Retiring

Sunday, 25 April 2004
2230 EDT
JAG Headquarters
Falls Church, Virginia

He stood at the window, his arms folded across his chest as he stared into the blackness of the night.  It wasn't dark when he first stood there, but the hours passed without his even realizing.  His thoughts tumbled over and over; he wondered if he would even reach a decision today.  But he had to.  He'd promised himself that he wouldn't leave this office until his decision was made.  His final decision.

In his mind, he mulled over the last nine years.  He remembered the day he arrived at JAG Headquarters.  'Allison Krennick.'  How he detested that woman.  She wasn't a good lawyer; not really.  She was a miserable Chief of Staff.  And she constantly flaunted her sex at any male over the age of 21.  There was no doubt in his mind that she had advanced her career primarily through sexual favors.  He'd done right in transferring her out of Washington and keeping her under the command of another woman just as hard-nosed and determined as she.  'But I can trust Jo; I never trusted Krennick.'

His thoughts shifted and he chuckled.  "Rabb, Rabb, Rabb... will you ever learn?" he said aloud, remembering the young officer making a point in court by firing a machine gun into the ceiling of the room.  He remembered other foolish things Harmon Rabb did over the years.  But when he thought of how the young officer had grown in his legal skills, he was proud.  'Maybe one day this office will be his.'  Unknowingly, the corner of his mouth quirked up into a grin.  'But not if Mac beats him to it.'

His thoughts easily shifted to the lovely woman who'd served his office so faithfully.  He refused to remember her short hiatus from JAG back in '97.  That was a mistake, and she'd returned even more eager to please.  His thoughts shifted again, and he remembered how soft her hands felt when he held them in his bedroom.  "Talk about mistakes," he muttered, shaking his head.  He still found it incredible that he'd almost kissed her.  But she had looked so forlorn, so desperately in need of loving.  He licked his lips unconsciously, wondering what her mouth tasted like.  Shaking his head clear of the images in his mind, he moved on from Sarah MacKenzie.

He recalled how much he enjoyed helping Harriett plan her wedding.  And then he had the joy of delivering the Roberts' first son, his namesake, right here on the floor of his office.  But he also remembered having to tell Harriett of the horrible accident that took Bud's leg.  He was proud of her; she was so supportive of Bud through all of it.  Yet she never lost her sense of humor.  Bud lost his for a while, but it soon came back.  "James Kirk Roberts," he chuckled.  'I'd like to have seen Harriett's expression when she realized they named their second son after a Star Trek character!'

The smile on his face faded as his thoughts shifted again.  'Meredith.'  Funny how Star Trek always made him think of his ex-fiancée.  And all because she'd been so fascinated at Bud's revelation that so many Star Trek episodes were actually take-offs on Shakespeare.  He knew that long ago and wondered that she'd never heard it before.  

'Oh, Meredith, why?  Why?'  Unknowingly, tears welled in his eyes as he remembered finding her lying in bed just after making love to another man.  And then to have her tell him she's done this before to three other men!  Why did she have to tell him that?  Did she think it would make him feel better?  It didn't.  The fact that she seemed to enjoy shattering men's hearts didn't make him feel better at all.  

"Be truthful with yourself, man," he spoke aloud.  "She looked miserable when she was here three weeks ago.  She doesn't enjoy hurting people."  'Yeah, right.  Then why did she do it?  We were so happy!'  He shook his head, trying to clear the memories that were rushing in.  Meredith serenading him, though totally off-key, at a nightclub.  Meredith bringing him homemade cookies... that tasted like straw.  Meredith sitting at the piano playing Christmas carols... totally shocking him by the skill of her fingers.  Meredith underneath him in bed, moaning, calling his name in ecstasy...  "No!" he yelled, turning away from the window.  'That's over and done with.  Forget her,' he insisted.

He started pacing back and forth in front of the windows.  'Make a decision, man!  It shouldn't be that difficult!' he told himself.  But he knew it was that difficult.  He loved this place; he always had.  Sure, his goal had always been to be the CNO before he retired, but he realized several years ago that wasn't going to happen.  He'd passed up several key positions because he didn't want to leave JAG.  And now it was too late.  He couldn't make up that lost time; he'd never be the CNO.  He knew that; he accepted it.  But he also knew it was time for him to move on.  He'd been the JAG for nine years.  It was time for someone new to take over the reigns.  Still, he didn't want to leave this place.

Then it dawned on him.  "It's not the place.  It's the people!"  His heart was a bit lighter now; he knew he wouldn't lose contact with his people.  Harriett was forever wanting him to spend more time with the children... and he hadn't felt he could, because of fraternization rules.  That would no longer be a concern.  Bud was finally getting along better with his own father, but he knew the young officer considered him almost a surrogate father.  

He knew that Harm felt that way, too.  It was especially evident when he'd told Harm that he couldn't depend on him and he needed to grow up.  He hadn't intended to hurt Harm's feelings, but he had.  And Harm reacted just like a hurting son would, even to the point of not answering the phone or returning calls.  Things were better now, and he was glad.  Harm learned a valuable lesson from those trials.  'I hope.'

He smiled when he thought of Mac.  He would miss seeing her smile every day, but at least he wouldn't worry about her marrying that spook anymore.  He was sorry about the problems Webb was having now, and he knew that Mac could be a help to him with his drinking problem.  But he was more concerned about Mac and the possibility of her falling off the wagon because of spending time with Webb.  Now that Webb had admitted to having an alcohol problem and the CIA sent him to a detox facility in the Midwest, he wasn't worried about Mac.  He still wondered at Harm's never making his move on Mac.  For so long, he was sure they would end up together.  But after all this time?  He shook his head, 'Doubt it'll happen now.  Hmm, maybe I should make a move on her in a few months.  Might wake Rabb up, at the very least.'

He pulled his chair out and sat down.  His eye was drawn to the encased baseball on his desk.  He reached for it and rolled it over and over in his hands.  He was looking forward to coaching ball.  He just had to decide with what age group he wanted to work.  He could coach Little League, or volunteer at a local school, or even coach at Annapolis.  After working with adults for so long, he thought he might enjoy the spontaneity of children.  Then again, he was never so spontaneous as when he was a Midshipman at Annapolis.  His grin spread wide across his face as he remembered some of the scrapes he got in... and barely got out of!

His mind wandered to another time he was spontaneous... his proposal to Marcella was certainly that.  Oh, he had loved her, but he certainly hadn't planned to propose, not then, anyway.  But everything about that night had been magical... and he'd been caught up in its spell.  The next morning, he'd found himself engaged to the most beautiful woman he'd ever seen.  His eyes filled with tears as he remembered her parting words.  How could she have missed her mother more than she loved him?  But what haunted him were the words she spoke to him almost six years ago.  He had no idea she'd wanted him to come after her.  He wondered now if it was too late for them.  Her second husband was dead.  And he was still unattached.  Maybe... just maybe...

He was startled out of his musings by the shrill ring of his cellular phone.  He flipped it open, "Chegwidden!"

"Hello, Papa.  It is Francesca."

"Hello, Darlin'.  How's my beautiful daughter?  It's a little early for you, isn't it?" he realized.

She yawned in his ear.  "Sì, it is.  But I could not wait any longer.  I must know, Papa; will you be coming to Italy in June as you thought you might?  It has been so long since I've seen you."

He smiled; she really sounded excited about seeing him again.  "Yes, Darlin'.  I thought I'd fly in on June 4.  Is that okay with you?"

"That is wonderful, Papa!  And how long will you stay?"

"Maybe... a month?"

"A month!?  Oh, Papa!  That is perfetto!"

"You're sure it's not too long?"

"Non assolutamente!  I will love having you here.  We will do so many things together.  And I know Mama will want to see you.  In fact, I told her you might be coming, and she was very happy."

"Was she?"

"Sì, she was."  He could hear the smile in his daughter's voice.  "But I must ring off now, Papa.  I must shower and dress for work."

"I'm glad you called, Francesca.  I'm looking forward to seeing you."

"Me, too, Papa.  Ciao."

He smiled as he pressed the Off button on his phone.  He turned to his computer keyboard, clicked on the New Memo icon, and started to type:

Request for Retirement, effective 1 June 2004

The end.