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Date Posted: 11:08:11 11/04/13 Mon
Author: keru
Subject: Awakening (1/3)

Awakening

Summary: AU. What if Mac had found a ward after Paraguay, instead of Harm?

A/N: Hi! Long time no see. I haven't really been back here in a while, so I'm assuming JAG fics of all kinds can still be posted here? I'm operating under that assumption. This is a three maybe four part story, and obviously H/M shipper. After a long time of not really having any inclination to write, this one wouldn't leave me alone. I hope you enjoy.

You will note in this story that the timeline may be off from the show. It had to be done to add cohesion and flow to the plot herein. Many liberties have been taken, too, with the way things work in reality. I ask your indulgence in letting it go.

A quick note about the story ‘Goodbyes’: long story short I lost of all my chapter drafts and the idea of rewriting everything, especially when I really like what I had, was just too big a task. I’m disappointed about it, too. Sorry.


---
Awakening

Mac pulled her car into the parking lot of a rundown convenience store not far from her apartment. One street over, in the direction of her home, warm brownstones, iron-wrought fences, and old leafy trees dominated the landscape. But here, the homes and storefronts were used and slightly neglected. Old paint was peeling off the signs and mailboxes, grass grew only in patches, and store windows were smudged by the marks of a thousand handprints. The wrong side of the tracks, Mac thought. But this was the only store anywhere near her apartment that was open at this hour.

She stepped out of her car, purse in hand. A warm night met her, the dregs of the hot and humid summer’s day still hanging in the air.

Mac took a deep breath of fresh air, before entering the stuffy convenience store. A small, largely ineffective fan that sat behind the counter, its blades moving in slow, wheezing circles through the otherwise still air. The store’s only clerk stood behind the counter. Sweat stained his shirt. His grey hair fluttered lightly with the fan’s breeze. He glanced up at her through thick glasses as she entered, then turned his attention back to the customer he was ringing up.

Mac made her way to the back of the store where the large refrigerators hummed, picking up a few items along the way.

“Nine dollars, eighty-five cents,” the old man said, his voice carrying over to her.

Mac glanced to the front of the store, and saw that the customer he was speaking with was actually a teenaged girl, no more than fourteen or maybe fifteen years of age. A slightly large hooded sweatshirt hung on her shoulders. Her jeans were scuffed, her shoes faded, her dark brown hair tied up in a messy ponytail.

The girl turned her head and caught Mac staring. She was young, too young to be out alone so late, but Mac recognized that look of defiant self-sufficiency, of angry independence; that look of loneliness in the girl’s green eyes.

Mac schooled her features into a neutral warmth, and offered a slight upturn of her lips but nothing else. The girl looked Mac in the eyes for a long moment. Her gaze tripped down Mac’s uniform before she went back to taking change out from her jean pockets, each coin falling with a slight ting onto the counter, scratching the surface as she counted out her total in dimes and nickels and quarters. The old clerk waited patiently, saying nothing, showing neither curiosity nor any emotion. Mac knew from her sporadic visits over the years that he had been running this store for a very long time. He had likely seen worse than a barely teenaged girl alone at 11PM; had probably learned early on not to get involved.

The clerk nodded at the girl as he slid the change from the counter into the palm of his hand. She took her bag of groceries, headed straight for the exit. The girl looked over her shoulder as she reached the door, her eyes catching Mac’s briefly. And then the girl pushed the door open and was gone. The bell above the door chimed sharply, an echoing reminder of her presence.

Mac, armed with what she needed for the night, walked over to the register. The look in the girl’s eyes stayed with her, even as the bell’s sharp clang slowly faded. She placed her items on the counter, offered the clerk a friendly nod.

“It’s late out for a kid that young,” the old man said as he rang up her purchases. Mac watched as each item was scanned with a beep, her total owed slowly increasing. A couple of bottles of sparkling water, some candles, a lighter. Clay would be coming by her apartment in the next half hour. She wondered if she had any food in her fridge. She couldn’t remember. Didn’t matter, really. Offering up food would only dig into the time they had, would distract from what she really wanted from him. There were no illusions here, no subtext, no intentions hidden in impenetrable hearts.

“You’d think her parents would keep a better eye on her,” the clerk continued, shaking his head.

“She lives nearby?” Mac asked the clerk. The girl had bought a loaf of white bread, a gallon of juice, a jar of peanut butter. The makings of a relatively cheap meal.

“Why else would she come here?” he replied. “Always late at night. Mostly pays in change.” He shrugged. “Not my business.”

Mac offered him a ten, waited as he counted out her change. It troubled him, she realized, seeing that child out so late even if he wouldn’t admit it.

“How long?” she asked him.

“Maybe two months.” He handed her a couple of singles and some change.

“Thanks,” she said, taking her items and dumping the coins in the fundraising tin by the register.

He nodded. “You have a good night.”

--

“You’re a million miles away,” Clay said. He lay behind her on her bed, one hand on her hip, the other soft and warm as it traced the ridges of her spine.

“Hm,” she murmured, her mind replaying the image of that angry, lonely girl. “A long day.”

“Tough case?” he asked.

Mac bit back a sigh. She didn’t want to talk about it, any of it. She turned around, the bedsheet falling away from her torso, exposing her chest. His eyes slipped downward and stayed there for a couple of moments.

Some men, she thought, were so easy to distract.

She ran her fingers through his hair, her thumb traced the shell of his ear. His eyes met hers again, sharp and slightly accusing, and she realized that maybe this man wasn’t quite so easy to distract. But she saw the resignation in his eyes, the surrender.

He pulled her close, his lips trailing along her jaw, leaving soft kisses on her neck.

“One day,” he said, “I will get you to talk.”

“But not today,” she said, sliding her hands around his shoulders.

“But not today,” he sighed into her skin.

--

Two weeks later, Mac found herself once again at the convenience store. Clay was away for a couple of days, keeping his mother company as she made the social rounds in some wealthy New England enclave. So Mac had only herself for company. She hadn’t been much enjoying her own company so far. Not tonight, not since she’d set foot back in DC. The shadows at her place were too vivid and the silences, too loud.

She had stepped out of her overwhelming apartment with a plan to take a long, aimless run to get away from herself. Her feet, however, led her to the rundown store.

She was hit by the too-stuffy air the moment she walked through the door.

The clerk looked up. He nodded at her. She looked around the store and found it was empty.

An unexpected disappointment overtook her. She bought herself a bottle of water.

“Did she come back?” Mac asked. “The girl?”

The clerk shook his head. Mac tried to hide the unbidden rush of sadness that washed over her.

“Maybe money’s tight,” he offered.

“Maybe.”

---

Another two weeks passed before Mac went back to the store. Clay was away on assignment this time. He wasn’t a full field agent yet, and wouldn’t be until his doctors cleared him. In the meanwhile, the agency still called him out to consult, flew him to the corners of the world, and set him up inside bunkered field offices with little to no natural light. He sent her tokens. Reminders that he was thinking of her, even when he couldn’t be with her.

It was romantic, she supposed. But she didn’t want romance. Flowers and cards and sweet sentimental knickknacks did nothing for her. She wanted something more visceral, something that would jolt her heart awake from its deadweight slumber in her chest. The yearning for something she couldn’t identify, something she felt innately that she could never have, left her in a tailspin, unable to wrestle control over anything. At least, not anything in her personal life. At work, she was on her game. No-nonsense. Take-no-prisoners. Ice and efficiency. She knew her attitude wasn’t winning her any new friends, and it was likely alienating what friends she did have. She couldn’t find it in her to care.

The bell above the door chimed loudly, announcing Mac’s entry. A vicious anxiety filled her. The clerk was still behind his counter, a stalwart fixture in his poorly ventilated domain. He looked up from his magazine.

She raised an eyebrow in expectation.

“She came a week ago,” he said to her unasked question. “Water. Bread. Peanut butter.” He paused. “A chocolate bar.”

Mac found herself grinning. It was such an unfamiliar expression to wear, out of sync with the lines and planes of her face.

“Maybe money is good,” she said, her grin growing wider.

The old man returned her grin. It looked like an unfamiliar expression on his face, too.

“Maybe,” he agreed, his thick, bespectacled gaze was warm and admiring. “You should smile more,” he said.

“I haven’t had a reason to,” Mac replied, “not in a long while.” She let out a long breath of relief. The girl was surviving. “Thank you,” she told the clerk.

He nodded, his eyes shadowing over slightly at her reply.

She remembered again that look in the girl’s eyes. Without really allowing herself room for thought, Mac pulled a twenty out of her wallet and walked over to the clerk.

“Next time she comes,” Mac said, “use this to pay for her groceries.” She handed him the bill.

“She won’t accept it.”

“Try anyways. Say the items are on sale. Something.”

He nodded, took the money. She turned to leave.

“You have a good night,” he said.

---

A whole month passed before Mac could make it back to the convenience store. Assignments and cases and Clay’s return conspired to eat up her time.

“I told her she could have a discount on stuff that had been on the shelves too long,” the clerk told Mac. “Told her I was trying to clear old inventory.”

“She bought it?”

“She was suspicious, but...” he lifted a thin shoulder. They both figured the girl had little choice.

“She spent it on more food?”

“She got some canned soups and beans. Crackers. Biscuits. Fruit juice. The like.”

“Good.” Mac took out another twenty and handed it to the clerk.

The door chimed behind them. They both turned to see the girl walk in. She stopped and stared at them, startled by the sudden attention being leveled at her.

“Thanks,” Mac told the clerk, and made her way to the candy aisle. She browsed through the selection of gummy candies and chocolates and sweets, her attention fixed mostly on the girl.

“Any more of that old inventory left?” the kid asked the old man.

“Have at it,” he pointed to a couple of baskets filled with food items, resting on the ground by the checkout counter. He watched for a moment as the girl rifled through the baskets, before looking at Mac.

She met his gaze, conveyed her gratitude. He went back to reading his magazine. Mac studied the girl. Her clothes were worn, but in good shape. Her hair was washed, her teeth clean and healthy. She looked, generally, like she was taken care of.

Mac knew from experience, however, that some kids learned how to take care of themselves at a very young age. There might not be a functional adult in this child’s life.

The girl stood up, holding one overbrimming basket.

“How much?” she asked the clerk.

He took the basket and went through the items one by one, while the girl got herself a gallon of juice from the fridge. She walked right by Mac, who had mindlessly picked up a bag of trail mix and another of gummy worms. The girl watched Mac as she made her way back to the counter. Her eyes held an intelligence, a savviness that belied her age. Mac couldn’t help but grin. The girl looked away quickly at being caught out.

“Let’s make it seven dollars even,” the clerk said to the teen. “Ten fifty-eight with the juice.”

The girl took out two cans of soup from the basket. “Now?”

The old man looked from the soup, to the girl, to Mac, and back to the girl.

“How much have you got?” he asked.

The girl bristled. “How much without the soup?” she said. Mac could see the fight brewing in the girl’s stiff posture.

“I have to get rid of this stuff anyways,” he told her. “How much have you got?”

Mac was standing behind the girl now, and she could see the tips of the girl’s ears turning red. Embarrassment, she thought desperately, at having to go through this with a witness.

“Here.” Mac put a five dollar bill on the counter, and then turned quickly on her heel. “I’m late for a meeting. Keep the change.” She left the store without looking back, stuffing the bags of trail mix and gummy worms in her jacket pockets.

---

“You’ve been distracted since I’ve gotten back.”

Clay was sitting next to her on the living room floor of her apartment. Candlelight flickered around them, creating a cozy setting. He had brought them dinner from an upscale italian bistro near his place, and had set up an impromptu picnic on her coffee table. A wineglass filled with sparkling water sat by her elbow. A tumbler with a light amber liquid sat by his. He had brought a bottle of that as well, with him.

She set her fork down. “Have I?”

He nodded, studying her carefully. She saw the warmth in his eyes, the wonder, the affection. He had told her once, whispered into her ear as they lay skin to skin in her tangled bed sheets, how extraordinary he found her. How amazing. How good. She knew he meant it, but she also knew she wasn’t what he saw in her.

He brushed a loose strand of hair away from her face, his hand coming to rest on her nape.

“What is it?” he asked.

She slid closer to him, her hand reached up to play with the buttons on his shirt.

She thought of the girl, of her red-tipped ears. She wondered what hell the girl went home to; if she even had a home to go to.

“Sarah?”

Mac rested her face in the crook of his neck, and breathed in deeply trying to find some comfort. But the scent of him did nothing to set her ease, nothing to set her on fire. Nothing.

She kissed the skin she found there, a slow, wet play of her lips trying to ignite something, anything in her.

He pulled back, one hand still on her neck, the other holding her by the shoulder.

“Mac.” The warning in his voice was clear, the frustration.

“We don’t talk, Clay,” she said. “We never talk. Why start now.”

“We never talk because you never want to.”

She said nothing.

“But I want more,” he persisted. “We’re good together.”

She pulled out of his hold. “We aren’t,” she said. “We aren’t good for each other.”

“Hey,” he reached for her hand but she moved it out of his reach. Clay sighed in frustration. “What do you want, Sarah?”

She didn’t know. More importantly, she realized that she didn’t care. A picture of that girl flashed in her eyes. That had been her once. She’d pulled herself out of there by the skin of her teeth. And for what?

“Is this going anywhere?” he asked, gesturing at the space between them. “You and me?”

“Does it need to?”

He stood up.

“This isn’t enough for me.” He picked up his coat.

He slipped out her front door, shutting the door firmly behind him.

Mac stood in the middle of her living room, waiting as the silence pressed down on her, as the shadows slowly encroached over the flickering candle light. It no longer seemed so cozy.

She sighed. Switched on the lights, blew out the candles. Starting picking up their picnic dinner. She stopped at the tumbler of amber liquid that stood by Clay’s half-eaten gnocchi. It shone golden in the lamplight, and the smell of it reminded her of his lips on her throat, of that shimmer in his eyes when he looked at her.

Mac picked up the glass and the mostly-full bottle that Clay had left behind, and poured their contents down the kitchen sink. She put the rest of their dinner in the trash along with the bottle. She stored away the candles, and then she left her dark, empty apartment. Fresh air would do her good.

---

Her feet had brought her back to the convenience store. She stood across the street, staring at the faded green awning, at the worn bars in the windows, at the flimsy door, feeling empty. Mac sat down on a nearby bench, and leaned her head back to stare up at a sky full of stars she couldn’t see. She slipped her hands into the light jacket she’d grabbed on her way out of her apartment, and felt the crinkled bags that still lay there. One of trail mix, and one of gummy worms.

She’d forgotten about them. She stared at the two bags in her hands. She wasn’t hungry, and yet there was something appealing about eating candy on a warm summer’s night. Something innocent and childlike.

“Can’t decide which one to have first?”

Mac looked up to see the girl from the convenience store. She was standing by the curb, a bag of groceries in her hand, eyeing Mac with an endearing mix of curiosity, trepidation, and courage. It made the girl seem younger than her already young years.

“Want to share?” Mac offered.

The girl eyed Mac, sizing her up. Doubt was written across her features and in her body language.

Mac threw the bag of trail mix towards the girl who, to her credit, had good enough reflexes to make the catch with her one free hand.

“Can I have some candy, too?” the girl asked, looking down at the bag of raisins, berries, and nuts with something like disappointment. Mac hid her grin.

“I’ll think about it,” Mac replied as she tore open the bag of gummy worms and popped a red and yellow one in her mouth. It was delightfully sour, perfectly sweet. She looked at the girl, who was still standing awkwardly by the curb. “My name’s Sarah MacKenzie,” she said. “Friends call me Mac.”

The girl raised an eyebrow at that.

“Mac?” she said dubiously, looking at the dress Mac was wearing underneath her jacket. The dress she’d put on for dinner with Clay. “What do I call you?”

“I only share candy with friends,” she replied, holding the bag out to the girl.

The kid took a handful of worms out of the bag and took a seat next to Mac.

“My friends call me Jay,” she said chewing eagerly on the candy.

Jay opened the bag of trail mix, her mouth still full, and ate a handful. They sat together in silence, snacking under the streetlights.

“I’ve seen you in there,” Jay finally said, nodding towards the convenience store across the street. She looked to be building up to saying something, and Mac wondered what it was. Mac waited the girl out.

“My parents send me out to pick up stuff. You know, odds and ends. We live just over there,” she tilted her chin vaguely towards the nearby intersection.

The wrong side of the tracks, Mac thought.

“They can see me from the window when I go,” Jay continued, giving Mac a quick, sidelong glance. She shrugged with a forced nonchalance. “I just run out real quick and head right back.”

Mac stopped chewing and watched the girl. The tips of Jay’s ears had slowly reddened under Mac’s scrutiny. It was adorable, Mac thought. Up close, wearing a light purple t-shirt and jeans, the girl looked like any kid enjoying her summer vacation, innocent and unburdened. Her eyes, though, gave her away. Mac’s heart tightened as she watched Jay struggle to throw off suspicion. It was an odd feeling in her chest, a thing forgotten and unfamiliar. A slow beat of life in a long-barren place.

“I should go,” Jay said, standing up. She held the bag out towards Mac. “Thanks for sharing.”

“Keep it,” Mac said. She handed the girl the bag of gummy worms, too.

“Are you sure?” Jay asked.

“I wouldn’t offer if I wasn’t.”

Jay took the bag.

“Get home safe.”

“I will.” She picked up her bag of groceries and walked down the street, in the direction she had said her home was in.

Mac considered following the kid, but she didn’t want to break the tenuous connection they’d formed. Instead, she sat on the bench, and stared up at the night sky. She found herself smiling.

----

It was another clear summer’s night, the first such night after a week of steady rainfall, and Mac decided to sit on the bench across the street from the convenience store. Jay no doubt lived nearby, even if not exactly in the general vicinity she’d pointed out to Mac. Maybe the girl would see Mac on the bench and be drawn out. In the meanwhile, Mac took out a book and immersed herself in the story, making sure not to pay any attention to her surroundings. She didn’t want to spook the skittish kid.

She wasn’t really sure as it was what had led Jay to approach her a week ago. If she’d been in Jay’s shoes, she would have laid low and avoided any adult who could’ve identified her or been given reason to worry about her late-night shopping trips.

Twenty minutes later, Mac’s hunch was validated when Jay took a seat beside her on the bench. She put away her book and turned to the girl.

“Hey,” she said.

“Hi,” Jay replied. She looked a bit nervous, on her guard.

Mac opened the large paper bag on the ground, and pulled out her offerings.

“Donuts and chocolate milk,” she opened a box holding a dozen donuts. “Care to share?”

Jay’s eyes lit up, but she was quick to hide it. She shrugged coolly. “Sure.”

Mac took an apple fritter for herself. Jay selected a jelly powdered one.

Maybe, Mac thought with a sudden pang of guilt, she should bring a large salad or fruit next time.

They didn’t speak for a while. Jay was busy eating her donut, a look of pure pleasure on her face.

“This is delicious,” she said as she wiped her mouth. She eyed the box.

“Have another,” Mac said easily. She uncapped a bottle of chocolate milk for herself and took a long sip. Jay took another donut, and the second bottle of milk.

“Thanks,” she said. She chewed her second donut more slowly, tangled deep in some thought.

Mac waited.

“I don’t need your help, you know,” Jay finally said when she finished her Boston cream.

“Why did you come up to me last week?” Mac asked gently.

The girl stared at the bottle of milk in her hands. The tips of her ears reddened.

“Jay?” Mac prompted.

Jay stood up abruptly, but not before Mac caught the angry flash of tears in her eyes.

“Hey,” Mac said, standing up as well. “Wait.”

But the girl was already in full sprint, running away. Mac didn’t follow.

She picked up the box of donuts and her unfinished bottle of milk. At least Jay took the other bottle with her, Mac thought. She crossed the street and walked into the convenience store. She handed the clerk a twenty dollar bill.

“If she comes back,” Mac explained.

The clerk nodded slowly as he took the money from her. He tipped his head toward the bench on the sidewalk across the street, clearly visible from his perch behind the counter.

“You’re asking for trouble,” he said.

Mac released a long, slow breath. She looked towards the empty bench..

“Maybe.”

---

For the next month, Mac made a weekly pilgrimage to the park bench. Jay never showed up. The kid had shown up twice at the convenience store in that period, the clerk told her, just never when Mac was around. Mac gave the clerk a twenty after both times.

During that same month, she didn’t reach out to Clay. He had been true to his word, and was leaving her alone. She was figuring out that although she hadn’t felt any measure of happiness in a long time, being apart from him made her neither less unhappy nor more happy. It was as though he was a memory from a long distant past. She could remember every nuance of her time with him, the brush of his skin against hers, the warmth of his breath, the tenderness in his touch. Yet she could feel no emotion attached to any of those sensations.

He was easy to forget.

What Mac could not forget, however, was Jay. She had tried to subtly prod information on how to locate missing persons out of Bud, but finding a girl on whom she had no real information was pretty much impossible. It occurred to her that maybe Clay could help her find the girl, but she knew he would ask more questions than he would provide answers. Once upon a time, she would have gone to Harm and convinced him to help her.

Then again, it had been a long time, maybe years, since she had asked Harm for help. He gave his opinion to her freely, usually without her asking but also usually when she needed it most. He helped her without her having to ask. She knew that she did the same with him. They’d watched each other’s backs for things little and big. Saved each other’s sixes.

But that was all in the past now. She had only herself to rely on, same as it had been before she found her way to JAG all those years ago.

----

“You’ll call me when she comes in.” It was less a question, more a statement.

The clerk nodded, taking the card from Mac’s hand.

“My cell number is written on the back.”

“Do you know what you’re doing?”

“Not really,” Mac replied honestly.

----

Three nights later, her cell pinged with a text message from the clerk.

Kid just walked in.

Mac was out of her apartment not a minute later. She jogged over to the convenience store and hid in a darkened alleyway across the street. It afforded her the perfect line of sight, ample cover. Three minutes and thirteen seconds later, Jay exited the convenience store with a bag of food in hand. The kid was easy to follow; neither trained nor suspicious of a tail.

Jay walked along the street, in the direction she had told Mac her parents’ home was. With a quick glance over her shoulder, the girl hopped the fence into a vacant lot overgrown with weeds. She headed to the back corner of the lot, and removed a few planks of discarded wood to reveal a small opening. Mac watched as the girl slipped into her secret hideaway. It seemed to lead to the basement of the building next door. Probably a boiler room or storage area. The planks of wood slid back into place.

It would explain why the girl only went out at night. She would be easy to spot slipping into the lot and through the opening during daylight hours. At night, the area was not well-lit and visibility was poor.

Mac walked home, a plan formulating.

----

The next night, Mac returned to the vacant lot. There was a park across the street, and Mac waited there. She sat on the swings, her eyes fixed on the entrance to the girl’s secret home. She doubted Jay would confine herself to a concrete basement, not when there were swings and slide just across the street. Sure enough, around 11PM, the girl carefully slipped out from between the disused wooden planks and picked her way out of the lot. She hopped the fence and skipped into the park. It was only when she reached the slide that she saw Mac sitting on the swings.

“Oh,” she said. And then caught herself, “my parents are expecting me...I was just playing around…” Jay trailed off at Mac’s raised eyebrow.

Jay’s face dropped in defeat. Then she steeled herself, her eyes darting back and forth, planning an escape route. They both knew, however, that she wouldn’t be able to go very far, not when all her things were in a basement across the street. She ended up standing still, a quick anger sparking in her eyes. A validation of everything she’d told herself to believe so far about adults, about the world.

“You gonna call the cops now?” she asked Mac, wearing that angry defiance that had first drawn the Marine to the girl.

Mac shook her head.

Jay frowned. She hesitated. “You...going to kidnap me or something?”

Mac had to smile at that. “I won’t hurt you. I can promise you that.”

The girl crossed her arms over her chest. “Then what? You’re going to rescue me?”

“You look like you can take care of yourself.”

That caught her short. “Then why are you here?”

“You also look like you could use a friend,” Mac replied.

Jay stared at her.

“Frankly,” Mac said, “I could use a friend, too. I’ve had a hell of a few months.”

The kid, obviously, didn’t trust her.

Mac stood up. “Come on. I know a diner nearby that’s open 24 hours.” The girl didn’t move. “We can walk, so there’s no need to get into a stranger’s car.”

“I thought you said you were my friend,” Jay pointed out petulantly, still upset with her. But she followed Mac, even if sullenly.

“I hope you don’t buy that line from everyone who offers you candy,” Mac teased.

“It was the trailmix that did me in. I love raisins.”

“I’ll keep that in mind.”

-----

Mac watched as Jay devoured the double cheeseburger on the plate in front of her. The kid had already inhaled half her fries and a healthy portion of her milkshake. She considered warning Jay about the possibility of a stomachache, but stopped herself. The kid had been eating bread and peanut butter, crackers and canned soup for god knows how long.

“I haven’t had warm food in forever,” the girl said between bites. “I forgot how good it is.”

Mac remembered those times from her own teenage years, although they were definitely fewer and farther in between than what Jay had been experiencing.

With her burger done, Jay focused on her fries and shake. She was fully immersed in the task of eating until she noticed that Mac had not really touched her own meal.

Jay sighed. “You want to know everything, don’t you?”

Mac watched the girl.

“The whole sob story,” Jay continued in a dismissive tone. “But I’m doing fine. I’m fine.”

Mac said nothing.

“And I don’t know you, anyways,” Jay said, defiance creeping into her tone.

“What would you like to know?” Mac offered.

The teenager studied Mac carefully across the table.

“What do you do?”

“I’m a Marine,” Mac replied. Jay’s eyes widened in surprise. “A lawyer stationed at the Judge Advocate General’s.”

“A Marine lawyer?”

“Yep.”

“Why did you become a Marine?” the girl asked, curiosity replacing her previous anger, her reticence.

“My uncle was a Marine. He was my role model. I grew up in Arizona. My dad was enlisted in the military, too, but he wasn’t the stuff of good role models. He used to hit my mom, and he drank. A lot.” Mac watched Jay’s eyes darken with understanding. With shared pain. “When I was not much older than you, my mom left us; me and my dad. His drinking got worse, and I followed him down that path for a while. My uncle helped me pull myself up by my bootstraps. I joined the Marines after I cleaned up, because it was a way to get an education, a roof over my head, three square meals a day. After I joined, I was given the chance to study to become a lawyer.”

“And here you are,” Jay said. Mac felt the girl thaw towards her, if only slightly.

“And here I am.”

“That’s why you’re doing this?” she gestured to the half-eaten meal between them.

“Among other reasons,” Mac acknowledged. “I know what it’s like to need a friend.”

“You’ll let me go back?” Jay asked hopefully.

“I’m sorry,” Mac shook her head. “I’d be breaking the law if I did that.”

The anger was back in the girl’s eyes, hot and crackling. Mac could see the fear behind it, though. The anxiety.

“Can you tell me where your parents are?” Mac asked gently.

Jay’s expression hardened. “You’re not being much of a friend.”

“Did you run away from home?” She ignored the jab.

The girl kept her mouth shut. She crossed her arms over her chest. Her brow set in a deep frown.

“Jay,” Mac said, “if your parents are out there, they’re going to be worried about you--”

She shook her head viciously.

“--they may have filed a missing person’s report--”

“He hasn’t,” she cut Mac off with a quiet voice so full of hurt that Mac had to catch her breath.

“How do you know?” she asked gently.

“He said he was going out for a job,” she replied. She fiddled with the cold fries on her plate. “Said he found paying work. He’d be back in a few hours. He left a fridge full of food, and money by the phone. He’d never done that before.”

Mac knew the look in the girl’s eyes, recognized it from the look that had stared back at her from the mirror when she was fifteen, and for years afterwards.

“He didn’t come back.” Jules said in a quiet voice. “That was five months and six days ago.”

Did her father leave her, Mac wondered, or had something happened to him?

“And your mom?”

The girl had been remarkably stoic until now, but at the mention of her mother, her eyes teared up.

Jay looked down at her hands. “You asked me why I walked up to you the other night.” She wasn’t looking at Mac, but the tips of her ears wore a slight blush that spread over her cheeks. “I did it because you looked nice. You have … kind eyes.” Her speech halted. Tears wet her lashes. “Reminded me of my mom.”

Mac slid into Jay’s side of the booth. When was the last time this girl had felt a human touch, she wondered. She placed her hands over the girl’s fidgeting ones. The tears fell from Jay’s eyes. She didn’t wipe them away, instead she stared at their joined hands.

“She -- my mom -- she’s not here anymore.”

“I’m sorry,” Mac said. She put an arm around the girl.

“She got really sick last year. It all happened pretty fast.” She sniffed, wiped her eyes on her sleeves.

Mac held the girl close. Jules was hard and unyielding in her arms, but she didn’t pull away.

“My dad was like yours,” Jay whispered.

Mac said nothing, just held the girl.

“You’re not going to let me go back, are you?”

“I can’t, kid,” Mac said. “It’s not safe for you.” She felt a wave of damp tears soak into her shirt.

“So you’ll call the cops.”

“I have a better idea. I think it might work.”

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Replies:

[> great start -- Karen joy, 12:00:57 11/04/13 Mon [1]


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[> Wow, this has lots of emotions - well written. I didn't want this part to end. Thank you Keru. -- Debbi, 12:03:37 11/04/13 Mon [1]


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[> Glad your back. Missed "your" Harm and Mac. -- Loti, 13:05:02 11/04/13 Mon [1]


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[> [> That would be YOU'RE not your😒 -- Loti, 13:38:38 11/04/13 Mon [1]


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[> I'm excited to see where you go with this story. Great start -- Roz, 14:07:29 11/04/13 Mon [1]


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[> Excellent start, Keru, and a great plot. -- Nettie, 14:32:45 11/04/13 Mon [1]


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[> Welcome back Keru a good start to the story looking forward to more -- Bev uk, 15:05:29 11/04/13 Mon [1]


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[> Loved it and hoping for more soon -- Alexa, 16:03:37 11/04/13 Mon [1]


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[> very nice start, glad to see you back, interesting take on Macs' finding a friend. Webb still makes me cringe tho, lol! -- JoyZ, 16:51:29 11/04/13 Mon [1]


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[> Keru, welcome 'home'. Excited to see you return and give us your talented story writing. Looking forward to the next part. -- carramor, 21:03:21 11/04/13 Mon [1]


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[> Looking forward to more. Great story. Thanks for rescuing all of us from that dry spell :) -- Shazam, 22:26:10 11/04/13 Mon [1]


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[> Thanks Keru, great start - looking forward to the rest! Sorry to hear about Goodbyes! -- Ciara, 22:01:48 11/05/13 Tue [1]


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[> This is great, Keru. Your writing always is, and it's a joy to see a new story from you. I really love the concept of Mac finding (or, in a way, being found by) a ward, as happened on the show for Harm, and you are executing it beautifully. Cant wait to see where this goes. -- Dee, 22:02:06 11/05/13 Tue [1]


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[> wonderful start really good. can't wait for more -- Beth, 08:47:31 11/06/13 Wed [1]


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[> Great to have you back writing JAG FF! The 1st chapter is extremely engrossing, definitely holds the interest. -- jan, 21:21:21 11/06/13 Wed [1]


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