Memories! Ch. 01

A knock.

A.J. groaned. "Who in bloody hell is knocking on my door at (he turned to check the bedside clock)...

"0900, Love." she stated, her internal clock taking command.

They froze. Another piece had fallen into place. How long before the picture was complete, and they would lose their excuse to share his home in the woods?

Suddenly, Mac shot upright, drawing the covers around her naked form. "It's Harm!" she remembered with alarm. "I forgot. He offered to take me car shopping today!"

Warily, she glanced at her lover, as if to gauge his response to the younger man's intrusion.

"I'm sorry, A.J., I didn't know what to tell him without, you know, saying too much." she finished lamely.

A.J. wasn't happy, but true to his word, the jealous lover of the evening before had not returned.

Gently patting her backside, he rose and grabbed his robe from the floor. "You better get something on you, Darlin', or Rabb will have no illusions left whatsoever."

Quickly, as A.J. answered the door, Sarah bundled her naked body in the sheet and sprinted toward the guest room.

"Commander!" A.J. stalled, throwing open the door. "And what brings you to my place this morning?"

Smiling, Harm addressed his commanding officer. "I've come to collect your houseguest, Sir. We're going to do a little looking around today...to see what's available as a replacement for her personal vehicle."

A.J. began to step aside to allow the lanky JAG officer entry, then halted. "If you'll give me just a minute, Commander."

Quickly, he closed the door and began to gather the remnants of their passionate night from the living room floor.

Harm was uncomfortable, uncharacteristically speechless. He'd spotted the clutter immediately, and knew from personal experience what it meant. Awkwardly, he shifted his stance and waited for the Admiral to return.

The door opened a moment later. The Admiral, now clad in "sweats", motioned for Harm to enter.

"The Colonel will be ready in a minute, Commander. I'm making coffee...will you have some?"

"Oh...uh...no thank you, Sir. We'll be leaving soon...I'm sure she won't be long." Harm settled in an overstuffed chair by the fireplace to wait. He felt like a schoolboy collecting his date. It was then that he noticed the crumpled bra laying elusively beneath the sofa. Quickly, he averted his eyes, but not quickly enough. The Admiral followed his gaze, taking in the telltale piece of lingerie.

Silently, A.J. gauged Harm's reaction, his expression stern and commanding. "Is there anything we need to discuss, Commander?" he challenged.

"I...No, Sir. Nothing, Sir."

Harm stood, and the two men faced each other, their understanding both tacit and mutual. It was Mac who finally broke the link as she swept into the room, dressed and ready to leave.

"I should be back in time for supper, Admiral. Is there anything I can bring home?"

Harm noticed her choice of words...the Admiral's house had now become "home" to her.

"I don't think that will be necessary, Colonel. I'm sure we can rustle up something...possum...road kill."

Mac tried to stifle a grin as Harm shifted uncomfortably.

"You two have a good time. I have things to do, so if you'll excuse me..." The Admiral took his leave, and was soon heading for his favorite running trail, deep within the Virginia woods.

Hopping into his SUV, Harm and Mac headed back toward the city, where a greater choice of vehicles was to be found.

"Any idea what you're looking for?" Harm asked.

"Well, I haven't given it a lot of thought, but I think I'd like something that can be used off-road, but still gets good mileage in the city. I'd like something American-made. I'd also like to keep the price manageable...who knows what my next career might be if this one goes down the tubes..."

Harm winced. "You've got to think positive, Mac. Your memory IS going to come back. It'll happen...just give it a little longer."

She smiled at his optimism. "From your lips to God's. ears..." she quoted. My uncle used to say..." She stopped, her mind spinning. "My Uncle Matt used to sat that! I remember Uncle Matt! Matthew O'Hara, he's...he's in jail now, isn't he, Harm?"

Harm nodded. "He is. Otherwise he'd be here with you now. He's called me every day since your accident, he just didn't want to upset you until you were on your feet and could handle it. He said, and I quote: "She's got enough to deal with. She doesn't need some jailbird uncle she doesn't even remember, bothering her."

Harm paused. He had something else to say...something he wasn't sure how to phrase. Your Uncle Matt was...a little surprised that you were staying out at the Admiral's place..."

Mac grew quiet. Where was this leading?

"I assured him that for the time being it was the best place for you to be. Doctor's orders. Was I right?"

Mac thought of A.J., his tenderness, his concern, how he'd filled the long days since her accident. Silently, she turned to Harm, assessing the enigmatic expression on his usually smiling face.

He knows, she thought. I don't know how, but he knows.

"Yes," she nodded, "you were right."

"You know," he began, "if you were staying with anyone but the Admiral, people would certainly be talking about now.

"Really? But they wouldn't talk about the Admiral?"

"No, they respect him too much. He's earned it. They also know that it could end his career. You're in his direct chain of command. The JAG is a stickler for rules and reg.s...fraternization is a serious charge. It would be a direct violation of the UCMJ. You'd both end up in an article 32 hearing.

Mac sat staring out of the window, stunned. She hadn't realized how much A.J. was risking on her account. Their relationship could cost him everything.

Once more she turned her head and assessed the man beside her. Could she trust him? "I..I didn't know that," she stated simply. A.J.s been wonderful to me. I would never do anything to hurt him."

The words hung in the air, detached and alone. Finally Harm spoke, his voice soft and introspect. "I know." he replied softly, "I know."

0830 HOURS O'Brien's "House of Cars"

They stopped first at a large used car lot, where Mac could get some idea of the varied types of vehicles that were available from a cross-section of manufacturers. Their conversation was animated as they hiked from aisle to aisle, stopping first at one car then another.

Mac returned twice to check out a jet black Tracker. "What do you think of this one?" she asked. Harm looked at the heavily tinted windows. "Well, you'll certainly have a lot of privacy. You can't see a thing in there. Climb in and 'pop' the hood. Let's take a look at the plumbing.

Gingerly, she climbed behind the wheel, and searched for the hood release. The tracker was fully loaded, it had all of the "bells and whistles" that a boy, or girl, could want. Mac knew it was the car for her.

Harm removed his head from the engine compartment. "Well, what do you think?" she asked.

"Not too bad." he said, "Not really any kind of a muscle car, but I think it fits your criteria."

Mac pretended to take exception to his comment. "Oh? And just what kind of car would you 'big boys' choose?"

Harm walked out into the center of the lot, scanning the possibilities before him. Finally, his eyes settled on a classic Mustang convertible, he turned to Mac.

"Now tha...Mac?"

Mac stood as though in a trance. Slowly she crossed the tarmac, and came to rest before a crimson Corvette. Wordlessly, her mind reeling, she extended her hand and touched the cool surface of the car.

As though in fast forward, memories came flooding back, filling her mind, inundating her senses. Her hand began to shake, then her whole body trembled as the overload washed over her.

"Mac?" Harm placed his hand on her waist to steady her. "Are you okay?"

Tears flowed unchecked down the soft contours of her face. Her mascara became rivers of black...comical under any other circumstances.

Alarmed, Harm opened the door to the 'vette. "You need to sit down." he stated simply, the concern evident in his voice.

Mac looked up, as though seeing her companion for the first time. "Harm..."

Harm smiled, relieved at the recognition which glistened in her eyes for the first time in a week..

Harm...I know you! And my 'vette...my beautiful 'vette...the truck...I remember it all. Harm! I remember it all!"

1200 HOURS A.J.'s Home McLean, Virginia

A.J. watched curiously as the black Tracker paused, and then turned into the driveway. Was that Sarah at the wheel? It was hard to tell, the windows were so darn dark.

Slowly, he opened the screen door, and walked out onto the porch, his hands on his hips. Were they going to sit there all day? He waited a moment longer, then began to descend the steps, approaching the unknown vehicle.

It WAS Sarah! Why wasn't she coming inside?

Smiling, A.J. walked over to the driver's side of the Tracker. "You mean Rabb actually gave his approval to something that gets better than eight miles to the gallon?" he grinned as he opened the door.

A.J. took one look at her face, and knew immediately that something was seriously wrong. Silently, she looked into the face of the man she loved. "We have to talk, Admiral. Can we go inside?"

She'd called him "Admiral". He dreaded what the next few moments would bring. He anticipated her loss, even before she spoke.

Entering the living room, Mac sat rigidly on a chair by the sofa. "It all came back, Admiral. Just like that. I can remember everything." She lowered her eyes, her cheeks reddening as she recalled their night of passion on the rug before her.

"Why didn't you tell me how much was at stake if our relationship became public knowledge? I could have ruined you. Didn't you think I had a right to know?" Her voice barely broke a whisper.

"I thought...Oh, hell...I don't know what I thought," he responded. I guess that's the problem. I wasn't thinking, I just knew what I wanted...what I thought we both wanted. I didn't want to think about the consequences. So where does that leave us now, Mac?"

She inhaled deeply. This was not the time for tears or soppy farewells. She had to be strong , for both of them.

"I need to leave, Admiral. Tonight. I can't put your career in jeopardy any longer. You've meant so much to me...I hope we can still work together."

A.J. felt it all slipping through his fingers. She'd regained her memory, and now she was leaving him. Why had he ever thought he had anything to offer a young and vital woman like Sarah MacKenzie?

Raising a protective facade, his professional persona, he steeled himself against the moment and attempted to respond. "Of course we can work together, Colonel. We're both adults. This was just a momentary indiscretion. I'm sure we can put it in perspective, and get on with the job at hand. I'm happy for your recovery. Do you need any help getting your belongings together?"

Sarah's heart shattered into a million pieces, but her appearance remained calm and controlled. "No, Admiral. I think I can handle it. I only have a few suitcases and a box of toiletries. It shouldn't take long, thank you.

Frantic to remove herself from the situation, Mac tore through the guestroom, stuffing her belongings into any open spot she could find. Within an hour, she was once again backing her Tracker out of the driveway, and down the dusty road toward town. Her act had been perfect. Only a few lone sparrows were present to watch her pull off of the road and cry.

1700 HOURS One Week Later JAG Headquarters

The next week passed in agony, each day longer than the next. Mac had once again taken up her cases, and her legal expertise appeared to have come back intact. The problem arose in her relationship with her commanding officer.

After their intense, emotional intimacy, Mac could no longer look at her former lover with professional detachment. The scent of his aftershave, the sound of his voice, the brief accidental touch of their hands as they conducted mundane affairs in the course of their duties at JAG...all of these things and more, reminded her of their tender moments together. She couldn't sleep. She couldn't eat, and finally, she couldn't stand it any longer.

In desperation, she made up her mind. With proactive determination, she sat down at her computer terminal and began to type.

The same day JAG Headquarters

It was almost 1800 HOURS when Petty Officer Tiner brought the correspondence in to the Admiral's office and lay it on his desk.

"What's this, Tiner?" the Admiral questioned.

"I'm not sure, Sir. Colonel MacKenzie gave it to me. She asked me to bring it in to you when you were free."

Silently he opened the inter-office envelope, dread building within him. This week had been one of the worst weeks in his life. Though he'd tried to conduct "business as usual", the mere thought of Sarah sent him into deep fits of depression. His hands ached for the touch of her skin, the feel of her lips on his, the sweet scent of her hair on his pillow. He'd never felt lonely at his home in McLean before, but now the feeling plagued him constantly. He knew that things couldn't go on like this...apparently so did she.

Sadly, his eyes scanned the transfer request before him.

Quantico. Sarah was requesting a change of duty. It was obvious that the mere sight of him was more than she could stand.

With a heaviness born of despair, A.J. pressed the button on his intercom. "Tiner? Would you get me Colonel MacKenzie, please. ASAP.

The knock on his door was immediate. "Sir?" Tiner spoke, his confusion evident. "The Colonel was waiting at my desk, Sir."

Tiner stood back and Mac entered the room. "That'll be all, Tiner. Please close the door on your way out."

"Aye aye, Sir."

Silently, Tiner shut the door, leaving Mac and A.J. alone for the first time since she'd left McLean.

"So, am I to understand it that you're not happy with us any longer. Colonel?"

Mac paused, searching for one last shred of protocol, but the game had become to much for her to bear. "No, Sir. That's not it at all, Sir."

Avoiding his eyes, she stared instead at the ship's clock on the wall. "I feel...I feel..." She sagged against the back of a nearby chair. "I just can't do this anymore. I have to leave. At Quantico I can continue to serve under the base's Judge Advocate Officer as a part of the legal assistance staff. I won't have to leave the area...or the Corps, to start over."

He knew there were things that should be said, things he should be saying, but the words were beyond his reach. Sarah wanted to leave, to get away from him. He had to accept it and find a way to move on.

"I see." he rasped. "And you're sure of this?" He waved the offending document before her.

"Yes, Sir. Quite sure."

A.J. turned his back to her, unable to bear her nearness or the wounded look in her eyes. "Very well, then. I'll process your request. It may take a few days to mediate the shift, but I'll expedite matters as best I can. Is that all, Colonel?"

Her body shaking, Mac stood at attention. "Yes, Sir, Admiral. That's all, Sir."

"Very well, Colonel. Dismissed." he responded, his voice a toneless whisper.

"Aye, aye, Sir" And with that, Mac turned and left the room, taking the air and sunlight with her, and leaving him, instead, with the shambles of his life.

0900 HOURS One Month Later Harmon Rabb's Stearman

A full month had gone by, and the balance of her days should have settled into a pattern of passive acceptance. But they hadn't. Even now she awoke each morning, anticipating a gentle touch, an intimate whisper, that would never come again.

The bond between them must have existed long before her accident, she had come to realize. How was it then, that she felt the loss so keenly, and he not at all?

The transfer, at her request, had taken place quickly and without announcement. One day she was at JAG Headquarters, and the next she was at Quantico. The geography was simple, but the transition was not. Now, here in her office on the famed Marine base, she knew that a change of scenery had not been enough.

At first her friends had been puzzled, hurt at her refusal to discuss the matter, then acceptance had overtaken them and the matter had been quietly put to rest.

All except Harmon Rabb.

Still her closest friend, the lanky Commander had called her apartment on frequent occasions, and had dropped by with a sack of Beltway burgers (for her), and pasta salad (for him) more than once. Only he knew the source of her pain, but to his credit, it had remained a subject buried between them, a path that neither chose to tread.

Now, on the fifth Saturday since her recovery, she and Harm once again found themselves together, sailing through the clear, blue skies of Virginia in his yellow Stearman.

Sarah had hoped that the departure from her routine would ease the pain she still felt so acutely, but it was not to be. As the sylvan countryside passed below their wings, images of her time with A.J., in the forests of McLean, filled her mind. Would she never be free of him?

Finally Harm, realizing the futility of his "good will" mission resigned himself to defeat and turned the classic biplane back toward the hanger.

"You have to let it go!" he hollered over the dull roar of the engine. "You need to end this...get on with your life."

There. He'd said it. It had needed to be said for the past four weeks, but even HE, her best friend, had been unable to risk the pain the truth would inflict.

Mac remained silent, choosing instead to ignore the comment, hoping that he would think she hadn't been able to hear him over the incumbent noise of the open plane.

Harm let the matter drop until they were once again on "terra firma", heading back to her apartment. "You heard me up there." he prompted gently. "We both know you did. This act isn't fooling anyone."

The wound had been reopened, the anguish fresh in her voice. "I heard you." she confirmed, her tone soft and tortured.

Harm placed his hand on her arm, as though to draw the hurt from her soul, and give her the peace she so needed. "Then talk to him, Mac. You're a total wreck, and so is the Admiral. It's affecting his work, his judgement...and you look like hell. People are beginning to notice. You need closure...and so does he."

She knew it was the truth. His advice, as usual, was right on target. But, somehow, that knowledge wasn't enough. "I can't, Harm. It's just...I just..." Frustrated, she began again. "If I can't even talk to you about it, how can I possibly talk to him?"

Grimly, Harm sighed, and steered his SUV toward the city, and her apartment.

1945 HOURS Sarah MacKenzie's Apartment Georgetown

The weekend had passed slowly, allowing far too much time for reflection. Mac was relieved when Monday arrived and she could once again attempt to bury herself in her work.

She arrived home at 1930 HOURS, a small carton of Chinese take-out in one hand, and an overfilled briefcase in the other. Not caring to attempt the included chopsticks, Mac opted instead for a fork from her kitchen, and settled herself in front of the evening news to eat and unwind.

Ignoring the insistent pulse of her answering machine, she'd taken only a few bites of her Kung Pao Chicken, when the doorbell rang. Who could that be, she wondered. She wasn't expecting anyone.

Quickly, she crossed the floor, and peered through the diminutive peephole. Her body froze, her respiration a thing of the past. There, with his cover tucked securely under his left arm, stood A.J., fumbling impatiently from one foot to the other.

As though by rote, her fingers immediately began to unlock the deadbolt, flinging the door wide, exposing the cause of her tattered life.

"Admiral! I don't understand. Is something wrong?" she questioned lamely.