The Bicycle Ride, a jag fanfic

The Bicycle Ride

The Bicycle Ride

by Sarah Brown
[email protected]

JAG and the characters are the property of Donald Bellasario, Paramount and CBS.

Major Sarah MacKenzie breezed into JAG Headquarters and walked down the hall toward her office. She turned to wave as Lieutenant j.g. Bud Roberts called out a polite hello, then turned back, straight into the solid form of Lt. Commander Harmon Rabb.

"You're out of uniform, Marine," he observed.

Mac glanced down at her lycra biking shorts and top. "I'm off duty today, remember?" she shot back. "My friend Alan's meeting me here for a ride, but I left my favorite biking sunglasses in my desk."

"You just got done with a big case. What's this Alan guy's excuse for playing hooky?" Harm asked.

"He took the day off so we could spend it together," Mac replied. "It's so nice to find a man who isn't totally wrapped up in his work," she added sweetly.

"If you say so," he said skeptically. He followed her to her office and stood in the doorway as she retrieved her sunglasses. "Weren't you telling me just the other day that you had sworn off men for the foreseeable future?"

"Actually, I told Jordan that. She must have passed it along," she said wryly.

"So what happened?"

"Well, you and Jordan looked like you were having such a good time that I thought I'd give it a whirl, too," she said breezily. Harm continued holding her gaze. "I got lonely, okay?" she said more seriously. "Too many nights sitting around my apartment thinking gets old."

Harm's expression softened. "I can understand that," he said.

"And anyway," Mac went on, "it's not like it's serious. Alan's just a really nice guy. We have a lot of fun together."

Harm held his hands up in mock surrender. "Ok, ok, you don't have to get all defensive."

"Then quit giving me the third degree!" she laughed. Then she looked passed Harm and smiled. "Hi, Alan," she called.

A sandy-haired man with a perfect fitness club build had just walked up behind Harm. At six feet, he wasn't short, but he still had to crane his head around the officer to reply. "Hi, Sarah. Are you ready to go?

"Yep! I was just getting my sunglasses."

Harm stepped back from the doorway and let Mac join Alan. He followed them down the hall as the pair headed out. "Mac tells me you took the day off for a ride. You must have an understanding boss," he couldn't resist throwing out.

"Well, I like to think I'm an understanding boss," Alan replied. "Of course, I'm usually much harder on myself than I am on my employees," he continued. "It's not easy building a successful business from the ground up. I usually have to work long hours just to keep on top of things."

Harm eyed the man's muscles, which were clearly the product of many hours in the gym. "I can imagine," he said wryly. "You probably never have a moment to yourself. It's amazing you ever had a chance to meet Mac. Where did you two meet again?"

"Harm!" Mac complained in an undertone. Honestly, the guy acted like he was her self-appointed guardian sometimes.

Alan apparently didn't notice any sarcasm. "At a little pub around the corner from here. What was it called again?"

"McMurphy's Tavern," Mac supplied.

"Right, McMurphy's. Of course, it's not my usual watering hole. I'm usually up on the Hill," he explained, referring to Capitol Hill, the area in Washington, D.C., where Congress was located. "But I didn't feel like dealing with a bunch of high-powered types that night, so I wandered into this place instead. And would you believe, there was this gorgeous woman sitting all by herself at the bar," he said, smiling at Mac. "Said she was waiting for a friend. Wouldn't even let me buy her a drink, can you imagine that?" he asked, grinning conspiratorially at Harm, as if it to suggest that as a fellow man, he could sympathize with him about all the games women played.

Harm started to open his mouth, but a sharp look by Mac silenced him. They continued out of the building and to the parking lot, where Mac and Alan began pulling their bikes from the bike racks on their cars as Harm looked on.

"Anyway," Alan continued as he unstrapped the bike, "I joined her while she waited for her 'friend,' who never showed up, of course, and we got to know each other. I thought she was kidding when she told me she was a Marine!"

"Yeah, they let her wear a uniform and everything," Harm said. Just then a thought occurred to him. "When was this again?" he asked.

"Let's see," Mac answered for Alan. "I think it was a week ago Tuesday." As she glared at him, Harm realized the identity of the friend who had stood her up – him. That would teach him, he thought.

"So what kind of business do you run, Alan?" Harm asked. Judging by Mac's continued glare in his direction, she was not fooled by his show of friendly interest.

"I have a consulting firm. We specialize in defense issues," he explained. "Sarah had some very interesting thoughts on the matter."

"Oh, so you're a lobbyist," Harm replied.

"Right. We represent a lot of big defense contractors."

"I thought it was mostly ex-military in that line of lobbying. Were you ever in the service?" Harm asked.

"Harm!" Mac said, outraged.

Alan ignored her protest. "No, but I used to work on the Hill for a Senator on the Armed Services Committee. My dad and he went way back. So I got to know the issues that way. So, Sarah, are you ready? If we get a move on, we should be able to do a good thirty-mile ride before it gets dark!" The two climbed on their bikes, strapped on helmets and headed out.

"Ride safely!" Harm called after them.

"Okay, DAD!" Mac called back over her shoulder. Harm watched them disappear and then went back inside.

"Where does she find these guys?" Harm muttered under his breath as he headed back to his office.

"What's that, Commander?" Bud asked, looking up.

"Nothing, Bud. Never mind," Harm sighed, and moved down the hall.

An hour and a half later, the pair returned to JAG headquarters, looking a lot more bedraggled than when they left – or at least, one of them did.

"What happened, Major?" Bud asked in concern.

"Nothing serious," she assured him. "Just a little accident."

Ensign Harriet Roberts came over to her. "Here, sit down, Major," she said. "I'll get you some water," she offered and walked toward the kitchen.

Just then, Admiral Chegwidden walked by, then did a double-take when he saw Mac. "Are you okay, Major?" he asked, going over to her.

"Yes, I'm fine, really," she said, embarrassed. "I just took a little spill."

Harm stuck his head out of his office as Harriet walked by. "What's all the commotion?" he asked her.

"Major McKenzie's been in an accident," she told him.

"What?!? Where is she? Did they take her to the hospital?" He didn't wait for Harriet to explain as he ran down the hall.

Seeing Mac sitting there basically in one piece brought him to a relieved halt. "What happened?" he asked, moving to get a better look at her scrapes and bruises.

"Oh, it was so stupid," she said. "We were going under that bridge by the Lincoln Memorial and I rode my bike right into a big gap in the pavement by the guard rail. My front wheel went in all the way to the hub. The bike stopped, but I didn't, unfortunately."

"Yeah, you should have seen it," Alan chimed in. "She nearly flew right over the handlebars. The only thing that stopped her was that her feet were still in the pedal clips. Scared the hell out me. I didn't think I was going to be able to stop before I ran into her. Damn near went down myself."

"Yeah, and my favorite biking glasses ended up on Memorial Bridge, under someone's tires," Mac lamented.

Harm looked shaken. "You're lucky you didn't end up on the Memorial Bridge under someone's tires," he chided her. "Looks like you left a lot of skin on the pavement, though," he added, eyeing huge patches of scraped, bloody skin on her forearms and left calf. Trickles of blood continued to ooze down her left leg, the site of the biggest wound. "Does your bike look as bad as you do?" he asked.

Mac pushed her hair self-consciously out of her face, wincing as her hand brushed against a bruise forming on her forehead. "It came out of it okay. I think I bent the front axle a little bit, but wasn't too bad on the ride back."

Aghast, Harm stared at her. "You rode back? That bridge is almost ten miles away!"

"There wasn't much else we could do," Alan offered. "We couldn't hail a cab with our bikes, and there wasn't a Metro station around. A shame I left my cell phone in my car. But you know what they say, get back on the horse, and all that." He patted Mac on the shoulder, causing her to cringe as he hit another tender spot.

Harm was denied the chance to respond by Alan's beeper, which chose that moment to begin screeching. Glancing at it, Alan looked concerned and asked if he could use a phone. Bud pointed the way to his desk. Harriet returned with a glass of water, a handful of damp paper towels and a cold compress. Clearly her maternal instincts were in full swing.

As the four JAG officers fussed over Mac, Alan walked back over and announced that he had to go. "I hate to leave you like this," he told Mac apologetically, "but duty calls. One of my clients is having a crisis, and I need to help him take care of it."

"That's okay, Alan, you go ahead," Mac said. "I'm sorry I ruined our ride," she added.

"Don't worry about it. I'll be able to fit another one in this weekend," he said. "Are you sure you're going to be okay?"

"Don't worry, we'll look after her," Harm said. "You'd take care your client. You've got a growing business to look after."

"Right. Say, let me give you a business card. You should give me a call if you decide to give up military life. I could use another Navy man on my team." Harm took the proffered card. Alan turned to Mac. "Sarah, I'll give you a call tonight to see how you're getting along."

"Okay, Alan. Bye," Mac waved weakly.

As he left, the phone rang. Bud answered it, listened for a moment, and then turned to Admiral Chegwidden. "Admiral, the SECNAV's office is calling for you."

"Alright," Chegwidden replied. "Put it through to my office." Turning to Mac, he said sternly, "Get that leg taken care of, Major."

"Don't worry Admiral, I'll take her home and get her cleaned up," Harm answered for her.

"Good," he said and went to his office to take the call.

"Harm, you don't have to take me home," Mac protested. "My car's in the lot. Maybe you could just help me get my bike back onto the rack for me . . ."

"Negative, Major. You shouldn't drive like that. I can't believe you bike back here with that leg, not to mention your arms, that bruise on your head and whatever assorted injuries you're hiding under that outfit."

"It's not that bad," Mac tried to argue, but she didn't make any headway as Harm gathered her up and ushered her out to the parking lot.

Harriet watched them walk to the door, their progress slowed by Mac's hobbling steps. Turning to Bud she asked, "Where does she find these guys?" Bud shook his head in commiseration.

Harm pulled Mac's car up in front of her building and handed her the keys. He got out and walked around to the passenger side as Mac pulled herself stiffly out of the car.

"I don't have time waste waiting for you to limp into your apartment," he said, and leaned down to pick her up.

"Harm, put me down," Mac protested. "I'm going to get blood all over your uniform!"

"Too late," Harm said as he swung her up into his arms.

Mac knew she should continue to protest, but between her injuries and the guilty pleasure of being held by Harm, she didn't have the strength. Instead, she let her head fall against his shoulder and enjoyed the brief trip to her apartment.

Harm stopped at her door so that she could reach down and unlock it, then carried her through and into her bedroom and deposited her on the edge of her bed.

"I think I'd better take a quick shower," Mac said trying to shake off the feelings his carrying her had evoked. "I'm a little gamey from the ride."

"Are you sure you can manage?" Harm asked.

"Yes, I can manage! And while I'm at it, why don't you hand me your uniform top so I can rinse the blood out. If it sets, the shirt will be ruined."

"Hey, I'm supposed to be taking care of you," Harm objected.

"Well, I'd let you do it, but you'd just mess it up," Mac said.

"I think you'd do anything to get my shirt off, that's the real reason," Harm teased.

"Yeah, right. Just give me the shirt and get out of my room so I can take a shower," she laughed.

"Okay," he said, unbuttoning his shirt. "While you're doing that, I'll get your bike off the back of the car and bring it in." He handed her the shirt and then headed off in his uniform pants and T-shirt toward the door.

Mac eased off the bed and into the bathroom. She rinsed the blood stain out of the shirt and hung it on the door to dry. Then she turned on the shower, took off her biking outfit and eased gingerly into the warm spray.

As she carefully lathered up, trying to go easy on her scrapes and bruises, she thought about the afternoon. She hated to admit that Harm might be right, but Alan was shaping up to be just another jerk. Not that Harm had actually said he disapproved of Alan, but it was clear what he thought by the look on his face the whole time he had been talking to the guy. From there she started to think about Harm. Sometimes he really got on her nerves, like the way he seemed to think she needed him to take care of her. But then sometimes she felt just as protective of him.

She let the water pour over her as she remembered the feeling of being held in his arms . . . but she pushed the thought away. They didn't have that kind of relationship . . . They couldn't have that kind of relationship . . . it just wouldn't work. Even if they wanted it to, which . . . well, she did, sometimes. A lot of the time. Who knew what Harm wanted. But it didn't matter – it wasn't going to happen.

Mac shook herself from her reverie and stepped from the shower. She toweled off carefully and put on the loosest pair of shorts she could find and an oversized T-shirt. She heard Harm come in the front door. "Where do you want the bike and the rack?" he called.

"Just leave them in the living room – I'll get them later," she called back.

A moment later he called again, from just outside the bedroom door. "You decent?" he asked.

"Yeah, come on in," she answered.

He came through the door. "You sure you don't want to go to the hospital?" he asked.

"I'm sure," she said, continuing an argument that had begun during the ride home. "Maybe you flyboys can run to a medic every time you get a little scrape, but Marines are supposed to be tougher than that."

"Uh huh. Okay, then, where's the first aid kit around here?"

"Under the bathroom sink. I'll get it," Mac answered.

"You sit down. I'll get it," he said, pushing her gently toward the bed. He went to the bathroom and rummaged around for a moment, then came back with the kit. "Hmm . . . got any tweezers in here? . . . oh, here they are, good. Okay, sit back and Dr. Rabb will make you good as new."

He started with the tweezers. "What are you going to do with those?" Mac asked suspiciously.

"Well," he explained, "In exchange for all the skin you left on the pavement, the pavement was kind enough to leave you some remnants of its own. Looks like you've got some good-sized pieces of gravel embedded in there, so I'm just going to dig them out."

"I don't like the sound of that," she responded nervously.

"Relax. We'll start with your leg." As gently as he could, he lifted out the grit that had survived her shower. When he finished with her calf, he moved on to one elbow, then the other, trying to ignore her stifled gasps of pain. To distract her, he asked her a question that had been bothering him all afternoon.

"I take it you haven't explained to Alan why you wouldn't let him buy you a drink."

"No, not yet," she answered cautiously.

"Any particular reason? I mean, it's nothing to be ashamed of. You should be proud of how well your doing."

"Well, maybe I didn't want to get all serious on him right off the bat. Maybe that's what's wrong with me – I throw guys too much to handle too soon."

"There's nothing wrong with you!" Harm exploded. Then more calmly, "You just pick the wrong guys. There's something wrong with them, not you."

"So who is the right guy for me?" she asked.

Me, he thought, then forced the thought away. Again. "I don't know. Why don't you find some guy that you're attracted to and then pick someone exactly the opposite."

"That would make you the perfect man for me," she shot back, even though she knew it was a lie.

Yes, he thought. "No!" he exclaimed. "Boy, I try to be a nice guy and what does it get me? Insults!" He pulled the last bit of debris from her elbow.

"Okay, now comes the fun part," he said with false cheer.

"You mean that wasn't the fun part?" she asked. "And I was having such a good time."

He pulled out a bottle of alcohol and a clean cloth. "Are you ready?"

Gritting her teeth, she replied, "Go ahead."

He straightened her injured leg and poured alcohol over the wound, blotting it with the cloth.

"Ahhh, God that hurts," Mac cried out. She gripped the nearest object, which happened to be Harm's thigh, as hard as she could.

"Suck it up, Marine," he said, then countered his tough words by covering her hand with his. "One down, two to go." He cleaned the scrapes on her elbows, then smoothed antibiotic lotion into all three locations and covered each with a bandage.

"There, all done," he said. He reached down to pry off the hand that still held his thigh in a death grip. Instead of letting it go, he held between both of his and looked into her face to see how she was faring after the ordeal. "Unless you want me to kiss it and make it better," he added.

"Harm," she blushed. "No one's kissed it and made it better since I was about five." But she couldn't look away.

Harm held her gaze. He knew he should let it drop there, but something pushed him on. Maybe it was watching her with that jerk this afternoon. Didn't she know she deserved someone better? Someone like me, a voice in his head whispered. For once, he didn't push the thought away.

"Then maybe it's high time someone did," he said quietly. He lifted the hand that he held and gently kissed the spot he had just bandaged as Mac watched him. Then slowly he leaned forward and brushed the bruise on her forehead gently with his lips. He pulled back just a little bit and studied her face. She wasn't moving, just watching him back, waiting. He lifted his other hand to her cheek and leaned forward again, this time kissing her lips.

He meant it to be just a brief, gentle kiss, but as soon as his mouth touched hers, he forgot all his good intentions. He had thought about this moment more times then he cared to remember. And Mac wasn't helping his resolve any. Her free hand had slipped around his neck while the fingers of the hand he still held intertwined with his. He deepened the kiss.

Mac felt dazed. She had thought about this so many times that it was hard to realize it was really happening. But the feel of his lips and the sensations it was sending through her were very real. She responded fervently, forgetting for the moment all the reasons why they shouldn't be doing this.

Harm trailed his hand from her cheek to the back of neck, then down as he moved to put his arm around her. He slid his hand down her shoulder and felt her jump as he touched a tender spot. Immediately he let go and broke the kiss.

"I'm sorry, are you okay?" he asked her. "I didn't mean to hurt you."

"It's okay," she said. She didn't know whether she should be sorry or relieved for the interruption. But now that she had a moment to think, reality poured over her like cold water. "Harm . . ." she began.

Harm moved back from her. "I know, you're right, I'm sorry. I got caught up in the moment, I shouldn't have done that," he said.

"It wasn't just you. I was helping. But you know all the reasons we can't be do this," she said.

Harm sighed and stood up. "I know. But don't you ever wish we didn't know?" he asked in frustration.

"Sometimes," she agreed. All the time, she thought. "Anyway, we'd be on each other's nerves in a second," she said, trying to the lighten the mood.

"Yeah, you are pretty hard to put up with," he laughed.

"Me?" she spluttered, then smiled when she saw the grin on his face.

The smiles fell away as he moved back to her and gently touched her face. "Guess you'll have to recover without me," he said. "I'd better get back to the office."

"You'd better," she agreed. She watched as he reached to pull his still-damp shirt from the bathroom and put it on, then got up and followed him to the apartment door. "Thanks for taking care of me, Harm."

"No problem. Someone's got to," he replied, only half kidding. After standing for a moment, looking at her, he opened the door and went out, shutting it gently behind him.

On the other side of the door, Mac stood and thought about the door that she and Harm had pushed open a crack that afternoon. The one they had both fought to keep shut for so long. For a moment, she was tempted to go after him, but even as the thought occurred to her she knew she couldn't act on it. The phone's ring interrupted her musing, and she went to pick it up.

"Hello? Oh, hi, Alan," she said. She listened as Alan launched into a detailed explanation of the crisis that had called him away. She murmured agreement at the appropriate times, but her thoughts were still on the other side of the door.

On the other side of the door, Harm paused. He knew he should keep walking, get out of there as quickly as he could, and shut the door on the feelings that had slipped out of their prison this afternoon. He knew he should keep walking, but part of him wanted to go back through that door. But he knew he wouldn't. As he stood there, he heard her phone ring, and muffled behind the door, her greeting to Alan. He left the building and walked to the street to hail a cab.