JAG: Sarah Ch. 03

Finally, it was time for him to go. Dressed in fatigues, his duffel slung firmly over his shoulder, John left before dawn the next morning...taking her happiness with him.

The light gone from her eyes, Sarah watched as his Humvee disappear down Front Street, knowing that if he failed to return...she would never allow herself to love again.

Sarah MacKenzie
Central Campus Apts., #716
Duke University
Durham, N.C.

March 17, 1993

Dearest John,

I realize that you may never get this letter...war is hell on correspondence too. But for my own piece of mind, I've decided to write anyway.

John...I wish I could be there with you...holding you...shielding you...keeping you from harm. You're probably laughing at the thought...ME protecting YOU... but you have no idea what lengths a woman will go through to safeguard those she loves.

My Darling...I took your pillow the morning after you left. I keep it by me each night as I wonder where you are, and what you're doing. I only wish it could talk to me, and reassure me that you're safe and well.

Please, my love...don't take any unnecessary risks. I know you have a job to do...your duty...and that as a Marine, I should understand. But, it's the woman who loves you and not the Marine who's writing this letter.

I need you safe...I need you home...I need you mine.

I'll be waiting,
Your Darling, Sarah

1600 HOURS
April 2, 1993
Sarah's Apartment

"Hey! Where are you this time?" Barb scolded, frustrated at her friend's lack of application. "This paper isn't going to write itself, you know!"

"I know...I know..." Sarah said for the third time in an hour, but did you see the CNN footage on Somalia this morning? They were sending Marines home in body bags...Marines from the 24th MEU! That "war lord" up in the hills has hostages! What if they've taken John?

"He's safe, Sarah. Until you hear differently, you have to believe that! You can't sleep...you're not eating...your studies are going to hell. You've got to snap out of this! At this rate, you'll be a basket case by the time he gets home!"

"Besides, he's an officer, isn't he? He's not apt to be out in the jungle crawling through the underbrush with a sniperscope, or whatever. He's the head of an MEU, for crying out loud!"

"By the way...what's an MEU, anyway?"

Sarah smiled. Barb was a good friend...she always knew the right thing to say."

"It stands for 'Marine Expeditionary Unit'. It's a self-contained battalion of about 2200 Marines. They're trained for ground and air combat, you know...hand-to hand , tanks, helicopters, amphibious vehicles and the like. They carry their own support personnel, provisions, the whole works. They're completely self-contained...they can deploy anywhere at any time."

"And your guy is the 'head honcho?'"

"Uh huh. He's the commanding officer...the colonel in charge of the 24th MEU."

"Wow...You didn't tell me you were sleeping with 'Rambo'!"

Sarah tried to smile...the humor never reaching her eyes. "What if he doesn't come home, Barb? What if I never see him again? What will I do with the rest of my life..."

April 14, 1993

Darling Sarah,

Sweetheart, I got your letter...how could you ever doubt Marine efficiency?

I can't tell you much about the situation here...even the toilet paper is classified...but there are news people all over the place, so you probably know as much as I do anyway.

Sarah...Sweetheart...you worry too much! I'm fine! I know it's not much consolation to the families of the men who have been shipped home...but we've actually sustained very few casualties. My men are well trained...and you have no idea how much we're needed here."

I do have some good news that I can share with you. The 22nd MEU has arrived, and they're going relieve my unit in a short while. As soon as we can expedite a smooth transition, we'll be on our way home!

I can't wait to see you, Sweetheart. You're in my every thought...you fill my dreams. The memory of you in my arms is what keeps me going. It won't be long now...so don't worry!

PS...Don't worry about the pillow. We're even...I took your scarf.

Love,
John

1700 HOURS
April 30, 1993
John Farrow's Home
Courthouse Bay

Sarah paced nervously across the floor. John's unit had landed hours ago...where was he?

Again, she pulled back the curtains and searched Front Street for a sign of his arrival, but saw nothing. She knew John would have had an extensive debriefing to go through as soon as he arrived, but enough was enough!

Exasperated, she rambled into the kitchen to get a glass of iced tea.

It was then she heard his key in the lock, and ran back toward the front room.

"Sarah?" he called. "Sarah...are you here?"

She tried to call, but words seemed to fail her. Instead, she ran across the room and threw her arms around his neck...her face pressed tightly against his body...her tears dampening his shirt.

"It's okay...it's okay." he crooned, as though consoling a child. Gently, he nestled her beneath his chin, his hands stroking her trembling form.

"Oh John...I didn't mean to do that. Some Marine I am!"

Breathing deeply, she looked up into his eyes, her hands caressing the stubble on his chin. Then, rising on her tip-toes, she pressed her lips to his, exploring his dark recesses with her tongue.

John responded eagerly, running his hands over the curved softness of her breasts, cupping her buttocks, drawing her intimately against his hard body.

But then he pulled away. "Sweetheart...I'm really foul. I need a shower in the worst way...and this face! I haven't seen a razor in days. Give me a little time to clean up. I smell like a horse stable!"

Planting a kiss on her forehead, he grabbed his duffel and headed for the bedroom. Within minutes, Sarah heard the shower running. In her mind's eye, she pictured him naked, lost in the steam, his soapy hands touching the very spots she longed to touch...and she knew where she wanted to be.

Quietly, she slipped out of her clothing and slid into the shower behind him.

John turned, his eyes stroking her naked form, his body responding to her nearness.

"Sarah..." he began, his mouth suddenly dry.

Silently, Sarah took the soap from his hand and began to massage the hair on his naked chest.

John closed his eyes, his breath becoming labored as her hands dipped below his waist and began to lather his distended erection.

"Oh, Sarah," he groaned, his reserve sliding down the drain amid the soap bubbles. "This is not how I planned our first time together...I wanted to do this right..."

"This IS right." she breathed, her body pressed to his, her leg curling against his hip.

"It sure feels that way..."

Mindlessly, John lifted her, bracing her back against the warm shower wall, his lips drawing her tender nipples deep within his mouth.

Sarah pressed her hips against him, her legs twining tightly around his waist, urging him to complete their union.

"John...I've waited so long...I want to feel you inside of me...now. Hurry..." she moaned, her hips undulating against him. "Hurry..."

Suddenly there was only heat...her voice...her body. Beyond control, John plunged mindlessly between her thighs...thrusting again and again, her cries of passion echoing in the small enclosure. And then he exploded within her, filling her, taking her to the edge...almost.

"You didn't come." he whispered raggedly, his body fighting for control.

"Yes...I did." she lied, but his look said that he knew better.

"We're not done yet." he whispered into her hair. "Give me five minutes to finish and shave," he said, indicating the pinkness around her nipple where his beard had abraded her tender flesh. "Wait for me..."'

Quickly, John finished up in the shower, then shaved the stubble from his face. Five minutes later, he walked into the bedroom, a towel draped low on his hips.

Sarah lay on the brass bed, her body wrapped loosely in a bath towel, awaiting his arrival. She felt a shiver of anticipation course through her body as he approached the bed, and dropped his covering to the floor.

To her amazement, he was already hard...his arousal looming before him, proud and determined.

Sarah wet her lips and began to slide toward him, her towel scrunching up between her legs, but John had other ideas.

"Not this time, Sweetheart. This time, I'm in charge."

Slowly, as John pressed her back against the bed, Sarah began once more to explore the firm contours of his body. But John was adamant...he would not be hurried again.

Softly, he imprisoned her wrists in his massive hands, and raised them above her head. "Grab the headboard, Sweetheart." he directed. "This one is for you...and I plan to take my time..."

Aroused, Sarah clasped the brass railing above her head with her fists, goose flesh rising between her breasts.

Slowly, John opened her towel, exposing her moist body to his searching gaze. She was beautiful. He wanted her again...now...but his needs would have to wait. This time, Sarah came first.

Parting her thighs with his hands, John began stroking their pale interiors, positioning his knees between them. Then, resting his weight on his elbows, he stretched out on top of her, his sex lightly probing the moist vortex of her passion.

He began, as he had planned a million times over the last two months... at the top...pressing his lips hungrily against hers, plunging deeply into the soft sweetness of her mouth...stealing her breath and giving her his own.

His hands framing her tender breasts, he lowered his lips to the pulse point at the base of her throat...inhaling her scent...tasting her moans as she arched her neck in passion, her nipples stiffening in anticipation.

Then, trailing a line of tiny kisses across her chest, John continued his decent, pausing to nuzzle first one breast, and then the other...his tongue teasing them to attention...his lips drawing them deep into the hot, wet interiors of his mouth.

Aroused beyond belief, Sarah writhed beneath him, moisture building between her thighs, her fingers releasing the headboard and combing madly through his hair.

John paused, once again raising her hands above her head. "Not yet, Sweetheart...just hang on..."

His own body shivered in anticipation, as he once again began his trek downward, across the dewy plains of her abdomen, tasting her flesh, dipping maddeningly into her naval, then descending still further.

Forcefully, Sarah gripped the headboard, her knuckles white against the pink flesh of her hands, her breath coming in ragged gasps as her throat arched in passion.

Then, John drew back, and raising her legs, he coaxed her knees apart, opening her fully...exposing her throbbing core to his hungry gaze.

Gently, John inserted his thumbs, parting her moist folds, massaging the tender bud of her desire with his fingers.

Sarah whimpered, her hips arching against him, her biceps rock hard as she grasped the headboard.

"Oh...John!" she cried into the stillness as he thrust his tongue deep inside her, pantomiming the act she so desired.

"John!" she fairly screamed, her body shaking, her climax erasing her last vestige of control. "Oh, God ... now...please!"

Wiping his face on her towel, John positioned his massive arousal between her quaking thighs, and plunged deeply inside of her. Beyond recall, Sarah moaned loudly, her hips rising to meet his maddening thrusts, her fingers...free at last...grasping his hair...directing his lips against her straining nipples.

John raised his head and watched as passion once again seized her features...her lips opening wide in a silent scream...her eyes closed tightly against the intrusion of the world.

It was then, and only then, that he allowed himself the release his body cried out so desperately to achieve. Throwing his head back, he plunged himself totally within her...again and again...her pleas for more an aphrodisiac to his ears, until finally he found his own release and flooded her with the moist heat from within him.

And then she collapsed, her body sated and gasping, her nipples still pebbled as she lay, like warm Jello upon the bed beside him.

Gently, John nudged the bedspread from beneath her, and covered her still, limp form. Then, sliding in behind her, he drew her within the warmth of his embrace, his arms wrapped protectively around her, his lips nuzzling her hairline.

My Darling Sarah, he thought, memorizing the curve of her lips. Nothing could keep me from returning home...as long as you're here waiting for me.

She awoke, hours later, still surrounded by his warmth...his scent...the touch of his body against her. She opened her eyes and gloried in the presence of him. Not "Rambo", she thought... John Farrow...a definite upgrade.

Silently. softly, she threaded her fingers through his hair. She'd never seen it this long before. Two months away from the base barber had made a big difference. Gone was the short Marine cut she was accustomed to seeing, replaced instead by a length of wavy mane that reached almost to his collar...she liked it.

Then her fingers came in contact with something odd. A raised area...rough...raw against his scalp, hidden beneath his hairline.

John awoke with a start, grabbing her wrist as though to ward off a blow.

"John? What's that I feel...on your head? It feels like a scar or something. It wasn't there before you left...I'd have noticed."

Realizing he still had her wrist in his grip, John released her, kissing the reddened imprint of his hand on her flesh.

"It's not anything," he began. "just a scratch. I was out with a Cobra crew, trying to get a lead on a recon team that had vanished, and some Bozo took a potshot at me. Hey," he smiled, noting the panicked look in her eyes, "Really...it wasn't anything at all!"

"Not anything? Not anything! How can you say that! A Somalian gunman shoots you in the head while you're out doing SOMEONE ELSE'S job on helicopter reconnaissance, and you want me to just shrug it off?"

"John, you have trained Marines to do that ...you don't have to be out in the field yourself. It's not your job. You weren't even going to tell me, were you?"

John sat upright, his eyes stern...his jaw set and intractable.

"First of all," he began, "it IS my job. Everything having to do with that Unit is my job! I had men out there...I can't expect my troops to follow a leader who'd just abandon them in a situation like that. They wouldn't respect me...I wouldn't respect myself."

"Secondly...I wasn't shot...I was 'grazed'. My medic took a couple of stitches and slapped a Band-Aid on it. I was back in the field ten minutes later. It was NOTHING. And, no, I wasn't going to tell you about it. There's nothing to tell...it was the equivalent of a paper cut."

"John," she said, her voice small and strained, "another millimeter, and you would have gone home in a body bag. That isn't 'nothing'. I asked you not to take any unnecessary risks...and instead you put yourself in the line of fire. I can't understand this!"

"Sweetheart...another millimeter, and he would have missed me entirely, and we wouldn't be having this conversation!"

He paused, gauging the words he was about to say. "Sarah...I'm a soldier. It's what I do...it's what I am. You're a Marine. I thought you could understand that."

"I have to get back to the office. I have two months worth of paperwork waiting for me."

Silently, John dressed in his office uniform, his eyes averted...each afraid to break the silence and risk saying something that could destroy the love between them.

Finally, dressed and ready to leave, John settled on the side of the bed and took her hand in his. "Sarah...I love you...more than I've ever loved anyone in my life...but you have to understand. I can't change. This is who I am. This is my life."

Wordlessly, she watched him rise and leave the room, the sound of the front door echoing in the empty house.

Her eyes began to fill with unshed tears. Curling into a ball, she stared into the emptiness of the room. "John...I thought I was your life." she whispered softly.

May 14, 1993
Sarah's Apartment
Duke Univ. Campus

Things had been strained between them. The weekends had come and gone, but each time either one or the other had come up with an excuse to forego their time together.

Summer break had finally arrived.

The Corps had assigned Mac to paralegal duty at Quantico, 300 miles to the north, until classes resumed in the fall.

One month before, Sarah would have taken this separation as a crushing blow...hard to cope with, and harder still to live with. But after the past month...it offered a blessed relief from the stress of their dying relationship.

And so, cordially, almost formally, Sarah had bidden good-bye to John and headed her ancient Jeep toward Virginia, leaving her lover, and taking only the pain of their loss with her on the journey north.

June 30, 1993
Marine Corps Judge Advocate Division
Marine Base Quantico
Quantico, Virginia

Quantico was exciting!

Just minutes south of Washington D.C., it served both as the primary headquarters for the Marine Corps, and the F.B.I. training grounds as well.

Mac's role, while minor, placed her squarely in the center of the busy whirl that seasoned the atmosphere on the enormous Marine Base. At first it seemed easy to bury the stress of her failing relationship with John beneath the demands of her new job. But as the novelty began to wear off, she found the core of her discontent just as dark and painful as it had been the day John had returned from Somalia.

They'd written sporadically over the four weeks since her departure, but neither had dared to pick up the phone and call...fearful that their last words might indeed be their last.

Their correspondence, while not confrontational, was impersonal and lacking the luster of lovers in a loving relationship.

As Sarah reread them over and over again, searching for some sign that he had understood the fear that separated them, she realized, sadly, that they could have been written by a distant cousin rather that the man she was suppose to love...who was supposed to love her.

And so, as June wore on into July, and July approached August, John and Sarah continued to drift farther and farther apart...each day more irretrievable than the last.

It was on a rainy day, early in August that Mac looked up to find a young man in civilian clothing, dripping by her desk in the outer office.

"May I help you, Sir?" she asked, her official facade in place.

"Well...I don't know. What did you have in mind?" he joked, obviously appreciating the view.

"Something along legal lines Mr...Mr..."

"Muldar...Fox Muldar."

"Well, Mr. Muldar, what can the Judge Advocate's Office do for you this afternoon?" she smiled, grateful for a friendly face when her life was feeling so empty.

"Well, I came by to see Colonel Sheridan, but maybe you'd better take care of him first...he looks like he needs it more."

Sarah turned her head, her breath suspended within her. There, standing in the doorway, soaked to the skin, stood John Farrow.

Shakily, Sarah saluted her superior officer, but John didn't return the gesture.

"John...Colonel...I'm surprised to see you here. How is everything at Camp Lejeune?" she said, attempting a weak try at the appropriate protocol.

"Sarah...we need to talk. When do you get off?" he asked without preamble.

"I can leave for lunch right now...Sir." she replied nervously, noting that they were not alone.

"Oh hey, don't mind me...I can find my own way back to Sheridan's office." Muldar said, backing down the hall, a smirk on his face. "Boy...talk about the 'new Marines'," he muttered as he vanished down a corridor on the left.

Sarah grabbed her purse and an umbrella, and the two made their way out into the storm toward his car, which was waiting at the curb.