Chapters 1-5           Chapters 6-10             Chapters 11-15            Chapters 16-20              Chapters 21-25 Title: Keep One Eye on the Road Background: Follow up to end of Every Tom Dick and Crazy – Episode two in my version of season 11. Reading ETD&C first could be helpful, but like episodes, this story should stand mostly on its own. Rating: PG13 Summary: Harm and Mac continue adjusting to life in London. Chapter 1 London October 2005 It had been an unusually pleasant fall day.  A light sweater wasn’t even necessary for going outdoors. “Have you got any plans for your days off?” Mac asked Mattie from across the table. “Well, some of the girls were wanting to go hang out at Barb’s and have like a home spa day, but I’m just not into it.” Mattie took another bite of the chicken Dijon. “Sounds like fun. Why not?” Mac glanced sideways at Harm.  Mattie had done really well with her physical therapy, and was now walking around with only the occasional use of a cane.  The wheelchair had been in the closet on a permanent basis for almost a month. Still, something didn’t seem right. Mac hadn’t decided if it was just being in a new school in a foreign country, even though, technically, the American School in London was like any high school back home, or if maybe something more serious was troubling the young teenager. “You’re kidding? After five months of physical therapy, hot tubs and massages take on a whole new meaning.” Mattie gave Mac that ‘duh’ look, as though it should have been obvious. “Ah, I see.” She really didn’t, after all, what did manicures and pedicures have to do with physical therapy, but Mac sensed this was not the time to pursue it. “Well, if it makes you feel any better, Sport, I can’t imagine why anyone would want to hang around wearing oatmeal on their face anyhow.” Looking up wide eyed at Mattie and Mac’s glaring expressions, “What? That is what they do, isn’t it?” Harm swallowed a laugh. “Neveeerr miiindd.” Mattie put her dish in the sink and headed for her room.  “I think I’ll go look for a rerun of JAG, then I can make fun of how SO not real it is.  I mean really, the messes the leads get themselves into.” Mattie walked away shaking her head. Harm and Mac smiled knowingly at each other. If Mattie knew about one tenth of the scrapes they’d somehow gotten themselves into, she wouldn’t be so quick to judge. “Hey, hang on,” Mac called over to Mattie. “I was thinking of doing something outside tomorrow. It’s supposed to be a lovely day.” “Really? Like what?” “Oh, maybe catch a train out of Victoria for one of those cute little out skirt towns, or even just walk around near Kensington Palace, do a little window shopping in the stores we can’t afford.” “Yeah, sure. That sounds nice.” Mattie wasn’t really that excited about it, but she enjoyed Mac’s company, and she had a much stronger appreciation for the privilege of being able to take long walks at will. “Coffee?” Mac leaned over and kissed Harm on the cheek on her way to make a fresh pot. “Thanks. That would hit the spot.” Harm carried his plate to the sink. “I think James is determined to send me to an early grave.” “I thought you guys finally found a balanced working relationship?” Mac frowned, pulling out a couple of mugs. “We did. Have. I don’t know. I finally got used to her knowing what files I need before I ask, when I want a cup of coffee before I know I want a cup of coffee, and who I do and don’t want to talk to.”  Harm watched Mac pour the dark brew into the two cups. Briefly he wondered how could anyone manage to make such an ordinary task appear so sexy. It was just coffee. “But…” “Now she can’t remember a blessed thing,” Harm spouted in exasperation, his mind let go of how Mac’s long fingers moved from pot to mug, and returned to the problem at hand. “What do you mean?”  Mac started towards the living room. “Well, for instance, this afternoon, she showed up with a cup of tea. I asked ‘what’s this?’ She said, ‘you wanted coffee.’ Well, I hadn’t wanted coffee, and even if I had, she brought me tea. I said, ‘no thank you, but I wouldn’t mind a fresh pitcher of water.’ An hour later when I asked her about the water, she had absolutely no idea what I was talking about.”  Harm took a seat beside his wife, turning slightly to face her as they spoke. “Well, that doesn’t sound like the Beth James I know.” Mac was as perplexed as Harm. “Do you think it’s something serious? Does she have a boyfriend?” “I have absolutely NO idea. All I know is she was turning into the best yeoman a CO could ask for and suddenly Snoopy seems more qualified.”  Harm took a long sip of the hot coffee, then set it heavily on the end table. “Oh, for heaven’s sake, Harm. Just because she forgot your water…” “That was just this afternoon.  This morning, when Admiral Ulrich stopped in, not only did she not realize he was coming, she didn’t notice he was standing there, and when he finally cleared his throat to let her know he was waiting, she didn’t come to attention.” “What?” Mac was floored by that lack of military protocol. It was so unlike Beth. “Well, eventually she stepped to, but not before mumbling something unintelligible first.” “She wasn’t insulting was she?” Mac slid her free hand onto Harm’s lap. “We have no idea. I thought she said ‘six piece bird’s nest,’ and the Admiral thought she said ‘chick peas and spices’.” Harm picked up his mug for another sip, his other hand closing tightly around the hand his wife had so gingerly placed on his leg.  Her concern for the petty officer warmed his heart. Her touch warmed his soul. “How much trouble did she get into?” “None. She managed to cover with an unusually contrite apology, and then I later mentioned to the Admiral that she’d been recently upset having to meet with Lt. Philips parents.” “Do you think that’s it?” Mac pulled her leg up onto the sofa, tucking it agilely under her other leg. “No, that was two weeks ago.” “Harm!” Mac’s eyes flew open as wide as her mouth dropped at her husband’s lie. “Well, I didn’t say how recently. I was hoping maybe you could talk to her.” Harm’s lower lip curled up awkwardly. “Me?” Mac knew she wouldn’t be able to resist that puppy dog look. “Look, if I talk to her she’s going to clam up. Besides being her CO, I’m also a man.” “Yeah, I noticed,” Mac rolled her eyes suggestively, her fingers swirling small circles against his thigh. “You’re not helping,” Harm clenched his jaw in mild frustration, but his eyes showed his amusement. “Okay. I’ll see what excuse I can come up with.” Standing up with an empty mug in her hand, “I’m going to get another cup and take it to bed with a good book.” Mac smiled softly as she slowly pulled her hand out of Harm’s hold, a silent apology in her eyes.  She couldn’t help feeling a little guilty she couldn’t be more intimate with her husband than a few stolen kisses and a tender moment holding hands.   “You do look better,” Harm offered sweetly. He had been careful not to mention anything about the procedure she’d had to clear her tubes. The specialist at Lister Hospital thought having another laparoscopy to remove new scar tissue might help increase the chances of conception.  Neither had said much about the small increase in odds, or how uncomfortable Mac had been since the procedure last week.  Having already been through it once, Harm and Mac were both prepared for the resulting discomforts. They also had silently agreed, that unless there was something new to discuss, it was easier simply not talking about it at all. “Yeah, I do feel better.” Mac put up a brave front. For a few minutes there, she’d forgotten about the last week of discomfort, and especially why she’d put herself through it again. She didn’t hold up much hope that this was going to make much of a difference, but she was bound and determined to do anything that might increase the odds of sharing a biological child with Harm. Chapter 2 Next day Outside Harrods “I can’t believe you bought that bear,” Mattie teased, following Mac down the road. “It must be written somewhere that it’s bad luck to leave Harrods without at least buying a bear,” Mac insisted. “Oh, yeah. I’m sure that must be the eighth deadly sin.” Sometimes Mattie found it really hard to believe Mac was, or used to be, a Marine. “Hey. Look at this. Isn’t it cool?” “Sure, if you don’t mind looking like you fell out of 1968.” Mac would have made a lousy hippie. She didn’t care for the tie dye look as a child, and she didn’t like it any better now.  “How old are ARE you?” Mattie turned away from the window towards Mac. “Not that old, but everyone remembers the sixties.  Even you have to have seen film clips of people running around in green miniskirts with orange polka-dot blouses and white boots!” “Yeah, I know.  And love beads, and tie dye, and flower children. Okay... but I still think this outfit looks awesome.” Mattie turned to follow Mac who had walked away from the window. “Let’s see if we can catch a cab.” Mac stepped closer to the curb. “Can we walk a little more?” Mattie almost whined. “I don’t want you to get too tired.” “I won’t. Promise.” Mattie drew an x across her heart. “Okay, but if I think you’re too tired. Then we stop.” “Yes, ma’am.” Stopping suddenly, “Unless, you need to stop?” Mattie had been so focused on her own recovery, she’d forgotten about Mac’s recent surgery, or that Mac might need to rest. “I’m doing fine. I think the fresh air and exercise is actually helping.” Mac took in a deep breath, flashing Mattie a reassuring smile. A short distance down the street, they turned the corner onto a quaint row of shops. “Well, isn’t this different.” Mac stopped in front of an old shop that reminded her somewhat of how she pictured Diagon alley in the popular Harry Potter books. The exterior of the old stone edifice hadn’t changed much in the last hundred years or so, but through the dirty window, from what she could see, it appeared as though the inside hadn’t changed much either. “Heritage House? Sounds like a home for wayward…” Mattie paused. “Wayward what?” Her hands still cupped to the glass where she had been peeking in, Mac turned wondering what was taking Mattie so long to finish her thought. “I’m not sure, but wayward something,” she giggled, realizing how silly that sounded. “It looks like they research family genealogy. This could be fun.” Mac nudged Mattie towards the door. “Has anyone ever told you that you have a warped perception of fun?” The inside of the tiny shop was everything Mac had expected from her short glimpse. The walls were stacked with dust covered leather-bound volumes of all sizes.  A narrow ladder rested along a brass bar the length of the room, a matching ladder could be seen on the opposite side. In the distance an enormous oak desk sat covered with piles of books. Mac fully expected to see some decrepit old man akin to the ghost of Christmas past pop his head up over the edge of the highest book, but much to her surprise, from around the corner came a very tall, dark haired, handsome young man. “May I help you ladies?” the young man’s voice dripped with charm. “We were curious to see what we might be able to find out about our family names,” Mac volunteered. “We don’t get many Americans in here.” With a proud strut that reminded Mac very much of the same aviator pride that Harm carried, the handsome man stepped around the counter nearer the front of the store. “I am afraid we don’t do those five minute generic copies you find in tourist stands, but we do offer a variety of services depending on your level of interest.” Mac moved closer to the counter, amused by the starry-eyed expression on Mattie’s face. She honestly couldn’t blame the girl, even the unattractive men seemed dreamy once they opened their mouths and the suave British accent rolled out. Making an extra effort to focus on the sheet of paper the shopkeeper had placed in front of her, Mac resisted the urge to smack Mattie across the arm and tell her to close her mouth.  “This one wouldn’t be so bad. Just enough background to satisfy my curiosity but not enough to bankrupt my husband,” Mac smiled politely. “Would you like to do one for Johnson, or Grace?” “Actually, I’d be more curious to see about Rabb.” For the first time since entering the small store, Mattie shifted her attention to Mac. “You sure?” “Yeah, I could care less about Johnson, and well, my mom’s family history is recorded in surprisingly great detail in the family bible. The thing is huge.” Mattie held her hands about 12 inches apart, vertically in front of her. “Okay, Rabb and MacKenzie it is.” Mac placed an order for the two family genealogies. Carefully she filled out as much information as she could on the small questionnaire, looking forward to picking up the results in a few days. Only six days later, Mac found herself curled up comfortably on the living room sofa with a fresh cup of tea, and the Heritage House report.  Flipping through the pages, she was amazed at the long family history. From her father Joseph MacKenzie, they had managed to go back over two hundred years.  The information was limited to names, date of birth, marriage, sporadic professions and occasional accolades, and children, but considering there had only been six days in which to do research, Mac was virtually flabbergasted with the wealth of information she held in her hand. One entry in particular caught her attention as she slowly perused the pages. Lieutenant Malcolm MacKenzie. Born 18th May 1774, Married Beatrice Eugenia Spencer 15th November 1800. Died under the command of Vice-Admiral Horatio Nelson 2nd April 1801 (Battle of Copenhagen). Son Patrick MacKenzie born 23rd August 1801. Mac chuckled softly to herself. Boy, was Harm going to get a kick out of this. Her only ancestor with any apparent military background and he turns out to be a squid. JAG Headquarters London 1030 hours Monday Mac was feeling rather up this morning. She’d come across an advertisement in the paper announcing the last weeks of a special exhibition on Nelson and Napoleon at the National Maritime Museum. Ever since discovering that she had an ancestor in the British Navy who had served under Horatio Nelson, she found herself intrigued by the historical aspects of the Royal Navy.  This seemed like an incredible opportunity to discover more about her ancestors. “Is he busy?” Mac stopped at Beth James’ desk, knowing full well that Harm was planning on being busy until she had a chance to chat with Beth again. “Yes, ma’am. He’s on the phone with Admiral Ulrich.  He asked if you could wait just a few minutes.” Mac immediately noticed the awkwardness and nervousness, which still plagued the petty officer as she spoke to her.  This was extremely out of character.  When Beth raised her arm to indicate a chair for Mac to have a seat, Mac had to practically dive to stop the large cup of coffee from spilling all over Beth’s paper laden desktop. “Oh, sorry, ma’am. I don’t know what’s the matter with me.” Beth retrieved the cup from Mac’s tentative grip, first pulling a napkin from her desk drawer to wipe up the few errant drops of coffee that had spilled on Mac’s hand and the desk. “Don’t worry about it, Beth, are you sure there isn’t something you’d like to talk about? If you need an ear, I’m a good listener.” Mac specifically chose to use the Petty Officer’s given name. She didn’t do it often, at least not in the office, but taking a lesson from AJ, she made another attempt at resolving Harm’s dilemma.  She’d tried speaking to the petty officer a few days earlier and found her in a completely befuddled state. She had been totally unable to obtain any information at all for Harm. “Thank you, ma’am. That’s very nice of you, but there’s nothing really,” Beth smiled sweetly, trying to appear more in control of her emotions than she was. It was obvious to Mac she wasn’t going to get much further with the upset Petty Officer than she had previously. Whatever was troubling her, she wasn’t ready to share yet. “The Captain’s birthday is next week. If your schedule isn’t too full, perhaps you could help organize a small celebration. Nothing formal, something here at the office.” “Yes, ma’am. Of course. Anything at all.” “Very well, I’ll think through what I want to do and get back to you.”  Originally they hadn’t planned on doing anything for Harm’s birthday at the office, but they decided under the circumstances this might kill two birds with one stone. She would be able to have more frequent conversations with the Petty Officer, and Harm could develop a better rapport with some of the junior officers. Harm had finished his conversation and now felt like a complete idiot standing with his ear pressed against his door, trying desperately to make out what the PO and his wife were discussing. “The light on his phone line is out. Shall I see if he’s free?” Beth asked as she took her seat. “Thank you,” Mac nodded. Before Beth could announce Mac’s presence, Harm swung the heavy door open. “I hope I didn’t keep you waiting long,” he smiled in Mac’s direction, holding the door for her. “Not at all.” Mac followed Harm into the office. When the door latched closed behind her, she turned to Harm chuckling. “What were you doing, listening through the keyhole?” “Something like that.” Taking in how beautiful Mac looked, Harm stepped invasively into her space, forgetting all about the reason he’d asked her to come. “I don’t recall having time this morning for a proper good bye.” “No, I was in the shower when you left.” Mac’s lower lip twitched in anticipation of where this little conversation was going. “I guess I’ll just have to make up for it with a proper hello.” Pulling her fully into his arms, Harm settled his lips firmly on her mouth, in what would most definitely be considered an inappropriate kiss for the office. In only a few seconds, Mac had gone weak in the knees, almost forgetting where they were. “Remind me to miss a few proper good byes more often,” she smiled lazily, still dazed from the loving gesture. “If you liked that, wait till I can really show you a proper hello.” Pulling her close again for one more, short kiss, Harm willingly accepted he had to be the luckiest man on earth. Chapter 3 National Maritime Museum Greenwich Mac strolled the ancient corridors in fascination. There was no way she would be able to take in all the treasures and artifacts available in a lone afternoon. Another day would most definitely be required to satisfactorily appease her curiosity. She sat on a nearby bench mesmerized by John Bettes’ portrait of Elizabeth I. Mac had come in search of some connection to her ancestor through Nelson, but found herself momentarily distracted by the powerful presence this historical woman held, even in art.  Mac contemplated what kind of woman Elizabeth must have been to have ruled the most powerful nation in the world during the male dominant world of the sixteenth century.  Ready to move on to the manuscript parlor, Mac stood up and turned, unaware of the slight young man who, walking backwards, was still admiring the large royal portrait. Stepping heavily on an obviously soft, human, foot, Seaman Thomas Moore turned in a panic. “Excuse me, ma’am. I am so sorry,” he pleaded. “I should have been paying more attention.” Catching her balance against the bench, Mac looked at the frightened young man. “I wasn’t paying attention either. It’s pretty impressive, isn’t it?” “Yes, ma’am.” The young man glanced longingly up at the larger than life portrait. “There’s a lot of fascinating things here, but from now on you may want to try and keep at least one eye on the road,” Mac suggested humorously, straightening her outfit before making her way to the next hall. Mac had not realized that the Royal Naval Museum, and the National Maritime Museum had been involved in a massive search of archives to locate previously unpublished material for the 200th anniversary of the Battle of Trafalgar. The result of several years’ efforts was well over 1300 new documents, some of which included sets of letters of different crewmembers while they served under Nelson. Scanning the names of sailors whose letters had been located, Mac was astounded to see the name, Lieutenant Malcolm MacKenzie on the list.  Slowly searching the protective cases, she carefully took in the different names. Having moved further down the hall, her eyes still on the cases, Mac felt a hard mass bump up against her. “I’m so sorry, ma’am. I … I was just looking at the letters and guess I… I forgot to watch the road,” he blushed bashfully. “You realize we’re going to have to stop meeting like this or people are going to talk.” “NO, Ma’am,” the wide-eyed young man shook his head, horrified at the implication. “Relax…” Mac waited for some hint of who she was talking to. “Thomas.” “Relax, Thomas. I was only kidding,” Mac suddenly felt sorry for the bashfully uncoordinated kid. “Oh, thank you ma’am. I don’t run into many fellow Americans, and I have a hard time telling when the Brits are joking around,” Thomas let out a slow sigh of relief. “Where are you from?” Mac tried to put Thomas at ease. “Yonkers, New York.” “And you’re a naval history buff?” “Any kind of history, ma’am, but especially British Naval history.  My dad gave me all the Horatio Hornblower books to read as a kid, and ever since, I can’t get enough of the real history. I’ve been coming here whenever possible, ever since the exhibit opened. There’s so much,” he chatted excitedly. “Well, don’t let me hold you up,” Mac smiled. “Thank you, ma’am.” Thomas turned on his heel and continued reading the displays with fascination. Mac on the other hand needed to get back to the house.  Mattie would be home from school by now, and she had a date with a dashing sailor she didn’t want to be late for. Rabb flat Later that night Mac set her book down on her lap and watched Harm move about distractedly in the kitchen. “What are you still doing in there?” “Sorry, thought I’d wipe the counter down.” Harm tossed the sponge into the sink. “You did that after dinner, and again ten minutes ago. What’s got you so restless?” Mac shifted on the sofa, patting the empty space next to her. “Nothing really. It’s just, things could be easier.” Unable to resist laughing out loud, “Okay, now tell me something I don’t know.” “James asked for a couple of personal days. I’m not sure if I looked at her cross-eyed or if she just knew what I was thinking, but she added it was for medical reasons so I couldn’t very well say no. She left today at lunchtime.” “So who’s in the front office?” “Ensign Barnes.”  Harm pulled Mac’s legs over his lap, and began mindlessly massaging her calves. “ An officer? Isn’t that rather unusual?” “There weren’t many options, and Barnes was nice enough to volunteer.” Harm found himself slowly unwinding with the feel of Mac’s soft skin under his fingertips. He had no idea how he had managed to live so close to her for so many years without being free to show her the simplest form of affection. “Is he any good?”  “He’s okay.  The job is pretty straightforward, but we’re already short staffed. Meg is only going to be TAD a few more weeks, and I still don’t see any sign of Lt. Philips replacement arriving very soon.” “I thought the reason Meg’s assignment was extended was to be here until Philips replacement arrived?” Mac snuggled down into the sofa, resting her head back, thoroughly enjoying the relaxing atmosphere.  It was a little selfish of her, but she loved the feel of Harm’s touch, and she desperately missed the intimacy. She had a follow up appointment with Dr. Rovner in a few days and would hopefully be cleared for ‘all’ activities.  Even though she’d felt up to it, Harm wasn’t willing to take any chances setting her health back, and she had to agree, being able to eventually conceive meant too much to them. “That was the plan, but she absolutely has to be back at Pearl when the XO starts maternity leave.  The office just never seems quite in step. I haven’t figured out where the missing link is yet. Then keep in mind that I don’t have any attorneys with much investigation experience, except for Meg of course, and she’s not staying.” Lifting up one of Mac’s knees, Harm began gently kneading her foot. “I keep praying we’ll get someone with enough savvy to take second in command, but I’m not holding my breath.” “So besides an XO, you really need someone to beef up the office, and if that someone happened to have investigative skills?” Mac opened one eye at Harm. Harm recognized the gleam in Mac’s eye. It always followed a brilliant idea. As if reading a neon sign, Harm suddenly realized whom she meant. “You don’t think?” “It’s worth a shot. You could request him TAD ASAP, and if it pans out, make it permanent,” Mac shrugged. “I don’t know, he wanted to be at the front. An office will seem pretty boring after Afghanistan and Paraguay,” Harm winced softly, he hadn’t meant to bring up Paraguay. It was a painful part of their past, one they preferred to leave alone. “He has to rotate out at some point. It’s worth a try, he can’t stay at the front lines forever,”  Mac pointed out, ignoring the mention of Paraguay. Some things were better left alone. “Yeah,” Harm smiled broadly, “It is worth a try. What have you got there?” he noticed the book that had fallen to the side of the sofa. “Oh, I picked it up today at the museum. Remember I told you about that ancestor who served under Nelson?” Mac had let her head fall back against the armrest again, her eyes shut in a pleasantly relaxed state as Harm continued his soothing ministrations. “Mm hmm. How was it?” “Very interesting, even with the young kid who kept bumping into me.” “Bumping into you?” Harm’s fingers stopped for a moment as he glanced curiously at his wife. “It wasn’t anything. He was so engrossed in the exhibition he wasn’t watching where he was going. I’m pretty sure he’s military.” “What makes you say that?” Harm started rubbing her legs again. “Besides the fact that just about his every sentence ended with ma’am? The dead give away was when he walked away. He tapped that toe behind him and spun to his right with the precision of someone who has had many hours of practice. Not sure if he’s Navy or Marine, but my guess would be Navy. Too timid for a Marine.” “Timid, huh?” Harm raised one eyebrow impishly. “Reminded me a bit of Tiner,” Mac smiled softly at the memory of the one time Petty Officer. “I see. So, what’s the book?”  “Well, it turns out my great whatever’s letters are some of the ones on display, and a few are in this book the museum’s published with thousands of letters to and from Nelson. Several of the letters are from his crew to their families. It’s an interesting depiction of life on a ship in the nineteenth century.  The letters from his mistress are pretty hot for the 1800’s,” a hint of a smile curled into view. “Hot, huh?” This time the suggestive glint in his eye emphasized the arch in his brow. Without opening her eyes, Mac could hear the expression on his face, her smile blossoming into a satisfied grin, “Mm hmm.” “It’s getting late. I’d better check if Mattie needs help with her homework, and then I’m going to call it a night.” Harm stopped rubbing Mac’s leg and lightly let one finger doodle softly up the side of her knee. “Care to join me?” “Try and keep me away.” Mac practically sprang off the sofa and followed Harm down the hall. Snuggled comfortably in bed, waiting for Harm to finish helping Mattie with her Calculus, Mac picked up the book: "My dearest Beatrice, Know that it is only duty that can tear me away from you as it did this morning. As I write this to you, we await the arrival of the Captain, but the rumor on the gun deck is that we are for some distant, important destination." Chapter 4 Royal Maritime Museum Next day Mac had found herself back at the museum bright and early the next day enjoying all the archives had to offer.  The letters from her ancestor had her curiosity piqued. She wanted to see and understand as much as she could about the world he lived in. Walking along the corridor displaying uniforms from different periods in Nelson’s career, Mac wasn’t surprised when she heard a loud crash and looked up to find the same young man from the day before. Only a few feet away, he had frantically straightened a large trash can, and was now returning the varied contents that had spewed across the floor to their rightful place. “I thought I told you to keep one eye on the road?” Mac bent down to join the young man and one of the guards who was also helping pick up the trash. “I’m sorry, ma’am. I tried to be careful, really I did.” “The rubbish bin’s nothing. You should have been here last week when the lad fell into the pipe display. We were all surprised he hadn’t broken his neck,” the guard volunteered. Standing up as the last remnant of trash was tossed into the receptacle, Mac debated asking the young man if he was a sailor or a marine. “Thank you very much, ma’am. It was very nice of you to help. You too, sir.” Thomas turned to the guard. “Just do as the lady says and next time keep your eyes on the road.” Rolling his eyes in exasperation, the older guard returned to his post. “I really am sorry. I don’t know why I keep bumping into people and things, I never do that on duty.” “Duty?” “Yes, ma’am. Seaman Thomas Moore, United States Navy.” Clicking his heels he stood proudly at attention. “At ease, Seaman,” Mac chuckled softly at the young man’s exuberance. “Ma’am?” Shifting to at ease, Thomas looked at Mac curiously. Civilians didn’t make it a habit to tell him to stand at ease. “I guess we haven’t been properly introduced. Lt. Colonel Sarah MacKenzie, United States Marine Corps, Reserves,” Mac extended her hand, smiling at the wide-eyed look the young sailor gave her. Thomas wanted desperately to say something but his mouth simply wouldn’t cooperate. Not only had he bumped into this nice woman one time too many, but this nice woman was an officer, a Colonel. “Are you okay?” Mac finally asked, concerned with the slight hint of green rising up his face. “Yes, Colonel, ma’am,” he squeaked softly, swallowing the huge lump in his throat. “Thomas, why don’t you just call me Mrs. Rabb.  I stopped using the Colonel when I left JAG.” “You’re a lawyer ma’am?” “That’s right. Here, why don’t you sit down on that bench a minute and take a deep breath.” Mac nudged the young man towards the nearest bench. She wasn’t quite sure what to do with him. He was obviously feeling overly flustered at her rank. Though there really wasn’t any reason for her to stay, she somehow felt like leaving him in this state would be tantamount to leaving a man behind. “Can I get you something? A bottle of water maybe?” “No, thank you, ma’am. I’m fine, really I am.” “Are you sure, you’re okay?”  His color was slowly returning to normal, but Mac still wasn’t convinced. “Yes, ma’am, Mrs. Rabb. I need to be getting back to the base soon anyway.  I need to be on duty early at 1400.” “If you’re sure.” Mac took a tentative step towards the display she’d originally been interested in, still watching the young sailor out of the corner of her eye.  He’d stood up looking around the room as though searching for something in particular. She was just about to turn around and see what he needed when she saw the light of recognition dawn in his expression.  He had apparently left his blue navy issue peacoat on the floor near the case he’d been admiring when he not so graciously knocked over the trash can.  Mac kept an eye on Thomas as he quickly put on his coat and hurried out the nearest doorway.   She certainly hoped he wasn’t that clumsy on duty. Actually, now that she thought about it, she hoped he didn’t have anything to do with munitions. London Headquarters Tea Room Harm had finally figured out that the best way to get a decent cup of coffee was to simply get it himself. He had no idea until now how much he had come to depend on Petty Officer Elizabeth James for the simpler things. Her uncanny ability to bring him a cup of coffee at the precise moment he craved a cup, was right up there on the list of life’s mysteries with Mac’s ability to tell time without a watch, and after less than two days, he missed the petty officer terribly.  “You look like something the cat dragged in.” Suddenly remembering this was not just her long time friend strolling into the break room, but her CO. Meg added quickly, “Sir.” “Gee thanks, I really needed to hear that.” If his day hadn’t already been infernally long, he probably would have found it in him to laugh openly.  Setting his mug on the counter, Harm began opening all the cabinet doors in the tiny cubby before turning to Meg in frustration. “Where do they keep the sugar?” She hesitated a fraction of a second before picking up the sugar bowl beside the cup he had just set on the counter. “You mean this?” “Thank you, Commander.” Harm reached across for the coffeepot, ignoring Meg’s quiet snicker. “Anything I can help with?” she ventured carefully, getting a container of milk from the refrigerator. “I don’t suppose you can teach Ensign Barnes how to make a decent cup of coffee, or how not to patch absolutely EVERYONE who calls my office through to me?”  “Busy day?” “I think it would be safe to say I took Petty Officer James’ ability to screen calls for granted.” “How is she doing?” Meg handed Harm the milk container. “I honestly don’t know. She requested two personal days, but implied it was for medical reasons. Hopefully, I’ll know more when she returns tomorrow.” “Well, if nothing else, you’ll be able to get a decent cup of coffee tomorrow.” Meg watched as Harm twirled a coffee stirrer in his mouth. She recognized that nervous habit of his. Whenever they’d had a tough case and Harm couldn’t quite figure out why something didn’t seem right, he would chew those little plastic sticks into confetti. “How’s the Anderson situation?” Harm asked unexpectedly. “Fine. Perkins is taking a plea bargain,” Meg smiled. “I see.” Harm had suspected Perkins didn’t have the backbone for a good defense attorney.  This would be the fourth defense case in a row that he plead out. Something was going to have to be done. Bachelor Enlisted Quarters Kennington Southeast London Later Tuesday night Beth dropped her keys on the rickety table as she walked in the door.  She had been poked, prodded, and pricked for the better part of two days.  Now she was supposed to relax and take it easy until all the results were in.  Ha! That was certainly easier said than done. Having practically fallen into the lumpy easy chair in the tiny living room, Beth curled her foot around the leg of the coffee table and pulled it up closer to use as a footrest. This had been the longest two weeks of her life.  Stretching her arm out she retrieved the silver frame.  She didn’t even need to look to see where it was on the end table. It had become her daily ritual to settle into the comfort of the uncomfortable chair and pick up the memory filled photograph. Greg had been one of the nicest guys she’d ever dated.  The six months he’d been stationed here in London had definitely been fun. She’d been here for ages and it wasn’t until she met Greg that she actually ventured outside of London to explore the rest of England. This was by far her favorite photograph. It was taken that weekend in Bury St. Edmonds. Greg had insisted on having a drink in the smallest pub in England. Well, he and every other tourist in town had the same idea about fitting into the tiny space.  After finally getting his wish, he asked one of the other tourists to take their picture in front of the Nutshell Pub. When they went to snap the photo, Greg swooped her up into his arms. She was laughing so hard all you could see was her head thrown back, her mouth wide open, and her long hair hanging loosely behind her. Greg on the other hand had a grin on his face that seemed to be the personification of the cat that had swallowed the canary. He’d carried her down the street and around the block to the Angel hotel. She knew he couldn’t afford it, but it hadn’t mattered to him. He had pulled out all the stops that weekend. She felt like the heroine in a romantic novel being swept off her feet in every sense of the word. He had taught her so much about living for the day and enjoying life. If he hadn’t been around when Captain Rabb first arrived, she surely would have fallen apart at the seams those first two days.  She knew when he got his orders to Iraq that it might be rough, but she hadn’t expected this.  She’d read the letter over and over so often that her tears left the paper a mere shadow of its former self.  It hadn’t helped that she’d crumpled and thrown it across the room as many times as she’d sobbed herself to sleep reading it. It didn’t seem fair. No family at home, only a few close friends, and the woman he claimed to love couldn’t even fly home for the funeral. (Small article on Nutshell Pub -http://www.bbc.co.uk/legacies/heritage/england/suffolk/article_1.shtml.) Chapter 5 London Headquarters   Three days later Mac turned the corner towards Harm’s office, surprised to see Petty Officer James already rising from her chair to stand at attention. Apparently, whatever had her radar out of kilter, was now back in commission. “At ease, Beth,” Mac was sure she wouldn’t be able to get Beth to stop reacting to her officer status anymore than she could get Bud and Harriet to call her by her first name when they were off duty. “Yes, ma’am. Everything has been arranged just the way you asked.” “Excellent. Thank you. I gather whatever had you upset last week has been taken care of?” “No, ma’am. That is, I mean…” Beth couldn’t find the words. She’d thought she’d finally gotten a handle on all her emotions and with a simple comment from Mrs. Rabb, everything came flooding back. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to upset you.” Mac placed her hand on the Petty Officer’s shoulder. “Thank you, ma’am. It’s fine.” Beth pressed her lips tightly together. She was NOT going to cry in front of her CO’s wife. She simply wasn’t.  “Obviously something has been bothering you, and whatever it is, it’s still got you upset.  I don’t want to push, but I’m willing to listen if it will help.” Tears rolled slowly down Beth’s cheek at this woman’s concern. “Oh blast, I swore I wasn’t going to cry anymore.”  Beth fumbled through her desk for a tissue. “What is it?” Mac leaned against the desk and urged Beth to sit back down. “Oh, ma’am.  I have fibroid cysts. I’ve had them for years. I take birth control pills and vitamin B to help prevent them and don’t drink caffeine or eat chocolate. Well, not much anyway.” A glint of a smile almost appeared on the young woman’s face. “Go on,” Mac encouraged, a knot in her stomach tightening. “Recently, I’ve been having more trouble than usual with cysts, well, especially in my breasts, ma’am. They’ve been heavy and painful and I can feel at least two rather large cysts.  The doctor implied that my renewed problems might indicate the need for more invasive treatment, so he sent me for some tests the other day.” Looking up at Mac in almost a panic. “If he’s right I might need up to six weeks bed rest! Ma’am, all I have back home is my mom, and she’s in no condition to take care of me.” Beth almost broke down in tears again, sucking in her lower lip, and taking a deep breath, she swallowed the threatening sob, softly repeating, “six weeks bed rest.” “Haven’t they gotten the results back to you yet?” Mac was suddenly flooded with vivid memories of how quickly Bethesda was able to diagnose her condition. She had to remind herself that not all hospitals, or countries for that matter, do things the same.  It took all her marine training not to join Beth in her tears. “The lab somehow lost my blood work. I went this morning to be re-tested, but now the doctor wants me to be tested again on Monday to compare the samples. The other tests are inconclusive without the complete blood workup.” Beth took another deep breath.  Mrs. Rabb was right, just finally being able to tell someone what was going on made her feel better, even if she hadn’t told Mrs. Rabb any details about the threat of surgery or the loss of Greg. “Beth if you need any help at all, with anything, I expect you to come to me or Captain Rabb.” Mac reached over and gave her another tissue to replace the one Beth had slowly shredded with her nervous fidgeting. “I appreciate the offer ma’am. I’m sure everything will be okay.” Beth straightened her shoulders some. “I’ll be fine now. Thank you.” “I’ve had female procedures in my past too, and I can certainly empathize with your fears.  I have an appointment this afternoon, but if you’d like to talk some more later, I’d be happy to make time.” Mac’s heart ached for the young girl. She knew exactly what kind of fear Beth must be going through.  She hadn’t mentioned what sort of invasive treatment was being suggested, but Mac could tell from her tone it had to be serious, especially if it required six weeks bed rest. The last words resounded in Mac’s head for just a moment. The light bulb of recognition going off just as Beth spoke. “No, ma’am. I feel much better now, thank you.” Taking one more deep breath, she continued, “I’ve ordered the cake you requested, carrot. I’ve also rearranged a few non-essential meetings to make sure everyone is free for at least thirty minutes. The use of the conference room is also confirmed,” Beth already felt more like her old self again. “I knew I could count on you. Thank you again, and remember, I’m here if you need me.” Mac felt more confident that if Beth needed someone to confide in again, she just might be willing to approach her, at least Mac hoped so.  Seeing Beth press the intercom button to notify Harm of her arrival, Mac stepped over towards the door waiting for Beth’s nod that it was okay to enter before pushing the heavy door inward. “You’re here just in time to celebrate.” Harm stood up as Mac approached his desk. Resisting the urge to pull her into his arms for a longer, proper hello, he settled for a quick kiss on the lips. “What are we celebrating?” Mac took a seat across from Harm. “I got word today from COMUSNAVEUR.  Gunny’s TAD has been approved, effective immediately. Help should be here bright and early Monday morning,” Harm smiled happily. “Oh, that’s wonderful news.” Mac had known from her conversations with Harm over the last couple of days that Gunny was due to rotate out of his detachment, but there had been no indication of whether or not Harm’s request was feasible. “Now if I can convince Gunny and the Admiral to make the TAD permanent, then all I’d need is to get a couple of lawyers and all would be right with the world.” “I thought you only needed one to replace Mary.” “Mac, face it, except for Meg, none of the lawyers around here are very diversified. Perkins does fine if he’s on the prosecution. He goes after the defendant with the fervor of a pit bull, but put him on the defense and he rolls over and plays dead.” “That’s not the end of the world. In most JAG offices lawyers do one or the other, but not many wear all hats the way the admiral had us work.” “I know, but it’s not fair to the poor kid who gets stuck with a prosecution attorney because all my other lawyers are overworked. And once Meg is gone, the only one with even a clue of how to handle an investigation is going to be Gunny, and he can only do what’s asked of him. He certainly can’t tell a superior officer what to order him to do.” Harm ran his fingers through his hair. Getting Gunny under his command would only be part of the solution. He needed an XO, and one other well-rounded, experienced attorney. “Well, I just had a short chat with Beth. She seems to be doing better, at least on the surface, and I think I solved your mystery about ‘six piece bird’s nest’ versus ‘chick peas and spices’.” Mac quickly juggled around in her mind how much information she should divulge to Harm about Beth’s condition. “And that would be?” “Her doctor told her that possible medical treatment of a condition she’s had for some time could require six weeks bed rest,” Mac smiled, quite pleased with herself. “Well, you’re right. She seems to be almost back to her old self, but for her sake as well as mine, I certainly hope whatever’s wrong with her doesn’t come down to that. Six weeks with Ensign Barnes and I might go mad,” Harm tried to laugh off the possibility. Before Harm could ask Mac what she meant by Beth appeared to be doing better ‘on the surface,’ the intercom buzzed. “Sorry to interrupt, sir, but I have Inspector Baskin on the line. He says it’s important.” “Put him through, Petty Officer.” Harm stabbed at the button on his phone. “Yes, Baskin. What can the Navy do for you today?” Harm made no attempt to sound friendly. “It seems there has been a theft at the National Maritime Museum. Some very valuable letters from the Admiral Nelson exhibition were taken late yesterday afternoon. Most likely just before the museum closed.” “And Scotland Yard would like the US Navy to solve this case for you too?” “Thank you for the offer, but that won’t be necessary. We already know who the culprit is. It seems he was not smart enough to avoid the closed circuit TV cameras. The entire episode was caught on tape.” “Well, if that’s the case then why are you calling me?” “Apparently he is in the United States Navy.” “Apparently? You’re not sure?” Harm couldn’t help the hint of accusation in his tone. “The security guards recognized the suspect from the CCTV footage. He is in your Navy.” Baskin sat back slightly satisfied at the silence on the other end of the phone. Rabb had given him nothing but attitude ever since Mary Philips was murdered. “Very well, I’ll arrange to have him transferred into our custody. I’m assuming you’re not going to insist this be handled in the local court system?” Harm wondered if Baskin was simply gloating. There was no need to call him for a simple brig transfer. “No, we just want to recover the stolen goods. You are welcome to try him in the military system.” “I’ll see to it that Petty Officer James arranges for the transfer of custody.” “Actually, Captain, we don’t have him in custody yet.” “I see. You want us to apprehend him.” “Not exactly.” Harm was beginning to lose patience with this little cat and mouse word game. “What exactly do you need?” “Your wife. That is, to speak with her. While we know who the suspect is, we lack his name. The security guards were able to recognize the chap from the CCTV tape. Unfortunately, all we know about him is that he is an American, and his coat indicates he is in your Navy.” “I’m sorry, did you say his coat?” “That’s correct,” Baskin added rather smugly. “Don’t tell me a coat is all you have to identify him. Even to you that should seem like pretty flimsy evidence for assuming he’s in the Navy.” What was this man trying to pull now? Harm wondered. “Your wife will be able to settle any doubts.” “Why would Mac know anything more than you do?” Harm wasn’t at all happy with the direction this conversation was taking. “Well, my good Captain, it seems that our thief and your wife are rather good chums.”                                                                                      NEXT                                                                     HOME