Chapter One - "When We Meet Again"

"Hail and Well Met"

Author: CdnJAGScribe

E-mail:

Rating: M

Classification: Animal/Meg R

Spoilers: For the context of the show timeline, this is a retelling of what happened to Meg after the events of Skeleton Crew and her departure from JAG? This story starts an year and a half later.

Summary: [Show Timeline (showing Season One Characters after Season 2] Meg is assigned to Naples. Upon arrival she is sent to the TR to observe a naval fleet defence exercise and encounters a former fleeting romantic interest. Will the two reconnect and what will be the result?

DISCLAIMER: The characters Harm Rabb, Jr., Sarah "Mac" Mackenzie, Meg Austin, AJ Chegwidden, Bud Roberts, Harriet Sims-Roberts et al. belong (in concept if not name) to CBS/Bellisarius. Animal and all OC charactersare the property of the author. No profit is being made from this story, nor is any infringement intended.

Author's Note: After watching NCIS: LA and seeing the shambles of Harm and Mac's relationship, I'm just wondering whatever happened to Meg Austin and her life if we'd seen her career progress as we'd seen Harm and Mac's. Note this is an AU but also including Harm and Mac's timeline as close to the canon presented for the two of them in JAG and culminating in their three episode story arc in NCIS:LA.

Chapter One - "When We Meet Again"

1135 hrs /1245hrs EST; Common Room, Naval Weapons Testing Center Naval Station China Lake, CA, NOV 1996

The double bars of a United States Navy Lieutenant adorned her collars; her blonde hair capturing the highlights of the fluorescent lights shining down upon the surfaces of the furniture in the room. She looked up at the television monitor in the common room and she wished that she was there to witness the culmination of her investigation with Harm that had taken her to the USS Theodore Roosevelt. The Armed Forces TV was showing the awards presentation of that particular investigation.

She wasn't alone in the room, several of her co-workers including her immediate superior, Lieutenant Commander Katherine Ellen Wright, head of the department that was testing the new SRAAM (Short Range Air to Air Missile); the missile that was reputedly to replace the Sidewinder, an active seeker which when fired, homed in on a heat signature finely tuned to even the slightest temperature change in the atmosphere. And Lieutenant (equivalent to a Marine Corps Captain, if you please) Meg Austin was a part of that team that was heading the project to fruition.

In fact, China Lake was home to several projects that Meg was a part of and she had to balance her responsibilities to all of them. Luckily, that insane balancing act showcased her excellent time management skills. As much as she'd hated to leave JAG, she'd found a home back in weapons testing, the original task she was trained for.

But here was her past coming back into her life: the past with Harm and the emotional connection that she'd felt with the subject on screen. But that ended with the conclusion of the investigation; a ceremony at the White House.

"It's not often you see the Medal of Honor being awarded let alone two of them awarded on the same day. Lieutenant." LCDR Wright stated, the astonishment clearly evident in the tone of her voice and the look on her face, "That citation sends chills down my spine."

Meg noted that the Native American Marine Captain who flew the helo into Hill 175 was also being honored with the Medal of Honor for his bravery exposing himself to intense enemy fire even when an RPG was leveled at his UH-1 (the RPG'r was killed by Tosh) while allowing the men who had gone on that rescue mission to recover aboard at the risk of his life above and beyond the call of duty.

Meg smiled inwardly. Her division leader wasn't aware of just how close she was to this investigation that had ultimately awarded the man standing before the President of the United States today which she would have given anything to be there to see in person considering the work she and Harm had done on the case.

"His actions of 29 August 1994 on Hill 175 in North Korea give credit to his selfless determination and valor above and beyond the call of duty and are in the highest traditions of the United States Naval Service." The officer reading out the Medal of Honor citation snapped the cover holding the official document of the citation shut as he stepped away from the dais.

The camera panning over to the President receiving the Medal to award to the naval officer in question showed a line of military personnel waiting to receive awards of equal or lesser distinction. The two awards that only the President would award, the Congressional Medal of Honor for all armed services of the United States and the Distinguished Service Cross for the Army and Air Force or the Navy Cross for the Navy and Marines . The sky blue ribbon with the octagonal blue shield with the thirteen stars representing the thirteen colonies and the upside down bronze and gold-plated metal casted star with the engraving of Minerva repulsing Discord of the Navy/Marine Corps Medal of Honor never failed to inspire awe in those who beheld it. It was the only military decoration for valor that went around the awardee's neck and the actions of those who were awarded such were not for the faint of heart.

"i'm glad that the Armed Forces TV shows this, it's good for morale." Meg replied vaguely trying to not disclose the sudden skipping of her heart when she saw him standing upright at attention fully whole and back to flight status inclining his head as the President stepped to his rear and placed the two halves of the ribbon holding the Medal around his neck and the two button clasps snapping in place as the Medal fit comfortably against his breastbone. Stepping back in front again the President extended his hand to shake the Medal of Honor recipient's. Meg again heartily wished she had been there in person.

The TV camera had panned back to show every single flag officer sitting in the chairs standing as a whole every single uniformed servicemen a sea of uniforms who had been invited to a ceremony honoring those who had accomplished heroic acts of sufficient enough bravery to have been awarded their medal by the Commander-in-Chief of the Armed Services of the United States of America.

"Yeah, what he had to do was jaw-dropping taking on an entire division of North Korean soldiers. This guy must be super-human." Meg smiled knowingly as Katherine spoke those words. She knew differently, "These guys are a cut above us regular humans..." Katherine trailed off.

"I'm sure he's just a normal human being like the rest of us and just was put in extraordinary circumstances...that brought him to this point" Meg said prompting Katherine and the other two in the common room to stare at her. Meg recalled the conversation she'd had with him, how his uncertainty had shown through. The case and the hell his incompetent XO had put him through with the express intent of stymying his career. Luckily, ex-Commander now Ensign (DD-Dishonorably Discharged) David Campbell was incarcerated for the better part of the rest of his life; on top of which were forfeited all pay, pensions and allowances.

"Commander Nakamura, the country thanks you for your heroic deeds that brought these Marines and your fellow aviators out of harm's way." The lav mic on the President's collar picked up his quiet words to the man receiving the award.

Meg's heart skipped another beat as the familiar voice replied just as quietly, "Thank you, sir." As the TV camera passed over the crowd she could see Harm standing beside a brunette Marine major, both with their right hands up to the corner of their officer's caps in a salute paying respects to the recipient. All the servicemen, flag officers included were holding the salute. As the President stepped back after receiving the salute from the officer, Commander Nakamura returned the salute of his comrades-in-arms; both sides reluctantly ending the salute on a unspoken signal ending that emotional moment. Meg blinked her eyes wicking away some moisture, her own heart wishing she was there to render her own salute to a man that she highly respected who had opened up to her at Yokosuka in a naval hospital waiting area. She smiled to cover her own emotions, "Well, I guess its back to work."

1330 hrs; Five Months Later, Naval Station Naples, Naples, Italy APRIL 1997

"Lieutenant Austin, Welcome to Naples. I see Projects sent you here on a year rotational duty to see first hand the performance characteristics of the surface to air missiles that we have attached on our vessels and the systems of command and control in an air defence situation. We're going to have fleet defence of an aircraft carrier exercises commencing in two days just before the USS Theodore Roosevelt comes into port. We want you to observe the exercise and see where we can improve on the missile's performance."

"Reliability, sir?" She'd been here roughly a week stuck in the base VOQ before the CO had brought her in for this assignment and finally, she would be able to prove her mettle in weapons research.

"Correct, Lieutenant, I expect a full report."

"Yes, sir. When do I depart for the TR?"

Captain Brian Hamilton nodded, "As soon as you get squared away in your BOQ. 0700hrs tomorrow morning, you'll be on a helo out to the USS Wake Island to refuel, then out to the TR. You'll be riding the boat back into Naples".

"Aye-aye, sir!"

"Welcome aboard..." he extended a hand to welcome Meg to the office. Releasing her from the brief handshake he informed her of the requirements for the assessments she was needing to deal with while on-board.

Upon dismissal, she headed to the VOQ, gathered together whatever she'd had unpacked, repacked and hoofed it over to Base Housing to get them to assign her a BOQ room as a single, she only rated a lowly room with a kitchenette versus a suite and started arranging her room in a way that she would be comfortable. Base Officers Quarters were substantially better; more apartment-like if you were married (if you were single then you rated senior officers VOQ style rooms in the BOQ); than the VOQ which were meant for visiting officers who only had a temporary stay of maybe a few days or weeks. The VOQs were just glorified Navy Motel-rooms: bunk, desk and a bathroom. If you were a senior officer, you might get a slightly bigger room with a kitchenette.

Food was also on the agenda as she needed to square away her gear and do what needed to be done in terms of dealing with intake processes. But at least she had these few hours to herself while trying to get her quarters set up so she could live in it for the next year. When done, she grabbed her women's combo cover (the boater cap), and headed for the Navy Exchange to stock up her cabinets and fridge. The laptop of hers was safely locked up and most quarters had what amounted to a deadbolt as well as the lock on the knob of the door.

Still in the Northern Hemisphere, but benefiting from the warmer temperatures; Naples was an oasis where olives and other fruit that loved the warmth thrived but that warmth, though lovely on the skin while sunbathing, was a royal pain in the ass while in naval uniform; summer weight or not and Meg felt every single degree of the heat of Southern European Spring even though she was born and raised in Texas and the heat there was nothing to sneeze at. She thought that perhaps it was the fact that she'd spent a number of years in a more temperate climate that had lessened her tolerance to the heat.

It was a short walk in the tropical heat of Naples but she was glad that she was able to get into air conditioning within the central core of the Navy Exchange; a relief where she could get out of the humidity and be able to walk around the store in comfort, browse and purchase items in the grocery section. She would stock up her cupboards with non-perishables, a small supply of creamer and sugar for coffee for the morning and then get the other stuff when she got back from the carrier assignment.

Some enlisted had brought their families to this duty station with the intention that their progeny learn something about the world before being indoctrinated with Ameri-centrism.

If she was off duty she was down poolside in order to beat the heat during the past week and most of the men at the base were reedy looking staff officers who after ROTC or the Naval Academy put more effort into their careers than maintaining their physical fitness.

Since the selection of viable candidates within the male population of staff officers at Naples was nil and only a few of the visiting male line officers to such a research location put any effort into personal appearance; it left very few if no officers that she would ever be interested in dating though more than a few of those officers had tried. But their attempts to entice Lieutenant Meg Austin into a liaison would prove to be fruitless based on one thing: she already felt as though she only belonged to one man and that man, a line active-duty naval aviator, was not here; the man whom she'd shared an impassioned kiss with in Yokosuka; a man who she'd last caught a glimpse of on Armed Forces TV six months earlier and no-one else could ever replace him in her eyes; not even the nice looking guy whom was her legal partner back when she was at JAG, even if that nice guy had naval aviator wings himself and a smile that could make her knees turn to jelly.

Over the past five months she remembered in her mind every mental image from that MOH ceremony that November of 1996; and the person whom she'd gotten to know in Yokosuka. It was a passionate kiss they'd shared; two lonely people sharing an intimate connection, on the deck of that VOQ however it was a fleeting moment and one that was not repeated. Each had gone their separate ways and the fact that Meg had disappeared from the rolls of JAG Headquarters meant that reconnection with him would nearly be impossible, at least she had thought so until now.

Tosh was a Naval Aviator flying the F-14A Tomcat, an O-5 in rank and the XO of VF-41 Black Aces Squadron, as assigned according to Bureau of Personnel which upon cross-checking with NavIntel was the squadron of F-14 Tomcat air defence fighters found to be currently deployed in the Med on board the USS Theodore Roosevelt (CVN-71). Wasn't the TR the carrier that that she was going out to see according to Captain Hamilton? Meg thought to herself that Tosh was back to flight status as far as she had mentally pictured and if the Black Aces were deployed, maybe he was with them.

Right now with what had happened in Bosnia fresh in their minds and the ethnic bloodshed between Serbs and Croats in the past few years; pockets of isolated incidents ever threatening to become a regional conflict, it was clear why the TR was here in the Med; it was what was termed as gunboat diplomacy; in other-words wielding the big Stick in a manner that challenged belligerent nations and forced them to either respond by attacking which was a foolish gesture or capitulating which also did not bode well for the country with a very small infrastructure.

She hadn't heard anything through the grapevine about him being transferred or going retired so she figured that he was still in the service. Everyone at JAG probably wondered where she was and she had lost track of everyone she'd ever worked with but yet the one little mental image of a five-ten Naval Aviator sent her heart aflutter and she hoped that he was on board when she got there; If he was on the TR to begin with but she had checked her sources and knew that VF-41 had deployed with the TR and presumably that meant that Tosh, as their squadron XO, was deployed with them. She would find out when she got there at least.

Tosh was a higher ranking officer, higher than Harm by one rank.

He certainly was also a very capable flier by all accounts. two kills over Iraq and two over Japan an year earlier during a trade war that degenerated into a brief period of armed conflict. The second being unofficial so his official tally was three. The aircraft, a Mitsubishi F-2A had gone down when he'd gotten into what was known in fighter pilot parlance as a knife-fight in a phone booth; a close in dogfight where neither opponent was willing to concede and accept defeat. It was a bitter fight to the death and Tosh was the one that cleared the aerial battle arena still intact

The only problem was the fact that the F-2A was piloted by his cousin and unknowingly, Tosh had shot him down. It ended in Tosh being disowned by the Japanese side of his family. And the outcome of that aerial battle had spread rumors on both sides of the Pacific that one Commander Toshio "Animal" Nakamura was a cold, calculating aerial killer. Meg, however, knew differently, how much that second kill tally over Japan had affected Tosh.

Looking over her orders to the TR was eye-opening with the tasks that she had placed in front of her At least she considered herself lucky that she wasn't assigned to a sub to observe torpedoes. At least even if she was; she wouldn't have to deal with an insane computer nerd with a vendetta, a goatee and questionable hygiene habits along with her claustrophobia. And since she'd be riding the carrier back she figured to be on the ship for at least two days then riding the launch in to shore and that at least would give her plenty of time to breathe in the salty sea air.

She also wondered how Harm was doing with his new JAG partner. She'd heard a lot of things how Harm had managed to break up a terrorist plot to take over a warship while taking Josh Pendry on a Tiger Cruise. How he'd managed to pull that off when he wasn't related to any of the crew on board the destroyer was yet another head-shaking exploit to be notated in the annals of noteof one Harmon Rabb Jr. Harm's feats of derring-do had always shocked and frightened Meg in some ways. These were exploits that line officers were expected to do, not the quiet staff-officers in the background lost amidst the grinding of gears of the big navy blue machine called the United States Navy.

Tosh and Harm were two sides of the same coin. Harm may have scared her with his exploits but he had never come close to frightening her to death like Tosh had. And that blue ribbon with the five white stars on Tosh's rack would forever remind her of the fact that life was fleeting; that he was incredibly lucky to have survived. And she could understand the Medal of Honor Society's reluctance to have recipients go back on the front-lines again.

Harm's image in the ceremony also taunted her in that he was someone who she was interested in at one point in her life. But he had his own enigmatic baggage that he had to deal with, the incident in Hong Kong had pretty much clinched the deal in terms of a too much baggage; don't get involved.

Tosh on the other hand was relatively easy to figure out for all his exploits. He was an orphan, he'd come to terms with it on his own. His mother and father were deceased and he was just doing what he had to do to survive. Being orphaned meant he had to deal with things on his own until he turned 21 and reached the age of majority. He'd lost his father in the Spring of 1978 at twenty and his mother in August of the same year so he'd been on his own. At eighteen one is physically considered an adult; however the law still says you are a minor until you reach the age of 21. So as a legal minor he had to grieve in silence (there was no shoulder to cry on) and press on with his life-goals. Tosh buckled down; grieved quietly on his own and worked hard to get through ROTC and be commissioned as an Ensign in the USN; to make his parents' sacrifice to austerity for his benefit count in every way possible.

Meg, herself, though she missed her dad incredibly deeply, was still surrounded by family; she had people to turn to. And for that, she considered herself extremely lucky. Her brothers were tough, older Texans who inherited her father's love for the farm life; homebodies unlike Meg who had always been an explorer who liked to roam exploring all sorts of areas away from her farm and though she'd lost her father in Viet Nam (he was a Marine), she still had her Uncle Ollie who loved her like a daughter. When she went to University, she joined NROTC because it offered her summer excursions on board a Navy vessel and it whetted her appetite for serving in the Navy in addition to her father and her beloved Uncle Ollie having served in the Marines.

All of this mental cogitation ended with her being pulled back to the here and now in the frozen food section where the frigid air made her shiver. The Navy Exchange definitely had an efficient air exchange system; she was beginning to appear as though she felt the onset of hypothermia. Time to get out of this area before I change color to blue and turn into a popsicle; she thought acerbically while trying to decide if she should get the economical priced bag of frozen mixed vegetables or the family pack with greater amount but a couple dollars more expensive which would, however, last much longer. She'd also decided on a bag of bread sold with three loaves to a bag in the cooler. Those could be frozen to extend the shelf life so it would keep until she was able to use it. She did have to keep her purchases to what she could conceivably carry in two large plastic grocery bags.

She finished up her grocery shopping and headed back, the heavy bags an annoyance but at least she had the basics onto which she could add the rest of what would round out a satisfactory pantry of food so that she could do most of her cooking at home. The non-perishables went into the cupboards, the perishable items went into the fridge and the perishable items that she could freeze went into the top freezer.

After she was done all that grocery-shopping, ironically, she decided that she would eat out that evening at least for convenience's sake but first of all she'd have to finish off all the things she had to do in terms of getting settled into the office.

Her office, as the division head of Weapons Research had informed her, would be in an office on the third floor with windows looking out and a switch to enable counter-intelligence devices designed to make listening in by remote devices near-impossible. That was handy for those sensitive discussions in regards to projects with many of the systems they were in the process of R&D for. And many of those weapons systems were being targeted by the intelligence groups of foreign nations for the technological aspect that they could utilize in their own home-grown weapons. Thus countering those spying attempts became absolutely critical for national security.

Until a weapon became mainline public knowledge,it was kept under cloak and dagger secrecy. Nearly all the projects that Meg was privy to were in some shape or form top secret and her government classification clearance reached near top level clearance.

Much of the intake had dealt with her duties at Naples and the projects of which she was now a part of and with some dismay she realized that one of them was a torpedo designed to be fired from a torpedo tube with an effective range of 6000m; an active seeker and the ability to be able to track and destroy any other sub at any depth up to crush depth. The torpedo's casing was hardened to a crush depth at least two hundred feet below that of any current subs from either the West or Russia. Oh joy, she would have to go back on board a sub again at some point unless she managed to pawn off that duty on some hapless JG with his hair on fire to do some sub-surface research on things that go boom.

She sighed again as she got her office in order in preparation for utilization upon her return . The next morning would prove to be a mind numbing flurry of activity so she needed to be organized for departure well in advance. She knew from past experience that being organized led to efficiency and the ability to perform well under pressure and that would allow her to put together a concise report on how the new surface to air missile performed in live tests so that engineers could do their job in making the missile much more lethally effective against incoming airborne threats.

As much as she missed JAG and the law; weapons research was in her blood and Meg relished every moment of it. But at the back of her mind she knew that she missed not the law, nor the office but the people with whom she'd gotten to know; ok perhaps not Commander Krennick nor Commander Teddy Lindsey. But the admiral and Harm and the investigations that Harm and she had worked hand-in-hand. Those were the best parts of her time spent in DC.

When she was done with all the BOQ and office intake, it was nearly 1700hrs, so she went to the mess and got herself a filing meal. 0700 would arrive quickly and being at the helo pad ready to go would mean she needed to get up at 0500hrs to be bright and bushy-tailed ready to take on the world. That coffee definitely was going to need to be strong.

At least the mess had a satisfactory array of items to choose from and Meg left the mess fuller than she was when she had entered. At least she'd be content until morning.

Re-entering her BOQ quarters, she shut the door and locked it. The quarters were adequate for a single female officer with a kitchenette, a bathroom, a desk and a sleeping area with a ship like locker for one's clothes and gear which were expected to be folded and organized like one was still in NROTC.

She pulled a duffle-bag from her closet; she crammed in three changes of clothes. A securable hardened laptop case for her laptop and a collapsed cover for travel sake quickly able to be turned right. On the ship, it was presumed that she would get utilities and a cover like everyone else. Thus it would be wise to just pack light. Boots, shoes socks and underthings; no underwires: those things were a menace, especially when the fabric surround the ends of the metal wire support cushioning fabric frayed. That was not a comfortable sensation - it was damned painful. In this case she would just take some athletic bras and be done with it, but a part of her wanted nothing more than to make Tosh's eyes bug right out of his skull if he was onboard and with his squadron by wearing those supportive cups underneath her khaki top to accentuate those assets. She hoped he was on the ship. Maybe since the TR was going to be in port, they could renew their acquaintance and regain that friendship that they'd had no matter how brief their crossing paths had been back then. Meg smiled as the thought come to the forefront that she was going to enjoy this jaunt to the TR.

She sipped on a glass of cola as she pondered the logistics of the next morning in advance of its arrival; a mental play-through of what she had to do to get ready as quickly as possible. The SH-60 was going to be loaded down with medical supplies for both the USS Wake Island and the USS Theodore Roosevelt and she was probably just one of a few personnel on board who would be going onboard. She would shower in the morning and make sure she was ready to go dressed in working khakis but her service dress khakis would be in her duffle if needed in a formal capacity.

She thought to herself that her working khakis were so plain, no badge signifying a designator was designed for line officers in the Weapons Research field. It was all so hush-hush anyways. And it certainly would be plain: only her railroad tracks on the collars to signify her rank. Both collars bearing rank devices to signify a line officer instead of one collar bearing a staff designator pin. Tosh would also have both collars bearing silver oak-leafs. But nestled a quarter inch above the left breast-pocket would be his naval aviator wings. It would make her uniform look absolutely barren in comparison. Was there also going to be a JAG on board to observe the exercise.

She snickered to herself that she would think the Gods were conspiring against her to put her in the same location as both the man that she'd been interested in at one time and the man she was currently interested in renewing her acquaintance with if that came about. Perhaps to top off the unlikely scenario would be her introduction to the Marine brunette that had replaced her as Harm's working partner if they both were assigned to that job. Of course it would make sense with Marines assigned to security on board Naval vessels. She could be there to report on the effectiveness of Marine security forces within the context of the exercise.

All this cogitating was making her eyelids heavy and Meg decided to change into a slip and head for bed to get enough sleep before her 0500 wakeup. Slipping beneath the covers she fell into a somewhat restful sleep interrupted by periods of dreaming about gentle hands on her, and a very familiar face leaning in to kiss her in a very familiar bedroom in the VOQ at Yokosuka before the both of them had come to their senses after he'd commented regarding the VOQ rules. And the dreams this time didn't stop with that kiss.

When the alarm clock on her night table went off at exactly 0500 hrs she groaned, spat out a rather pungent oath, as she was now not only awake but completely, utterly sexually frustrated and she now only had a rough hour and a half to take a shower, get dressed in her working khakis, grab a bite to eat at the mess and head down to the helo-pad to get onboard the Navy helo out to her destination onboard the TR.

And to top it all off she'd be in close proximity to the man who'd in her dreams had caused this current state she was in. Pity there were rules about fraternization with the object of her dreams that last night onboard a naval vessel because she'd get her satisfaction if she could; more indelicately termed as, "jump his bones".

Men were not supposed to be in the same quarters as women, nor vice versa so, with some disappointment, she realized that particular romantic fantasy would have to remain a fantasy unless she wanted to make a reacquaintance of her former coworker in the context of his line of work and not in a good way either.

Showering was a quick rinse off and making sure that she was clean, from top to bottom, shampooing and rinsing her hair as quickly and thoroughly as possible in order to make sure that she was presentable. Drying off was a quick towel dry of her hair and body, she quickly applied a light touch of makeup and then slipped on panties and a white athletic bra. She put on her khaki pants, slipped her working khaki shirt with only the rank devices on the collars; tightened the web belt with the gold plated Navy buckle and cinched it then the highly polished working uniform shoes, not pumps as she was going onboard a ship. She would be expected to report her presence onboard ship to the CO of the USS Theodore Roosevelt and she needed to be dressed accordingly.

Grabbing her cover and her duffle-bag which now contained her laptop secured and encrypted, she headed for the mess. It was now running 1545hrs; making good time in her tasks.

When she arrived, the mess-hall was still relatively deserted. Most of these were the early birds that were trying to start their mornings early enough so they would be in their work at 0630.

"Hey Meg!" A reedy looking fellow lieutenant that looked like a human walking stick hailed her. It was all that Meg could do to keep from rolling her eyes. Of course Lieutenant Zachary Plante would be up this early trying to make a good impression as a candidate for promotion. He was renowned for butt-kissing his superiors and Meg felt her skin crawl as he sidled up to her. "What brings you to the mess this early?" Was that supposed to be a pickup line? If so, she'd heard better from an itinerant hitchhiker when she was stationed in DC. Zach was also one of the ones just transferred in from China Lake and thus Meg was familiar with his reputation from when she herself was assigned there.

"Early morning assignment." Meg replied shortly hoping that her tone of voice would ward him off that she would prefer to eat her meal in peace and quiet. "Places to go..."

Evidently Plante didn't get the subtle brush-off. "Well, I hear you got a plum assignment that will help you to get a leg up on the promotion board, maybe even a shot at deep-selection for O-4."

"Look, Zach I'm on a tight schedule and I don't have time to chat, maybe some other time. I need to eat and get out of here." Some other time? Yeah, right; when pigs fly. She finished the last of her sausages. Picking up her duffle and her cover, "Do me a big favor..." she smirked at Zach who naively took it for interest and leaned in to hear what she was asking "dump my plate for me..." she said as she turned on her heels, "I have a helo to catch and I can't be late. See ya." Lieutenant Plante looked as though he'd had a bucket of ice water dumped on his head. Meg didn't have a shred of remorse for that cold, calculated move. If the idiot was going to waste her time when she had a timetable to keep, he could put up her dish and then go hang himself for all she cared.

She made it to the helo with fifteen minutes to spare, pulling her cover off, she crouched as she moved forwards to make sure there was plenty of clearance between her and the spinning rotors. The aircrew yelled over the sound of the engines, "The helo's loaded, we just waiting for one of two medical techs to board and then we'll be off, ma'am!"

Meg looked over in the cabin and saw the uniformed med-tech secured on the helo and nodded. She was told to secure her headgear so that it didn't become FOD. and to get on a cranial with hearing protection. The flight crew helped her strap in and the other med-tech showed up right about then.

"ALL are aboard, sir!" The crew chief notified the flight deck of the Seahawk helo that was about to lift off on its four hour journey to the USS Wake Island LHS to drop off the two med-techs and half the supplies, refuel then on to the TR.

1200hrs, Flight Deck of the USS Theodore Roosevelt; Somewhere in the Mediterranean Sea

As the wheels touched flight deck, Meg breathed a deep sigh of relief. She remembered the fact that she'd been on this carrier before when it was in the Pacific Fleet. Now it had transferred back to Atlantic Fleet control. She took a deep breath of the combination of jet fumes and the salty sea air. She understood clearly why Harm and Tosh loved this life; the intoxicating feel of the adrenaline rush that accompanied carrier aviation at its finest. She looked over to see an F-14A on the catapult and saw its PW TF-30 burner cans flowering open to full military power twin tongues of bluish flame emerging from the rear licking the blast shield. The slam of the steam powered catapult launched the F-14 forward at a dizzying rate of speed and it was clear that the Tomcat was airborne as it was propelled off the end of the carrier and clawed for altitude.

"XO, VF-41, inbound, Clear the deck!" The deck crew quickly sprang into action in order to clear the landing area of all obstructions and to make sure the tensile strength of the wires was not damaged by any of the previous landings and the give via the pistons and rollers was set enough to halt the aircraft that was in the approach vector to the deck, without ripping the arresting hook off the aircraft. Once that was done it was time to clear the landing area. The last thing the incoming flight crew needed when they were low on fuel was a foul-deck with no Texaco airborne.

Meg knew she needed to report in and told one of the staff waiting to meet her that she would apologize but she was checking who was on that XO's F-14. The staff officer nodded knowingly. The new Captain of the TR was a Captain by the name of Decker, Captain Thomas Decker,'USNA Class of 72. Reputed to be a tough no-nonsense CO of the boat so Meg was walking a tightrope not going directly to him. But she really wanted to see if it was her Tosh on that recovering F-14 Tomcat.

Eventually she could see the F-14 making its approach to the flight deck. Usually there was some variation in the wing rocking, but this naval aviator held his glide slope perfectly, wings only making minute changes to its attitude and the F-14's profile grew larger and larger as it approached the deck. And with a loud roar as its main-mounts hit the deck, the hook scraping sparks, it caught the three-wire yanking the Tomcat to a screeching halt as the afterburner was engaged to prevent a bolter. If it had missed all four wires, it would have needed the burner for the forward momentum to claw back into the air.

"Good job, Fast Eagle One Zero Two, you can cut the engines, we got you!" The CAG's voice resounded over the 1-MC.

In response the burner flame abruptly cut off and the F-14's hook raised as it taxied out of the wires. It was guided to its parking spot by the plane captain where the crew promptly shut down its engines. The aircraft now being safe to approach, Meg walked over to the F-14 as its canopy raised and she saw the aviator look over at her from beneath the lowered visor and a smile of recognition bloomed on his face as he raised his visor and took off his helmet. It was Tosh and the beaming smile on his face was just as wide as the smile that presumably was on her own.

"MEG!" He yelled over the sound of the noise on the flight deck. Meg had also removed her cranial earlier and jammed earplugs in her ears.

She met him as he deplaned.

"How...what?!" He asked as they walked towards the island together.

"I was told to pack bags and head out to the TR." she informed him.

"Really?"

His RIO, Lieutenant Commander Jim Wilis grinned at him, "Y'know what? I'll see you in the mess. While you two catch up." and walked away entering the hatch.

"Have to go see the Captain, hopefully he'll forgive me for this lapse in protocol, but you were on landing approach and I really wanted to see you." Meg said looking at him. She was a full inch taller than him at five-eleven, but his whole naval aviator vibe made him appear so much bigger. This was the first time she'd seen him in flight gear, ever. He had been hitting the weights because his arms looked bigger than they were before on a frame that appeared to show the results of a gym-rat's existence. At five ten, he was two hundred nineteen pounds, all of it muscle.

"Well, I'm heading up to let the Captain of the boat know that I'm re-qualified on day traps. Maybe if I'm there he'll go easy on you," he smirked at her."

"Oh, thank you, sir." She replied sarcastically, "That's really reassuring."

Animal grinned at her.

1215hrs; Flight Deck of the USS Theodore Roosevelt; Somewhere in the Mediterranean Sea

"COD on final,sir. " the air boss was informed by one of the controllers.

"Well looks like mail call is today." The CAG noted sardonically. Navy mail was regularly delivered by COD to the ship's post office and it was kept busy by the amount of mail going to its massive number of crew-members. In fact, the USS Theodore Roosevelt was in fact reminiscent of a small city in that all the amenities were contained within. "Maybe I'll hear something from my wife."

When the COD trapped; the CAG saw two officers wearing cranials and holding briefcases exit the rear of the COD, the taller of the two looking active at the deck. CAG noticed the officer's familiarity with the deck and its dangers.. ...must've served on a carrier... he thought to himself. As was noted the officer turned to what he could now see was a female Marine, point towards whatever dangers there were, brief her on them then point out a path to the tower. Then they both stepped off the COD's ramp and headed quickly but safely towards the tower.

CAG nodded, "Looks like our guests are safe."

CO, Bridge, USS Theodore Roosevelt, CVN-71,

"Sir, Lieutenant Meg Austin, Naval Weapons Systems Command, reporting in..." Meg snapped to attention.

"Very well, Lieutenant, I hear you got a little sidetracked." Wrecker looked over at Animal with a raised eyebrow.

Animal grinned at Captain Thomas "Wrecker" Decker. "Yep, I'm to blame, sir." He subsided as Wrecker shook his head. "She was enthralled by my F-14. Anyways all qualified for day-traps. Setting up for night-traps later on tonight."

"You're a glutton for punishment, day trap qualification and you're gonna go up again the same night?"

"Gotta strike while the iron's hot. And no pinkies either." It was a standing joke about VF-41's infamous former XO cheating his night traps. VF-41's latest XO was more than willing to put up as far as doing true night traps and nobody had come close to equalling the XO's record of night-traps let alone coming close to his consecutive record of green-passes resulting in traps of the three-wire. "Gotta keep the nuggets on their toes. And the others from sitting back on their sixes".

"Yeah, Animal, like anybody's going to come behind you and beat you for King of the Greenie Board. You're twenty traps ahead of every one else and Booker had to go home on compassionate leave." Booker was the next guy behind Animal in the race for the top of the Greenie Board and he'd had to go home because his dad had died and he needed to be home for the funeral. It was at the discretion of the Skipper, but Decker was known as a relatively good guy, unless you did something stupid then he would roast your ass over a flaming smelter.

Decker said to Meg, "Yeah, Lieutenant, he's a celebrity every where he goes around the boat."

"Well, sir, not too many active duty members around with the blue button, sir..." Meg commented.

"And it was a hell of a job convincing the MOHS to keep him active too." Wrecker said, " So you're here to observe the drone fire test?"

"Yes, sir, From what I'm led to believe: there's going to be QM-6 drones being launched from Sigonella from what I've heard but that's all I know about it and am not cleared to say more."

"I suspect they're going to be playing like they were launched from Backfire bombers from the Black Sea Fleet, sir." Animal said musing. "That's probably what they plan to simulate.

The hatch opened and Meg turned to see another familiar face from her past. "Sir, Lieutenant Commander Harmon Rabb..."

The Marine major bringing up the rear said, "Major Sarah Mackenzie, sir, Judge Advocate General Corps."

"Here to advise on rules of engagement for the exercise?" Captain Decker asked them, curiously noting the Naval Aviator wings on Harm's working khakis,

"Yes, sir, that would be us..." Harm replied to the ship's Captain who nodded.

Major Mackenzie had on her Class C Greens with ribbons. There were no informal working uniforms other than fatigues for Marines. They were either in full service uniform or in fatigues; no other; strac through and through. She kept silent until addressed by Captain Decker.

"And I'm surprised the Marines are here to witness a Navy exercise..."

"Well, sir, I'm here to assess the reactions of Marine personnel on board in response to an attack; the Commandant would be interested in seeing the efficiency rating of his Marines underway." Mac replied. "However, my main duties are to support Lieutenant Commander Rabb and his duties as the onboard JAG for this exercise."

"Very well, Major, I'm sure this exercise will be quite enlightening on all fronts." Captain Decker responded.

Harm came to a stop beside Meg and said out of the corner of his mouth in an affected John Wayne drawl, "Fancy meetin' you here, pardner."

Meg couldn't come up with a coherent reply so she settled for giving him a sheepish shrug. The female Marine, Sarah Mackenzie was now eying her with a wary, proprietary expression as if she intended to stamp on Harm's forehead; Property of Sarah Mackenzie and that amused Meg. Evidently Mac had heard of Harm's former partner and the reappearance of Meg Austin had raised the gyrene's hackles.

"Nice to see you, Hammer". Animal said, shooting him a look and a smile. They'd gotten into the habit during Desert Storm of referring to him by his father's callsign since when there were actual anti-radiation missiles targeting Iraqi SAM sites, it could be construed as thoroughly confusing to the aviators in the air to hear a callsign of Harm when they needed to refer to AGM-68 HARM as a missile.

"Good to see you too, sir".

The JAG officers briefed the Captain on the the main rules regarding engagement of the parties playing the bad guys. Once they were finished dealing with that, they were all excused from the bridge by the Captain.

"So asides from witnessing the festivities, what brings you out to the boat?" Animal asked as they walked down the corridor making sure to mind the knee-knockers.

"Oh," Harm said shrugging his shoulders, "maybe the the fact that Amigo number two was supposedly hanging around here on the boat."

"Oh, him, you mean the ever-present pain in the ass?"

"Metalman?" Harm asked.

"Well that's pain-in-the -ass number two."

"Who's number one?"

"Take a wild guess. The secret squirrels want to have him to retake his carquals for something the shit-factory at Langley wants." Animal rolled his eyes. "God knows what the hell they're up to."

Harm's eyes widened, "Jack's on the boat".

"Yeah that irritating lout." Animal muttered caustically. "If Metalman's not flat-hatting at cherubs 4 off the natural hard deck, Keeter's trying to do Blue Angel maneuvers in the pattern." He pointed at some minuscule flecks of white in his otherwise jet black hair. "Between the two of them it's a wonder I haven't gone completely bug-fucking insane."

Harm nearly broke into a fit of laughter. Keeter had been driving Animal insane nearly his entire career with the exception of his time in the Cougars. And well, the Cougar's CO had relayed some of Keeter's infamous exploits including the Cuba incident that had squarely placed Keeter on the VF-172 CO's shit-list and transferred out AFAO (at first available opportunity). Thanks to Animal's success with keeping Keeter in-line during RAG, Lieutenant Commander Jack Keeter was unceremoniously dumped in Rattler's and Animal's laps thanks to the JCS and the CNO.

Now Lieutenant Commander Jack Keeter and Lieutenant Phil Burrows took turns with driving poor Animal off the deep end. It was rumored that Keeter and Burrows had roomed together just so that the two naval aviators could hatch up some more unholy plots to drive Animal completely bat-shit loco. The unholy alliance between the two knew no bounds, all perfectly deniable and un-indictable under the UCMJ.

Meg and Major Mackenzie were both shaking their heads.

"Why do you put up with them, sir?" the Marine asked. "Surely the careless flying could be cited under deliberate hazarding of a vessel or aircraft."

"Back in WWII, Major, and during the early parts of the Cold War, flat-hatting was generally ignored mainly because they wanted men who could out fly everybody else. That when placed against their enemy could outfly them on combat skill alone. We've lost that skill Major in favor of engineers in the cockpit with flight rulers and compasses. Highly technically able but with no killer instincts. I'm not about to shaft out two of my best flyers in the squadron just because they drive me bonkers on occasion. " Animal looked at her with an unreadable expression, "I feel that this Serb/Croat pissing contest is going to turn into something more and we'll have a war on our hands." He paused, "And then we'll need every capable flyer we have..."

Evening Officer's Mess; USS Theodore Roosevelt (CVN-71), Somewhere in the Mediterranean

Animal and Meg sat down at the table after getting their food; loaded on the plate was tonight's mess service specialist's lasagna. Along with vegetables and a side order of fries. The meal looked filling and Animal and she would go back for dessert.

Dress casual was a flight suit without harness and all the accroutements to attach to the jet. It almost was a sage green Nomex hoodless onesie with collar. On the right breast just above the diagonal zipper was the rectangular playing card of the VF-41 Black Aces; on his left was his name tag "Toshio Nakamura". Under his name was his callsign "Animal". The embroidered name-tag was topped with red embroidered naval aviator wings, and the lower left corner held a small Black Aces patch. From right top corner to left lower corner there was a red line that indicated the tail colors of the current Black Aces F-14s. His nametag to the lower left corner had his rank. CDR and the lower right just to the bottom and right corner had the two initials XO meaning second in command.

On the shoulders were sewn on embroidered blue threaded oak-leafs that signified his rank of Commander.

On his right shoulder was the Tomcat patch and on the left was the coveted round Naval Fighter Weapons School patch. On the lower right arm was the VF-41 Tomcat triangle. This flight-suit was officially called the party-suit where the men who were in the squadron adorned their suits with patches that they'd earned. All the naval aviators spent their downtime in their party suits which on a carrier underway was fine. It was only when the ship was in port that the uniform rules and regs tightened up.

Meg and Animal ate quietly just enjoying each other's closeness.

Harm looked over at the table from the one where he was sitting with Mac. It had been clear from the start that Meg and Animal had wanted privacy. Harm had felt rather hurt but realized that Meg was no longer his work partner nor confidante. She had moved on. Mac looked at him, "How long has it been?" She asked simply.

"Almost two years." Harm replied, he'd changed into a flight suit himself. As a former naval aviator he didn't feel at home on an aircraft carrier without being in a flight suit. He'd missed Meg for a long while after she'd left.

"You still think about her?"

"Yeah...but she's got a life here in Naples at least until she gets reassigned to the CONUS."

"If she was available, would you want her?" Oh geez, the million-dollar question, say yes and make Sarah feel insignificant or no and lie to himself that Meg was not a significant part of his past, "Mac, you know that it's in the past, I can't walk down that path of what if."

"So why do you insist on taking minuscule steps along it?"

"Mac, I don't know why." He said. "Maybe just for nostalgia..." as he saw Animal and Meg get up from the table, chat for a bit as if to think about going for a dessert and then saw Meg mouth what sounded like let's get it later...and after putting their plates and cutlery away in the tubs slated for that purpose, they exited together from the mess-hall. He knew where they were going, somewhere on the boat that would give them some privacy and Harm's heart ached yet again. He hadn't realized just how much Meg had grown to be a part of his life and he was having a hard time letting go. "Maybe, I guess, I just like torturing myself..." he muttered. He was so lost in his own misery that he didn't see the blistering look that Mac shot at the back of Meg Austin. She couldn't admit it to herself but for some reason she always felt protective of Harm and hated those who hurt him.

PriFly Deck

The two stood almost shoulder to shoulder looking quietly down at the flight deck where carrier operations still rotated through three shifts. Animal had his VF-41 ball cap; the brim decorated with what was called one row of scrambled-eggs; on the back of the ball cap was embroidered XO.

"I thought about you every day..." Meg admitted. ,"I couldn't communicate out. It's a black facility. And lots of projects on the slate. I love my job but living my life sequestered like a nun due to the classification of these projects is getting to me." She admitted looking over at him. She could feel his intent gaze on her. "I want to have a life...but I can't within that structure. Naples is the first time, I've managed to come up for air in an year and a half. I thought it would be interesting at first but it's just tedious now."

"So what made you run from JAG?" Animal asked.

"A lot of things. When we got back from the investigation, I tried to settle back in, but Harm was different, somehow. We weren't communicating as well. It's as if something had changed on that trip; that he felt like he and I couldn't communicate. Then he started obsessing over his dad after the Chinese captured him in Hong Kong. He said he was sure that he'd heard him from the cell next to him that he couldn't let it lie." She paused for a long moment, "I started to wonder if he was starting to crack under the strain of the ghosts that he had to deal with; then the final straw was the death of Lieutenant JG Schonke, his former girlfriend. The admiral pulled me from the case, slotted Commander Krennick in and that was that." Meg stated looking out towards the darkness. "After you came back and we cleared Harm's name together from those fake charges that Turque tried to drum up on him, I knew then that I had to make a change. A position with Naval Weapons Systems Command, a couple of calls from RADM Chegwidden and here I am." She looked over at him, a shadowy figure in the darkness of the PriFly deck. "I'm seeing life go by while I'm ensconced in that Weapons Research cocoon and it's not the happy place it once was for me. I want my life back. I'm 28; two years from 30. I want a family, kids, all of it and in order to do that I have to let go of my Weapons Research career. I'm willing to do that to get the life I want but now I'm at a loss, where to go from here."

"I can see why that leaves you at a loss...". Animal stated, wincing as he realized how old he was; 40 next year; looking out at the darkness of the Mediterranean surrounding the USS Theodore Roosevelt. "I've often wondered the same thing, but flying is what I am." He felt Meg's hand on his arm resting lightly. It felt natural for it to be there. "...so here I stay..."

"I know that after you got back to the TR that you and I agreed that maybe it was better to not have the same lapse in judgement we did at the VOQ in Yokosuka, but I can't stop thinking about that night and where it could have led. So we're back at the same question that I posed to you when we were looking out at the ships. And I have to ask the same question again: Have you ever wondered what life would be like if you met the right person that completes your life?" Meg asked, "Would you want to settle down?"

"I wouldn't give up flying..." Animal answered. "It's too much a part of me..."

"That's understandable..." she turned to look at him squarely, "...and the right woman wouldn't ask you to. She'd understand that flying is an integral part of your life and not tell you to not do it anymore." She stated looking at him. Did he understand that I meant that I won't ask him to ever give up flying because that would take away a part of him that is important to me as well as to him?

She could see Animal's grin...Tosh, she referred to him as. His low baritone thrilled her as she heard him ask, "So...Meg, are we having another Yokosuka moment?" He and she had unknowingly moved closer together.

"Something like that." Meg replied softly as they drew closer together. Please don't let it end like our last one. I don't intend to let him go this time.

On the flight deck as Keeter deplaned from his aircraft with his RIO; his wingman, Metalman, came up to him, "hey, isn't that XO with a woman up there? That Naval Systems Lieutenant?"

Keeter looked up to see a somewhat familiar tall blonde and his XO up on the PriFly bridge and his jaw dropped open. "That's Meg Austin". His eyes nearly popped out of his head when he saw Meg and Animal embrace in a tight lip-lock. "Well, shit..." there went another prospect out the window. Damn his XO moved fast.

Meanwhile back on the PriFly bridge, Animal's warm breath tickled her nose as they separated from the embrace as well as their passionate kiss. "You know...you left me sexually frustrated twice now." Meg informed him pointedly. as Animal looked surprised; he wasn't expecting that comment, "The first time was in Yokosuka... and the second was last night."

Animal looked confused, he remembered the night in Yokosuka, he had no idea what Meg was talking about at least about last night...he'd been flying over the Med on air defence patrols at 2130hrs and recovered on board about 2330hrs after having launched at 1830hrs. He had a smile on his face waiting for Meg to explain that one.

She leaned in again, "I had some dreams last night..." she paused for a long moment, her eyes holding his interest,"...it appears you had a prominent role to play in them." There was a bit of mischief in her voice as she continued. "And well, it left me quite unfulfilled. Especially when I ended up having to get up at 0500 this morning and I was supposed to have my butt on a helo at 0700hrs bound for the Wake Island then to the TR. How exactly was I supposed to take care of my problem? Hmmmm?" She smirked at him, "...now I'm still stuck in this state on this carrier with the subject of my imaginary, amatory, nocturnal romp in the hay for the next two days after tomorrow's exercise steaming into port." She gave a mock irritated snort. "i swear, This good little Catholic girl..." she said sarcastically, "...is going to have to go to Confession and recite Acts of Contrition four hundred and fifty seven times...it's going to take me the better part of a week..."

Animal's jaw nearly dropped open.

Meg smirked at him, "...overly passionate kissing while unmarried...sinful act number four hundred and fifty eight" she leaned in and passionately kissed him on the lips. "Let's make it a nice even number..." she murmured softly in his ear.

Animal couldn't agree more.