Hi, everyone! I know I said I was taking a break from writing – and really, I am! This is actually a short story that I started a while ago, but the muse didn't want to finish it until now. If you're familiar with Catherine Bell's show The Good Witch, you'll probably see some parallels here. I hope you like it and thanks for reading!

"Happy Birthday!"

Sarah MacKenzie hadn't even raised her hand to knock before her friend Cheryl flung open the front door to greet her.

"Come in, come in!" Cheryl exclaimed. "We're all in the living room. We have tons of food, and we're just about to take a quiz on our perfect Prince Charming."

Cheryl's enthusiasm was infectious. In honor of Sarah's fifteenth birthday, she had invited a group of girls for a sleepover complete with birthday cake, chocolate ice cream, and plenty of girl talk. As Sarah made her way into the living room, she found her friends already sprawled out on the floor, squealing over a magazine.

"Sarah!" one of the girls, a bubbly blond named Jamie, exclaimed excitedly. She flipped open one of the pages in the magazine. "Is your ideal Prince Charming: (a) blond, blue-eyed, and muscular; (b) short and geeky with glasses; or (c) tall, dark, and handsome?"

Sarah couldn't stop the blush from creeping up her cheeks as she heard the final choice.

Jamie grinned and marked off the answer. "I'd say that's 'tall, dark, and handsome' for Sarah."

"Jamie!" Sarah protested weakly.

"Oh, no," Jamie insisted. "The blush on your face doesn't lie. I'd say Sarah MacKenzie wants a tall, dark, and handsome Prince Charming to smother her with deep, passionate kisses—oomph!"

Jamie's giggles were muffled by the pillow that Sarah flung directly at her face.

"I'll read the next question," Cheryl declared, snatching the magazine from where Jamie had dropped it on the floor. "What is your Prince Charming's preferred mode of transportation: (a) his magnificent white stallion; (b) any form of public transportation; or (c) a sleek red convertible?"

Sarah laughed. "I'll go with the convertible."

The girls erupted into giggles again.

"Oh, my gosh, Sarah, I know the perfect guy for you," Cheryl said.

"Yeah?"

"He just turned sixteen, he drives a bright red convertible, and he definitely has the tall, dark, and handsome thing going for him."

Sarah's eyes lit up with interest. "What's his name?"

"Eddie."

The mention of Eddie's name set off a fresh round of laughter. The girls stayed up late that night, far into the wee hours of the morning, munching on birthday cake and chattering excitedly about the boys at school and how they could set Sarah and Eddie up on a real date.

When Sarah returned home the next day, she hadn't gotten much sleep, but she was running high on happiness and adrenaline. She hurried up the front steps of her house, feeling as if she were practically floating on air, until the heavy, stony silence inside brought the euphoria crashing down.

"Mom?"

There was no answer, and Sarah wandered into the living room, searching for her mother.

Instead, she found her father, sprawled out on the couch with an obvious hangover.

"Where's Mom?" Sarah asked.

"Don't know," came the gruff reply.

"Did she go out?"

"No."

The sheer bitterness that dripped from that one word sent a cold chill down Sarah's spine.

"Then where is she?" she demanded.

"I don't know," her father repeated harshly. "Your mama walked out that door last night, and as far as I know, she ain't coming back."

Major Sarah MacKenzie rubbed a tired hand over her face and rolled her head in a slow circle, trying to ease some of the stiffness in her neck. It was barely 0900 in the morning, and she had been hunched over her desk since her early arrival at the office, buried under a bottomless pile of paperwork.

Damn it, Harm.

She completely blamed her former partner for this mess. When he had left JAG a few weeks ago to return to a fighter squadron, he had left behind a stack of open cases that somehow ended up on her desk. Since then, she had been putting in extra hours at work, starting early and staying late, dividing her time between the courtroom and the confines of her office, and she had still barely managed to make a dent in the paperwork.

Mac wasn't even sure she remembered what the surface of her desk looked like anymore.

But that's not really why you're angry with him, the little voice inside her head scolded harshly.

I'm not angry.

"Well, I'm sure you're beautiful even when you're angry."

The bold flirtation laced with a strong Australian accent broke into her thoughts, and Mac looked up, embarrassed.

"Did I say that out loud?"

Lieutenant Commander Mic Brumby winked at her. "Don't worry, Major, I have no intention of making you angry." He held up a bright red file folder. "Where do you want this?"

"Another file?" Mac asked in exasperation. "I thought you weren't going to make me angry?"

"Easy, Major." Mic held up his hands in surrender. "I'm just the bloke who inherited the office."

His office. Harm's old office.

Mac frowned. "Just put it..." She sighed and waved her hand absently at her desk. "...anywhere."

"It's for the Banks hearing," Mic said, setting the folder on top of a tall stack of papers balancing precariously on the edge of the desk. "It's on the docket for tomorrow."

"Banks?"

"Yeah, I just found it buried under some other files on Harm's desk."

Mac's brow furrowed. She couldn't remember ever seeing such a bright red file before, nor could she remember her partner – former partner – ever mentioning a case with that name. However, he had been so preoccupied with his return to flying that she wasn't surprised it had slipped his mind.

"Thanks," she said sarcastically, reaching for the file. With a heavy sigh, she opened to the first page and skimmed through it quickly. "Dereliction of duty?"

Mic shrugged. "More like dereliction of reality. The petty officer tried to cure a fellow shipmate's illness with a magic potion." He grinned. "I wasn't aware that the United States Navy used magic potions to cure its sailors."

"They don't."

"They do according to Petty Officer Banks." Mic winked at her. "Do you believe in magic, Major?"

Mac felt her stomach turn upside down. She knew he meant it as a good-natured joke, but instead she was filled with an odd sense of sadness that seemed to make her slightly queasy.

"No, Commander, I don't," she replied, perhaps with more force than she had intended.

"Well, you might not want to tell your client that," Mic advised, motioning towards the door.

"Good morning, ma'am, sir."

Mic nodded a greeting and then hastily made an exit as Lieutenant Bud Roberts approached Mac's office with a cheerful smile.

Mac rubbed her temples and turned to her new guest with tired eyes. "Morning, Bud. Come on in."

"Thank you, ma'am."

Bud stepped into the office accompanied by a pretty blond Navy officer. "Major MacKenzie, this is Petty Officer Aurora Banks."

"Hello, ma'am," Aurora greeted politely.

She was a petite young woman, but she carried herself elegantly. Her silky blond hair was pulled back in a tight braid, and her uniform was immaculate. But there was something about her eyes that caught Mac's attention. They were bright and expressive, framed by long lashes, a shade of green that almost shimmered. And when those eyes looked at her, even the Marine major couldn't help but squirm under the petty officer's penetrating gaze.

"Petty Officer Banks," Mac said quickly, forcing down the uncomfortable feeling. She sank back into her chair and opened the file. "You're a corpsman on the USS Cinderella."

"Yes, ma'am," Aurora replied promptly.

"Charged with dereliction of duty."

"I did my job, ma'am," Aurora corrected firmly.

"You treated one of your fellow sailors"—Mac glanced down at the file—"Petty Officer Kathryn Sanderson. She spent three nights in sick bay with a high fever."

"She wasn't doing well, ma'am. I decided to try a mixture of anti-febrile herbs."

"The chief medical officer states that you treated the patient on your own and failed to follow proper protocol. Instead, you treated Petty Officer Sanderson with 'an unknown concoction of suspicious origin.'"

"Western medicine wasn't working, ma'am," Aurora argued. "Her fever wasn't coming down. I opted to try something else."

Mac laid the file down and crossed her arms over her chest. "Well, Petty Officer, the Navy does have certain medical protocols and its corpsmen are expected to follow those protocols—"

"Except when those protocols don't work, ma'am," Aurora interrupted, her green eyes lighting up with anger. "And in this case, they didn't. So I tried something different."

"Well, you're right about that," Mac agreed in a sarcastic, almost taunting tone. "Magic potions are definitely something different. It's not every day you see the United States Navy mixing up magic potions like something out of a fairy tale. Do you think this is a fairy tale, Petty Officer? Because it isn't."

Aurora's bright eyes narrowed, and she fixed Mac with a hard stare. "I never said it was, ma'am."

"Ma'am." Bud suddenly spoke up.

Mac glared at him and Bud shrank back slightly.

"Ma'am, with all due respect, we are the defense counsel."

Mac bit her lower lip. For some reason, her emotions seemed to be spilling out of her mouth today, and part of her just wanted to scream in frustration, but the practical lawyer part of her clearly understood Bud's point.

She sighed and closed her eyes. "You're right, Bud. I—I'm sorry."

"Are you okay, ma'am?"

"Fine," Mac replied curtly.

"Ma'am, you're not angry at Lieutenant Roberts," Aurora said.

"Excuse me?"

"You're hurting," Aurora explained. "Your pain is extremely powerful. But it has nothing to do with the lieutenant."

Mac blinked in surprise. She shot a questioning look over at Bud, and he shrugged helplessly.

"You've lost something," Aurora continued. "Something very important to you."

"Petty Officer Banks, right now the most important thing to me is your defense, and you haven't given me anything that we can use as one. So before I realize just how out of line you are, I suggest that you walk out that door and come back with something that's going to help your case." Suddenly feeling flustered, Mac stood up from her chair and motioned to the door. "We start tomorrow at 0900 sharp," she instructed. "Lieutenant Roberts will show you out."

Quickly, Bud rose from his seat to do as the Marine major asked. "Right this way," he said politely.

It was only after Aurora left her office that Mac let out an angry breath in a huff. She watched the young woman leave, leaning tiredly against the frame of her office door and suddenly feeling a heavy weight upon her shoulders.

"Problem with your new client, Major?"

Mac turned to see Admiral Chegwidden's steely eyes watching Aurora exit through the double doors of JAG.

"No, sir."

"She specifically requested you as her defense counsel."

"Me? Why me, sir?"

"Well, it certainly wasn't because you gave her the warm fuzzies."

Mac's gaze dropped apologetically. "I'm sorry, sir."

The admiral looked thoughtful. "Her exact words were 'I respectfully request the Marine major with the hole in her heart as my defense counsel.'"

Mac shot a look of disbelief at her commanding officer. "She said that, sir?"

"She did," the admiral confirmed. He crossed his arms over his chest. "Tell me, Major, is there a 'hole in your heart' that I should know about?"

"No, sir."

It was the truth. Mac actually felt like her heart was being squeezed in an unforgiving vice. She had no other explanation for the sharp pangs that struck inside her chest. They had become more frequent lately – these acute, nagging feelings that wouldn't go away no matter how hard she tried to ignore them. And if she were honest with herself, she knew exactly when they had started...a few weeks ago when her partner and best friend had brushed away her tears and held her in his arms – and then walked out the door.