Title: Heavily Armored (1/1)

Author: LobsterDoc (ktleepitt@aol.com)

Spoilers: Anything through This Just in from Baghdad

Category: Episode reaction, vignette

Rating: G

No beta this time. All mistakes mine.

Dadgummit! I still don't own them.

My muse has suddenly been resurrected. This is my take on what might have been going through Mac's head on the flight home from Baghdad. At this point she still has Cresswell on her mind.

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On a plane, somewhere between Baghdad and Washington, DC

She leaned her head against the window and watched the backlit clouds. She was exhausted after being in the air for hours but sleep eluded her. Her traveling companion was not having that trouble, judging from the soft snoring in her right ear. Harm had fallen asleep almost as soon as they took off. A few minutes later he had slumped sideways and now his head was cushioned against her shoulder. She looked at his face, more peaceful in sleep than when he was awake. She smiled, confident that once again they were friends. They had recovered enough of their old closeness for him to feel comfortable using her as a pillow. At least something in her life seemed to be going right. Her smile faded as she turned back toward the window. Even Harm didn't understand.

How could he really? She wasn't too sure she understood it herself. Why had Creswell's selection rattled her so much? Harm was right. It was 15 years ago. She hadn't even been disciplined at the time. Even if her new boss did remember her, he apparently hadn't thought that her actions warranted disciplinary action at the time. But in the office, she was sure his remarks about professional and personal decorum had been directed at her. Was she just being paranoid? What was she so worried about? She sighed again and felt her eyes begin to fill with tears. She held them back, risking the headache she knew would result, but she couldn't break down here in uniform. There was nothing she could do about the situation. It didn't matter how she looked at it, what angle she took, it always came out the same. She needed to brace herself for the disaster she was sure would result when Cresswell unmasked her.

She knew she hadn't been herself for a while. She shook her head. Herself. God. Did she even know who she was? Was she really that squared away, "jarhead" she presented to the world? Who was she kidding? She hadn't been squared away for months. She had been floundering for so long that it almost seemed normal. Lately it had been so hard to maintain the facade. She still put it on every day, like a suit of armor, a necessary evil if she were to survive. But the failure of her capacity to absorb life's slings and arrows seemed like a foregone conclusion. Years ago the armor had been a comfortable fit, tailor-made for her, but recently the disguise had become uncomfortable, chafing in all the wrong places, like a worn out pair of shoes. She found herself trying, and often failing to convince the world around her and herself that she was worthy of the Marine Corps and JAG. She felt like such a fraud. And the uncertainty was taking its toll.

She wiped a single tear that crept across her cheek and sniffed softly wishing desperately that she were alone so she could unravel in peace.

"Hey. You ok?" a sleepy voice whispered in her ear.

"Yeah, fine," she answered dismissively. "I'm sorry I woke you. Go back to sleep," she finished without taking her eyes off the sky. She definitely did not want to talk to him about this. If he got wind of her mood he would want to talk about it, to dissect it, to help her figure it out. She didn't want that. She couldn't explain it to him. She…

He grabbed her shoulder turning her face toward him. She didn't bother to resist.

"Mac? You want to tell me what's going on?"

"Nothing, Harm. I'm just tired." She shrugged out of his grip and became fascinated with her hands, worrying her cover in her lap.

"You don't really expect me to believe that, do you?" he asked quietly.

She smiled involuntarily. "No, I suppose not."

"You want to talk about it?"

"No, not really. I mean," she sighed trying to find the right words, ones that would not hurt him. "I don't know if I can explain it, Harm. I'm not sure I understand it myself."

"Try me," he whispered, squeezing her shoulder gently and then pulling her toward him. He gave her a hug. "Talk to me, Mac. I can't help if I don't know what's bothering you."

His embrace was so comforting, she never wanted to let go. She longed to stay in his arms and lose herself in his touch. Against her will, she felt herself relaxing. Soon exhaustion over-rode anxiety and she drifted off, safe in his arms. For a few precious hours she would rest easy in the shelter of his friendship, unconcerned about the reliability of her armor.