded.  "True.  Okay, I'll accept that.  Dismissed."

Mac came to attention stance, turned, and got as far as the door.  "Mac?"  She turned back to face him.  "Thank you for being there for him.  For helping him.  Owen isn't a man who asks for help easily."

Mac smiled, "Like someone else I know."

He chuckled.  "True again."

"I'm glad I was able to help, Admiral.  I'm glad he let me help."  

Mac returned to her office and delved into her work.  Before she knew it, it was lunchtime, and Harm knocked on her doorframe.  "You want to run down and get your car now, Mac?"

She looked up.  "Oh!  That would be great.  Thanks, Harm."  

As they reached the double doors to the bullpen, Captain Sebring was walking through them.  "Colonel, I was just coming to see you," he told her.  "Do you have a minute?"

"Of course, Captain," she replied.  She turned to Harm.  "You want to wait or do it later?"

"I'll wait.  No rush," he told her.

"Thanks."  She followed the Captain to her office and shut the door behind them.  "Everything okay, Sir?"

He turned around and faced her.  "Colonel, I just wanted to thank you for what you did for me last night... and this morning."  He lowered his head, "Especially this morning."

Mac smiled warmly.  "I'm glad you let me help, Sir."

"I didn't realize how much I needed to get that out... I'm not a man who cries very often... three times in my adult life that I recall, in fact."  At her quirked eyebrow, he answered her question.  "When our baby girl died, when my wife died, and... this morning."

"Then you definitely needed it, Sir."

He nodded.  "That I did... Mac."  She smiled brightly at his use of her nickname.  "Now I should let you go on with Rabb; I assume you're going down to pick up your car?"

"Yes, Sir."

"Owen," he said softly.  Mac's smile became even brighter, if that was possible.

"Owen."  They turned to leave her office when she thought of something.  He pulled her door open as she said, "How will you get home this evening, Owen?  You can't drive yet."

"Why not?" he almost snapped.  He didn't like being dependent on anyone.

"The doctor said no driving for 24 hours," she insisted.  "You have quite a few to go.  At 1700, you'll still have 10 left, in fact," she informed him.

Admiral Chegwidden walked up next to them and said, "I'll give him a lift, Mac."

She smiled and reached in her purse, pulling out a wad of keys and handing them to the Admiral.  "Then I'll give these to you, Sir."

"That's what happened to them!  You never gave them to me this morning!" Sebring accused.

"That's right.  Wanted to be sure you didn't drive."

"Mac..." he started.

"Owen..." she gave back.  And then they laughed when they saw the shocked expressions on everyone's faces.  No one had ever seen Captain Sebring joke around with anyone.  He hardly even cracked a smile anymore, let alone laughed.  "Come on, Harm.  Let's go get my car before the purple polka-dotted people eater decides I'm being insubordinate!" she giggled.

"Go on, get outta here!" Sebring waved them off, chuckling.

She turned back around in all seriousness, "Don't forget, though... don't get that hand wet!"

"Yes, Mother."

"Either one of them!"

"Scram!"

Continue to Part 2.