0 comments/ 31640 views/ 3 favorites Memories! Ch. 01 By: Katherine English 2 Disclaimer: JAG is the property of Donald Belisario, CBS, and Paramount. All other characters are mine and fictional * * * * * 0200 HOURS Bethesda Naval Hospital At first there was only silence. Then, gradually, the soft muffle of voices. The muted rasp of something being moved from one place to another across a hardened surface...the minute peeps of a mechanical monitor in the far, far distance. She opened her eyes. The white glare of the hospital room assaulted her iris', causing her to shield her eyes from the onslaught...the smells...strange...unpleasant...harsh. "She's coming around. Somebody...get the doctor." She turned her head, following the voice in an effort to visually locate its source. Pain...she closed her eyes once again and tried to regroup. Mac? Mac...don't fade on me here. Come on...stay with me." Once more she forced her eyelids apart, this time slowly....and with caution. Dimly, as though through a mist, the room began to take shape and materialize into something tangible. The voice...whose? Again she attempted to turn her head. There, beside her sat a tall man, handsome, dark haired. His eyes appeared tired, and the threat of a faintly formed beard darkened the firm line of his strong jaw. "Mac...come on...stay with me." he whispered, a little more urgently than before. Gradually, and with pale reluctance the room began to solidify and fill her field of vision. It WAS a hospital room. Why was she here? Why did her head hurt so terribly? ...and who was this man who gently stroked her palm, summoning her back into the realms of consciousness? 2347 HOURS - Two days before JAG Headquarters Falls Church, Virginia There had been a terrible accident. Mac had left the office late on Friday, 2347 HOURS, if her internal clock was correct, and it always was. The Johannson trial had been more of a challenge than she had anticipated. The meager evidence she had been able to divine had been both weak and circumstantial, and Harm's cross-examinations had all but nullified each point in her prosecution, one by one. It was almost midnight when Mac turned the key in the ignition and headed her crimson Corvette toward the Beltway. It had been unseasonably cold that day, and a chill night breeze had caused the dampness of the day to solidify and freeze on the roadway before her. More than once, Mac felt the need to regain control as her car skewed from its intended path, the victim of "black ice". Then it happened. A panel truck, disabled by the same brutal conditions, had spun out in the darkness, and now obstructed the highway directly in her lane. Mac slammed on her brake pedal, pumping frantically, steering in the direction of the skid, but it was too late. The world began to take on an ethereal quality as her 'vette slammed into the side of the truck. The halogen lights before her began to spin slowly within her line of vision, as though a part of some terrible ballet for her alone. A voice (hers?) screaming into the frozen stillness of the night. Shattered glass. The heavy grind of metal against metal. A chill breeze against her face. Then darkness. 0200 Hours Bethesda Naval Hospital Present Day Silently, she looked at the man who grasped her hand. His relief was evident, the furrowed lines between his brows a tense statement of emotion. He tried to laugh, but his voice caught in his throat. "Mac. You gave us a scare there. It's good to have you back among the living." He'd meant it in jest, but his own words appeared to set him aback. He grew silent again, his face contorted, and briefly turned away. "Wh..What happened? Why am I here?" Concerned, Harm looked deeply into her eyes. "You had an accident, Mac. Don't you remember? You hit some ice and went plowing into the side of a truck" He paused. "Your airbag kept you from going through the windshield...saved your life, but your Corvette was totaled. "My head...hurts." Haltingly, she raised her free hand, an IV tube trailing in its wake, and gently touched the bandages that swathed her head. She looked at her companion...alarmed...confused. "It's okay, Mac. You had a few minor scalp lacerations...took a few stitches, but its going to be fine. I'd be surprised if the doc. didn't take the bandages off today. He took a cleansing breath, as though to assure himself, once more, that she really was "fine". She looked again at the stand, which held the IV bag, and the monitors, which echoed the beat of her heart. "WH...Why?" she stammered softly, gesturing again with her free hand. "You had a concussion, Mac. It was pretty bad. You've been 'out' for a few days. We didn't know...we weren't sure if...but it's okay now." he repeated, more to himself than to the woman lying prone before him. "B...But" she began again. "What is it? Let me get closer. I can hardly hear you." "But," she whispered once more. "Who are you." The sleepless days he had spent at her bedside took their toll, as Harm settled heavily into his chair. "Who am I? It's me, Harm. Come on...you've got to remember me. Mac?" The lines between his brows deepened drastically. Silently, he released her hand. "Just lay still, Mac. The doctor's coming. He'll help me...you make sense out of all this." 0230 HOURS Bethesda Naval Hospital Harm, the Admiral, Bud and Harriet waited in the hallway while Dr. Reynolds examined his newly awakened patient. The minutes seemed like hours as they nervously paced the hall, occasionally colliding with each other in their state of distracted animation. Finally, the doctor entered the corridor, a mask of concern muted by his professional facade. "I wish Col. MacKenzie had family in the area. You say there's no one available?" "No." Harm reconfirmed. "No one." Mac's Uncle Matt was the only true family she had, but his current incarceration made him of little use to her now. "I'll take responsibility for her, doctor." It was the Admiral, taking charge in his usual unflappable manner. "Just tell me what's needed. You have a very special lady in your care here. Whatever she needs...she's going to get." "Well, medically speaking, there seems to be very little residual damage. I believe she's recovering nicely. However, her mental facility is another matter altogether." The Admiral paused. "Exactly what are we dealing with here, son? What's wrong with Sar...Col. Mackenzie?" "Well, she seems to have suffered a selective degree of amnesia. Determining how extensive or how permanent this condition is could take some time. In the meanwhile, she shouldn't be alone. She should have someone with her at all times...someone she knew well...someone who can prompt her memory and recognize any emotional shifts to which she might succumb. "Doctor," Harm began, "the Col. lives alone in Georgetown." "Is there anyone who can stay with her, or with whom she can stay until her memory returns...or until she learns to compensate for its loss?" Harm raised his head and began to speak. "Doctor, I..." The Admiral interrupted. "The Col. will be recuperating at my home, doctor. When will she be ready to leave?" 0800 HOURS JAG Headquarters Falls Church, Virginia The titter of office gossip grew silent and died an ugly death as Admiral A.J. Chegwidden and Col. MacKenzie stepped out of the elevator and into the bullpen at JAG. Scathingly, the Admiral turned his head and took in the collection of "hens" that had collected around the water cooler. "Is there anything you'd like to discuss?" "No, Sir. Not at all, Sir!" "Good. Then unless you'd like to come into my office and address me directly, I suggest you find a better use of your time. Am I understood?" "Aye, aye Sir!" The gathering immediately dispersed. A.J. smiled. It was nice being THE JAG. "Admiral," Mac began, "are you sure that my staying in your guestroom isn't going to cause a problem?" "Mac, if I didn't already know that you don't remember me, it would have been very easy to guess. No. Your being my guest will not cause problems. If my reputation hasn't preceded me, then my authority will." He gave her a reassuring grin. I don't HAVE problems, I GIVE them!" His tone softened, his dark eyes gentle and supportive. "Don't worry, Mac. You're going to be fine, and so am I." 1000 Hours Colonel MacKenzie's Office JAG Headquarters It had only been a day since Mac had been released from her hospital stay. The Admiral and Harm had both returned to her apartment with her to pack her personal belongings for her recuperation at A.J.'s home in the rustic countryside near McLean, Virginia. Mac, in keeping with the stubborn "jarhead" attitude she had maintained prior to the accident, had steadfastly rejected any offer of assistance, and delighted them all with this brief, if irritating, glimpse of their old friend. A.J.'s home was a three-bedroom cabin on a country road, deep in the Virginia woodlands. Surrounded by National forests, the property offered a peace and solitude rare in today's world, the perfect place for Mac, or anyone, to recuperate. Mac and A.J. had found their first night alone awkward, at best. A.J. had cooked "pasta prima vera", his speciality, and the two had settled down before a roaring blaze while A.J. attempted to answer a few of the many questions Mac had about her lost life and livlihood. Against the Admiral's better judgement, Mac had insisted on returning to the office with him the next morning. Now, after staring blankly at the alien setting in which she found herself, she wondered if she had been wise in doing so. Her office held no memories for her, a fact which saddened her immensely. The faces around her, while solicitous, were unknown. She felt as though her life had just begun a mere three days ago, and she felt the vacuum of her current existence oppressive. By the end of her first day, Mac was more than happy to return to the sanctuary of her surrogate home in the woods. A.J. had picked up a bag of "Beltway burgers" to lighten her obviously traumatized spirits. "Could I start a fire in the fireplace?" she asked her host. "That would be nice." The idea appealed to him as well. "But, let me do it, you're my guest, after all." "No. It shouldn't be that way. If I'm going to stay here, you have to let me pull my weight. I'm feeling useless enough right now, at least let me handle the few things I can still remember how to do, Admiral" Colonel, if we're going to be sharing living quarters, I think that entitles you to call me A.J., at least when we're at home. I'm not running a barracks here, you know." he joked. "Then you should call me Sarah." she said simply, not knowing that the Admiral had secretly called her that in his heart for many years. Mac walked over to the large fieldstone fireplace and dropped to her knees. Facing the still darkened aperture, she crumpled a small wad of newspaper and inserted it within the already laid kindling. Then, lighting an elongated, wooden match, she leaned slightly and began to blow on the embers she had created. A.J.'s reaction was visceral. The shape of her body, silhouetted by the flames, evoked a response that he knew was totally inappropriate. She was a beautiful woman, of that there was no question. He considered himself a fortunate man to have shared the favors of many beautiful and intelligent women in his life. But this was different. Mac was a subordinate...an officer under his command. Her recuperation period at his home could itself be misconstrued. If not for his rank and reputation, the question of impropriety would already have arisen. And what about her? Would the old Colonel MacKenzie have welcomed his advances? Possibly...he would never know. There had been times when he'd fantasized about a liaison with the alluring young JAG lawyer before him, but he'd kept his fantasies to himself. To take advantage of her in her current state of mind, would be an unspeakable breach of discipline, and "discipline" and "order" were the words by which he'd lived. To change now, at this point in his life and career, was unthinkable. Silently he sat on the sofa savoring his meal and the delicate bouquet of the wine in his glass as he watched Sarah, her derriere bobbing gently as she coaxed the flames to life. "Oh, hell." he thought. "What have I gotten myself into?" Finally, satisfied with the blaze she'd kindled, Sarah removed herself to the kitchen to retrieve her dinner from its paper sack. She returned a few moments later, burger in hand, delicately sipping the last of the wine from her glass. "Sarah!" yelped A.J., disconcertedly. "Please tell me you didn't drink that!" "Oh! I'm sorry! Were you saving it? I didn't realize..." "No...no, it's not that. You're welcome to anything in the house. But...it never occurred to me that you wouldn't remember that you don't drink...that you're...sensitive...to alcohol. Sarah began to giggle. "Well, maybe it's just as well. This is the most relaxed I've felt in days. I needed something to relieve the stress." A.J. felt the situation slipping out of control. "Sarah," he began. I think I'd better call it a night. I'm getting up early tomorrow to go running. You used to run, would like to join me?" "That sounds like a plan to me." she chirped, gaily. But you don't have to run NOW, do you. Can't you stay a little while and keep me company?" Sarah sank onto the sofa beside him, her eyes warm and inviting. Every atom in his being demanded that he stay, but the admiral in him knew it was wrong. "I ...can't." he offered weakly. I need to get to b... I need to get some sleep if I'm going to be up early tomorrow. You should do the same." Sarah looked deeply, sensuously into his eyes. "If you insist." she smiled. "I'm yours to command, Admiral." Then, unbuttoning her blouse as she walked, Sarah crossed the floor toward the guest bedroom. 0530 HOURS A.J.'s Home McLean, Virginia Morning came all too early for Mac. Her head ached, and her mouth tasted like sour grapes. But the worst of it was facing the Admiral after so blatant an invitation the night before. It was 5:30 A.M., and the chill of early morning was doing wonders to clear her head. Silently, the two runners sped gracefully through the trees, on a trail seldom seen and very rarely used. Finally, the burden becoming too much for her, Mac pulled alongside A.J., and began to address the issue between them. "A.J., I want to apologize about last night. The way I acted...I was way out of line. Here you've done so much for me, and I repay you by making you uncomfortable in your own home. It's inexcusable. I feel terrible for putting you in that position. At the time, it just felt right...I'm sorry." Mac's abject contrition made him feel guilty. If only she knew that the feeling was mutual...but that could never be. "Don't worry about it, Sarah. I should have realized that you wouldn't remember about the wine. It was my fault. I'm suppose to be helping you...I dropped the ball." Mac stopped and looked into his eyes. He was an honorable man, of that she was sure, but there was more to their relationship, something he wasn't telling her. Had they been lovers? The thought made her blush, and sent a warm hormonal rush through her body. The Admiral returned her gaze, reacting to the intimate connection her saw in her eyes. Sarah was incredible. She was the most intelligent, beautiful, sensitive and probably...passionate woman he had ever known. He felt his body losing its battle for control, and decided it was time to resume the run. Tired and sweat drenched, they returned to the cabin. "The shower's in my bedroom, but there's a tub in the guest bath, he indicated. Mac nodded and headed toward her room. A.J., tired and thirsty, made his way to the kitchen, mixed some frozen juice, and put on a pot of coffee. He placed butter and a package of frozen muffins on the counter beside the microwave, then pulled off his sweatshirt as he headed for the shower in his room. Shedding his sweat pants and running shoes as he went, A.J. reached for the doorknob to the small master bath. To his surprise, the door began to open independently. Startled, Sarah stood before him, a towel barely disguising the curve of her breasts, her hair redolent with the smell of strawberries. "A.J.! I thought you were going to use the tub! I guess I got my signals mixed." A.J. felt his body respond. It would be hard to miss the signals he was sending now, he thought. Sarah swallowed hard. Her eyes took in the trim figure of her commanding officer. His clothes hid a lot, she thought as she scanned his firm runner's torso and muscled thighs. The bulge in his boxers all but took her breath away. "Sarah...I'm sorry." he began to stammer, his words becoming garbled at the sight of her voluptuous form. The moment took on a life of its own, and he lowered his gaze to take in the visual feast before him. "I..I don't know what to say." he responded, the passion evident in his voice. Sarah, acknowledging the intense attraction she was experiencing, looked relieved. The feeling was mutual... the hunger in his eyes matched her own. Gently, she raised her hand and stroked his face. "Then don't say anything..." she offered, her finger lightly tracing his lower lip. Silently, A.J. lowered his head and placed a kiss upon her full and waiting lips. Breathlessly, Sarah responded and pressed her body closer to his, feeling his maleness grow increasingly between them, seeking access beneath the folds of her towel. "Sarah...I shouldn't be doing this. I'm taking advantage of you...it isn't right." "But it isn't wrong...it can't be, not when it feels like the whole world's just coming together. If this never happened before, then it should have. I can't believe feelings like this just materialized out of nothing." He lifted his head, and searched her eyes for the truth. It was there, and he knew she was right. Fate had given them one last chance, and they would be fools not to take advantage of it. Silently, he lifted her in his arms and carried her to the bed. There, in the dim light of morning, he removed her towel and gazed passionately at her body, still warm and dewy from her shower, beckoning for the touch of his hand. Removing the last of his clothing he lay down beside her, claiming her breasts with his mouth, first one and then the other. She felt a silken cord begin to curl and tighten within her as he savored her nipple, drawing it between his lips, suckling its rigid contours. His fingers scouted the intimate terrain of her body, delicately memorizing the gentle swell of her rib cage as they traveled downward to traverse the downy plains of her abdomen. He had the touch of experience, and she was a novice in his arms. To her mind, this moment was a first, and he was the only man to ever delve into the moist, intimate recesses of her newly awakened sexuality. His hand searched the apex at the juncture her thighs. Sarah gasped as his thumb began to gently massage the delicate nub, which lay hidden among the damp curls between her legs. Maintaining contact, he thrust a finger into her very core, diving maddeningly into the moist depths of her inner being... advancing... retreating... then invading once again. His lips were everywhere, his hands eliciting responses she never knew existed as they lay siege, over and over, to her most secret and intimate of places. She felt a tight, breathlessness begin to rise from her toes and claim her very soul. Her spine began to arch, her body pleading for release. Her last remnant of control fled on the wings of passion, and she heard a primitive cry (hers?) pierce the stillness of the room. "More...oh please...more." she pleaded. Beyond reason, A.J. positioned himself between her trembling thighs. "Are you sure, Sarah? Is this what you really want?" he whispered hoarsely, knowing full well that he himself was beyond recall, that it was his body, and not his mind that was now in control. Memories! Ch. 01 Yes...oh yes..." she gasped, her voice an alien rasp from an unknown source. "Now..." He plunged his throbbing member into her moist depths, her body writhing, urging him deeper, seeking to devour him. He partially withdrew his enormous length, rock hard and straining for a comfort that only she could offer, and prepared to thrust again. Desperate for fulfillment, she twined her legs around his hips, holding him captive within her, pushing his control to its limits. His mind went blank. Nothing existed but the heat that claimed their flesh, the primeval joining of their bodies, their desperate gasps, lost in the hush of this forest lair. Then the world shattered into a million pieces, and a kaleidoscope of sensations threw Sarah into oblivion. Her lover felt the cataclysm that wracked her body, and allowed himself to indulge in the abandon that he had held at bay. His own release imminent, he plunged deeply, forcefully, into her soft interior, again and again, harder, faster, sending her on a mindless journey beyond the realms of reality into a world inhabited by them alone. Then, finally, he joined her flight of passion, and she felt her very essence fill with the warmth radiating from their pulsating union. Breathless, they lay in each other's arms, her body once again moist from exertion. Never in the history of mankind had any woman flown so high or burned so brightly, of this she was sure. A.J. was a part of her, and she a part of him. No matter what that day or the rest of their lives would bring, this truth was immutable. Tenderly, she touched his still form as he lay beside her, his breath coming in uneven intervals, his hand gently cupping her breast. If there was karma in the universe, then they were meant to be. Silently she closed her eyes, and fell into a world of dreams, filled with the essence of her lover. 1200 HOURS JAG Headquarters Falls Church, Virginia A.J. had risen briefly to call the JAG office and inform Tiner that his battery had required charging (an apt excuse), and he would be late in arriving at the office. Now, at noon, he found himself sitting at his desk, suppressing the smile that threatened to overcome his features. They had lain together that morning until passion had stirred them once again. Their second exploration had been slow, less demanding. It had been a voyage of discovery - he of the intimate mysteries that turned her composed facade into a realm of wild abandon; and she the touch and taste of his maleness, the essence of his sexuality. Even now, separated by the densely populated bullpen, he felt her nearness, and longed to join her in intimate seclusion. But he knew that their relationship must be private, a secret shared between them alone until he could sort out its ramifications. He was aware that there would be complications, and he felt the need to insure both the longevity of their union, and the security of their careers. He hated the duplicity this forced upon him. Chegwidden was an honorable man, a forthright man, subterfuge was not in his nature. He would gladly place it all on the altar of their passion, but he knew that Sarah would never accept such a sacrifice. A solution would have to be found...but where? 1230 HOURS Sarah MacKenzie's Office / JAG Headquarters A soft tap on the office door brought Mac back from her reverie. Reflections on the morning before had further compromised her concentration, complicating the already frustrating process of trying to regain her memory. "Come on in." she called, "It's open." "The correct response is 'Enter." a soft voice prompted pleasantly. It was Harm. He'd popped in often over the last two days, each time with a pleasant smile or word of encouragement. This time was no exception. Without invitation, he settled himself on the edge of her unused desk. "So, how's it going this afternoon? Any new revelations?" "I feel like a giant, green paperweight." she stated dejectedly. "Nothing is coming back. Maybe it never will..." Her eyes told of her desperation, her sense of loss. "Don't push it so hard. It'll come back, just relax and let it happen. As usual, you want everything, and you want it now." he chided, his boyish grin once again softening his assessment. Another tap. "Enter." she called, making a wry face at Harm. This time it was Tiner, A.J.'s legal yeoman. "What can I do for you, Tiner?" "Ma'am, if your not busy, Commander Mattoni asked if I could get the Johannson file from you this afternoon." "Certainly, Tiner." Mac rose and crossed the room to shuffle through a stack of case files, lying seemingly at random on top of a file cabinet. She had asked A.J. to reassign her cases until she was fully functional, fearing that her impairment would deny her clients adequate council, and now Commander Mattoni was to be her successor. Deftly, she inserted her hand into the center of the pile. Then she halted. She'd known exactly where to look. The memory, small but sweet, flooded her mind, filling her with the first ray of hope since her accident. Silently, Mac handed the file over to Petty Officer Tiner, the lump in her throat precluding a verbal reply. "Thank you, Ma'am." Tiner acknowledged. "I'll expedite this right away, Ma'am". Tiner retreated, a puzzled look fixed upon his face. If Tiner closed the door behind him, Mac missed it. Her thoughts were elsewhere, her mind preoccupied as she stared out of her single window, her back to the room, trying to compose her emotions. "Mac?" Harm's voice invaded the stillness. "Are you okay?" She could hear his footsteps draw nearer. His hand came to rest on her shoulder, his voice soft and reassuring. "Mac, I know you don't remember the things we've been through together, the moments we've shared...but we were close. I've never been closer to anyone in my life. I just wanted you to know that you have a friend here...someone to listen...a shoulder to cry on if you need it. Don't shut me out. I want to help. I...miss you." She turned to face him, her eyes luminous with unshed tears. "That's the first thing I've remembered since the accident. It's been so terrible, losing my career, my identity, everything else, but the worst was not knowing if there was any chance at recovering the life I've lost." "Now I know there's at least a glimmer of hope! I've felt so empty these past few days. If it weren't for the Admiral, I don't know what I might have done." Another knock. A.J. walked silently through the office door, and looked in askance at the two JAG officers sequestered intimately by the window. He fixed his eyes upon Mac, and upon the hand which still rested on her shoulder. A strained expression crossed his face, leaving Harm both confused and curious. Had he missed a beat somewhere along the way? Had something changed? A.J. cleared his throat. "Am I interrupting something Commander...Colonel?" "No Sir. Mac's had a breakthrough. We were just talking about it." The Admiral caught Mac's gaze. Her face was an open book. She wanted to talk to him alone. "If that's all, Commander. I need to speak to the Colonel privately, if you don't mind." "No Sir. Not at all, Sir." Harm retreated, a look of confusion marring his handsome features. A.J. turned and looked at the woman who'd shared his bed only hours before. "Sarah," he began, "is it true? Why didn't you tell me?" Her whole being was aglow, hope radiated from every pore. "It just happened! It wasn't much, but it was a start. Tiner wanted the Johannson file, and I knew right where it was, even in this mess." He wanted to touch her, to taste the salty tears that threatened to flow in mad relief down her cheeks, but he couldn't. The staff in the bullpen could see their every move through the open blinds in her office. They were forced to remain apart, to maintain a professional distance. "I'm glad, Sarah, really glad. You're on the road back. I couldn't be happier for you." "Well, I need to get back to my office. I just wanted to know if you'd like to go out to dinner tonight. But, why don't we make it another night? I'll be ready to leave for home at 1800 hours. Does that meet with your approval?" Mac nodded, her face a mask of concern. He was so detached, so impersonal. It was hard to see the man who had touched her very soul only a few hours before. 1830 HOURS On The Road The ride home was both tense and silent. A.J. kept mostly to himself, lost in a private world of personal angst. Would Sarah, his Sarah, still want him if her memory returned? Had she ever loved Rabb? Did she still love him? Would his home...his life ever be the same without her in them. Her memory was returning. The excuse to keep her near him could rapidly be drawing to a close. The thought filled him with dread, and he was instantly ashamed. What kind of man was he, to think of his own wants and desires, when they were so in conflict with the welfare of someone he loved? Lost in his own thoughts, A.J. barely spoke to Mac at all for the first half of the trip home. "A.J.?" Mac tested the water. "A.J.? Is something wrong? Have I done something to upset you? He paused, but not long enough. "You and Rabb looked pretty cozy today in your office." He hadn't meant to say that! Was he "channeling" some jealous bastard from the Great Beyond? Mac was stricken. Was that his opinion of her? Did he think that she could hop straight from his bed into the arms of another man? She felt the hackles on the back of her neck begin to rise. "Well, looks like you caught us." she baited, angrily. "Imagine what would have happened if you hadn't shown up!" He knew she was angry with him, and that he deserved it, but the barb still hurt like hell. Grimly, he set his firm jaw, and concentrated on the road before him. They rode in silence, each smoldering dangerously as the road passed beneath them. Finally, pulling into the driveway, A.J. jerked the car to an abrupt halt. Slamming his fist on the steering wheel he began to talk in terse, controlled syllables. "Damn it! I hate feeling this way. I've got to know. Is there anything between you and Rabb? Tell me the truth, Sarah." Silence. "Sarah...answer me!" he commanded, the admiral in him coming to the forefront. He turned his head, the words sticking in his throat. Sarah sat as though frozen in time, her face twisted into a grotesque personification of pain and loss. "A.J., is that the kind of person I was? Am I a tramp...a manipulator? Is that why you're saying these things to me now? How could you even want me near you! Realizing the agony his jealousy had caused her, he reached out to touch her face, to soften the cruelty of his words. Mac cringed at his nearness, his touch sending shivers of anguish through her body. "Oh, A.J.," she whispered, "I'm so sorry. I didn't know that I...I mean nothing happened. Harm was just trying to get me through a rough moment. He said we'd been close friends in the past and offered me a friendly ear. I didn't think there was any harm. I never intended..." "Stop, Sarah! You're not at fault here. It's me. I can't have you thinking you were some kind of a "slut" before the accident. You weren't. You don't have it in you. It's just that you and Rabb have always been close, and then I saw the two of you together today, and something just snapped inside. You don't deserve it...neither of you do. I promise you, it won't happen again!" He was still angry, this time his anger was directed inward, creating an impenetrable barrier between them. "A.J.?" Now it was her turn to reach for him. Far from cringing, he sat stone faced, a pillar of self-recrimination. Silently, she slid across the seat, pressing her thigh alongside his, gently stroking the unforgiving line of his jaw. "A.J., you're just as human as the rest of us. You need to cut yourself some slack... Look at me!" Silently, he allowed her to direct the force of his gaze with a delicate prompt of her fingertips. "I'm okay, A.J.. You could have made this all my fault...I would have believed you. But you didn't, because you couldn't. You're not that kind of man. I forgive you. Why can't you forgive yourself?" Once more he found the truth in the deep, ebony pools of her eyes. Gently, she pressed her lips to his, breathing in his masculine scent, tasting the passion within him. He turned slightly, hesitantly, deepening their kiss as he slid his tongue between her teeth, pressing her back against the leather seat. His hand found her right breast, his thumb teasing the nipple through the fabric of her blouse. Moisture flowed, unbidden between her thighs, and her hand sought between his legs for the source of her deliverance. He gasped, his libido taking command, and laying her seatback into a prone position, began to insinuate his hand beneath her skirt." He could feel the wet heat of her passion through her pantyhose, but the silken barrier precluded further exploration. "Damn! Why did they ever invent these things?" he swore fervently. "Let's get inside, Darlin', where we can do this right." Quickly, they made a beeline for the door, and, fumbling with the key, burst into the interior of the living room. Sarah was first, but A.J., in a state of dire need, was quicker. With a singularity of mind, Sarah began to cross the braided rug toward the bedroom, unbuttoning her blouse, her jacket folded across her left arm. But A.J., driven by tumultuous need, caught up to her far short of her objective. In a silence born of desire, he pressed his swollen sex against her buttocks, his arms encircling her waist. His steady fingers finished peeling the blouse from her body, and undid the clasp of her bra, dropping each to the floor as his hands brazenly claimed her breasts. His lips traced a moist pathway down the side of her exposed neck, her respiration becoming uneven... labored... She felt her nipples respond, hardening beneath his touch as she undid the zipper of her skirt and let it fall around her ankles. Sarah turned and began to fumble with A.J.'s belt, attempting to free the focus of her desire. Quickly, he shed his clothing and wrapped his arms around her once again, pressing his hardened erection against the soft flesh of her abdomen. Then, silently, he lowered her to the floor, his determined fingers stripping away her pantyhose, caressing her bared skin as it materialized before him. Without words, he knelt between her legs, as though paying mute homage to a vestal shrine. Then, rising above her, he rested his weight on his forearms, and once again probed between her lips with his tongue, mimicking the act they were about to perform. Eagerly, she readied herself for the invasion she so longed for, but it was not to be. She began to tremble with desire, her body crying out for fulfillment, but he denied her completion. Instead, his lips began a slow, maddening trek downward, lapping delicately at her heated flesh, suckling her dusky nipples. She reached for him, attempting to capture him between her thighs, to imprison him within her heated core, but he was not to be deterred. Lowering his head, he trailed his tongue wetly across her shivering abdomen, stopping minutely to taste each new discovery before continuing his tortuous journey toward the downy triangle nestled between her thighs. Then, drawing back, he began to stroke the moist, quivering core of her sexuality, inserting his thumbs and opening her fully to his gaze. Exposed, she flushed and reached for him once again...her very being crying for the release that only he could offer...hoping to end her torture and coax him into the intimate coupling she strained to achieve. But again he eluded her, this time lowering his head between her thighs to delicately tease the heated flesh of her inner core with his lips. In full command, he suckled the rigid knob before him, his tongue thrusting, probing in an excruciating pantomime of the act she so desired. Her body took up a rhythm as old as time, as her hips rose to meet his delicate titillation. She felt her senses reel, her breath coming in ragged gasps as the sensations built within her, growing rapidly, threatening her very sanity. "Now...now." she pleaded, her hands shakily entreating him... encouraging him... enflaming him. Then, mercifully, he raised his body above hers, and, supporting her legs with his forearms, he thrust his hips between her thighs, plunging deeply into her molten core. She cried out, a moan of sensuous abandon filling the room. He paused, waiting for her to adjust to his engorged member, then thrust again, deeper yet... her desperate pleas of encouragement an aphrodisiac, his body responding with primeval intensity. Assured that his assault was welcome, he plunged deeper still, bringing her to a state of mindlessness where only the juncture of their bodies could exist. He felt the warm rush of her heated juices engulf his straining organ. Wordlessly, an unintelligible moan tore from her lips, and her body fought greedily to possess him still further, to consume him. As the tide of her passion crested around him, he once again allowed himself the abandon he so desired. Tilting his head back, like a wild beast gazing at the full moon, his body began to thrust rhythmically, demandingly, within the darkened aperture between her legs... harder... faster, until finally, with a cataclysmic shudder, he spent his essence within her. Sarah lay bare and exposed, her body refusing to obey her commands. A.J. reached up and pulled an afghan from the sofa to gently cover her still and sated form. Drained, she lay limply on the braided rug, as she watched her lover spark a blazing flame within the fireplace before her, then return to join her beneath the colorful spread. "Sometimes I wonder what you're thinking when you send me flying out of control like that. You have such a look of intensity." she prodded. Tenderly, he gazed upon the delicate women laying before him, a thin bead of moisture rimming her upper lip. He pressed his body against hers, gently tracing her nipple with the tips of his fingers. "I love to see you come." he said simply, enjoying the rosy flush that spread across her features. "I love to feel your nipples harden against my chest, and see your eyes glaze over with passion. But, most of all, just as you reach 'terminal velocity', you arch your neck, exposing your throat. Then, if I press my lips right here (he lowered his head to demonstrate), I can taste your heartbeat racing out of control, and feel a low moan building inside of you. It carries me into your world, it connects us." Then, silently, he drew her into the warmth of his embrace and watched the flames from the hearth play across her still features. Sarah curled contentedly against his chest, an intense lethargy rendering her helpless in his arms. "I love you." she whispered, then closed her eyes and drifted away in sleep. Had she remained awake, she would have heard his response: "I've always loved you, Darlin'." 0900 HOURS A.J.'s Bedroom The next day was Saturday. Harm, realizing that Mac needed to regain the control over her life that had once been of such vital importance to her, had suggested Friday, that they begin looking at car dealerships for a new set of "wheels". Harm dropped by at A.J.'s cabin at 0900, and, parking his SUV behind the Admiral's dignified sedan, he approached the doorway. A.J. and Sarah were still in bed. After recuperating, they had talked long into the night, each unwilling to break the intimate connection they had established. They'd picnicked on the floor at 0200, then made love again until the embers had cooled and the room had grown dark. Now, as the morning sun filtered through the trees and peeked through their bedroom window, they lay like spoons, his body pressed intimately to hers, his arm draped protectively around her waist. Memories! Ch. 01 A knock. A.J. groaned. "Who in bloody hell is knocking on my door at (he turned to check the bedside clock)... "0900, Love." she stated, her internal clock taking command. They froze. Another piece had fallen into place. How long before the picture was complete, and they would lose their excuse to share his home in the woods? Suddenly, Mac shot upright, drawing the covers around her naked form. "It's Harm!" she remembered with alarm. "I forgot. He offered to take me car shopping today!" Warily, she glanced at her lover, as if to gauge his response to the younger man's intrusion. "I'm sorry, A.J., I didn't know what to tell him without, you know, saying too much." she finished lamely. A.J. wasn't happy, but true to his word, the jealous lover of the evening before had not returned. Gently patting her backside, he rose and grabbed his robe from the floor. "You better get something on you, Darlin', or Rabb will have no illusions left whatsoever." Quickly, as A.J. answered the door, Sarah bundled her naked body in the sheet and sprinted toward the guest room. "Commander!" A.J. stalled, throwing open the door. "And what brings you to my place this morning?" Smiling, Harm addressed his commanding officer. "I've come to collect your houseguest, Sir. We're going to do a little looking around today...to see what's available as a replacement for her personal vehicle." A.J. began to step aside to allow the lanky JAG officer entry, then halted. "If you'll give me just a minute, Commander." Quickly, he closed the door and began to gather the remnants of their passionate night from the living room floor. Harm was uncomfortable, uncharacteristically speechless. He'd spotted the clutter immediately, and knew from personal experience what it meant. Awkwardly, he shifted his stance and waited for the Admiral to return. The door opened a moment later. The Admiral, now clad in "sweats", motioned for Harm to enter. "The Colonel will be ready in a minute, Commander. I'm making coffee...will you have some?" "Oh...uh...no thank you, Sir. We'll be leaving soon...I'm sure she won't be long." Harm settled in an overstuffed chair by the fireplace to wait. He felt like a schoolboy collecting his date. It was then that he noticed the crumpled bra laying elusively beneath the sofa. Quickly, he averted his eyes, but not quickly enough. The Admiral followed his gaze, taking in the telltale piece of lingerie. Silently, A.J. gauged Harm's reaction, his expression stern and commanding. "Is there anything we need to discuss, Commander?" he challenged. "I...No, Sir. Nothing, Sir." Harm stood, and the two men faced each other, their understanding both tacit and mutual. It was Mac who finally broke the link as she swept into the room, dressed and ready to leave. "I should be back in time for supper, Admiral. Is there anything I can bring home?" Harm noticed her choice of words...the Admiral's house had now become "home" to her. "I don't think that will be necessary, Colonel. I'm sure we can rustle up something...possum...road kill." Mac tried to stifle a grin as Harm shifted uncomfortably. "You two have a good time. I have things to do, so if you'll excuse me..." The Admiral took his leave, and was soon heading for his favorite running trail, deep within the Virginia woods. Hopping into his SUV, Harm and Mac headed back toward the city, where a greater choice of vehicles was to be found. "Any idea what you're looking for?" Harm asked. "Well, I haven't given it a lot of thought, but I think I'd like something that can be used off-road, but still gets good mileage in the city. I'd like something American-made. I'd also like to keep the price manageable...who knows what my next career might be if this one goes down the tubes..." Harm winced. "You've got to think positive, Mac. Your memory IS going to come back. It'll happen...just give it a little longer." She smiled at his optimism. "From your lips to God's. ears..." she quoted. My uncle used to say..." She stopped, her mind spinning. "My Uncle Matt used to sat that! I remember Uncle Matt! Matthew O'Hara, he's...he's in jail now, isn't he, Harm?" Harm nodded. "He is. Otherwise he'd be here with you now. He's called me every day since your accident, he just didn't want to upset you until you were on your feet and could handle it. He said, and I quote: "She's got enough to deal with. She doesn't need some jailbird uncle she doesn't even remember, bothering her." Harm paused. He had something else to say...something he wasn't sure how to phrase. Your Uncle Matt was...a little surprised that you were staying out at the Admiral's place..." Mac grew quiet. Where was this leading? "I assured him that for the time being it was the best place for you to be. Doctor's orders. Was I right?" Mac thought of A.J., his tenderness, his concern, how he'd filled the long days since her accident. Silently, she turned to Harm, assessing the enigmatic expression on his usually smiling face. He knows, she thought. I don't know how, but he knows. "Yes," she nodded, "you were right." "You know," he began, "if you were staying with anyone but the Admiral, people would certainly be talking about now. "Really? But they wouldn't talk about the Admiral?" "No, they respect him too much. He's earned it. They also know that it could end his career. You're in his direct chain of command. The JAG is a stickler for rules and reg.s...fraternization is a serious charge. It would be a direct violation of the UCMJ. You'd both end up in an article 32 hearing. Mac sat staring out of the window, stunned. She hadn't realized how much A.J. was risking on her account. Their relationship could cost him everything. Once more she turned her head and assessed the man beside her. Could she trust him? "I..I didn't know that," she stated simply. A.J.s been wonderful to me. I would never do anything to hurt him." The words hung in the air, detached and alone. Finally Harm spoke, his voice soft and introspect. "I know." he replied softly, "I know." 0830 HOURS O'Brien's "House of Cars" They stopped first at a large used car lot, where Mac could get some idea of the varied types of vehicles that were available from a cross-section of manufacturers. Their conversation was animated as they hiked from aisle to aisle, stopping first at one car then another. Mac returned twice to check out a jet black Tracker. "What do you think of this one?" she asked. Harm looked at the heavily tinted windows. "Well, you'll certainly have a lot of privacy. You can't see a thing in there. Climb in and 'pop' the hood. Let's take a look at the plumbing. Gingerly, she climbed behind the wheel, and searched for the hood release. The tracker was fully loaded, it had all of the "bells and whistles" that a boy, or girl, could want. Mac knew it was the car for her. Harm removed his head from the engine compartment. "Well, what do you think?" she asked. "Not too bad." he said, "Not really any kind of a muscle car, but I think it fits your criteria." Mac pretended to take exception to his comment. "Oh? And just what kind of car would you 'big boys' choose?" Harm walked out into the center of the lot, scanning the possibilities before him. Finally, his eyes settled on a classic Mustang convertible, he turned to Mac. "Now tha...Mac?" Mac stood as though in a trance. Slowly she crossed the tarmac, and came to rest before a crimson Corvette. Wordlessly, her mind reeling, she extended her hand and touched the cool surface of the car. As though in fast forward, memories came flooding back, filling her mind, inundating her senses. Her hand began to shake, then her whole body trembled as the overload washed over her. "Mac?" Harm placed his hand on her waist to steady her. "Are you okay?" Tears flowed unchecked down the soft contours of her face. Her mascara became rivers of black...comical under any other circumstances. Alarmed, Harm opened the door to the 'vette. "You need to sit down." he stated simply, the concern evident in his voice. Mac looked up, as though seeing her companion for the first time. "Harm..." Harm smiled, relieved at the recognition which glistened in her eyes for the first time in a week.. Harm...I know you! And my 'vette...my beautiful 'vette...the truck...I remember it all. Harm! I remember it all!" 1200 HOURS A.J.'s Home McLean, Virginia A.J. watched curiously as the black Tracker paused, and then turned into the driveway. Was that Sarah at the wheel? It was hard to tell, the windows were so darn dark. Slowly, he opened the screen door, and walked out onto the porch, his hands on his hips. Were they going to sit there all day? He waited a moment longer, then began to descend the steps, approaching the unknown vehicle. It WAS Sarah! Why wasn't she coming inside? Smiling, A.J. walked over to the driver's side of the Tracker. "You mean Rabb actually gave his approval to something that gets better than eight miles to the gallon?" he grinned as he opened the door. A.J. took one look at her face, and knew immediately that something was seriously wrong. Silently, she looked into the face of the man she loved. "We have to talk, Admiral. Can we go inside?" She'd called him "Admiral". He dreaded what the next few moments would bring. He anticipated her loss, even before she spoke. Entering the living room, Mac sat rigidly on a chair by the sofa. "It all came back, Admiral. Just like that. I can remember everything." She lowered her eyes, her cheeks reddening as she recalled their night of passion on the rug before her. "Why didn't you tell me how much was at stake if our relationship became public knowledge? I could have ruined you. Didn't you think I had a right to know?" Her voice barely broke a whisper. "I thought...Oh, hell...I don't know what I thought," he responded. I guess that's the problem. I wasn't thinking, I just knew what I wanted...what I thought we both wanted. I didn't want to think about the consequences. So where does that leave us now, Mac?" She inhaled deeply. This was not the time for tears or soppy farewells. She had to be strong , for both of them. "I need to leave, Admiral. Tonight. I can't put your career in jeopardy any longer. You've meant so much to me...I hope we can still work together." A.J. felt it all slipping through his fingers. She'd regained her memory, and now she was leaving him. Why had he ever thought he had anything to offer a young and vital woman like Sarah MacKenzie? Raising a protective facade, his professional persona, he steeled himself against the moment and attempted to respond. "Of course we can work together, Colonel. We're both adults. This was just a momentary indiscretion. I'm sure we can put it in perspective, and get on with the job at hand. I'm happy for your recovery. Do you need any help getting your belongings together?" Sarah's heart shattered into a million pieces, but her appearance remained calm and controlled. "No, Admiral. I think I can handle it. I only have a few suitcases and a box of toiletries. It shouldn't take long, thank you. Frantic to remove herself from the situation, Mac tore through the guestroom, stuffing her belongings into any open spot she could find. Within an hour, she was once again backing her Tracker out of the driveway, and down the dusty road toward town. Her act had been perfect. Only a few lone sparrows were present to watch her pull off of the road and cry. 1700 HOURS One Week Later JAG Headquarters The next week passed in agony, each day longer than the next. Mac had once again taken up her cases, and her legal expertise appeared to have come back intact. The problem arose in her relationship with her commanding officer. After their intense, emotional intimacy, Mac could no longer look at her former lover with professional detachment. The scent of his aftershave, the sound of his voice, the brief accidental touch of their hands as they conducted mundane affairs in the course of their duties at JAG...all of these things and more, reminded her of their tender moments together. She couldn't sleep. She couldn't eat, and finally, she couldn't stand it any longer. In desperation, she made up her mind. With proactive determination, she sat down at her computer terminal and began to type. The same day JAG Headquarters It was almost 1800 HOURS when Petty Officer Tiner brought the correspondence in to the Admiral's office and lay it on his desk. "What's this, Tiner?" the Admiral questioned. "I'm not sure, Sir. Colonel MacKenzie gave it to me. She asked me to bring it in to you when you were free." Silently he opened the inter-office envelope, dread building within him. This week had been one of the worst weeks in his life. Though he'd tried to conduct "business as usual", the mere thought of Sarah sent him into deep fits of depression. His hands ached for the touch of her skin, the feel of her lips on his, the sweet scent of her hair on his pillow. He'd never felt lonely at his home in McLean before, but now the feeling plagued him constantly. He knew that things couldn't go on like this...apparently so did she. Sadly, his eyes scanned the transfer request before him. Quantico. Sarah was requesting a change of duty. It was obvious that the mere sight of him was more than she could stand. With a heaviness born of despair, A.J. pressed the button on his intercom. "Tiner? Would you get me Colonel MacKenzie, please. ASAP. The knock on his door was immediate. "Sir?" Tiner spoke, his confusion evident. "The Colonel was waiting at my desk, Sir." Tiner stood back and Mac entered the room. "That'll be all, Tiner. Please close the door on your way out." "Aye aye, Sir." Silently, Tiner shut the door, leaving Mac and A.J. alone for the first time since she'd left McLean. "So, am I to understand it that you're not happy with us any longer. Colonel?" Mac paused, searching for one last shred of protocol, but the game had become to much for her to bear. "No, Sir. That's not it at all, Sir." Avoiding his eyes, she stared instead at the ship's clock on the wall. "I feel...I feel..." She sagged against the back of a nearby chair. "I just can't do this anymore. I have to leave. At Quantico I can continue to serve under the base's Judge Advocate Officer as a part of the legal assistance staff. I won't have to leave the area...or the Corps, to start over." He knew there were things that should be said, things he should be saying, but the words were beyond his reach. Sarah wanted to leave, to get away from him. He had to accept it and find a way to move on. "I see." he rasped. "And you're sure of this?" He waved the offending document before her. "Yes, Sir. Quite sure." A.J. turned his back to her, unable to bear her nearness or the wounded look in her eyes. "Very well, then. I'll process your request. It may take a few days to mediate the shift, but I'll expedite matters as best I can. Is that all, Colonel?" Her body shaking, Mac stood at attention. "Yes, Sir, Admiral. That's all, Sir." "Very well, Colonel. Dismissed." he responded, his voice a toneless whisper. "Aye, aye, Sir" And with that, Mac turned and left the room, taking the air and sunlight with her, and leaving him, instead, with the shambles of his life. 0900 HOURS One Month Later Harmon Rabb's Stearman A full month had gone by, and the balance of her days should have settled into a pattern of passive acceptance. But they hadn't. Even now she awoke each morning, anticipating a gentle touch, an intimate whisper, that would never come again. The bond between them must have existed long before her accident, she had come to realize. How was it then, that she felt the loss so keenly, and he not at all? The transfer, at her request, had taken place quickly and without announcement. One day she was at JAG Headquarters, and the next she was at Quantico. The geography was simple, but the transition was not. Now, here in her office on the famed Marine base, she knew that a change of scenery had not been enough. At first her friends had been puzzled, hurt at her refusal to discuss the matter, then acceptance had overtaken them and the matter had been quietly put to rest. All except Harmon Rabb. Still her closest friend, the lanky Commander had called her apartment on frequent occasions, and had dropped by with a sack of Beltway burgers (for her), and pasta salad (for him) more than once. Only he knew the source of her pain, but to his credit, it had remained a subject buried between them, a path that neither chose to tread. Now, on the fifth Saturday since her recovery, she and Harm once again found themselves together, sailing through the clear, blue skies of Virginia in his yellow Stearman. Sarah had hoped that the departure from her routine would ease the pain she still felt so acutely, but it was not to be. As the sylvan countryside passed below their wings, images of her time with A.J., in the forests of McLean, filled her mind. Would she never be free of him? Finally Harm, realizing the futility of his "good will" mission resigned himself to defeat and turned the classic biplane back toward the hanger. "You have to let it go!" he hollered over the dull roar of the engine. "You need to end this...get on with your life." There. He'd said it. It had needed to be said for the past four weeks, but even HE, her best friend, had been unable to risk the pain the truth would inflict. Mac remained silent, choosing instead to ignore the comment, hoping that he would think she hadn't been able to hear him over the incumbent noise of the open plane. Harm let the matter drop until they were once again on "terra firma", heading back to her apartment. "You heard me up there." he prompted gently. "We both know you did. This act isn't fooling anyone." The wound had been reopened, the anguish fresh in her voice. "I heard you." she confirmed, her tone soft and tortured. Harm placed his hand on her arm, as though to draw the hurt from her soul, and give her the peace she so needed. "Then talk to him, Mac. You're a total wreck, and so is the Admiral. It's affecting his work, his judgement...and you look like hell. People are beginning to notice. You need closure...and so does he." She knew it was the truth. His advice, as usual, was right on target. But, somehow, that knowledge wasn't enough. "I can't, Harm. It's just...I just..." Frustrated, she began again. "If I can't even talk to you about it, how can I possibly talk to him?" Grimly, Harm sighed, and steered his SUV toward the city, and her apartment. 1945 HOURS Sarah MacKenzie's Apartment Georgetown The weekend had passed slowly, allowing far too much time for reflection. Mac was relieved when Monday arrived and she could once again attempt to bury herself in her work. She arrived home at 1930 HOURS, a small carton of Chinese take-out in one hand, and an overfilled briefcase in the other. Not caring to attempt the included chopsticks, Mac opted instead for a fork from her kitchen, and settled herself in front of the evening news to eat and unwind. Ignoring the insistent pulse of her answering machine, she'd taken only a few bites of her Kung Pao Chicken, when the doorbell rang. Who could that be, she wondered. She wasn't expecting anyone. Quickly, she crossed the floor, and peered through the diminutive peephole. Her body froze, her respiration a thing of the past. There, with his cover tucked securely under his left arm, stood A.J., fumbling impatiently from one foot to the other. As though by rote, her fingers immediately began to unlock the deadbolt, flinging the door wide, exposing the cause of her tattered life. "Admiral! I don't understand. Is something wrong?" she questioned lamely.