Friday, 23 August 2002
1515 EDT
JAG Headquarters
Falls Church, Virginia

Commander Harmon Rabb stood in the doorway of Lieutenant Colonel Sarah MacKenzie's office.   He rapped lightly on the door frame.   Mac didn't even look up.   Harm knocked again.   "I'm busy," she said flatly.

"Come on, Mac.   You've been 'busy' for weeks.   More like months... 3 to be exact.   Ever since Bud lost his leg."   Harm walked in to her office and sat on the corner of her desk.   "Mac, there was nothing any of us could have done about that.   It wasn't your fault.   It wasn't my fault.   It wasn't anyone's fault.   You have to get past it and move on.   Bud and Harriett have..."

Mac didn't say a word.   She just kept her eyes focused on the file in front of her as Harm rambled on.   Though her eyes were focused on the file, her mind certainly wasn't.   'How right you are, Harm.   3 months to the day.   But not for Bud.   It was 3 months and 2 days ago that his world came crashing down around his ears.   Mine only fell apart 3 months ago.   92 days, 6 hours, and 12 minutes ago.   And I only have 6 days, 16 hours, and 41 minutes left...'  

Her thoughts tumbled over in her mind as tears began to form in her eyes.   'Maybe I should drag him home with me tonight and seduce him.   Screw the living daylights out of him.   No.   He'd never forgive me.   Ah, hell, what difference does it make if he forgives me, anyway?   After next week, he won't want anything to do with me.'   Finally Harm's voice brought her back to reality, and she willed the tears away before Harm noticed them.

"Mac, everyone's going to McMurphy's tonight, even the Admiral.   Bud and Harriett are coming, too.   They really want to see you there.   You've only seen them once since Bud got back, and Harriett really misses you."

"I said, I'm busy," she repeated.

"Come on, Mac.   Even if you just come for 30 minutes, it'll mean the world to Bud and Harriett.   You can spare 30 minutes," Harm insisted.

"You don't know what I can spare," Mac spat.   "I said, I'm busy.   Now get out and let me get my work done."

Harm left her office shaking his head.   He knew it wouldn't do any good to argue the point.   He didn't know quite what to think about Mac's behavior of late.   She had never acted like this before.   She didn't smile anymore; she didn't laugh either.   And he knew that when she left the office, she went straight home and didn't go out again until morning.   Not even for groceries; she had them delivered now.   And she didn't answer the phone at home.   It was all very strange.   'I wonder if Chloe knows what's going on,' he thought.   'Maybe I'll try calling her.'  

Harm dug through his middle desk drawer trying to find the slip of paper with Chloe's phone number.   Mac gave it to him a couple of years ago when she spent the weekend with Chloe at her grandparents' farm in Vermont.   "Ah, here it is!" he exclaimed when he found the crumpled paper.   Harm picked up the phone and dialed.

"Hello!" a happy voice answered.

"This is Commander Harmon Rabb calling.   Is Chloe Madison available, please?"

"You know it, Harm!   I'm definitely available if you're asking!" teased Chloe on the other end.

"Chloe?" Harm asked, disbelievingly.   The voice he heard didn't belong to a child.

"Yeah, Harm, it's me.   What's up?"   Suddenly Chloe was afraid something may have happened to Mac.   "Is Mac okay?" she asked nervously, her voice rising half an octave.

Now that was the voice he recognized.   "Actually, I was hoping you could tell me that," Harm confessed.

"Huh?"

"Chloe, has Mac said anything to you lately that would explain why she's become so... withdrawn?"

"Uh uh," Chloe answered.   "In fact, I haven't talked to her much at all this summer.   Every time I call, I get the machine.   And she hasn't called me back.   I just figured she must be on an assignment somewhere and hadn't gotten my messages yet."

Harm groaned.

"You mean she's not gone somewhere?   She's home?" Chloe asked.

"I'm afraid so, Chloe."

"And she's just ignoring me?   That's not like Mac."

"No, Mac hasn't been herself for about 3 months now," Harm told her.  

"What happened?   What's wrong with her?"

"I wish I knew."

"Harm, did you say something to upset her?" Chloe probed.   "You do that a lot, you know."

"No, Chloe...   At least, not that I'm aware of," Harm backtracked.   But no, this mood Mac was in came totally out of the blue.   He was certain he had nothing to do with causing it.   "No, I'm sure not," he corrected himself.   "I thought she was upset about Bud's accident, but that doesn't..."

"Accident?" Chloe interrupted.   "What accident?"

Harm groaned; Mac hadn't even told her about that.   "Bud stepped on a landmine, Chloe."   He heard her gasp of breath.   "He lost his right leg.   Other than that, he's fine.   I know that's a lot, but he really snapped back quickly, and he and Harriett are coping very well."

"Those two are really amazing," offered Chloe.

"They certainly are.   Well, that happened back in late May, and Mac's been acting strangely since just about the same time.   But I don't know... it's just not like Mac to overreact like this."

"You didn't see her when we thought we were gonna lose you last year, Harm.   She was a wreck," Chloe said softly.

"But I came back, and I'm fine.   Bud came back, and he's fine... well, except for having to get an artificial limb.   But he really is doing very well."

"Maybe it's not Bud."

"I wish I knew what to do to get her out of this funk she's in," said Harm.   "Think you could come down for visit?   You always cheer her up."

Chloe replied, "I could ask.   School doesn't start until the Wednesday after Labor Day.   But if she's in such a mood, I wonder if she'd even want me..."

"Of course she would, Chloe," Harm interrupted.   "She always looks forward to your visits.   And you said you haven't seen her this summer."

"Okay.   I'll ask my grandmother and then call Mac tonight to see if it's okay.   I hope she answers the phone."

"Maybe you could just surprise her?" Harm suggested.

"Mac doesn't like surprises, Harm."

"Then you should probably call her here at the office, to be sure you reach her."

"Good idea."

Harm and Chloe said their goodbyes, and Chloe gained permission from her grandmother to fly to D.C. for a visit with Mac.   She called Mac's office a little while later.

"Lieutenant Colonel MacKenzie," Mac answered crisply.

"Hi, Mac!" Chloe said brightly.

"Chloe?   Is something wrong?" Mac asked immediately.   Chloe never called her at the office unless there was a problem.   Mac knew that she hadn't returned any of Chloe's calls this summer, but Chloe continued calling and leaving messages at home.   Mac felt a mite guilty about that.

"Nothing's wrong," Chloe assured her.   "I just want to come see you.   How about if I fly in tomorrow and stay through Labor Day?   School doesn't start until the Wednesday after, so I could fly home the day..."

Mac interrupted, "Now is really not a good time, Chloe."

"Ah, Mac, please?   I really want to come visit you.   I haven't seen you all summer and we haven't even talked..."

"I'm sorry, Chloe.   This summer hasn't been a good one.   I've been very busy.   And these next couple of weeks are going to be even worse."   Mac felt guilty lying and putting her little sister off like this.   But there was no way she wanted her here right now.   "Maybe during your fall break."

Chloe sighed heavily into the phone.   "Okay, Mac."

They finished their call, and hung up.   Mac decided to leave the office early.   She didn't want to be around when everyone started to leave for McMurphy's.   She quickly packed up her office and headed for her car before anyone noticed that she was leaving.   Mac knew that Harm wasn't going to give up though.   "He'll probably show up at my apartment and try to drag me to the bar," she realized.   "Fine, I just won't go home."

With that, Mac put the top down on the 'Vette, pulled out of the JAG parking lot, and started driving aimlessly.   She had a full tank of gas; she could drive for 400 miles, so it didn't matter which road she took.   She headed for the beltway.   She turned on the radio and heard the tail end of a song she didn't recognize:

Sarah!  You’ll find the sun; a little rain falls on everyone.
Oh, Sarah!  Come out and play; it’s a big old world.  Oh, it’s a brand new day.
Oh, Sarah!  Come out and play; it’s a big old world; it’s a brand new day.

"May be a brand new day for some.   But not for me," Mac said to the radio.   "It's a big ugly world.   Ugly.   Just like I'm going to be.   Ugly."

Friday, 23 August 2002
1813 EDT
Bailey's Tavern
Falls Church, Virginia

Mac drove all the way around the beltway twice; she was surprised she hadn't been stopped for speeding.   She'd gone over 90 mph the whole way.   But it felt good:   the wind whipping around her and blowing through her hair.   It was going to be full of knots, but she didn't care.

Almost of its own accord, the 'Vette headed for the JAG office.   "What the hell am I doing here?" Mac fumed when she realized where she was.   She turned around and headed for McMurphy's.   "Oh no... everyone will be there.   I can't face them right now.   I just can't."   Mac made a left instead of a right and pulled up in front of Bailey's Tavern.   It was similar to McMurphy's, but for some reason, the JAG staff never frequented this bar.   They always went to McMurphy's.  

Mac took a stool at the bar and asked the bartender for "Tonic water with a twist of lime."

"I guess I do have the right place after all," a deep voice said from behind Mac.   "I'd about decided I was in the wrong bar, Colonel."

She turned around, surprised that anyone she knew was here.   "Admiral Boone," she said as she slipped off the stool and came to attention stance out of habit.

"As you were, Colonel.   We're off duty," he said.   "I thought Harm told me 1730?   Where is everyone?" he asked.

"I'm sure he did, Sir.   It usually is 1730.   But it's McMurphy's, not Bailey's," Mac informed him before she turned back to the bar and picked up her drink.

"McMurphy's!   That's it!   I didn't write it down when Harm invited me 'cause I didn't expect to be in town.   I just remembered it was a last name, a tavern, and in Falls Church... so I stopped when I found this place."   The Admiral quirked an eyebrow at Mac.   "So if everyone is at McMurphy's, why are you at Bailey's, Colonel?"

"Not feeling very sociable this evening, Sir," she replied.

"I see.   Well, then I won't intrude on your privacy any longer, Colonel.   Have a good evening."   Boone turned and headed for the exit.

Mac felt bad.   She certainly didn't have to be so rude to Admiral Boone.   She decided to help him out a bit.   She turned around and spoke kindly.   "McMurphy's is just up the street, Admiral.   As you walk out the door, go up 4 blocks, and it's on your left.   You can't miss it.   They started at 1730, but they'll probably be there until 1900 or so," Mac offered.

"Thank you, Colonel," Boone nodded to Mac and left the bar, choosing to walk to McMurphy's.

An hour later, the party broke up and Admiral Boone walked back to collect his car from the Bailey's lot.   He noticed the red Corvette parked next to his vehicle.   'Didn't Harm mention that Mac has a red 'Vette?' he thought to himself.   'You don't think she's still here?   Sitting in there alone?'   Boone decided to take a quick look and be sure.   Almost everyone at the party had expressed concern for Mac and dismay that she wasn't there this evening.   Boone choose not to inform them of her whereabouts.   He knew Harm would come after her, and that didn't seem like what she wanted just now.

Boone opened the door and walked in.   Sure enough, there was Mac, still sitting on the same barstool.   He walked toward her, but another man stopped him.   "Don't waste your time, friend.   She ain't interested in nobody.   Won't dance, won't drink, won't even talk!"

"Thanks for the advice," Boone said.   He ignored the man, of course, and walked up behind Mac.   "Colonel?   I'm surprised you're still here.   I figured you'd have left by now."

"I was just leaving, Sir," she said, slipping off the stool, and picking up her purse.   She headed for the door, but Boone was faster.   He pulled the heavy door open for Mac, unusual since they were both still in uniform.   She stopped and looked up at him.   "Thank you, Admiral."

Boone just nodded.   They walked to the parking lot.   "You on your way home?" he asked.   Mac nodded.   "Harm mentioned swinging by your place this evening to check up on you," he informed her.   Why he felt he needed to tell her that, he wasn't sure. Harm was his friend, after all.

Mac groaned as she reached her car.   "Why can't he just leave me alone?" she grumbled.   "He certainly won't get within 10 feet of me after..." her words trailed off.

Boone decided it was best to overlook her last statement.   "I'm going to grab some dinner at a little place on the water.   If you want to avoid him, you're welcome to join me, Colonel.   It's quite a ways, but the seafood there is the best you'll find anywhere," Boone offered, opening his car door.

"I'd be imposing, Sir.   I wouldn't..."

"No imposition at all, Colonel.   If you decide you want to come, just follow me."   Boone climbed in his car and started the engine.   He backed out of his parking spot and waited at the exit until Mac pulled behind him.   He actually hoped she didn't follow him.   He usually got lucky when he went to the Shell Shack.   When he satisfied his hunger at the restaurant, he always took a walk on the beach before he left, and very often he found a most willing woman to satisfy another hunger.   If he had Mac with him, he could forget picking up anyone.   But then... maybe she needed an ear... someone to talk to with whom she didn't work every day.   From what her coworkers said earlier, she'd been in a foul mood for months.   'Ah, what the hell,' he decided.   'Maybe she'll leave early and I'll still get to take my walk.'

Boone knew Mac was following him when they passed the last exit for Georgetown.   'I know Harm said she lives in Georgetown,' he remembered.   'Well, I guess I'm going to have company for dinner.   Just hope Maggie doesn't embarrass me tonight.'

As Mac followed him on the highway, she turned her radio on.   She flipped through the stations; every one of them was playing love songs.   And she was not in the mood for a love song.   Finally she caught a station that was playing an assortment, and she left the dial there.   It wasn't long before she heard a new song... or was it new?   She'd heard part of it before, she recalled.

You don’t wanna smile; it’s been this way for a while; got nothing good to say.
Friends are calling, but you don’t pick up the phone.
You don’t wanna laugh; you tore your diary in half; you never leave your room.
Your days are cloudy, and you spend your nights alone.

Oh, Sarah!  You’ll find the sun; a little rain falls on everyone.
Oh, Sarah!  Come out and play; it’s a big old world; it’s a brand new day.

Mac's tears flowed freely down her face as she listened.   Admiral Boone listened to the song on the radio, too.   He didn't normally listen to this station.   His taste leaned more to the oldies station, but they were broadcasting the first high school football game of the season... and he didn't care to listen to high school football.   So he'd scanned the stations until he found this one.   The words to this particular song caught his attention.   'Sarah?   Isn't that Mac's real name?' he remembered.  

You don’t wanna dance; the music holds no romance; you can’t find the beat.
Your heart is heavy, and love is a sad, sad song.
You don’t wanna sing; the words, they don’t mean a thing; you’ve lost the melody.
The party’s over, and maybe you stayed too long.

Oh, Sarah!  You’ll find the sun; a little rain falls on everyone.
Oh, Sarah!  Come out and play; it’s a big old world; it’s a brand new day.

The longer the song played, the more it sounded exactly like her, too.   "Well damn, she's at least out of her room tonight," Boone said to no one.   "Maybe she'll open up and get her problems off her chest."  

Ohhh, it’s never easy letting go.
Ohhh, healing a heart can be so slow.

Sarah!  You’ll find the sun; a little rain falls on everyone.
Oh, Sarah!  Come out and play; it’s a big old world.  Oh, it’s a brand new day.
Oh, Sarah!  Come out and play; it’s a big old world; it’s a brand new day.

When the song finished, Mac wiped her tears away with the back of her hand.   "They don't know the half of it!" she fumed to herself.   "Come out and play.   Ha!   Who's going to want to play with me anymore?   No one!"   Her tears started again, and she swore "Damn it!   Stop crying!"

Boone looked in his rear view mirror again; yes, she was still following him.   But she was wiping at her face.   'Crying?   Is she crying?' he wondered.   "Probably just heard the same song and saw herself in it.   Damned radios."

Friday, 23 August 2002
1945 EDT
The Shell Shack
Shady Side, Maryland

Admiral Boone pulled his car into a parking space and got out.   He waited as Mac raised the top on the 'Vette and locked the car.   She stepped out and walked over to him.   "Decided to join me, I see. Good.   Food here is excellent," he said as he nodded toward the run-down building.   "Looks pretty bad on the outside, but the food makes up for it."

"I've never been here before, Admiral.   To the town, I mean.   Don't recall ever hearing of Shady Side, either, Sir."

"The name is Tom, Mac.   We're off duty," he said in a tone that brooked no argument.   "I rather like it out here.   Quite a distance, though," he added.   Mac nodded her agreement.   "I should have offered you a ride, then we wouldn't have both cars all the way out here."

"I preferred to drive," Mac replied shortly.   "I needed it."   Mac turned around and faced the water.   "Pretty view.   Do they have tables on the water?"

"Yeah, they do.   That's where I always sit.   You mind?" he asked casually.

"No."

Admiral Boone opened the restaurant door for Mac to enter.   It looked like the door was about to fall off its hinges and it creaked horribly.   Mac preceded him inside but then he walked around her to the make-shift hostess table.   "Maggie," he greeted the hostess.

"Tom!   You did come!   I didn't think you were going to show tonight.   It's a little late for you..."   Maggie's flow of words stopped as she noticed Mac standing beside her old friend.   "Oh.   And who have we here?" she asked.

"A friend of mine, Maggie."   Boone turned to Mac, "Sarah MacKenzie, this is Maggie Staysor.   She runs the place."

Mac nodded at their hostess but didn't speak.   Maggie spoke for her.   "Any friend of Tom's is always welcome at the Shack."   She turned back to Boone.   "Usual table or something more... private?" she winked.

"Usual table is fine, Maggie."

"You sure?   I have a real nice table in the back.   Tablecloth and real napkins.   It's..."

"Come on, Mac.   My table's out this way," Boone said, nodding to his left and walking away.   Mac followed him.

Maggie called after them, "Tom!   I can't believe you!"   They had reached his usual table and were taking their seats at the rickety old wood table.   As Maggie approached, she scolded him, "Tom, this is not a fitting table for a date.   There's absolutely no privacy here; everyone can see you."

"We're not on a date, Maggie," Boone informed her quietly.   "Mac is a friend.   Actually, she's more like a friend of a friend's.   We're just sharing a meal together.   No big deal."

Mac was trying hard not to get annoyed with the hostess.   Admiral Boone seemed to be handling her just fine.   And good, he realized this wasn't a date.   It was just two people eating dinner at the same table.   Maybe she wouldn't even have to talk.   That would be nice.

They ordered their meals, and neither one said a word while they ate.   When they finished dessert an hour later, they each looked out over the water and watched as the fishing boats came in to dock.   When one especially tall, trim man stepped off his boat, Boone chanced a glance at Mac.   Yep, she was watching the same guy.   "Looks a bit like Rabb," he said quietly.

Mac nodded as she turned to face him.   "A little."

"He's worried about you, you know.   That's why he was going to stop by your place tonight."

"He'll get over it," Mac said, almost bitterly.

"Get over what, Mac?"

Mac looked back out at the water.   "It doesn't matter."

"Okay.   Suit yourself.   Talk or don't talk; makes no difference to me.   But I'll listen if you want to vent.   And whatever you say will go no further, you have my word," he assured her.   Mac didn't open her mouth for almost 20 minutes.   'I guess she's not gonna say anything.   Oh well.   Can't say I didn't try.'  

Finally, just as Boone was about to suggest she head back to D.C. before it got too much later, Mac spoke very quietly... almost as though she were talking to herself.   "It's a beautiful night for a stroll on the beach.   And it looks like a nice beach."

Boone groaned inwardly.   'Damn.   There goes any chance I had to recoup tonight.'   He said, "One of the nicest, Mac.   You want to take a walk?"

She nodded.   "But you don't have to stay," she said as she turned to face him.   "You're probably anxious to get out of here and away from me.   I'm not exactly the best company."

"Actually, Mac, I always take a walk on the beach before I leave.   And why would I be anxious to get away from you?"   Mac snorted at his question.   "No, I'm serious, Mac.   Harm can't talk enough about you... about how wonderful you are... how beautiful you are... how smart you are.   Of course, for someone to stick around him as long as you have, I'd have to wonder about that last one," he teased and was surprised when Mac didn't even chuckle.

They rose from their table, Boone paid the bill, ignoring Mac's protest, and headed for the beach.   Mac groaned as soon as they hit the sand.   "Damn.   I should have taken off my shoes and stockings before coming down here."

"So, do it here," Boone suggested, not really expecting her to.   He figured she'd go back up to her car.

Mac didn't even blink.   To Boone's surprise, she slipped off her shoes and reached up under her uniform skirt to pull her pantyhose down.   She hopped on her left foot as she freed her right one from the hose, then repeated the process for the other foot.   "Ohhh," she groaned.   "Now I need my purse to put my stockings in," she complained, her purse being locked in the trunk of her car.   Boone reached out and took the stockings from her, stuffing them in his pants pocket.   Mac blinked hard.   "I've worn those all day, you know," she warned him.

"Pants have to go to the cleaners anyway.   No big deal," was his response.   "Come on."

Mac shrugged her shoulders, picked up her shoes, and they started walking.   Boone usually walked at a pretty good clip on the beach, but tonight he was taking his lead from Mac.   And Mac was strolling.   Very casually.   Very slowly.   She'd stop every few yards and stare into the water.   After an hour, they hadn't gone very far; in fact, the Shack was still in view behind them.   Mac stopped again, this time walking up to the soft, loose sand and sitting down.

"You tired?" he asked.   Mac nodded.   "Of walking?"   She shook her head no.   "Of life?" he asked knowingly.  

Mac looked up at him, surprise in her eyes.   "What makes you say that?"

Boone squatted in front of her.   "Mac, according to your friends, you don't laugh anymore, you hide in your office all day unless Chegwidden sends for you or you're in court, you don't answer your phone at home, and you're avoiding your friends and even your little sister.   They're all very worried about you.   Harm said you don't even go to the grocery store anymore... that you have it delivered."   He pitched himself around to her side and sat next to her.   "Hell, I didn't know they even did that anymore!"

"Foods to Go.   You order online and pick it up at the store.   Or they'll deliver it," was all she said by way of explanation.

"I'll have to look into that.   I hate grocery stores."

"So do I."

"Ah ha!   We do have something in common," he joked.

Mac didn't respond.   They sat in silence for another 10 minutes just watching the blackness of the surf in the moonlight.   Boone heard Mac sniff several times, so he reached in his pocket and handed her his handkerchief.   She took it without words and blew her nose.   After another minute, he said, "You want to talk about it?"   She shook her head.   "Might make you feel better to share it with someone, Mac.   Whatever it is."  

"You wouldn't understand," she said softly.

"Why?   Because we don't know each other well enough?   Or because I'm a man?" he replied.

"Man," was all she said.

"Ahh, I see.   Affair of the heart?" he asked.   She shook her head.   "No?   Then... family troubles?"   She shook her head again.   "I know it can't be your career; that's in full swing," he told her.   She shook her head.   "The only thing left is your health."   Mac inhaled sharply.   Boone turned to her, "Mac, are you ill?   Is that the problem?"

Mac's eyes filled with tears and they fell freely down her cheeks.   She had no control over them at all.   She buried her face in her hands and cried.   Boone knew the answer now.   Yes, Mac was ill.   But how ill?   And why was she keeping it a secret from her friends at JAG?   He scooted closer to her and put an arm around her shoulders to try and comfort her.   After a couple of minutes, Mac's sobs subsided and she laid her head against Boone's shoulder.   They sat thus for another half hour.

"You okay now?" he finally asked gently.   She nodded. "Want to talk about it?" he offered quietly.   She shook her head.   "Want to head back to the cars?"  

She didn't respond in words; she just stood to her feet, grabbed her shoes, and started walking back the way they came.   Boone rose to his feet and walked beside her.   When they reached the cars in the parking lot, Mac sighed.   "I'm sorry I kept you so late, Admiral.   I didn't..."

He interrupted her.   "Tom."

"Tom," she corrected.   "I didn't realize how late it was getting."

"Must be getting close to midnight," he offered.

"2328," Mac stated.   Boone quirked an eyebrow as he turned to face her.   "Don't ask," she said.  

Boone chuckled at that.   "Okay.   I won't."   Mac opened her trunk and retrieved her purse.   Then she unlocked the car.   As she prepared to take her place behind the wheel, Boone spoke.   "Mac, are you really feeling up to driving all the way back to D.C. tonight?"   He saw Mac stiffen at his words.   "I just thought I'd mention that if you aren't... or just don't want to drive all the way back... there is a little motel just around the bend.   It looks pretty rough on the outside, kinda like the Shack.   But the rooms are clean.   And they're cheap.   I've stayed there... on more than several occasions."

Mac glanced up at him.   'Is he propositioning me?' she wondered.   'Surely not.'  

She didn't answer in what, to him, seemed like 5 minutes. In actuality, it was only 20 seconds.   "In fact, I was rather thinking I might just get a room myself tonight and drive home in the morning," he told her.   "What do you think?   Want to see if they have 2 rooms?"

Mac nodded slowly.   "Yes."

"Okay.   Follow me," he directed as he climbed in his car.   Mac followed him to the motel, and they entered the office together.  

The man behind the desk looked up and grinned.   "Tom.   Good to see you again.   It's been a while."   His eyes devoured Mac and he leered, "Worth the wait, I see."

"Two rooms tonight, Rusty," Boone said firmly.

"Two?" the man repeated, almost choking on his words.  

It was obvious to Mac that Admiral Boone hadn't exaggerated.   He obviously had stayed here "on more than several occasions"... and obviously with women.   Different women, it sounded like.   'Hmm, this is a side of the Admiral I doubt Harm knows about,' she thought to herself.

Boone replied to Rusty.   "That's what I said.   Two."

Rusty reached for 2 keys and placed them on the counter.   He looked at Mac and said, "You want some company tonight, Honey, you just dial 0.   I'll be there in 2 shakes."

"You come anywhere near my room, Mister, and you'll rue the day you were born," Mac said coolly.

Rusty laughed until Boone added, "Look at her uniform, Rusty.   She's a Marine.   Didn't you ever learn not to mess with a Marine?" Boone said seriously.   Mac and Boone left the office and found their rooms.   "Good night, Mac," he said.

"Good night, Tom."

"If you happen to head out in the morning before I do, give a sharp knock on my door, would you?" he said.   "I don't want to sleep all day, and I tend not to wake up early when I'm down here."

Mac nodded.   "Okay."

The next morning, Mac rose at 0600, showered, and dressed.   She was glad she'd taken the time to rinse out her underwear the night before.   She couldn't stand wearing dirty underwear.   They were still a trifle damp, but better damp than dirty.   She realized that Admiral Boone still had her pantyhose in his pocket, so she slipped her shoes on her bare feet.   She picked up her purse, left the room key on the bed, and walked outside.  

She wondered if she should stop and knock on his door.   'He asked me to,' she reasoned.   So she walked up and rapped twice loudly.   When he didn't answer the door, she decided to just go ahead and leave.

Monday, 26 August 2002
0859 EDT
JAG Headquarters
Falls Church, Virginia

Mac rose from her desk, grabbed her notebook, and headed for the conference room.   She wanted to arrive at the staff meeting just as they were ready to begin.   She had successfully avoided everyone's prying eyes and questions so far this morning.   She'd even managed to avoid Harm all weekend.   But she knew if she got to the conference room early, the questions would start.

She entered the room immediately in front of Admiral Chegwidden.   'Perfect timing,' she thought to herself.   She took her seat next to the Admiral; Harm was sitting directly across from her.  

He looked up at her and smiled warmly.   "Good morning, Mac."

She glanced up.   "Morning."

"We missed you Friday night, Colonel.   I trust everything is okay?" said the Admiral.

"Just fine, Sir."

"Mac," Harm started, "Everything is not okay.   You're not..."

"Drop it, Harm," Mac said coldly.

"Okay, people, let's get started," interrupted the Admiral.

The meeting progressed for 45 minutes, when the Admiral asked Mac about a case.   "It's not on the docket until October, Sir.   I didn't bring the file with me."

"Have Tiner bring it in," he instructed.

Mac picked up the phone and pressed the intercom button.   "Tiner," she said when he answered, "I need the Johannsen case file.   It's in the left middle drawer in my desk in a large brown envelope."

"Aye, aye, Ma'am.   I'll get it and be right there," Tiner replied.   Tiner quickly found the file in Mac's desk.   As he left her office, the Marine guard at the entrance called to him.

"Petty Officer Tiner!   I have a delivery here for the Colonel from Admiral Boone."

Tiner took the large envelope and headed for the conference room.   He opened the door and walked around the table to hand the envelopes to Mac.   "Ma'am, there's also an envelope here that was delivered for you.   It's from Admiral Boone..."

"The Colonel is on the phone, Tiner.   Just leave the envelopes," interrupted Admiral Chegwidden.  

"Aye, aye, Sir!"   Tiner turned and left the room.  

"Boone?" Harm questioned quietly, almost to himself.  

Mac hung up the phone.   "All taken care of, Sir," she said to the Admiral.   Mac reached down and picked up the top envelope in front of her.   She opened it and pulled out the contents, not paying much attention.

"Good, good.   Now.   The Johannsen case..." the Admiral started, but stopped when he saw what Mac held in her hands..  

"Stockings!?" exclaimed Harm in a shocked voice.

Mac turned surprised eyes to Harm and then the Admiral as he spoke.   "Well, Colonel, I didn't realize pantyhose played a part in the Johannsen case," he said dryly.

Mac looked at what she held in her hand.   Her pantyhose.   'Oh my God,' she thought, embarrassed.  

Harm reached forward and grabbed the envelope that Mac had dropped back on the table.   "Mac, why is Admiral Boone sending you pantyhose?" he asked, checking the return address on the envelope.

"Boone?" echoed the Admiral.

"Give me that!" Mac barked, trying to grab the envelope back from Harm's grasp.

"Mac..." Harm protested, hanging on to the envelope.

"It's none of your business, Harm.   Give me that."

The Admiral nodded, so Harm tossed the envelope back on the table.   As it slid across the smooth surface, a slip of paper flew out of the envelope and landed in front of Harm.   He quickly picked it up and was about to read it when Mac almost leaped across the table and ripped it out of his hand.   "That's mine, Harm.   You have no right reading it!"

"Mac, why is Admiral Boone sending you..."

"Enough!" barked Admiral Chegwidden.   "Take it offline.   Now, the Johannsen case, Colonel..."

When the meeting concluded 15 minutes later, Mac was the first one to leave the room.   She slammed her office door behind her.   "Why the hell did he have to send these to me here?" she fumed.   Then she realized she hadn't read his note.   She pulled it out of the envelope.  

Mac, sorry I missed you on Saturday morning.   Don't have your home address, so I had to send this to the office.   I meant to give these back to you on Saturday; I washed them out in the sink before I turned in.   I heard you crying some during the night, but I didn't think you'd appreciate my forcing my presence on you, even just to offer a shoulder to cry on.   But please, if I can do anything, feel free to call on me... anytime.   No strings.     

Tom    (703) 274-3984  

Mac choked back a sob.   She knew she wouldn't call him; she should just toss the note.   But she didn't.   She put it in her purse instead.

Monday, 26 August 2002
1530 EDT
JAG Headquarters
Falls Church, Virginia

Mac sat across from Admiral Chegwidden in his office.   "I think that about covers it, Colonel.   You have anything else for me?" he asked.

"Just a reminder that I'll be off on Thursday and Friday, Sir.   And next week," Mac said professionally.

"That's right, I'd forgotten.   I really need you here on Thursday, though, Colonel.   Start your leave on Friday instead," he told her.

"Admiral, that's not an option for me," Mac said boldly.   "I either take the entire time, or I have to reschedule."

"Reschedule what, Colonel?"

"My leave, Sir."

"I know it's your leave, Mac.   What are you doing that you can't just start a day later?" he pressed.

"It's personal, Sir.   But it can't be delayed a day."   Mac rose to her feet.   "I'll just reschedule my leave.   Will there be anything else, Admiral?" she asked, trying to remain calm.

"Mac, is it important?" Chegwidden asked her gently.

"Yes, Sir."

"Then take your leave as scheduled.   I'll have Commander Turner handle things on Thursday," he resolved.   "Dismissed."

"Aye, Sir."   Mac came to attention stance, turned, and left his office.  

Wednesday, 28 August 2002
0945 EDT
JAG Headquarters
Falls Church, Virginia

Mac entered the bullpen and headed straight for her office.   Tiner called to her.   "Colonel MacKenzie!   The Admiral wants to see you as soon as you get in, Ma'am."

"Well, I'm in, Tiner," she quipped.   She set her briefcase and cover in her office, and went to the Admiral's office.   She knocked on his door and heard his call to enter.   She walked in and came to attention stance.   "Reporting as ordered, Sir."

"You're late, Colonel.   With your being off tomorrow and Friday and next week, today was not a good day to be late," he informed her.

"I had an appointment at 0800, Sir.   It was on my calendar," Mac explained without apology.

"You didn't answer your cell phone," he accused.

"No, Sir.   Cell phones aren't permitted where I was."

"Just where were you, Colonel?"

"The lab, Sir."   Mac reasoned to herself, 'I didn't really lie to him.   It was a lab.   Just not the lab he thinks it was.'

"At ease," he finally told her.   "Have a seat, Mac."

When they concluded their business, the Admiral said, "Mac, you know I don't like to interfere in my people's personal lives, but I'm going to make an exception today.   I'm concerned about you.   You've not been yourself for the last few months.   What's going on?"

Mac sat up straighter in her chair.   "Admiral, I'd prefer not to discuss my private affairs."

"Affairs, Mac?   Interesting choice of word."

"My private life, then, Sir," she corrected.

"Mac, because you're going on leave for a week, I'm going to let this ride for now.   But when you return, I expect you to be back to normal.   Or I'll expect you to tell me what's going on.   While your work is not suffering, your behavior is affecting those around you."

"You mean Harm," she concluded.

He nodded.   "Yes, Harm.   And others."   Mac looked at him questioningly.   "Mac, you are a stabilizing force in this office.   When you're out of sorts, the office suffers."

"I'll be a happy little girl scout when I return from leave, Admiral," Mac said rudely.   "Will that be all, Sir?"

"I certainly hope you'll at least be civil, Colonel," he replied, frowning.   "Dismissed."

Mac cringed at his tone.   She had definitely overstepped herself in addressing him.   She rose and left his office without apologizing.   She knew she should apologize.   But she just couldn't.   He didn't understand.   He wouldn't understand.   Like she'd told him a couple of years ago.   He was one of them.   A man.

Wednesday, 28 August 2002
1930 EDT
Sarah MacKenzie's Apartment
Georgetown, Washington, DC

Mac finished packing her bag just as the phone rang.   She looked at her caller ID and was surprised to see 'Thomas Boone'.   She decided to answer.   "Hello?"

"Good evening, Mac.   Tom Boone here."

"Yes, Sir?" Mac replied formally.

"Mac, it's Tom.   Please."

"Tom," she repeated.

"Mac, I just thought I'd call to see if your week is going any better.   You seemed to be pretty on edge Friday night."

"I still have your handkerchief," she said, rather than addressing his comment.

"Not a problem.   I'll get it back one of these days," he said.   Then they were silent.   Neither spoke for over a minute.   Finally, Boone said, "Mac, are you okay?   Do you need anything?"

"I'm fine," she whispered.

"Yeah, and I'm a jarhead," he retorted.   He heard Mac sniff a couple of times.   "Mac, you're crying.   Are you alone?"

"Yes."

"Mac, what can I do?" he asked.

"Nothing."   Mac hung up the phone, threw herself across her bed, and let the sobs rack her body.

Ten minutes later, Mac heard a knock on her door.   She didn't move.   'They'll go away,' she knew.  

Another knock.   And a voice.   "Mac!   It's Tom.   Open the door, Mac."

'Tom?   As in Boone?   What's he doing here?   And how did he find me?   He said he didn't know my address!'   Mac rolled off the bed and went to the door.   Sure enough, it was Admiral Boone standing in the hall, she saw as she peered through the peephole in the door.   She unlocked the door and opened it.   "What are you doing here?" she asked rudely.

"Came to check on you," he said quietly.   "You didn't sound too good on the phone just now. And I was only a few miles away when I called."

"You said you didn't know my address."

"Didn't know it on Monday.   Looked it up," he told her.   "Now, are you going to let me in, or am I going to have to stand in the hall all evening?"

"There's nothing you can do, Tom," Mac told him.

"Hey!   We're making progress.   You called me Tom without my having to correct you," he teased.

"All right.   Come in," she sighed.   "I'll get your handkerchief."   Mac walked into her bedroom to retrieve the white piece of cloth.   When she returned, he was still standing exactly where she'd left him.   'Doesn't assume anything; that's good.'   "Have a seat," she told him, gesturing to the sofa.   She handed him the handkerchief and he put it in his pocket.   He turned and took a seat where she indicated.   Mac sat on the other end of the sofa.

"So, what time did you leave Saturday morning, anyway?" he asked.

"0618.   I did knock on your door.   Twice," she told him defensively.

"Geez, woman, don't you ever sleep in?   It was a Saturday!"   Mac didn't answer.   She just looked away.   "You haven't been sleeping well, I take it?" he asked gently.

"No, I haven't," she replied softly.  

"Mac, I'm really a very good listener... despite what Harm may have told you."

Mac looked back at him.   "Why would he have said anything to me about you?" she asked.   "Have you discussed me with him?" she accused.   "Does he know about Friday night?"

"No, we haven't discussed you lately.   He talked a lot about you several years ago, but not much recently.   And no, he doesn't know about Friday night.   I didn't tell any of them you were at the other bar, and I haven't spoken to anyone since then to have mentioned our going to the beach," he explained.

"Why?" she asked

"Why, what?"

"Why didn't you tell them you'd seen me at Bailey's?" Mac clarified.

"I figured if you wanted to be with them, you'd have been at McMurphy's.   And knowing Harm, if I'd said anything, he'd have immediately gone down to get you.   That's not what you seemed to want, so I didn't say anything."

"Thank you," she replied quietly.

"You're welcome," he smirked.

"Tom, there's really nothing more you can do..."

"Aaah, then I have actually done something?" he interrupted.

Mac nodded.   "Yes, you have.   But there's nothing else..."

"Like I said, Mac... I'm a good listener.   Why don't you tell me what's troubling you?   Might feel good to talk about it."

Mac jerked her head around and stared at Tom.   "No.   It won't feel good.   It's going to hurt like hell."   Mac's eyes welled with tears and spilled down her cheeks.   Tom reached in his pocket and pulled out the handkerchief Mac had just returned.   He handed it to her.   She sniffed her thanks and wiped her eyes.

Tom scooted closer to Mac on the sofa.   "Mac, what's going to hurt like hell?" he asked quietly.

"The surgery," she whispered.

"When is it?" he asked.  'Ahhh, now we're getting somewhere.'

"Tomorrow morning."

"My God, Mac.   Tomorrow?" he repeated.   She nodded.   "And you haven't told a soul before now, have you?"   She shook her head.   "Why, Mac?" he asked, taking her hands in his.

"I don't want their pity," she said through her tears.

"They're your friends, Mac.   They won't pity you.   They'll want to help you.   Be there for you.   Let me call Harm..."

"No!" she almost yelled.   "I don't want him to know.   I don't want any of them to know."

"Okay, Mac," he soothed, pulling her into his arms and cradling her like a small child.   "Okay, I won't tell anyone."   Mac leaned her head against his chest as her tears continued to fall.   Several minutes passed before Tom spoke again.   "How are you getting to and from the hospital, Mac?"

"Taxi," she hiccupped.

"No, I'll drive you," he insisted.   Mac shook her head.   "Mac, there's no reason in the world for you to take a taxi when I'm available to drive you over there in the morning.   What time do you have to be there?"

"0530."

"Okay, then we should leave here by 0450.   That early enough?" he asked.   She nodded.   "Is this day surgery, Mac?   Or will they keep you overnight?"

"Supposedly I'll be in for 2 nights."

"Two? That's unusual anymore," Tom replied.   He wondered what kind of surgery Mac was having, but he wouldn't ask.   If she wanted to tell him, she would.   He wanted her to trust him, and being nosey certainly wouldn't gain that trust.

"I'm just glad it isn't a week," she said.   "Actually, it could be.   They said if there were any complications, I'd have to stay longer.   I don't want to stay longer," she whined.

Tom hugged her close and dropped a kiss on the top of her head.   "Then we'll just have to make sure that there aren't any complications, right?" he said lightly, leaning back slightly so she could see his grin.

"Right," she agreed.  "Tom?" she faltered.

"Hmm?"

"Would you call me Sarah instead of Mac?"  He quirked an eyebrow at her, and she felt the need to explain.  "Sarah is my real name, you know.  I like Mac for work, but I really prefer Sarah."

"Sarah doesn't sound like the name of a tough, kick-ass Marine, hmm?" he teased.

She shook her head, "No."

"I'll be happy to call you Sarah... Sarah," he grinned.

They sat on the sofa for another 35 minutes before Tom decided it was time for him to leave.   Mac was just about to fall asleep, and he knew she needed a good night's rest before the surgery... whatever it was for.   "Sarah," he whispered in her hair.   "It's time for you to go to bed now... and me to head for home.   We have an early day ahead of us."   Mac lifted her head from his chest and blushed slightly as he kissed her forehead.   "You going to be okay now?"

She nodded.   "You really don't have to come back, Tom.   I can take a taxi..."

"I'll be here at 0445 so we can get you and your bag in the car and be on our way at 0450."  

Mac started to hand his handkerchief back to him.   "It's just wet from my eyes this time..."

"Why don't you just hang on to it, Sarah.   You might need it again, and then you'll have it," he suggested.

Mac nodded her agreement.   "Thanks."  She liked hearing him call her Sarah.  It was nice.  It made her feel feminine.  'What the hell am I thinking?' she realized.  'I won't be feminine after tomorrow!'

Continue to Part 2.