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Match Point
Author: Pixie Disclaimers: Not mine. AN: The ideas here are mostly Captain's. I just wove them into the story. Enjoy. AN2: I guess it's possible (probably even likely) that in "real life" delivery people are no longer allowed to come right into JAG headquarters. Didn't I already warn you that this was going to be an AU scenario? Anyway…call it creative license and go with it. It works.
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"Ma'am? There's another delivery for you." I look up to see Jen standing in the doorway. Just behind her is the by now familiar delivery man with his daily offering. I roll my eyes as I wave him inside. "That'll be all, Jennifer." "Yes, Ma'am." She doesn't move. "Petty Officer!" She jumps like a startled rabbit, dragging her eyes away from the overflowing vase that sits atop my file cabinet. "Yes, Ma'am. Sorry Ma'am. I'll just be going now…" She starts to walk away, turns, and comes back, a hopeful gleam in her eye. "Would you like me to water those for you, Ma'am?" "No thank you, Jennifer. I think I can manage." She picks up the note of sarcasm in my voice and beats a hasty retreat. I turn to Pete. "Another one?" "Yep." He grins at me, hands me the single long stemmed rose, makes a note on the ever present clipboard, and turns to go. "Pete?" I'm amused that I know the man's first name. Goes to show what happens when you see somebody every day. "Yeah?" He's obviously not military. I hide a smile. "I don't suppose you're ready to tell me where these are coming from, are you?" "Sorry, Ms. Mackenzie. If I did that, I'd probably lose my job." I sigh. "Can you at least tell me if I'll see you again tomorrow?" "Nope." With a wink and a smile, he disappears into the controlled chaos of the bullpen. I reach into my desk, haul out the scissors, and snip off the end of the stem in a gesture that has become so automatic that I hardly even notice it. Then I place the gorgeous crimson bloom into the vase and stand back to stare at the collection. It had started almost three weeks ago with the mysterious appearance of the tall cut glass vase on my desk. There'd been an unsigned, typewritten note inside. "Keep me close by. I may come in handy." I'd been puzzled, but it'd been a busy day, so I'd put the vase on top of the filing cabinet and promptly forgotten all about it. The next day, Pete had shown up for the first time. He'd looked a little annoyed as he'd handed me the rose. "Just this?" "Just that." He'd marked his clipboard and left. I'm still not sure if he was having a bad day, or if he was annoyed that he'd had to suffer through two security checks just to deliver a single rose. Even then, there'd been no vase, no fancy paper or baby's breath, and, most bizarre of all, no card. "Mac? You got a minute?" Startled, I turn toward the doorway. Harm looks from me to the vase and back again, but he doesn't say anything. In fact, his face is completely without expression except for mild interest. I know this because I stare hard at him before I answer. "What's up?" "Do you have the file on the Moore case? I pick it up and hand it to him. He glances down at the file, clears his throat, and hands it back. "This is the Michaels case. I need the Moore case." With a long suffering sigh, I look through the jumble of folders on my desk. When I finally find it, I hand it to him with a look that loudly dares him to say a word. Evidently sensing my less than chatty mood, he makes a timely exit, and I go back to staring at the vase. I know what's going on here. He thinks I don't, but I do. It had begun with the vase and the daily rose shortly after we'd returned from that Heroin bust. Then I'd started finding other little surprises. One day, I opened my drawer to get out a new box of paperclips, and discovered a king size Snickers bar with a tiny red bow. No note. No card. Just the bow. Lunch that day had been sinfully sweet and sticky. Then I'd had to spend two hours at the gym working it off. Another day, I'd gone to the break room to get the leftovers I'd brought for lunch, and discovered a deli bag with my name on it. Inside were a sandwich, a banana, and a bag of chips. Much better than day old egg noodles. Yesterday I'd found the bath salts. They'd been tucked into the back of my desk drawer next to a tiny rubber duck. I'd laughed out loud when I found it, and Harriet, who'd stopped by to ask me a question about A.J.'s birthday party, had obviously been curious. Luckily, she's been a little distracted lately, so it wasn't too hard to change the subject. This morning, though. This morning he'd given himself away. Mr. "I'm So Sneaky I'll Never Get Caught" finally made a mistake. I'd reached over to grab a law book, my eyes never leaving the deposition I was looking at. I've been in this office for 8 years now. I can find things in my sleep. I plopped the book down on my desk, flipped it open, and found myself staring at the fossilized dinosaur tracks on Red Rock Mesa. It turned out to be a dinosaur book. Well, paleontology, actually. And very few people know about that particular obsession of mine. In fact. I can only think of one. Mr. Harmon Rabb Junior. I turn my gaze from the roses to the picture of us at A.J.'s christening. I stare at the image, mental wheels turning at high speed. So. This is the way it's going to be, huh? Well…..two can play at this game.
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