Chapter Eight - "Cantonese Chicken and High Ground".

Fun JAG fact – Do you know the reason why Harm's mother's home was in La Jolla, California?The JAG technical advisor was Rear Admiral Paul Gillchrist – in Chapter 29 of his book Feet Wet: Reflections of a Carrier Pilot; he and his wife Nancy's home was in La Jolla as an O-5 stationed with VF-53 – his XO tour was with that squadron. That was Don's nod to the technical advisor on his show. Secondary fact: VF-53, back when he was flying, flew F-8E Crusaders and the callsign the squadron used was "Firefighter". Familiar callsign on the show…used for Harm's VF-241 Howlers squadron? Tertiary Fact: The Badman callsign used for the VF-161 Raptors; was a callsign used by an attack squadron onboard the USS Hancock. Their CAG Dutch Netherland was shot down over Do San in Vietnam in '67 flying an A-4C Skyhawk; the mount used by that squadron. Note that there are two locations, The Smithsonian National Air and Space Museum in DC and the Steven F. Udver-Hazy Center-National Air and Space Museum. near Washington-Dulles Airport. The one Animal is going to is the Steven F. Udver-Hazy Center where the F-14 is located and the real F-14 at the Steven F. Udver-Hazy Center (Jeez, they make it hard to write it out...don't they?) is from the VF-31 Tomcatters and it's an F-14D. Chapter Eight – Cantonese Chicken and High Ground National Air and Space Museum; Steven F. Udver-Hazy Center-National Air and Space Museum, Fairfax County, Virginia; September 29, 1994; 1045hrs So Meg had to go down to Norfolk. Animal thought to himself as he wandered the expansive hangar like building that housed the National Air and Space Museum. It was quite the exhibit of all the different aircraft that had made front page news. and Animal wondered if Alan Shepard's capsule was also in the display area; the very first man to reach space from the United States, even if it was a ballistic trajectory that put him into space for a brief moment – even if it was a Marine that went into orbit; the Navy got there first – that probably chafed the Air Force's asses. Animal was pretty certain that General of the Air Force Curtis LeMay was probably furious as hell that an Air Force pilot wasn't selected to be the first man in space or even the first man to orbit earth – but at the time, the USAF was just a baby service broken off from the United States Army. During the big Two, the United States didn't have a so-called air force. It was an aviation section under the governance of the United States Army: The United States Army Air Force. The National Air and Space Museum had an extensive collection of aerial vehicles even a space shuttle had been squeezed into the complex. Animal had managed to take a look at Chuck Yeager's Bell X-1; the rocket powered plane that had been the first to break the sound barrier in level flight – there were crowds from all over looking at it. And of course, he had to go see the F-14A Tomcat that was exhibited there. Of course one of the highest hour airframes were the first to be decommissioned for use as an exhibit. It wasn't his own, but he figured, why not take a look at her? As typical it was a VF-84 airframe – they had the fancy schmancy yellow black and white glitzy red-carpet Hollywood glamour – the pirate scheme with the skull and crossbones. The Jolly Rogers got all the glory, it seemed. But he was with the squadron that first blooded the Tomcat; the less glamorous VF-41 Black Aces squadron whose squadron symbol was the black rimmed, white playing card with a scarlet line intersecting the ace of spades in the middle – in fact the Black Aces were the ones that got the kills in the Gulf of Sidra blooding the Tomcat for the first time in US service. He was definitely certain that the VF-84 CO was pretty hot under the collar about not having been the ones up on that hop. Hank had always had that grin about him when he referred to the incident, at having put one over on the Hollywood Rogers. Yeah, the VF-84 were a storied squadron getting kills out the wazoo in the Big Two in air battles in the Pacific, but you couldn't ride your past feats and sit on your laurels for the rest of your squadron's existence and well, VF-41 was up there when it counted; they got the kills that counted to blood the Tomcat, as well as another two when Animal shot down the F-15J during their spat with Japan just nine years later and Harm got his F-2A. Just like the Howlers also blooded the Tomcat when Animal and Harm got their combined three kills in Desert Storm. One MiG 29 (his), one Su-27 (his) and one MiG 27 (Rabb's); all were now smoking wreckage in the Iraqi desert. Well, evidently the VF-84 F-14s in The Final Countdown got two Zeros. That oughta count for at least something, Animal grinned. Ah, Hollywood and their far-out fantasies. He wasn't wearing a uniform, just a white t-shirt, jeans and a pair of Nike sneakers and he wore a CWU-36 with the nameplate of the VF-41 and the authentic black rimmed red-slashed white playing card bearing an ace of spades with the number 41 inside. His nameplate still read LCDR because he hadn't gotten around to getting a new nameplate made up for his jacket. He figured he'd better do it soon; maybe he might stop by the NEX on the way home to see if he could get one made up with his proper rank. The nameplate was embroidered rather than black leather with gold embossing – the leather nameplate had to be redone on a regular basis as the gold embossing would generally wear away eventually; he actually preferred the embroidered ones. His read on the first line, "TOSHIO NAKAMURA"; the second his callsign centered and the third line, "LCDR" with a long space between it and "USN". He had his RayBans hooked to his t-shirt by the earpiece, and he looked the part of a fighter jock with his hair trimmed neatly and extremely short. "So…you lookin' at the Tomcat?" A guy with his own CWU-36 light weight flight jacket looked over at Animal. "So…you the official deal?" he asked lookin' over at Animal's nameplate. "Yeah…thirteen ten off the TR…Black Aces" Animal informed him. "Ah…thirteen eleven off Carl Vinson…Jolly Rogers" the man told him; evidently the feller was a RIO, he looked over at the guy's nameplate. Yeah. Naval Flight Officer's wings – legit. If you couldn't call up your designator code when asked, you weren't the real deal. "You look like you're old enough to have been in the Navy when we were sister squadron to yours on the Nimitz." "Yeah…had my nugget cruise in October 83; out to the Med, I think we were still with you guys in 83 with Eight." Animal replied indicating their Air Wing at the time, the man noted his accuracy of that assessment with a nod. "You were more than likely a JG on your nugget cruise." That was also correct. Animal had his nugget cruise the second year that he was in-squadron and was promoted to O-3 in his last year with the squadron before he went to teach at RAG. "So…you still an O-4?" the man asked him. "My nameplate says so, but I just got battlefield promoted to O-5…just haven't had time to change over my nameplate, yet; convalescing from getting in the way of a couple NK fired Chicom seven point six twos." Animal informed him indicating the lumpy bandages underneath his t-shirt with a casual glance to the side. "Shit…that's gotta suck. You going for rehab…Congratulations on making Commander by the way. Just got my eagles.." "As soon as the wounds heal up; gonna head in, do rehab until my shoulder is strong enough to take what gets dished out in the office then it's back to RAG for refresher training in type. Congratulations on your promotion too, sir." Animal nodded. "You got shore-duty?" "Yeah…they put me in the five-sided shithouse as an aide to an admiral." Animal nodded at the derogatory reference to the Pentagon; he wanted to stay far away from the Pentagon for the long haul if he could manage it. He was hoping that he'd get assigned to War College to pick up some post-graduate education in the art of war and senior fleet management. "Hey…Nakamura…" the captain looked over at his nametag again, a little closer "…aren't you the guy that's been touted for the blue-button?" "There's scuttlebutt crawling around to that effect. Not sure though. Investigators from JAG came down…talked to a bunch of people…" Animal looked over at him. "You stuck in BuPers as shore duty? Sir?" The man grinned, "Yeah…guilty as charged…" Vice Admiral Wynnick was a staff officer, but he was a ball-buster and he'd come up from JAG and switched over to Bureau of Personnel. "When I'm not lining the Admiral's in-box with papers…he needs to sign, I'm down helping deal with Awards and Decorations. That was one helluva way to get nominated." "Just lucky, sir, it could have easily went the other way." Meaning that he could have gotten killed rather than get an award. Animal looked over at the man, "So, you have CAG tour or carrier command tour after this shore-duty? Sir?" "I'm hoping for CAG tour…hate sitting around on my hands with my thumb up my ass. At least CAG post will let me get up and fly for a bit. I take it you're in line for XO tour?" "Well, if I can make it back in the saddle, sir. I'm hoping that my next cruise out will be as XO…then hopefully I get a command tour with the squadron. Got an F-15J too during that spitball-fight with the Japanese with VF-41. I spent three years as a Howler where I got my kills over the Sandbox but after that it was back to the Aces. " The man looked at him with awe as he knew darned well that Animal was Japanese-American and going up against Japan had to be tough on him. "I'm getting a bit dry. Shall we hit the cafeteria here and grab a soda?" The man suggested. "Sounds like a plan, sir." The two men headed for the cafeteria. It was about 1400hrs when Animal said, "Sir, I gotta start heading back; gotta make sure that I'm home to cook dinner before my girlfriend gets home. She's down in Norfolk doing an investigation." "So your girlfriend's Navy too?" the captain asked. "Yeah, she's a JAG…" Animal grinned. "We started dating…and well, gotta make a good first impression…so gotta have that dinner all nice and ready by the time she gets home." "Well, it was good meeting you, Animal." The captain stated. "Good luck on your rehab…and hope you get back into the office quickly." "Good to meet you too, Woz." The man was Captain Benjamin Woskowitz; Animal also had noted the name and call-sign on the man's nametag. "Hope to see you in the fleet…maybe with any luck; my squadron might get posted to your Air Wing." "Fair Winds…" "Following Seas…" Animal headed out the door of the museum and headed to the parking lot. Naval Station Norfolk; Norfolk VA, September 29, 1994; 1630hrs It was at about 1430 that Meg realized that she'd made a major miscalculation on the amount of time that it took to get back. With the interviews, she realized that she was going to have to add at least three hours to that time and she might end up having to eat out before she reached home or it was going to be a very annoyed stomach by the time she got home if she didn't feed it at some point during the day so after the last interview at 1600hrs, before they hopped in the car, Meg said to Harm, "If we don't grab a bite to eat, sir, at some point on the way home, my stomach lining is probably going to eat itself." "That a request? Lieutenant?" Harm grinned at her. "I can stop by a Beltway Burgers…if you want to…" "Anything, sir…that will tide me over till I get home…and can get to the chicken." She picked up the phone and dialed Animal's cell phone. He didn't pick up…evidently he was still on the road and Meg knew to leave a message on Animal's phone. "Hey hon, if you can…wait on putting in the chicken in the oven. I miscalculated and I won't be home till after 2230hrs. So if you could pop it in around 2130hrs, it should be done cooking and still be warm by the time I get home? Love you lots, sweetie…" Harm did another eye-roll. "Problem, sir?" she asked with a knowing grin. "No problem…" Harm muttered… "The endearments are cute…it's just turning my appetite off…" he finished while Meg grinned at him. She knew that the endearments to her boyfriend were turning Harm's stomach. But Harm also knew that he didn't own Meg Austin; that she was her own woman and that she could very well make her own choices as to who she dated. I'll just have to deal with it by myself, Harm thought. But that doesn't mean that I can't tease her about it at least when it came to the lovey-dovey proclamations. Of course he remembered that she was in a relationship with someone who was senior in rank to him, so there was that to consider as well, though he knew very well, that Animal would never pull rank on him when it came to private matters. Animal wasn't big on rank; except when deferring to his superiors. He never liked pulling rank on anyone and only did it if the person responsible for his having to pull rank was officious enough to deserve it. There was no sorry from Meg; there really was no need of it. Her relationship was just that…it didn't require any explanation on her part or any apologies for getting into one. She didn't need his approval. "So…how is his wound healing up…any chance that he'll get into rehab before the end of the year?" Harm asked her. "It's a waiting game, sir. I've been applying the antibiotic for his wound…and he's been changing the bandages judiciously. But it all depends on when the wound closes up firmly so that it doesn't come open again. The stitches on the Mercy helped, but it still needs some administering of antibiotic on a regular basis at every bandage change so that the wound doesn't get infected and heals properly." Meg informed him. "The doctor said about the first week of January is when they suspect that it will be healed enough that he can start working on getting his strength back in his arm…then it's over to his fleet air replacement group to refresh his aviation training." "Yeah, he lives and breathes flying…" "Just like you, sir." Meg responded, "He misses his Tomcat." Harm nodded, he remembered Animal's love for flying and air combat – pitting his talent and tactics against another man in another flying machine and coming out the victor, whether it was on the TACTS range or whether it was over the sandbox for real. It was the same as how Harm felt about flying and fighting in the F-14 after he'd distinguished himself in combat over Iraq and Harm had felt like he'd had a piece of him surgically removed without anesthetic when it came to losing his wings at his FNAEB ten months after the ramp strike; and still did, when hearing the sound of an F-14 spooling up on the ramp or in full burner at the end of the runway or overhead. He could still hear the words that the Captain chairing the evaluation board hearing spoke that rang the death knell on his flying career: Lieutenant Harmon Rabb Jr., on or about the night of 18 December 1991, lost clear vision in his eyes, while under blue-water operations in the Mediterranean Sea; the outcome of which was a ramp strike which resulted in the loss of the aircraft as well as the loss of his Radar Intercept Officer. It is the board's finding that Lieutenant Rabb was negligent in his due diligence in maintaining his physical airworthiness. The findings indicate pilot error in the incident; therefore Lieutenant Rabb is hereby suspended from naval aviator status. Lieutenant Rabb will surrender his wings to his squadron commanding officer and will no longer be authorized to wear naval aviator wings until such time as it is deemed that he has re-qualified both physically and technically as a naval aviator. As of now, Lieutenant Rabb is hereby ordered to US Naval Bureau of Personnel to determine whether he will continue his naval service in another designator or if he will be out-processed from naval service. These are the findings of this Fleet Naval Aviator Evaluation Board convened 05 October 1992. It was a verdict that still haunted him to this day; the words burned into his memory, even after getting his wings back from Tom Boone with approval being given from the JCS after landing the Tomcat back aboard the Seahawk two years later during a JAG investigation with Lieutenant JG Kate Pike in order to make sure that Tom and he didn't have to eject into the Aegean Sea. The complete and utter devastation that he had felt when he lost those gold wings that he had worked so hard for still reverberated like aftermath of the explosion of a nuclear warhead in his psyche. Animal had a wound that would heal and provided there were no complications; he would be back to flight status as soon as he finished his refresher training in the F-14 at RAG and then onto a cruise as an XO. Harm, on the other hand, felt that he had a physical defect; one that yanked him out of the cockpit and there was no going back. Sure he still had the abilities to fly an F-14 Tomcat any chance that he could get; but he couldn't fly at night due to his night-blindness and that would end up killing his career as a blue water naval aviator. In that way, he envied Animal. At least he could go back to doing what it was that he loved doing. Harm was not so lucky. He often questioned what had happened, but Animal had told him that you can't dwell on the past; you have to just move forward. Harm, you'll always remember what happened up there. You will always carry the guilt of an accident determined to be your fault; but the thing is that you can't let that guilt eat you up to the point where you lose focus. You always keep moving forward. That's life, shipmate. Question what you did wrong and what you can do to correct it if it's correctable; if it isn't, make peace with your decision and move on. But don't let the questions eat you up. You make your mistakes; you learn from them and you move forward. And you make damned sure that you don't repeat the same mistake twice. He sighed as he looked over at Meg. "You're right, I miss flying too and I envy Animal being able to go back to do what he does best. But the main crux is that my diagnosis prevents me from getting into the cockpit at night and that's what aviators are expected to do; night patrols, night traps, night cat-shots…the whole nine-yards…and we don't have a bingo field in the middle of the Mediterranean Sea. You're expected to trap aboard the carrier or you end up losing a thirty-six million dollar aircraft due to pilot incompetence. That's what Animal and I meant by the turn in the barrel stories. You end up making pass after pass until you make it in or you crash, one or the other. And if you still can't make it aboard after multiple passes, the CAG will just get tired of it after sending up two or three tankers…to pass gas, he'll just tell you to trap in the Davis, meaning he'll catch you in the barrier; you end up damaging the aircraft because there's no clean barrier trap and it's a one way ticket to the beach for you because you're no longer qualified as a deployable aviator which means your career as a naval aviator is over. It's dead serious business out there, Meg. There're no second chances." Meg nodded; she knew that Harm knew his stuff, after all, he learned it from her now boyfriend. It was a physical defect that caused Harm to have his ramp strike; not any deficiency in Animal's instruction; evidently her boyfriend was extremely tough on his protégés for that very reason. It was something that couldn't be helped and unfortunately it cost the Navy a thirty-six million dollar airframe and the loss of a two million dollar cost in training a naval flight officer who had been killed in the crash. Hence the reason the Navy was very unforgiving of someone who lost an airframe due to personal failings and even more so if that accident had resulted in the loss of flight crew. Meg understood that all too well from the Navy's position on many of the NAVAIR accident cases that she and Harm had investigated. Harm stated with a tone of wistful longing, "If I do go back, I have to be one hundred percent, meaning that I'd have to be able to fly at night, that my vision problems either clear up entirely with no reoccurrence or there's some way to get my vision corrected so that I have full night-vision again." "Would you ever go back and get your vision checked out to see if it can be correctable?" "They told me that it was a genetic problem and something that can't be fixed by surgery…when they examined my eyes prior to the FNAEB." His tone was hopeless. "I never wanted to get a second opinion…because then it would mean that…" He stopped talking for a long moment as he drew in a long shuddering breath. "It would mean that…I made a mistake…that I clung to the fact that it was a genetic problem and not the fact that I didn't press the matter when I got told that it was an infection that would clear up…back in 89. For me finding out that it wasn't night-blindness, the genetic cop-out to taking the blame for an accident that cost me my RIO when I struck the ramp; it would have been devastating knowing that I could have prevented the crash by just forcing the issue back in 89…" "And now?" Meg asked; she understood that it was Harm's way of coping with the aftermath of the accident. "I don't know if I've come to terms with Mace's death yet." Harm said quietly but Meg could read the emotion in his voice; despite his earning his wings back he still hadn't come to terms with the ramp-strike and the fact that his actions cost his RIO Mace his life. He drove in silence for a long while. When he spotted a Beltway Burgers, he stopped in and Meg ordered a Beltway Supreme and a large Coke. Harm got himself a Coke as well, even though he rarely liked touching cola; chock full of sugar and other things that weren't good for you, but occasionally as a treat was fine and he ordered some fries. At least it would keep them until they got back to the office, which was still a few hours drive yet; and at least prevent them from being ravenous by the time they stepped into HQ. The galley was open still; after all officers did have a tendency to work late, but their offerings were lean by the time that they would get into the office. After they ate, it was a straight shot into the office; where they gathered up their stuff; said their good-byes and headed out of the office for the night. Harm heading up to his townhouse and Meg heading to her apartment she shared with Animal to hopefully spend a relaxing night with her boyfriend; enjoying the Cantonese chicken that should be in the oven at 2130hrs. Meg's Apartment; Washington DC, September 29, 1994 2130hrs Animal had received the call from Meg on his cell phone's voice mail and well, he had popped the chicken in the oven to cook at 375F at the requested time of 2130hrs. It had been a half hour since it had gone into the oven, so Animal grabbed an oven mitt and delicately maneuvered the foil off the baking dish. There were at least ten pieces of chicken glazed with the honey-soy sauce-ketchup-lemon sauce; good enough for two meals if they were exceedingly hungry; two pieces tonight; three pieces on Friday or vice versa along with rice and steamed vegetables on the side. The previous week, Animal had gone up to Bethesda and asked Dr. Whitman if he could talk to someone about the post-traumatic stress flashbacks/dreams that he'd had when he was on the TR and while in Yokosuka and Dr. Whitman, being a concerned and trained doctor took him seriously even when Animal had mentioned that they had stopped ever since Meg and he had gotten into an intimate relationship and had arranged for him to speak to someone about it. Meg was so comfortable with Animal as her significant other that she hadn't even batted an eyelash at Animal's mentioning that they were in an intimate relationship, after all it was a straight-forward fact – it was doctor-patient confidentiality any how; and if it wasn't affecting the discipline and good order of the command that she was under, then the Navy would look the other way. So he was planning to go up on the third of October, a Monday, to go and get some counseling to deal with the PTSD from the Hill 175 incident and meet up with the psychiatrist so that he could get a handle on some of the emotions and stuff that happened which would go a long way to helping him stay on an even keel emotionally. He was looking forward to getting that matter resolved. Looking at the clock it was 2200 and Animal went back over to the couch/loveseat and sat down to read some more out of his NATOPS manual for the F-14A Tomcat. He also had the NATOPS manuals for the A+; otherwise known as the F-14B and the F-14D because each had their own characteristics in handling but since he was with a squadron that flew the "A", he'd hone up on that manual. Applying himself to NATOPS procedure would stand him in good stead since he wouldn't be as rusty as if he'd just sat around and ate nothing but Ho-Hos and watched TV re-runs while recuperating. If there was one thing that his father drilled into him; it was being disciplined. And that had stood him in good stead even through the emotional upheavals in his second year of university when he found out that his father had had a fatal heart-attack three months before the end of the school term and his mother passed away five months later just before he went back for third year. He was on his own and he had to be disciplined in order to put his academics first and he graduated top of his NROTC class with a high academic average. So he buried his face in the NATOPS manual while waiting for the chicken to finish and he pulled it out when the alarm went off on the timer. Making sure that he put two pot-rests side by side on the counter before putting down the baking dish onto them to keep the hot baking dish from scorching the counter-top and devaluing Meg's apartment; after all, home repair was a foreign concept to him. Unfortunately he'd never really been mechanically inclined nor was being able to replace a countertop even in the realm of possibility for him and thus for him; prevention of damage was a much better concept than having to repair something that could have been avoided. He breathed deeply as he smelt the aromatic flavors coming from the chicken…and made sure that it was covered again with foil; glossy side inwards to keep the heat from the baked chicken sealed in and making sure that it didn't get too cold before Meg got home. Making sure that the rice was still warm, he pulled the plug on the rice cooker to cut the heat, keeping the cover on to keep in the steam to keep the rice nice and soft; after all he didn't want the edges to get crunchy. And he checked on the steamed vegetables which were still steaming away on low heat. And at exactly 2230hrs, the key was heard in the lock and the door opened. Animal looked over at the doorway to see Meg coming in; a look of relief on her face at being able to come home and be able to eat. "mmmm, that smells good." She said as she leaned in to give Animal a kiss. "I see you got my message." "Yup…like you thought, I was on the road, on my way back to the aparment when you left the message." Animal replied. "It's so convenient having you here…if you weren't, I'd have to come home...throw the chicken in the oven; make rice, steam the vegetables…and I wouldn't be eating for another two hours." She gave him another kiss, "I knew you were good for something." Animal gave her a smirk. Getting down plates, they dished themselves up a few pieces of chicken each and then scooped in some vegetables and rice. After all, it smelled absolutely heavenly and they found out that the chicken was thoroughly marinated having spent a whole night in the fridge sitting in the glaze before being thrown in the oven. It was absolutely mouth-watering when they bit into the chicken pieces - absolutely rewarding. Meg was happy with the result and seeing her boyfriend enjoying the result of her culinary efforts gave her a warm feeling. When they were done, they headed over to the sink and washed their dishes together. Being able to be close physically was satisfying and when they were finished with the dishes, they retired to the bedroom as it was getting late at night and well; Meg had work the next morning – so no hanky-panky either. It would have to wait for Friday night. And they were satisfied with curling up together in bed and going to sleep. JAG HQ, Navy Yard, Washington; DC, 1330hrs, September 30, 1994 After Harm returned from lunch, he ran into RADM AJ Chegwidden. "Lieutenant Commander Rabb, in my office…" the rear admiral stated as he leaned into Rabb's office as he headed for his own. "There's an urgent case that you and Lieutenant JG Austin need to investigate. I'll give you the details when you both get into my office." "Aye-aye, sir…" Harm said as he turned to go notify Meg of the new case that had just dropped into their laps. And fifteen minutes later, they were in the admiral's office standing at attention. "Sit down…" the admiral said briefly. And the two officers sat down in the chairs. AJ looked at them with a grim expression. "There's been a shooting at Marine Corps Station Quantico, Maryland. A Gunnery Sergeant Ray Crockett allegedly took a shot at his commanding officer. Now Colonel Gordon wants the Gunny's ass tied to a tree and skinned alive." The admiral sighed, ran his hand through his thinning hair and then looked back at Harm and Meg, "The Gunny and I go back…a long way. It was a hell of a night. NVA coming through the wire. My position was overrun. Our team didn't have a snowball's chance in hell that night of making it through." He paused, "What I didn't know was that the Marines were covering our asses that night. There was a total of eighteen shots that night." He looked grim. "Sunrise, we found eighteen dead NVA; all around my position." He paused a long moment to let that sink in. "All killed with single shots…when we got back to base, we heard that Marine Recon had a sniper up in the trees, a Lance Corporal Ray Crockett." He shook his head ruefully, "I tracked him down in Saigon, wouldn't even let me buy him a drink, didn't want to dull his senses." Harm replied, "Sir, if Gunnery Sergeant Crockett took a shot at Colonel Gordon, it'll be hard to avoid a general court-martial, Admiral." "Fair investigation first, that's all I ask. That man saved my life, do what you can to save his." The admiral ordered as he gave them a hard look as if to say I expect you to do whatever it takes. At least that was the unspoken order that Harm thought he'd received. "Aye-aye, sir…" Harm and Meg chorused as they snapped to attention. "Dismissed…" The two about-faced and exited the admiral's office. Looking at each other, Harm and Meg sighed… "This one's going to be tough to avoid a court-martial…" Meg said. "I'll hook up with you at the motor-pool. I have to call Tosh and tell him the bad news…that we're going to be out on another investigation…and this time I may not make it home tonight…looks like this one's a multi-day investigation…" She sighed; she'd hoped that since they hadn't had much time together the past few days, that she'd be able to have a bit of intimacy that night, but well, the Navy had thrown a monkey-wrench in those plans. Harm rolled his eyes again, "OK…I'll see you down at the motor-pool as soon as I get my things together." He didn't have a significant other that he had to notify that he was going to be out of town and he didn't know whether that was a good thing or something that he was disappointed about. Tosh told Meg on the phone call, "I understand, Meg…orders are orders, hon; and you gotta obey them" even as Meg sounded disappointed. "I'll call you when I get settled at the VOQ…" Meg said, "I love you…" "Love you too, Meg… stay safe, OK?" "I'll try…" When she'd finished the call, she grabbed her things and headed down to the motor pool to meet up with Harm so that they could get on their way to Quantico. Even though it was only about an hour and a half out of town; it still meant a multi-day investigation as the case was serious. Attempting to injure a superior officer was a serious offence and one that could end up being an Article 128; (b) AGGRAVATED ASSAULT.—Any person subject to this chapter— (1) who, with the intent to do bodily harm, offers to do bodily harm with a dangerous weapon, which carried a maximum penalty of a dishonorable discharge; forfeiture of all pay and allowances, and confinement for 3 years. There were other statutes in the UCMJ that had been contravened as well. And the admiral wanted them to mitigate his charges? That certainly was going to be difficult for them to do if it wasn't impossible. MC Base Quantico, Quantico VA, 0835 (the following Friday) "Good morning, Colonel. Prisoner Crockett is present as ordered, sir." "Good morning, Colonel," Colonel Gordon gave the Gunnery Sergeant a hard-faced look. "Good morning, Gunnery Sergeant" he responded almost reluctantly. "Gunnery Sergeant Crockett, is it your contention that you had no malicious intent when you fired on Colonel Gordon's vehicle?" "Sir? The Colonel wouldn't let me explain my deal." GSGT Crockett stated, "I was just trying to get the CO's attention, sir." "The Colonel has agreed to let us duplicate your shot," Harm said with some hint of trepidation as the last time that he and Crockett had spoken, Crockett had implied with some menace: Don't ever let me see you in my scope, Commander. Would he follow through with that threat or would Harm still keep his cranium intact? "Rather than ask the Colonel and his aide to drive the vehicle, the task has fallen on me." Just to add some more tension to the mix, the Gunnery Sergeant stared at Harm and stated sotto voce, "Sir, the Gunnery Sergeant meant what he said when he warned the Commander about not getting in his scope." Oh shit. Harm's heart sank near to his toes. Nope, this was not proving to be a good day after all. Technically, the Gunny could be put on charges under Article 115, Communicating Threats; however Harm had chosen to ignore that. Swallowing a choking feeling as his Adam's apple appeared to leap into his throat, he somehow managed to get out the words, "Your sincerity is not at issue here, Gunny; your intentions are." How he managed to elocute that sentence while wondering if he was going to make it out alive out of this demonstration was a miracle. "ATTENTION ON THE RANGE!" Harm turned to see the JAG come striding towards them. Both he and the Gunnery Sergeant snapped to attention. Turning to Meg he asked out of the corner of his mouth, "What the hell's he doing here?" Meg gave him a pointed look, "Making sense of nonsense, I hope." Looking him up and down; she stated, "I didn't want to see you get yourself killed, sir…" "I'm flattered," "Don't be, sir, I have enough work to do without having to explain to the admiral why my partner got himself killed during an investigation. The paperwork would be endless…" Meg smirked at him. MC Base Quantico, Quantico VA, 0900hrs Harm stopped the jeep as soon as he saw the rear-view mirror on the driver's side of the vehicle shatter. Slumping bonelessly in his seat, he let out a deep sigh of utter relief…as the stress he had put himself through came seeping out in a flood. Gunnery Sergeant Crockett was a man of honor; he'd never gun down a fellow man in uniform, even though he may have threatened that he would do so in the heat of anger. MC Base Quantico, Quantico VA, 0900hrs (back on the hill) "Gunnery Sergeant Crockett, the Corps cannot allow prior gallantry to be used as an excuse for reckless behavior, therefore I have no choice but to find you guilty of wanton destruction of miscellaneous items of government property. You are hereby ordered to make full restitution. In addition you are restricted to base for sixty days at half-pay; any questions?" "Sir, no sir!" "Pin your chevrons back on." Colonel Gordon stated, "Return to duty!" "Aye-aye sir!" barked GSGT Crockett; then turning to the Commander, he stated, "Thanks Commander, you've got some major brass." He grinned grimly, "Eight weeks, I'll make you a hell of a sniper." Harm still somewhat shaken; smiled back nervously stating, "Maybe next time, I'll keep it in mind." The rear admiral approached the two, "Gunnery Sergeant Crockett, I believe I still owe you a drink if you're done shooting for the day." Crockett snapped to attention, "Sir, I'd be honored, sir." Harm leaned over, "You still don't remember him, do you? Gunny?" Gunnery Sergeant Ray Crockett grinned at him, "Commander, A gunnery sergeant don't tell a two star he don't remember him." "Commander Rabb, Lieutenant Austin; why don't you join us?" The admiral grinned gesturing to the group exiting the hill enroute to the watering hole. "Sir, As much as I'd like to join you, the Colonel, the Commander and the Gunnery Sergeant; permission to secure…" Colonel Gordon and the Admiral looked at her as Meg stated, "I have someone waiting for me back up in DC…" Admiral Chegwidden wasn't the slightest bit put-out by Meg's stating that she would prefer to join her boyfriend rather than toss back a few with them; after all she was in a relationship with someone. Besides, it was more of a get-together between the guys and she would probably feel out of the loop. AJ grinned knowingly, "Of course, Lieutenant. Do you have a ride back?" as Harm looked over at Meg with a wistful glance. "Well, considering that my significant other is an O-5, I'm sure that he'd be able to access the base to pick me up from Quantico…and drop me off at HQ to pick up my car, sir." Meg grinned. "Very well," Colonel Gordon stated, "Lieutenant, I'll clear it with the gate-guard so that you can get picked up by your significant other." MC Base Quantico; Quantico, VA; October 7, 1994 1050hrs Animal sighed as he pulled up to the gate-guard showing his ID; he was pleasantly startled at least an hour and forty-five minutes earlier when he'd received a call from Meg asking him if he could pick her up from Quantico. "Thank you, sir…" said the Marine Corps Lance Corporal who was manning the post as Animal showed him his ID. "Colonel Gordon cleared you before-hand, so you can go straight through." "Thank you, Lance Corporal…" Animal nodded to the gate-guard who saluted him and drove forward towards the parking lot. He was technically on medical leave, but since he was going onto a military installation, Animal decided that it would be in his best interest to wear his service dress blues to avoid mis-identification. Parking his Camaro in the parking spot allowed for base visitors, he noticed Meg, the Admiral, a grizzled Gunnery Sergeant, Harm and Colonel Gordon standing by the headquarters building. Animal got out of the vehicle, put on his cover, shutting the door to his car and walked over to the officers and NCO standing by the building. Walking up to the Marine Corps Colonel, he snapped to attention, and saluted the Colonel as per the rules for officers visiting an installation, whether or not there was an officer higher in rank than the base commander there or not, it was courtesy to pay one's respects to the base commanding officer first. The salute was returned and Animal spoke, "Sir, thank you for the permission to visit the base, sir." "I understand, that you're here to pick up the Lieutenant JG, Commander." "Yes, sir." "Very well…" Colonel Gordon grinned, noting the line-officer star on Animal's sleeves as well as the naval aviator's wings above his ribbon rack, extended out a hand to shake Animal's which was returned with a firm grip and a return grin. Animal then turned to the JAG rear-admiral, rendered him a smart textbook salute which was returned. "Sir, permission to collect the Lieutenant and depart," "Permission granted, Commander." Meg grinned at Animal as she turned around and executed a crisp salute to both the Admiral and to the Marine Colonel and then of course, to Animal as per formal military protocol which was returned with a properly rendered salute and a grin. "Permission to depart with the Commander, sirs…" "Permission granted, Lieutenant JG Austin." Both RADM Chegwidden and Colonel Gordon stated formally, but with identical grins. Harm restrained an eye-roll. Gunny Crockett grinned at Harm knowingly as he watched this display. Evidently the Lieutenant Commander had gotten outmaneuvered for the affections of the Lieutenant JG by the Commander. He had after all noticed how protective the Lieutenant Commander was of the Lieutenant JG. And it appeared that the fact that the Lieutenant JG was unavailable was not very palatable to the Lieutenant Commander. Hey, he was a sniper; he noticed these things; especially when it came to looking for weaknesses. If you got the spouse of a target, he'd be jumpy as hell or would probably be in a mental state as to make him an easier target. Both Meg and Animal headed for the vehicle. Unlocking the vehicle door for Meg, they both doffed their covers and got in the Camaro. Making their departure from the base, Animal turned to Meg as they turned on to One and headed up towards Woodbridge, "So…to your office, first…then home?" Meg smirked at him, "As much as I want to go home straight-away…I guess I do have to collect my car at the office…it was a long investigation." "I missed you…" Animal grinned at her. It'd been a lonely weekend. "I missed you too…" Meg stated, as she rested her hand against her boyfriend's right, as he used his left to guide the vehicle as he maneuvered the Camaro up the highway. It would be a straight shot, up to the Beltway, then over to the Navy Yard in order to collect her vehicle.

Chapter Seven - "Getting Back to Work"

Author's Note: The author is barely holding in his bile as he writes that Beltway Burgers section. The Author is a long-time Vancouver Canucks fan and having to write about a New York Rangers fan (even if it is his created OC) makes him want to projectile vomit. Damned fucking Rangers puke! As a Vancouver fan; I loathe Mark Messier's donning of the Vancouver Canucks jersey in '97, usurping the captaincy from Trevor Linden; his apparent disrespect of demanding number 11 from Wayne Maki (who passed away from cancer – and whose number is unofficially retired(I don't care if it's been his number that he's played under for many years – as a player; when you don a Canucks jersey you're a Vancouver Canuck and you respect the team's traditions)) and his "I'm just playing here for the money – no effort" play while in Canucks uniform …so let's face it; writing about him too was making me want to blow chunks. And that explains my antipathy towards Marky Messy. May the impact of a thousand slap-shotted pucks land upon his bald head. Go Canucks Go! Unlike the OC's wish, the author's fervent wish is to see a Stanley Cup come to Vancouver within HIS lifetime though as he rounds fifty, he's starting to think that is probably NOT going to happen anytime soon. What the hell was that? Benning? Giving up a conditional first round draft pick for a third line player in trade?!

Chapter 7 – Getting Back to Work

JAG Headquarters, Washington DC; September 28, 1994; 1000hrs

The worst part about coming back from leave, Meg found, was that it was hard to concentrate on anything; especially with the heavenly two week leave that she'd had with her now-boyfriend; she smiled to herself as her mind touched on the subject of Tosh. She sighed, trying to focus on the file in her office; but the words that Harm had said about her file being on the admiral's desk weighed heavily on her concentration and made concentration on her work nearly impossible. After all she hadn't put in for transfer; and she had no idea as to why her file would be on Admiral Chegwidden's desk. But the reasons why were for the admiral to know and for her to find out later when the ramifications hit. So she doubled-down on her work and tried to fight through the threats to the devoted application to her work. After all, being unable to concentrate was no excuse for not doing a good job on any case that she was assigned. With the overhanging threat of an Article 92 d) (3) Dereliction in the performance of duties (A) Through neglect or culpable inefficiency if she failed to render a good performance on her cases; she didn't particularly want to lose two thirds of her pay; and end up cooling her heels in the brig for three months. Not only did she have her investigations with Harm that she had to pay attention to; she also had minor cases that she was either defense or prosecution counsel for that she had to deal with; minor things like custody matters in the case of servicemen splitting up with their spouses – rights to access, etc. The big stuff from the UCMJ she wouldn't have to deal with until she received her second bar.

The case that she was working on was a custody dispute between a Marine sergeant and his civilian ex-spouse who wanted to leave the state and while he was stationed at Marine Corps Camp Lejeune, his spouse wanted to move back to the West Coast taking the children along with her thus violating his rights to access to his children. However the Marine Corps didn't care about the fact that he could not see his children. He was assigned to Lejeune and there was no way that he was going to be able to transfer at least for another year to a base much closer to his spouse so that he could continue to see his children and it was too far for his children who were three and eight to travel alone to meet him clear across the other side of the continent. The spouse was adamant that she wanted to leave the state since the job opportunities now that she was single were not there in North Carolina. Meg was frustrated mainly because of the fact that neither spouse wanted to budge from their position; the sergeant wanted access to his children; the spouse wanted to leave the state and neither were willing to concede to the other.

And now that she had a significant other; Meg was seeing this case even more closely as she considered her own situation if Tosh and she decided to take such a significant step as walking down the aisle and further, having children. What would her own situation be like since Tosh was working clear across the continent with his squadron since they were based out of NAS Lemoore, California? What would she do to keep their relationship stable so that this situation, that she was counsel for, didn't happen to her own personal relationship? She knew it was hasty to think of that since she hadn't even broached the topic to Tosh or even the idea of marriage; besides they were still in the rose-colored glasses stage of their new relationship; the stage where they were too busy feeling out their physical and emotional ties to each other before they really truly committed to an everlasting relationship involving rings and a walk down the aisle. She smiled as she thought the only thing that I know right now is that Tosh and I love exploring each other's bodies and they had certainly explored each other's bodies thoroughly after two weeks of that heavenly leave. It was at that point that she heard a knock on the door.

"Can you concentrate?" Harm's voice penetrated her thought processes.

"What?" She looked up in confusion at her investigative partner.

"…because I can't worth a damn…" Harm muttered caustically. He came into the office, shut the door and leaned up against the wall giving her a pitiful puppy expression.

"Are you even trying?" Meg asked pointedly as she indicated her open file. "I'm trying to get through a logical argument regarding a custody case so that the person in question…" keeping the case vague. "…won't lose access to their kids due to a violation of the right to access orders…" Harm mumbled something unintelligible in reply to that query. "well…maybe if you went to the galley and got yourself a cup of coffee…it might help you concentrate on your work?"

"You wanna join me?" were the next words that she could understand out of Harm's mouth.

"Were you planning on grilling me?" Meg raised an eyebrow as she looked down at her case file that she had maybe managed to get about two sentences scrawled with regards to getting any further with the case than she had prior to going on leave.

"No…" Harm grumbled, "Just don't like going down to the galley by myself; thought I'd ask if I could have you as company." Meg smiled; Harm really wasn't an extrovert. He had a small circle of people who he counted as friends, including her now-boyfriend and he didn't really care for large crowds. Neither did Animal and frankly, neither did she. And that was probably why they all got along so well. Each one of them knew the other's tendency to want to go sit alone to recharge or to stick in a nice comfortable small group of people that they all knew well. Harm tended to get uncomfortable in large crowds; and so did Meg.

"Alright, Harm, but after this, I have to get back to this file and make sure that I make at least some headway before secure; otherwise the admiral will have my head on a platter." She gave him a glare to let him know that he was impinging on her time.

"Yeah…OK…" Harm grunted as she locked up her office and then they both headed towards the galley. Meg looked at her wrist-watch and nodded. "time?" Harm asked.

"Yeah, Tosh is supposed to be heading into Bethesda. He's got an appointment at 1100hrs to check on how the healing is going with the bullet-wounds…see if they're closing up the way they should be and to make sure that there is no risk of infection." Harm gazed at her and nodded.

"I take it you've been applying the antibiotic that the doctor gave you and him to use on his wounds?" Harm asked assuming that Meg was the one doing the dressing of Animal's wounds for him.

"Yeah…they still look raw though…it might take a while…"

"That's probably another reason why I don't like the idea of getting shot…" Harm muttered. "It was a close one with Hemlock. Animal, I think, narrowly avoided getting shot again. He showed me the two bullet holes that went into and the exits in the car that he took cover behind…they came pretty close to his head."

Meg stared at him. "He didn't say that they came that close." She looked alarmed. "All he said was that they hit the car that he was hiding behind…not anything about any exit holes."

"I think his luck is holding out…so far…" Harm muttered.

"By the way he told me to tell you…Get into a safer job." Meg passed along her boyfriend's recommendation as Harm snickered.

"Yeah…like he should talk…" Harm grinned at Meg. "…considering he launches himself off decks…and goes Rambo on North Koreans…"

"Didn't you used to launch yourself off decks too?" Meg retorted; her line of sight indicating Harm's naval aviator wings

Harm gave her a wide smile. "Yeah…you got a point there…but I've never felt the desire to go full-on Rambo…"

Meg smirked at him, "So…no desire to earn a blue-button?"

"I'll leave that to your boyfriend…" Harm shot back.

"I think one's enough…" Meg said wryly. "I want him to be here for a long time…" Harm looked over at her with a telling look. He was still not comfortable with the fact that Meg was now no longer available for a relationship and the look he gave her was one that didn't speak of just friendship…but of close ties and wanting something more. But unfortunately, he'd had his opportunity and he didn't take up on it. So now, Meg was no longer single but dating and was unavailable.

By this time, they'd managed to reach the galley and get in line to wait for the MS2 (Mess Management Specialist) to get to them to give them two take-away cups of coffee; Harm took his black; while Meg took hers with two cream; two sugar.

Bethesda Naval Medical Center; Bethesda, MD; September 28, 1994; 1045hrs

Animal had on khakis…his rack of ribbons neatly arrayed over his left breast pocket; three to a row; four complete rows in total, along with nicely bright polished naval aviator's wings that gleamed in the sunlight of the late September mid-morning going on noon. He'd just parked his Camaro in the visitors parking lot and got out of the car. Wearing his RayBan aviator sunglasses, he put his cover on…he decided to bring his officer's cover with the single row of scrambled eggs on the brim and not the overseas cap. A bit of conceit in that the officer's cover gave a much more professional and squared away look to his khakis than the overseas cap which on his head always tended to flop a little which caused him no end of disgust; even starching the damned thing stiff didn't work – maybe his head was a little too round at the top since the overseas cap tended to flatten out on the top like a triangle that had gotten squashed so he rarely wore it.

He got quite a few smiles from the khaki wearing female officers who looked over at him striding past; his eyes shaded by the RayBans; the gold wings gleaming and he noticed quite a few of them ogling him; must have been his wings. But of course, he had the love of a beautiful female JAG officer so he didn't bother returning their looks. Besides, he had an appointment to make and he only had fifteen minutes to get up to the office.

When he got there, his cover under his arm and his sunglasses neatly squared away hanging by its left earpiece off the left breast pocket; he walked up to the LT who was manning the MOA desk. "Good morning. Commander Nakamura?" she asked.

"Yes, Lieutenant…I believe I have an 1100hrs with Dr. Whitman."

"Yes, sir…you do…I'll let Commander Whitman know that you're here…" The Lieutenant smiled at him as she lifted up her phone. "Sir…Commander Nakamura is here…" cupping the mouthpiece, she said softly, "Sir. Please have a seat, Dr. Whitman will be right out shortly."

"Thank you…" Animal responded and went to take a seat. The bandages were still bulky and his wound was still tender when pressure was applied slightly to it whether it was sitting down and the khakis rode up due to starching the uniform for proper creases or tucking the shirt back properly when getting up out of the seat.

"Well…Commander…good to see you…" Dr. Whitman strode out. Evidently UOD for Bethesda was also khakis today. The Service Blues change-over wouldn't happen until the first of October and Animal noted that in mind as he realized that he was in the nation's capital where uniform regulations and UOD were strictly adhered to. And he made a note to himself to make sure that his service blues were always pressed and ready for wear and that his white covers were also nice and clean. Animal stood and grinned at him "C'mon and we'll head for my office and we can go over the file together as far as your progress is going." He turned and led the way to his office. When they got there, he ushered Animal in and they both sat down. "So your girlfriend is back at work?" he inquired as he shut the door and came over to his own side of the desk and sat down in his chair.

"Yes, today's her first day back…so I'm solo coming up here." Animal said, shrugging his shoulders giving him a wry smile.

"I'm seeing quite a bit of healing and relatively little scarring in the area where the bullets punched through." Dr. Whitman said noting the x-ray that was in Animal's health chart. "We usually see scarring where the muscle gets torn; but you've managed to avoid the tears…they were just straight puncture holes right through the muscle tissue; they were arthroscopically reattached on the Mercy and they appear to be growing together just fine. I don't believe you'll really have any loss of motion…which is a primary concern for wounds like these; as that would have serious ramifications on your ability to return to the cockpit."

"So what is the prognosis, Doc?" Animal asked.

"Well, Commander, it pretty much means that you're on progress to start rehab in the New Year, preferably by the third of January; you should be healed up enough to start light physical training…on that arm to get the strength back. By about late March-early April you should be ready to move onto higher strength training so that you can get back to being able to pull G's without enormous strain on your shoulder musculature."

"So would you say that by June-July I should be able to return to RAG for retraining in type?" Animal asked him and Commander Whitman looked down at the chart.

"If your progress remains the same as what I'm seeing, I think you'd be looking at a late July next year return to flight-status; provided…" he paused ominously, with a cautionary look at Animal "…that there are no setbacks…in the schedule. I'm not going to give you a definite green light yet, but I'd say that if the progress continues the way it's been going; then you could look tentatively at that time-schedule for a return to flight status…" Animal nodded.

"I'll try to restrain my enthusiasm…" Animal said, "Don't want a setback…too early in the game."

"Just take the rehab slow and steady…" Dr. Whitman stated. "You won't get there any faster…by over-doing it…"

"I'll keep that in mind. Doc…"

The rest of the examination involved checking the wound physically and Dr. Whitman looked over the wound… "I see your girlfriend has been applying the antibiotic regularly and making sure that the wound is clean…because the healing looks pretty good…and there aren't any signs of redness which would be a cautionary sign that there is possible infection…so she's done a very good job…I'll do some cleaning, reapply the antibiotic and then redress the wound…" he stated as he went about doing that. "We'll do another consult again in a week's time…just to make sure the progress remains the same…on an upwards movement." When he'd finished reapplying the dressing after the reapplication of the antibiotic ointment, the doctor grinned, "Well, I think that pretty much takes care of that…so I'll see you in another week. Commander. So where to now for you?"

"Off to the NEX to pick up my blues…which should have my rank-stripes replaced with the proper rank by now" Animal grinned. "Yeah…lots more money to spend…" he sighed.

"Well…hopefully it doesn't make too much of an impact on your bank account…" Commander Whitman said cheerfully. "NEX has a habit of raising prices… on a regular basis…"

"Naw, I think I'm good financially…the Navy just needs to make money...hence the relentless price gouging." Animal replied giving his doctor a cheerful grin, "So see you next week, Doctot?"

Doc Whitman nodded a cheery affirmative to the question as he stated, "You have a good one…"

After leaving the doctor's office, he headed downstairs…towards the Navy Exchange outlet in the Bethesda Medical Center. The QM1 who was there looked up, "Good morning, sir…"

"Good morning. Hughes…" Animal grinned at him, "So…are my blues ready?"

"Ready for pick-up, sir…" Excusing himself, QM1 Hughes headed over to the backroom to pick up Animal's tailoring request. "I believe it was four service blues and two mess dress blues?"

"Yes…I believe it was…" Animal grinned at him. Hughes proffered the uniform in a uniform bag, unzipping them to show him the tailored uniforms. The rank rings were nicely arrayed on the mess dress as well as the service dress blues and Animal nodded his satisfaction to the QM1. Hughes also made sure to show him the size to make sure that the sizes were exactly the same as when he'd dropped them off – no substitutions.

"Great…" Animal grinned, "So how much is this going to freak out my debit card?"

"Well, I think you're probably going to be set back about a hundred fifty, sir."

"I figured as much." Animal said proffering his debit card to the QM1 who took it and scanned it through the debit card machine…then offered the pin-pad to the officer to punch in his pin-code. When the transaction went through, Animal passed the pin-pad back to the QM1. "Thanks a bunch, Hughes. I'll probably see you next week. Gotta swing by and pick up a few more O-5 boards on my next pay."

"We'll see you then, sir, you have a good one."

"I will…"

After leaving the hospital doors, he looked around, putting his sunglasses back on. Gotta go grab a bite to eat somewhere; Wonder where there's a Beltway Burgers. Animal thought to himself as he headed over to his Camaro.

Joint Chiefs of Staff, Pentagon; September 28, 1994; 1200hrs

"So, have you seen the latest? Our newest blue-button nominee put in the guy who went in with him in the helo up for the blue button as well. Looks like we gotta send another investigation crew out to the TR to see about interviews. Maybe if we time it right, we can get them both awarded at the same time at the same ceremony." The CNO stated to the Commandant of the Marine Corps.

"Well, I think that was good of the Commander to acknowledge the Marine Corps help." General Wisebrough, USMC stated to Admiral Jay Whitmore; the CNO.

"So you agree with Commander Nakamura on Captain Wild Crow being awarded the Medal of Honor." Admiral Whitmore looked over at the Marine General.

"I was thinking more of the Navy Cross when I read Wild Crow's citation, but if the Commander can make the Medal stick, then I'm fine with it. I'll sign off on it; and I'll sign off on your Navy boy's blue button too. I think it's gonna be a unanimous since he pretty much took the heat off by redirecting the fire on himself by taking the NKs's attentions off our helo. Think the Army and Air Force boys are gonna go for it though?"

"I'm sure they will…they've had enough chance to read the citations and they know what it takes for the blue button; after all; that Air Force F-4 pilot that got shot down and resisted capture; then resisted while a POW in 'Nam was a posthumous award; so even the Air Force knows exactly what it takes to receive the Medal."

"Good, because I don't want the Air Force or the Army to stuff up these awards…" As much as there was rivalry between both the Marines and the Navy; they were still a part of the same Department of the Navy and well, when it came to rivalry between the Air Force; the Army and the Navy – the Marines and Navy would stand side by side.

Beltway Burgers; DC Beltway; Washington DC; September 28, 1994; 1300hrs

Animal had found out while on cruise that his home favorite Rangers had won the Stanley Cup over the Vancouver Casucks in June. The Casucks attempt at a comeback had fizzled even though Linden was their most effective player. The Rangers with Messier had pretty much shut down the Canucks offence after brutalizing their top players, slewfooting Bure and roughing up a few of the other players like Courtnall and Ronning; the little midget; Messier taking a double-handed axe chop to Linden in Game Six. Animal despised the Canucks; the bunch of dirty floppers. And on top of that…after the loss the Canucks fans practically started flipping cars and starting a riot. Well, that would be another 25 years of futility for the Casucks. The Hockey Gods would not look too kindly on that. With any luck the Casucks and their Canucklehead fans would never win the Stanley Cup in any of their lifetimes.

Animal was a devout hockey fan; happy to be an Original Six team fan and unfortunately due to being shuffled around by the needs of the Navy; wasn't able to attend the Rangers games, but maybe now that he was assigned to the Nation's capital, maybe he should attend a game or two when the Rangers came to town to play the Capitals. Of course Capitals fans wouldn't like the fact that he attended the games in a Rangers jersey, however; tough luck for them. Just because he was in the nation's capital didn't mean that he was going to root for the Capitals. Hockey fandom didn't work that way. You cheered for YOUR team and that was it; cheering for anybody else was anathema. In hockey; hatred of other teams was a definite.

Searching through the Washington Post for news about his beloved Rangers and the deals that were being made; was short shrift in the sports section because the Post generally covered the Capitals; the laughingstock of the NHL; their Cup aspirations were negligible and Animal loathed any team that wasn't wearing his favorite Red, white and blue. He resolved that he needed to stop by the local newsstand and pick up the latest New York Times; at least that would have some Rangers coverage.

So he looked at the Post, ate his fries and his burger; sipped on his shake laughing at the Capitals' attempts to make a competitive hockey team. They would probably have decades to go before they became anything that even remotely had a chance to win the Cup and hopefully the Casucks would never win – let the streak of futility continue. He must have been a sight; khaki-uniform clad naval officer munching on a fry; staring at the Washington Post and laughing malevolently at the sports section.

He finished his lunch, deposited the paper on the Please Read convenience rack; dumped the empty wrappers of his burgers and his fries container, picked up the milkshake that was still half full and headed out to the waiting Camaro and got ready to go find a news-stand so that he could pick up a Times. He found one just about three blocks down the street and pulled in, going in; tossing down the amount needed to pick a copy up…and then went over to his car and sat down in the driver's seat; getting ready to start the engine. He'd read the paper when he got home. It would tide him over until such time as Meg got home.

The drive home was uneventful; pulling into the underground parking garage and then heading upstairs to their one-bedroom suite. He went upstairs, pulled off his khakis and took all the insignia off it…since considering it was hot, he needed to send it into the wash; he pulled on one of his t-shirts and shorts…and some sandals…then he sat back and flipped open the Times to the sports section to see what direction his Rangers were going…and that kept him busy till Meg walked in the door at 1815hrs.

"Hey, sweetheart…" Meg walked over as Animal got up off the couch and enfolded her in his arms. "Mmmmm…I missed you today…"

"I missed you too…Meg…" He leaned in and kissed her receiving a passionate kiss in return.

"You picked up a New York Times?" Meg queried as she saw the paper on the coffee table.

"Yeah…had to for the sports section. All they cover in the Post is the Capitals."

"Ah…" Meg raised an eyebrow, "Ice hockey fan?"

"Yup…and it is hockey…it's generally understood to be played on ice…the other forms of hyphenated hockey don't count." he smirked.

"I've never really watched hockey so I don't particularly have a preference for a team." Meg informed him. "But of course, I'm open to learning…My brothers preferred football…Cowboys or Oilers"

"Yeah, Edmonton has a team called the Oilers in hockey…it's the team that Messier won his first Stanley Cup with…" Animal told Meg who nodded. "Messier's now the team captain of the New York Rangers." He smiled with satisfaction "…and they won the Cup this year…and yes, I'm a New York Rangers fan…long before their current Cup Run and win; been a fan since the mid-sixties." Animal grinned, "So…how was work today?"

"Hard to concentrate. Harm thought I was transferring…and he really didn't believe that I wasn't." Meg informed him; shaking her head looking up at the ceiling in frustration. "Evidently the admiral had my file on his desk with a highly-recommended post-it on it and Harm jumped to conclusions…"

"Highly recommended also can refer to recommendations for promotion boards…" Animal informed her. "By the way, aren't you just about at your four year mark?"

"Next year June…" Meg said; a light-bulb going on in her head. Maybe the admiral was sending her name into the O-3 promotion boards. That sounded like the most logical conclusion for her file to be on the admiral's desk. But she would keep that information to herself because it could be that and she really didn't want to jinx it. She was looking forward to pinning on the double bars of a full Lieutenant. It would mean that her hard work was being recognized. And it would mean an upwardly mobile career path provided that she didn't stumble over a knee-knocker in the process. And well, it would lend justification to her choice of career. She'd gone into the Navy because her father and Uncle Ollie both served in the military and she'd had a keen interest in the Navy and the sea.

Meg really wanted the promotion; but it was still almost nine months away before she would see the promotion list come out stating who would be able to put on the twin-bars of a lieutenant and that she could drop the JG part of her rank and then it would be five years after that before she'd be able to pin on gold oak leafs. She just had to be patient; though hearing the possibility that it was regarding her promotion candidacy directly from her boyfriend's mouth was something that was certainly plausible considering her hard work over the past year and three months that she'd been a lieutenant junior grade. Her glowing fitreps from the time that she'd pinned on her ensign's bar would go a long way in cementing her status as an officer that was fit for retention.

Meg looked over at Animal, "Yeah…I'm sure that was it…" she stated regarding the file on Chegwidden's desk. It was at about that point that Meg's stomach started growling. "Hmmm…seems like I'm kinda hungry…" she commented, "Ideas on what we should make for dinner?"

Animal shrugged his shoulders. "I'm pure out of ideas."

Meg snapped her fingers, "I got it. Cantonese Chicken; we can use some of the ketchup and soy sauce and we bought honey at the Costco the other day. And all we need is lemon juice; I can get that at Safeway."

"Sounds like a good plan…"

"And we can have rice on the side with it…" she suggested indicating the rice cooker .

"OK…" Animal responded; "before we head out to Safeway to grab the lemon juice…how about if I get the rice started, then we can have it ready before the chicken goes in the oven. It can keep warm for the duration that the chicken cooks. It won't start getting crunchy unless you leave it on all night."

"Good…I'll go change into civvies while you deal with the rice." She smirked at him giving him a kiss and then headed for the bedroom; while Animal started on rinsing the rice. That was one of the things about rice; you had to rinse off the stuff that they powdered the rice with to keep the grains from sticking together; it wasn't healthy to ingest that stuff. You washed the rice till the water ran clear; then stuck it in the steamer. The sauce and chicken would have to marinate in the fridge for two hours before cooking it in the oven for one hour at three hundred seventy five Fahrenheit (thirty minutes covered; thirty minutes uncovered) but at least they would have a delicious meal after that.

The trip to; the actual purchase of the lemon juice and from Safeway only took about 45 minutes so they were back around 1930hrs, though of course it would be a late dinner. Meg, looking at the time, decided that they had better order pizza and let the chicken marinate over night in the fridge covered by foil; then they could have it the next evening. All Animal had to do was throw it in the oven and let it cook for an hour.

The pizza was good enough for couple of nights…dinner even if it was skipped for two nights in favor of Cantonese Chicken.

JAG Headquarters; Washington DC, September 29, 1994; 0600hrs

Meg pulled into the underground parking lot of the JAG HQ at the Washington Navy Yard. Grabbing her purse and her cover from the vehicle she shut the door and locked it. Heading upstairs via the elevator she signed in at the Marine sentry's position. "Good Morning Staff Sergeant."

"Good morning, ma'am." The Marine looked over her JAG Office pass checking to see that both face and ID matched up. "You're good to go, ma'am."

"Thank you, Staff Sergeant." She stated as she headed for the elevators leading up to the offices at the JAG headquarters.

The elevators were only a brief moment's wait as they were quick to arrive on her current floor and she was able to get on one. When the elevator let her off at her floor, she stepped out and headed over to her office; unlocking the door and heading in to put her briefcase down. She then figured that she'd better head down to the galley and get herself a cup of coffee before morning briefing. She'd managed to get a settlement done on the custody case and that was cleared off her slate. But there was another mountain of cases that she needed to get some work done on and if she didn't get some coffee in her she was going to impact her forehead on her desk and the resultant concussion probably wouldn't do wonders for her state of mind at this point. Mornings were rough on Meg mainly due to the fact that everything was a rush up until she reached the office. Traffic was nuts this morning on the Beltway; two motor vehicle accidents had slowed traffic down to a standstill. And she was lucky enough to manage to slide into the off-ramp bound for the Navy Yard. She had a gut hunch that she should get out early this morning and managed to do so which was the only reason why the accidents on the Beltway did not make her late.

Animal had mentioned this morning that he was considering heading up to the National Air and Space Museum just for something to do. Considering that he was convalescing still and not in a heavy duty rehabilitation program yet; he had some free time to do whatever. So he got to spend all day in civvies whereas poor Meg had to head into the office in khaki uniform; properly attired and uncomfortably starched. Yesterday was midweek; still one more workday after today to go…until the weekend…she thought to herself as she got in queue for the coffee.

"Two cream; two sugar…" she informed the MS2 who served her.

"Two cream; two sugars; aye ma'am…coming right up…" And he handed her a steaming take-away cup of java with two packets of sugar and two small plastic sealed cups of cream.

"Thank you, MS2." Meg replied as she headed over to the free counter to put in two creams and two sugar and stir the mix with a stir-stick; the empty sugar wrappers and cream containers went into the garbage and once she was done stirring; the stir-stick followed them into the garbage container. She headed over to the cashier to hand over her ninety-five cents for the coffee. It was really the only thing that she bought on a regular basis from the galley. Besides if one didn't kick one-self in the ass in the morning with a jolt of caffeine; one would find themselves nodding off at the most inopportune time; like in the middle of briefing. That was the one thing about having a boyfriend that was a problem. Spending most of the evening exploring each other's intimate leanings ended up with them dropping off to sleep at about just a little after midnight, exhausted and satiated; which made for a very short sleep before having to roust one-self out of bed a scant five hours later. At least getting to the office was only really about an hour; an hour and a half if one wasn't like Meg who figured that speed limits were a suggestion and when she was late, she tended to get a little heavy on the accelerator pedal. Luckily she hadn't pushed her luck too much this morning, since a Virginia State Patrol stop would have pretty much ruined her chances of getting in before being counted AWOL; managing to still get in on time even with the crawling traffic on the Beltway.

It was about half an hour later that Harm managed to shuffle himself past her office door muttering something caustic about Beltway traffic and Washington DC idiots who couldn't manage to drive to save their lives. Meg grinned as she thought, Shoulda gotten out earlier this morning…lucky for her she had listened to her hunches. That saved her quite a bit.

A legalman knocked on her door, "Ma'am; ten minutes till morning meeting…"

"Thank you for the heads-up, Legalman Two."

"You're welcome, Ma'am." The Legalman grinned at her and made his exit.

She gathered up her files and got ready to head down to the boardroom. Because of the number of lawyers in the Navy Yard office, the boardroom was configured like a classroom with everyone facing the JAG who was at the head of the classroom like a teacher. Each one of the lawyers would have five minutes to brief the JAG on the disposition of their caseload and if their caseload was starting to become light, they would be the first to receive new cases based on their abilities. The higher ranking officers were the ones who routinely got the heavier cases due to their experience level although O-3s did have their share of them.

Being an O-2; she picked a seat at the back of the room; the O-5s and O-4s got the seats closer to the JAG due to their seniority. Harm chose to sit beside her in the seat next to hers. "Traffic was hell this morning…" he muttered as he dropped his briefcase right beside the desk.

"Had a gut hunch this morning to get out early, sir." Meg grinned at him. "Got out at 0445…and well…at least I was able to miss most of the traffic stops coming in. Heard there were two fender-benders on the Beltway so I switched lanes early to avoid getting locked in on the Beltway and miss my exit."

Harm looked over at her; envious. "I sure wish I had those gut hunches; would have saved myself a helluva lot of time."

It didn't take long for the JAG to show up and the attorneys in the office stood up and waited at the position of attention until the JAG ordered them to sit down.

The day for Meg was full of tasks to complete and case-files to go over and an exhausted Lieutenant JG Meg Austin was more than happen to head back to her apartment in the Navy Yard District of DC to a comforting dinner and night with her boyfriend.

JAG Headquarters; Washington DC; September 29, 1994; 0945hrs

Meg found Thursday just as painful as the day coming back from leave – it probably wouldn't be until mid-week next week that her mental state clicked back into work mode but she tried her best to concentrate on the cases assigned to her. Her thoughts kept wandering over to her boyfriend and what enjoyable thing he was doing; looking at the planes over at the National Air and Space Museum; she smiled to herself as she looked over at his picture on her desk. Actually it was a picture of the two of them together at the zoo which they had gone to on one of the days of her leave; she was in a jean shirt and white blouse and she had on a jean-skirt; they were both looking at the camera and both had wide smiles on their faces. She was already eyeing a frame at one of the photo shops; a perfect frame for their Christmas dinner photo that she planned on having done; Tosh would make a great photo dressed in his dinner dress whites with commander's boards on his shoulders and wearing his officer's cap. She would be dressed in a figure hugging evening gown – she hadn't determined what color it would be as of yet, but when she figured that out, they would make a stunning pair.

A knock on her door caused her to start visibly and she called out, "Enter!"

"Hey…" her partner said giving her a grin. "So…are you busy?"

"Did you not get a new load of cases, sir?" Meg asked raising an eyebrow at the question. "Because I did…"

Harm grinned at her. "Mine are mostly ones where I have to interview witnesses – ninety percent being larceny cases; find out what's going on and I can do that later on today – they're relatively simple to dispense with and not really ones that require a whole lot of work to do." He noticed the frame on her desk resisting the urge to pick it up and look at the picture in the frame; it wasn't facing in his direction of sight…and it was Meg's property. "Hey, that's new…" He looked over at Meg.

"Yes…it is…" Meg remarked briefly with regards to Harm's observation as she stuck her face back in her file; so much for Harm's attempt to find out what picture was in that frame. "I've probably got to go down to Norfolk today at some point and interview some of the couples that I have to deal with – y'know find out their stories and why they're at loggerheads with each other. Same old my husband or my wife spends too much time with the service; that's why our marriage split apart and I've now got the kids…I'm leaving town and my husband or wife wants to stop me from moving on with my life…" she muttered crossly. "And I have to waste time doing a four hour drive down and a four hour drive back. And here I was hoping that I could get home and have our Cantonese Chicken tonight. I started working on it yesterday and it's marinated enough that I could just pop it in the oven; however that case is going to set back my getting back home until around 1930hrs. Hang these cases!" she grumbled. "If I don't report back in; they'd consider me AWOL from ETA to next morning…and that necessitates a trip back here before going home."

"Hey, I got an interview down in Norfolk. So why don't we do that together; would save you some energy and I can drive." Harm suggested as he looked over at her with a look of expectation that she would agree to his suggestion.

"The speed at which you drive would probably put me to sleep…" Meg replied archly. "But then again, that's not a bad idea. At least I'll be well rested." She smirked. Harm rolled his eyes.

"That's a little too much information. Meg…" Harm stated; a wide grin on his face as he looked over at Meg's look of embarrassment on her face at the implication of Harm's statement; a look of frustration quickly following as she shot him a sharp look letting him know that it wasn't her intention to have said something that he could construe as a red-light comment .

"Well, sir, I was just stating as fact that I would be well-rested after a good nap; I can't help that your mind ends up crawling into the gutter." Meg said. "…sir…" she added as she started packing up the files that she needed to take with her. "I've got about three interviews I have to do in Norfolk so it might take a while; if you don't mind waiting."

"I'll review my cases…while I'm waiting." Harm replied…heading back to his office to grab his cover and his black windbreaker. Meg did the same and they headed downstairs to the Navy motor pool vehicle assigned for JAG investigative use.

"So…where's Animal today?" Harm asked as they pulled out of the parking garage.

"He mentioned something about going to see the National Air and Space Museum…so I figure he's there or heading up there about now…" Meg replied as she looked out the window at the changing color of the leaves. Harm by this time had pulled up to the first red light at the intersection…just before the guard-gate.

"Heading out to Norfolk." Harm told the guard.

"OK…you have a good one, sir." The Marine guard stated, "Drive safe…sir."

"Will do, Thanks Sergeant." Harm replied and they were finally on the road to Norfolk.

Meg thought that she'd better tell Tosh that she was going to be late coming home and if he could pop the Cantonese Chicken in the oven for 1 hr at around 1800hrs because it was going to be about 1930hrs before she got home and she would be tired and want to eat relatively quickly. So she pulled out her cell-phone and dialed Tosh's cell-phone – when the call connected she found out that evidently he was up and out of their apartment because she could hear the echo of a vast open interior space which meant more than likely that he was at the Air and Space Museum. Evidently considering the drive time, he'd probably left about eight o'clock in the morning.

"Hey, honey?" Harm rolled his eyes as he heard Meg's endearment to her boyfriend, "Yeah, I have to head down to Norfolk to do some interviews. New cases…so I'm going to be a bit late coming home. Yeah…four hours there and four hours back. Harm's doing the driving; he's evidently got an investigation there too; so yeah…I'll be home around 1930hrs…can you pop the Cantonese Chicken in the oven for an hour; half hour covered; half an hour uncovered. Yup…I want to eat when I get back; don't wanna have to wait on it to cook. OK…love you, sweetheart…" Harm surprisingly kept control of the vehicle considering the fact that he rolled his eyes hard enough to see the inside of his skull. Meg grinned as she ended the call looking over at Harm, "What…sir?" she asked knowing darned well what Harm was thinking.

"I think I'm going to die of saccharine poisoning." Harm muttered caustically as Meg gave him a wide smile.

"Well…" Meg replied, "Always have to make time for the relationship to work out…" she informed him with another cheeky grin while Harm rolled his eyes again.

Chapter Six - "Why Didn't You Tell Me?"

Author's Note: Note that my timeline will make a few significant departures from the canon story-line. And the promotion timeline of Meg Austin will follow The Naval Officer's Guide ((9th Edition) which is the copy that I own; 9th edition printed in 1989 – I'm not buying another one…the damned thing cost me $29.99CDN back in 1990 (when I found it) – I have no idea why it was sitting on a Canadian bookstore shelf, but I snagged it) guidelines for time in rank and promotion. Considering a few things in Season 1: where Meg admitted that she was a baby at the time of the moon-landing (1969); I figured that she was born in 1969; early in the year and followed that timeline. If she was born one year earlier; she would have already been a Lieutenant (O-3) (one year in time served in rank) by the events of the Pilot episode and Shadow.

Chapter 5 – "Why Didn't You Tell Me?"

Meg's Apartment; Capitol Hillcrest Apartments; Navy Yard District; Washington DC; 27 September 1994; 0745hrs

The two weeks had flown by; filled with fun, frolic and lots of amorous encounters in the morning; in the shower and before bed. Animal had picked up his stuff from the shipping place and had figured out where he could store it at a DC storage facility the majority of the things that wouldn't fit the apartment. He picked from his uniforms what exactly he could use and brought them home with him…and it went into their closet to hang beside Meg's uniforms. Meg did get a kick out of seeing his uniforms hanging beside hers. Animal did have to drop off his dress blues at Bethesda Naval Medical Center NEX to have them change out the braid from Lieutenant Commander to Commander and they were to be picked up when he next went to get his weekly check-up on how his wound was healing and it seemed to be closing up pretty well.

They had another X-ray to see what the inside of the wound area looked like and it appeared as though it was getting better. But there was still a ways to go before the doctor would give the all-clear. Judging from what it looked like it would be December before he was cleared to start rehabilitation and depending on how his body reacted to the rehabilitation regimen, the schedule could be lengthened or shortened as necessary; Animal preferring the latter option.

He missed the feel of stick and throttle in his hands and the power of the TF-30s pushing at his back to propel him at over Mach 1.2 through the air. He missed being able to pull on the stick and have the F-14 go from Angels 10 to Angels 30 in a heartbeat. He missed the thrill of getting up in the morning to pull on his bag, grab his flight-helmet from the locker; do the grunt'n yank to get on his g-suit and climb aboard the F-14; getting ready to get cat-shot off the deck and go out and do some bumping. There was no thrill more exciting than to challenge another combat aviator and test each other's limits; no more satisfying feeling than bringing your nose on the guy, knowing that he knew he had majorly fouled up and kill him with a TACTS shot right up the left or right burner can. To show your squadron-mates that you had what it took to be number one in their arena of air combat. And as Joe "Hoser" Satrapa had once said, "No greater kill than a guns kill…" to track that pipper across the tail end of a MiG and put those twenty-mike-mike right into the engine.

When he was with the Howlers, he'd had the controls of a beast powered by a pair of GE-F110-GE400s and they put out a lot more power, 27,600 pounds of thrust than the under-powered TF-30s (20,900 pounds); The F-14D (new-build airframes) and the F-14A+ or later called the F-14B (modified frame and re-engined) were engined with the General Electric F110-GE400s. VF-241 Howlers had the F-14D and the VF-41 were still flying the Pratt and Whitney TF-30 engined F-14As which meant that you had to make certain that your idiosyncracies in the F-14D didn't manifest themselves while flying the F-14A, because it could put you into a lot of trouble. The F-14A had a tendency to compressor stall, which ended up if you were in a low energy situation and one of your engines compressor stalled; it would put you into a nasty yaw to port or starboard depending on which engine flamed out; a nose-slice which would if unchecked end up in a fast unrecoverable flat spin; out of which the only solution was to eject. This spin was known as the RIO-killer; because the airflow around the aircraft in the spin was akin to a zero pressure zone in a tornado and the canopy would hover above the crew compartment of the F-14. With the RIO's seat always firing first in an ejection sequence: that meant that the RIO would slam headfirst into the hovering canopy; the speed of the impact breaking their neck and killing them. Of course that high-speed impact knocked the canopy out of the way so that the aviator could eject without being killed as well; however that was a costly way of insuring the front-seater's survival. And sometimes even the impact of the RIO to the canopy did not suffice to move the canopy out of the way…and then both crew-members impacted the canopy…killing both RIO and aviator.

He remembered what it was like to go against that Su-27 during the Gulf War; that knife-fight-in-a-phone booth: the turning battle to see who was going to get out of there alive. The Iraqi ace had managed to get the drop on him at the outset of the fight, and put several holes in the twin tails of the Tomcat. But Animal had compensated for the lack of maneuverability from those hits and had pulled seven Gs on the F-14, pushing the envelope of the Delta Tomcat's structural g-tolerance to break the lock. The F-14 managed to stay together and he was able to turn the tables in a satisfying turn of events; forcing the engagement into a turning battle; watching his airspeed so that he didn't lose energy. Lose energy; lose the fight, because if you couldn't yank your nose up into the vertical, you were dead. When he'd pulled that hard turn to port, cranking the stick over, and pitching up into the vertical, the Iraqi ace couldn't keep his nose on the Tomcat, even though the Flanker was quite maneuverable; either the opponent wasn't paying attention or he had his nose in the weapons display setting up with an Apex to put right through Animal's burner can. Animal had actually pitched up into the sun in order to keep the missiles from tracking the heat from his cans. The sun would confuse the Apex's IR tracker and blind its pilot visually so that he couldn't see where the Tomcat was from the glare the sun was putting on his visor; so the ace chose to point his nose down and extend. Animal then stomped left rudder and came over the top cranking his F-14 into a snap-roll and getting a momentary pipper on the Su-27, had triggered his Vulcan; seeing hits along the top of the Su-27; the twenty millimeter shells slamming first into the fuselage ripping pieces from the Flanker and then tracking right through up the fuselage into his canopy. The Flanker had done a slow roll and impacted the wadi; there was no ejection, no chute; just a satisfying blossom of orange red flame and black smoke against the sand. He'd downed the Iraqi's ace and that bastard wouldn't be getting any more kills against the Navy or Air Force jets; the ace had managed to down an Air Force F-16 prior to this battle which would be his last. Animal had had a prior engagement with this ace where he'd managed to track a nine-lima into the guy's right burner can of his MiG 29, but the ace had managed to eject. And evidently he'd started flying a Su-27 within the ten weeks between their two meetings. Animal was sure that the guy had trained on both types prior to the war so that he could switch between types easily. Middle Eastern air forces were like that. Train their guys on multiple types so you could switch them between squadrons rapidly as the need presented itself. Poorer nations had to use their pilots like that in order to gain a tactical edge.

Frankly, Animal figured that in a diplomatic setting, he and the guy could have found common ground in the fact that they both flew, but circumstances had led to the fact that they were on opposing sides in a war where only one side could be the victor and the fact was that each was trying to kill the other. Animal intended to be the guy who came out on top and flew with that intention going into the engagement.

Meg knew that her boyfriend missed flying his jets and she understood that one of his loves was flying; and that flying his high-performance jet fighters was a part of him just like breathing. It was the same with Harm and the fact that every time they had an assignment on-board a carrier, he looked as though he'd come home. Harm wore his wings with pride; advertising proudly the fact that he'd served as a naval aviator before circumstances had pulled him out of the cockpit. He and Animal were alike in that fact. They both lived and breathed flying. They had served together in the Howlers and the fact that both were in the air covering the other as flight-leader and wingman; meant that they knew each other on a combat level that was second to none. And that was why Harm had managed to come through the Gulf War as a MiG Killer; shooting down an Iraqi MiG-27 Flogger. Everything that Animal had gone over with him clicked like clockwork.

Animal had taught him everything that he'd known as a naval aviator who had served with a squadron that had first blooded the Tomcat by taking out two Libyan Su-22s; one of which had gotten the brilliant idea to launch an Atoll off the port rail…at an F-14 flown by Commander Hank Kleeman who promptly shot the stupid bastard down; and the other was gotten by Lieutenant Larry Musczynski. Animal, having come into the squadron a year later, had seen the gun-camera film, had talked to the guys who walked him through the engagement and told him what they did and why and he'd passed along that information to the guys who he taught at RAG. Though a proud Howler, Animal had a soft-spot for the squadron that he'd served with on his nugget cruise and that would be the squadron that he went back to once his two cruises with the Howlers were over. The squadron whose patch he wore proudly; the black edged red slashed white playing card with the Ace of Spades bearing the number 41. Nuggets had to earn the right to wear that patch and he'd done so. It was the squadron with which he was when Meg had met Animal on that MoH investigation.

Harm had told her that you always respect the two guys that taught you to fly; the first being Lieutenant Gary Hochhausen with who Harm had learned the baby-steps taking his first uncertain foray into the realm of naval aviation with the T-2C Buckeye at Pensacola. The second was Lieutenant Toshio Nakamura, who taught him how to fly and fight effectively in the F-14 Tomcat at Oceana at Reserve Air Group training for newly minted naval aviators just newly winged and still in their baby-down flight-feathers blinking owlishly at the predatory new bird that they were assigned to fly.

What Meg and Animal had bought in groceries was for the two weeks that they had spent together which had promptly disappeared into their stomachs and digestive tracts and it was time to replenish the stocks. So it was back out to Costco to get some more stuff that they could use. Meg always chose to bring her own lunch from home. It was cheaper that way and on a Lieutenant Junior Grade's pay, it was quite tight to end up going to eat at the officer's galley. The enlisted had their meals paid for, the officers if they chose to eat in the galley ended up having to cough up. So Meg always made some extra food and made sure that it was always ready for her to take to work. The only times that she ever chose to eat in the galley was during out-of-town investigations and well that was just for convenience's sake. She wouldn't have the time to cook on investigation. And Animal loved that about Meg, her frugal nature, fed into his own and that way they both knew that their intentions were to have a tidy little nest-egg.

Meg grinned at her boyfriend; it was wonderful to be able to have someone to share life with, especially someone who loved her as much as Tosh did. She would miss him while she was at work, but she knew that in the evenings when she came home, he would be there waiting for her. Of course it probably made her partner at work, jealous as heck, but the simple fact was that Harm would just have to come to grips with it; that her life-partner was not meant to be him but the senior officer that she had met on investigation, the one who was hanging out on her couch right now with a look of intense concentration at the list that he was making of foods that needed to be restocked. And it helped that despite their difference in rank – he was three ranks ahead of her; he was boyish looking still at the age of thirty-six; that was the thing with Asians, they didn't look their age at all. Most people looking at the both of them would think that they were roughly about two, maybe three years apart; no-one would think that there was eleven years difference between the two of them with Tosh being the older of the two. And he still had that boyish zeal about him about most things in relation to flying; except when it came to combat flying – then he was dead-serious; and considering his achievements in that arena, he was deadly.

"Mmmhmmm?" Animal looked up at his girlfriend with a grin, "I think I've got a list…but I'm sure there's things that you'd want to add to that."

Meg took a brief glance at the list, it was pretty thorough; aside from a few toiletries that they needed to stock up on, it was pretty complete. She smiled at him, "It looks good…of course there may be a few other things, but I wouldn't guess on that until we're walking down the store aisle." Her mind flashed to another aisle…that she would like to be walking down, but she didn't want to scare him off. There would be time enough to consider that particular aisle when their relationship had matured to the stage where they were prepared to make that commitment. "So…should we get going and get some groceries done?"

"Yup…sounds good." Animal checked his watch; it was now around 0815hrs.

Meg was surprised; her mental reverie had killed off half an hour of time? Well, they would have to get going and get stuff done. Costco opened at about 0900hrs, so and it was a good forty-five minutes to an hour in travel time, so they would get there roughly at about the time the doors opened. After locking up the apartment, they headed down to the parking garage downstairs; walking to and getting in Meg's car (it was the larger vehicle of the two and they would be able to pack more groceries into the bigger back trunk). Animal buckled in as did Meg and she started the engine while Animal sat back and relaxed. Checking her rear-view, she backed out into the driving lane and nosed her way slowly over to the parking garage entrance; when the security gate had come up, she nosed out of the parking garage entrance, up the ramp then hit the turn-signal to enter the street.

The drive over to the Costco wasn't very congested and they managed to reach the place about five minutes after the doors opened. Then it was back inside the store to go get the food and other necessities that they had on their list. "Think we should get another ice-cream? Tosh?" Meg smirked at Animal, "I'm sure that in this heat we need to have something cooling us down; rather than driving up the water-bill…" She got a lascivious smirk in return and nudged him affectionately with her shoulder. "If I was at work now, I'd be in khakis and thankfully in air-con…" she said. She was dressed in a mini-jean-skirt and blue silk shirt and had on sneakers. It was cooler attire than the jeans and white cotton shirt which would get really warm in the heat of midday. Plus it also had the added effect of making Tosh's eyes focus on her assets; which probably wasn't such a good thing because he nearly collided with the rack of watermelons on display in the aisle that they were on which would have caused a catastrophic avalanche, averted only by diverting his attentions off her six narrowly missing the display rack after he yanked the cart back onto course.

Yup, Meg was causing him all sorts of distraction and she knew it too; judging from the sway of her hips every time she walked in front of him. Oh, things were going to get very heated at home when they got back from grocery shopping. He thanked the gods above that there was a shopping cart that he could walk behind or he would have shown everybody just how interested he was in the young blonde woman who was with him and that probably would not have been an appropriate thing in a store. And she was intending on drawing out that torture…looking over her shoulder with a come hither seductive glance…saying, "I need to go look through the cooler to see if there's any frozen vegetables that we need to get." Yeah…her leaning over and checking out the frozen peas and diced carrots, knowing just how good of a view of her six that she was giving Animal, was making him feel very happy indeed. The grocery shopping was finished about an hour and a half later, chock full; paid for by Animal and then carted out to the waiting car; where it was quickly loaded up. The cart was brought back to the shopping cart corral and they then started on the return trip back to the apartment. When they got back…they both looked at each other with passionate looks… "We need to get these things put up…" Meg managed to get out; her voice husky with desire.

And there was a rapid hustling of getting all the groceries put up and arranged nicely so that they could be easily grabbed during food prep. When Meg and Animal were done, Meg looked at him with a low-lidded gaze and parted lips…and grabbed him by the waist, pulling him into the bedroom.

Meg's Apartment, Capitol Hillcrest Apartments; Navy Yard District; Washington DC; 27 September 1994, 1300hrs

Meg's eyes were half closed, sweat beaded on her upper lip…as Animal leaned over her looking down at her, his bare chest glistening with sweat. "That was something…" she managed to get out between trying to catch her breath… "I feel wrung out…" He grinned at her…breathing heavily as well. Still intimately joined; they continued their exercise in amorous contentment; and she wrapped her legs around him, locking him tight. "Yes…Tosh…just like that…" The mountain was climbed…and then the precipitous fall off the edge…as he shuddered. Meg felt warmth inside her as she gripped him around his back and pulled him in close in a tight embrace, as Animal collapsed, utterly spent and completed. "Mmmm…Tosh…" she whispered in his ear as they both recovered from their climactic moment of passion. When she could speak clearly, she told him, "I think we need a shower. I'm all sweaty…and you are too. There goes the water-bill…but this is worth it…" she smirked at him, her hair disheveled and limp with sweat.

She looked beautiful, Animal thought; at any point of the day or night, including her after-passion look which was arousing.

They somehow untangled themselves from the rumpled sheets which were now damp with sweat and proceed to head for the bathroom.

When the shower was started and tested for temperature; she stepped in and then let him step in. She raised an eyebrow in question and gave him a low-lidded look…laden with meaning. He pulled her in close and kissed her passionately. Their bodies pressed up against one another. Animal stood under the shower, "We need a rain shower… the one that's directly overhead." Meg looked at him giving him a look of agreement at that assessment, "But I guess we'll just have to improvise."

She turned around with her back to him, as Animal pulled her in close; under the water spray of the shower; she reached around with her hand…and Animal's eyes widened...as he realized what she wanted; so as soon as he was able to; with her help, he complied. She breathed deeply as she accommodated him…and then pushed back against him. She bent over and handed him the bottle…and gave him a grin; still joined…pressing back against him. Animal grinned back at her. Her hair was soaked…the shower jets sending rivulets of water down her back. So he lathered her hair…and ran his hands through it.

She uttered a soft moan as she felt his hands kneading her scalp making sure that the shampoo cleaned every follicle of the hair on her head of all the sweat that had accumulated. She enjoyed every minute of this shampoo…ever since they'd first done this the night that he'd arrived at her place. Those intimate moments with him, where she felt his closeness, she loved. And some of those shampoo sessions were just hot and steamy…she'd gotten thoroughly aroused enough that she was pretty much prepared to jump his bones the minute that they got out of the shower. Hell, sometimes she didn't even bother waiting to finish the shower; they'd have their intimacy right in the shower with the water pounding through their hair as they made love. This was a side of Meg that her partner at JAG would never, ever see; in fact, she was one hundred percent certain that he would never see this side of her at all; as her personal relationship's future was with the man who was with her right now in the shower; where they were so intimately joined as one, her body pressed back against his torso and feeling his hands running through her hair.

"Oh…Tosh…I could have you do this all afternoon…" she sighed; the water pounding at her back felt so good. There were other things that felt good too and she gave him a lascivious smirk as she gave him a whole new set of sensations by adjusting her hips as Animal groaned in pleasure.

Animal pulled her back into the water spray so that her hair could get rinsed off; then applied the conditioner; again running his hands through her hair as he made sure that the conditioner was well-applied. He was definitely gaining first hand knowledge of how to shampoo and condition a woman's hair.

When they were done (more than just the showering); it was time to dry off and get lunch started; with their desire for each other's bodies, the fact that they'd missed lunch had apparently gone by the wayside – all that exercise was now certainly making them both ravenous. After changing the dressing on Tosh's shoulder, they both got dressed and headed out to the living room. At least their damp hair made the living room feel a little cooler as the stiflingly hot September early-afternoon air was certainly still on the hot end of the temperature scale; of course when night fell, the temperature dropped rapidly with the fall approaching. Washington DC was at about the same latitude as Eureka, California on the other end of the continent though of course the jet-stream and air currents would affect the climate of each location differently. They still weren't too certain as to what they wanted to eat for lunch, but they rummaged through the fridge and figured out something that wasn't too laborious to make that would do in order to ease the hunger pangs. The meal that they cobbled together was a cold cut black forest ham and roast beef sandwich apiece with iceberg lettuce and tomatoes and mayonnaise dressing. It wasn't fancy, but it did the trick as far as taking care of their hunger.

Meg had a few cases that she had to go through in prep for going back to work the next day so she sat on the couch with the files in hand while Animal looked through his NATOPS manuals and made sure that all the information was fresh in his mind; even though he didn't know when he was going to be heading back to the cockpit, he still wanted to make sure that his procedures were down pat. After all, he was no longer an impatient cone-head with his hair on fire looking to make a name for himself; he'd already done that on Hill 175 and in the skies over Iraq; his name now was talked about in fighter jock circles as someone who'd been there; done that. Now he had something and someone to live for and to make sure that he preserved himself for bigger and better things down the road; that someone being the woman who was sitting on the couch intently focused on her legal files. His mind wandered along paths as he gazed through the emergency bail-out procedures for the F-14A Tomcat.

As much as he loved his mount; his beloved F-14A Tomcat that he flew in the Black Aces; not even her compared to Meg Austin and he would pull the loops if he had to in order to live to return to his Meg; no hesitation at all. A FNAEB was nothing compared to losing the opportunity to have a future with her. Not that he expected to with the thorough walk-around that he did pre-flight for which he was known for; but unforeseen situations did crop up and well, if it came down to it; there was no way that he'd dig a furrow along with the Tomcat he was flying.

JAG Headquarters, Washington DC, 1425hrs

Rear Admiral Albert Jethro Chegwidden walked through his office anteroom; turning to the legalman standing by the desk.

"Get me Lieutenant JG Austin's jacket…" he said, indicating that he wanted LT JG Austin's personnel file.

"Aye, aye, sir."

"O-3 convening boards are being held in March of next year and the results are posted in June. I want to make sure that she's in consideration for advancement." RADM Chegwidden grinned; good officers deserved to be retained and Lieutenant Austin was a damned good officer as evidenced by her abilities in helping Harm defend Captain Tom Boone and in defending the Marine who ended up accused of espionage in Iraq when the Iraqi Republican Guard had twisted the borders to their benefit in taking him prisoner; And the fact that his considerations for selectees would be given greater consideration if they were sent in early, rather than last-minute would prompt the selection board to note the file as highly considered by their commanding officer.

It wasn't more than ten minutes before Lieutenant Austin's file was on Chegwidden's desk. The admiral made some notes in the file and made reference that he wanted a copy made of the jacket so that he could send it and three others in his command, for the O-3 boards, considered for retention. The ranks from O-1 to O-3 were relatively automatic, however certain situations could make it so that the officer wasn't retained; the ranks that were higher than O-3 were subject to space available as after O-4 the limited number of command and executive officer positions made it imperative to higher command to make sure that the spaces weren't log-jammed by a surfeit of officers with no positions and those who were less than capable officers were subjected to up or out. And if the commanding officer didn't make the recommendations, their officers weren't even considered for recommendation to be retained so it was imperative that the commanding officer not delay his recommendations; to get them in; in a timely manner and Chegwidden made certain to put LT JG Austin's file right at the very top with a post-it saying, "Highly Recommended".

Lieutenant JG Austin's fitreps were highly glowing and they were consistent all the way through all the commands that she was serving in prior to her arriving at JAG and RADM Chegwidden's latest quarterly fitrep for Lieutenant JG Austin was no different; which would go a long way to making sure that as of the end of June, when the list of those selected for O-3 were posted; Austin's name would be on that list and she'd be able to pin on those double bars of a full Lieutenant. He grinned again; Commander Nakamura would have to be called into the JAG office in order to make sure that he was there for his girlfriend's promotion ceremony within the office where she would take the commissioning oath for her new rank and position. Chegwidden thought wryly that Rabb's face was going to be a sight as Lieutenant JG Austin had given him the kiss for his promotion to O-4; but he wasn't going to be able to return the favor. Poor Rabb. Maybe he'd be happy enough to help pin on the lieutenant's bars on the opposite collar; but no, since Meg was a staff officer, she didn't have the second rank bars but a staff identification pin on the "opposite collar", well, it appeared as though poor Rabb was out of luck. Ah, the problems caused by love-triangles.

Harm's Office, JAG Headquarters, Washington DC, 1535 hrs

Harm knew that his partner was returning to work the next day. He'd refrained from bothering her for the past week so that she wouldn't rip his head off when she returned to work. He sighed as he thought about the young lieutenant JG. She was very vivacious and attractive and he'd had quite the crush on his partner; they'd flirted quite often, but never went beyond that. And now he'd lost that chance; since his RAG mentor had captured Meg's heart. Love sucked as far as Harm was concerned. And he knew that this wasn't some week-end whim and fancy; he'd seen the look in Meg's eyes as she gazed at Animal and that wasn't the look of someone infatuated – there was genuine desire and love there. He looked at the file on the desk with some frustration as his mind seemed to want to take a long walk somewhere other than where it was supposed to be which was concentrating on the Helms case; which was a serious case that he was asked to prosecute.

Lance Corporal Roderick Helms; United States Marine Corps, was in contravention of Article 86 (10 U.S.C. 886) of the Uniform Code of Military Justice for being Absent without Leave. The text of the statute read: Any member of the armed forces who, without authority—(1) fails to go to his appointed place of duty at the time prescribed;shall be punished as a court-martial may direct. The elements being: (1) Failure to go to appointed place of duty. (a) That a certain authority appointed a certain time and place of duty for the accused; (b) That the accused knew of that time and place; and (c) That the accused, without authority, failed to go to the appointed place of duty at the time prescribed. Of course Helm's defence was that he was living off-base; that the traffic was heavy that date and he had arrived at the place about fifteen minutes after the prescribed time. He would have let the CO know but he had run out of airtime and wasn't able to take extra time to refill his phone. Of course his CO was a ball-buster; so Helms was placed on charges. Harm was prosecuting attorney; however he felt that Helms should be let off with non-judicial punishment; however the CO was not likely to agree to that, so unfortunately for Helms, he was going to be subject to proceedings. Harm would, however, recommend highly that LCPL Helms be considered for extenuating circumstances under Subsection (c) (6) (6) Inability to return:The status of absence without leave is not changed by an inability to return through sickness, lack of transportation facilities, or other disabilities. But the fact that all or part of a period of unauthorized absence was in a sense enforced or involuntary is a factor in extenuation and should be given due weight when considering the initial disposition of the offense. When, however, a person on authorized leave, without fault, is unable to return at the expiration thereof, that person has not committed the offense of absence without leave. The maximum punishment under Article 86 (d) (1) Failing to go to, or going from the appointed place of duty: Confinement for 1 month and forfeiture of two-thirds pay per month for 1 month. However, Harm was going to, with approval from RADM Chegwidden recommend the punishment be lowered to restriction to BOQ for one week and forfeiture of one-third pay for one month before being allowed to go back to his off-base accommodations. Harm didn't feel that the fact that CO wanted him charged to the fullest extent of the UCMJ warranted the full punishment of 1 month confinement; and two thirds loss of pay for one month; especially when there was extenuating circumstances and the fact that Helms had in fact reported into the position that he was required to be at; albeit late with the full intention of serving his post.

Forcing his mind back on the case, he wrote in his recommendations and got set to go talk to RADM Chegwidden regarding that case and his recommendations to get the JAG's approval.

Knocking on his commanding officer's door, he waited for Chegwidden's roar of "Enter!" Harm entered the office; file in hand; squaring off in front of the CO's desk, he snapped to attention. "Sir, Need to get permission to proceed with sentencing recommendations…" Harm then passed the file over to Chegwidden who gave the file a good long look before…

…he replied, "Not going for maximum due to extenuating, Commander?"

"That's correct, sir."

"Very well, proceed...talk with the defence and see if they'll accept the offer. I think it's fair considering the circumstances." Chegwidden nodded, looking up at Harm with a measured expression. "The CO's going a little far with his prosecution of the Lance Corporal." was his taciturn judgement of the Colonel in question.

Harm noticed with barely a reaction on his face the file-folder; a personnel jacket, for Lieutenant JG Austin on Chegwidden's desk…and the post-it on the face of it which read, from what he could read upside-down, Highly Recommended. His mind churned on that for a long moment; then he said, "Thank you, sir…" with regards to the recommendation to talk to the defence attorney about getting the Helms case resolved. The unit was in pre-preparations to deploy to the Middle East and they needed all hands.

When Harm got back to his office, he sat down for a long moment…highly recommended. Was Chegwidden recommend-ing Meg for a transfer mainly because Chegwidden wanted Harm to feel more comfortable rather than pining after Meg all day? If not that, what could it be? That would prey on his mind for the rest of the day as he tried to focus on the rest of the cases on his docket which proved to be a fruitless attempt as he couldn't get the thought out of his head. Animal's with the Pacific Fleet. The Black Aces had transferred from Atlantic Fleet to Pacific a few years earlier. Is there a possibility that Meg was transferring to RLSO SW in order to be closer to Animal? He felt a pang of loneliness go through him of the fact that Meg would be gone from the office in short order; they'd really only been friends for the better part of an year since she came on board, soon after Kate left to become an aide to Rear Admiral Brovo. From their initial meeting in the investigation of Dirk Grover, the tech-rep who went bonkers and decided to set a programmable torpedo after a cruise ship; they'd grown in terms of relationship to a close one, of friends apparently, over the course of the cases that they had worked together and with Meg being recommended for transfer out of the office, he felt that he was losing someone that he was close to.

But Harm knew that he had to concentrate on his work. The cases that he was working on wouldn't stand for a good session of woolgathering and he needed to make sure that he put his full effort into making sure that he gave the clients a good chance at winning; at least on the ones that he was defence attorney for. The prosecution cases that he had were essentially going after the jugular of the defendant and sealing a win, which in Harm's former career as a naval aviator, ended up being much the way that he would go after an enemy in the air – fangs out. So he forced his mind back on his work as best as he was able to under the circumstances. He'd have to let the fallout from Meg's decision to transfer fall where it landed.

Meg's Apartment, Capitol Hillcrest Apartments; Navy Yard District; Washington DC; 28 September 1994, 0500hrs

Workday mornings for Meg were a blurring rush of getting things together and getting out the door. At least she had made her lunch the night previous. "Have you got your lunch, hon?" Animal asked her…as he got up out of his seat where he was eating breakfast. It wasn't so much the drive to the Washington Navy Yard as it was the stress of negotiating the Washington DC traffic congestion for Meg;

"Yes…" Meg replied as she gave him a passionate kiss, as she grabbed her khaki cover (they'd be switching over to blues on the first week of October), her lunch and her legal briefcase as she headed out the door. "You're off to Bethesda for a routine checkup today?" she tossed over her shoulder as she went through the open door; getting a brief affirmative from Animal.

"You have a good day at work…"

"I'll try." She leaned back in the door, smiling winsomely at Animal and gave him a longing look, "…but I'm going to miss you all day…you know…" she purred, "You spoiled me for the past two weeks…and I'm not sure if I want to go back to work.

"Yeah, but wouldn't you be AWOL if you did?" Animal grinned at her.

"Yeah…drats…guess I have to make an appearance."

JAG Headquarters, Washington DC, 0600 hrs

Meg signed in to the office, "Good morning; ma'am," the legalman greeted her. "Lieutenant Commander Rabb wanted to see you this morning…"

"OK…thank you, Legalman, I'll see what he wants." Meg smirked internally; she was sure that Harm wanted a rundown of her two weeks at home and she wasn't about to give him any inkling of what had been going on between Animal and her.

After putting her briefcase and cover in her office, she headed over to Harm's office to see just exactly what she wanted and knocking on his door, she was told to enter. Harm was standing by his window looking out at the scene outside; the hustle and bustle of the busy Navy Yard. "Sir? You said you wanted to see me this morning?" she asked.

Harm sighed; still continuing to look out the window, "So…were you ever going to tell me that you requested a transfer?" he asked bitterly.

Meg was taken aback, "Sir, I don't know what you're talking about." A grilling about Animal and her relationship was what she was expecting from Harm; not this.

"I saw your personnel jacket on Chegwidden's desk. Were you planning on transferring to Pacific Fleet and not telling me?" The pain and loneliness in Harm's voice was telling.

Meg, by this time, was confused as hell; "Harm, I never asked for a transfer…why would I…and even if I was planning to transfer to the Pacific Fleet; why would I do it right now?"

"Animal?" Harm said sourly; "Isn't he with the Pacific Fleet? Might make a very good reason…"

"He's convalescing from the gunshot wounds and getting treatment at Bethesda…so why would I transfer to PacFleet when he's here?" Harm turned from the window as Meg, exasperated by now, said, "Look Harm, I never asked for transfer, let's get that straight right now…and I wouldn't at this point…I just transferred in to HQ less than an year ago and I'd be shooting myself in the foot if I asked for transfer right now."

"So then why was your jacket on Chegwidden's desk?"

"I don't know…fitreps?" Meg ventured a guess.

"Fitreps were filed six weeks ago…" Harm replied still not believing it. His heart didn't want to believe it that Meg was telling him the truth that she didn't ask for a transfer; it was still too sore.

"…then I have no idea…"

"All I saw was a sticky note on it saying Highly Recommended." Harm said sourly looking over at Meg with a skeptical look on his face, "…so, Meg, what was I supposed to think. All yesterday I was thinking…but we're supposed to be partners." His voice barely held back a note of anger and hurt.

"Harm, this isn't just the folder, is it?" Meg asked Harm; insightfully realizing that there was far more to his reaction than just the simple sighting of her personnel jacket and that, in itself, was treading dangerous ground; should their commanding officer or a superior come into the office right at this very moment. "And I don't think we need to be delving into this topic on the Navy's time…" she warned him, "You understand, right?"

Harm knew exactly what she meant. If he kept this up; they could both be liable under Article 92 and Article 134 stipulating Fraternization and Conduct Prejudicial to Good Order. And that further exploration of this subject would end up causing Harm and Meg to be charged under those Punitive Articles under the UCMJ. He didn't want that to happen, so he dropped the subject; regardless of how much he wanted to continue the conversation; perhaps at lunch or maybe dinner together, but it would mean broaching the subject in front of Animal who probably wouldn't be pleased in the slightest at having to hear about this. "Well…" Harm said, reluctantly, "I guess we have to get back to work."

"Might be a good idea, sir."